THE ELECTRICIAN Part 15
CONTINUED FROM HERE - This is a newly rewritten story, involving "Privateer" - get to know him....
He didn't rape her. Not then. Instead he drove away, trying to figure out where to go next. Within ten minutes of his renewed travel, her blue eyes had opened. She started, not recognizing the ceiling of the van, then froze, remembering.
She stretched in place, hearing the creak of plastic, rubber, and leather. She froze again in disbelief, making a sound deep in her throat. Her blue eyes widened and stared down at herself.
She saw her nipples first, pointing urgently at the ceiling. Then she felt the pressure at her breasts. She saw her smooth creamy skin, crossed with reams of rubber-coated wire. All she saw beyond that were tight, tight, knots.
She tried to lower her head to look further. She made a gurking sound when she couldn't. Something was jammed against her jaw. She tried to reach up to pull it away, but all her hands did was flutter between her ass cheeks. Then she felt the pressure there...and down her front, and up her back...and inside her....
The young blonde jogger tried to scream. She couldn't. Something was in her mouth, jamming her jaw wide. She tried to kick, forcing the impalement out, but she couldn't. All she could do, with all her strength, was roll slightly and tremble.
He had opened the other duffel and taken the pliant plastic pipes out. One was up her front, between her tits, from her jaw to her knees. It was wired there, around her throat, shoulders, torso, waist, hip-bones, thighs, and knees.
Another pipe was down her back, between her shoulder blades and ass cheeks -- from the back of her skull to her shins. It was wired there at the same junctures as the pipe down her front, only her upper arms, elbows and wrists were also wired behind her to the pipe. And he had pulled the pipes together between her knees, wiring her to the "X" there above and below those leg joints.
Only before doing that, he had screwed in another shorter length of pipe...this one going up between her legs and into her silky blonde cunt. Then her ankles were wired together.
The girl tried to scream again. A padded, small, four-way "+"-shaped, pliant plastic pipe joint stopped her, pushing down her tongue, forcing up her palate, and filling her cheeks. Another small pipe attached to the front emerged from between her teeth, keeping her from knocking it over inside her mouth. That pipe was stuffed and puffed with cloth and then noosed with more wire which encircled her head, under her silken yellow hair.
"Oh, you up, huh?" he said from the driver's seat. "Well, say hello to your new life, Blondy. One you were born to live."
She tried to tell him to let her go. She tried to ask him what he was going to do. She tried to explain to him how it couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't happen. She tried to comprehend how all her freedom, all her power, all her strength could be taken away from her in mere seconds. She tried to say a lot of things, but all that came out were gurgles and gasps.
He was getting hard again. He looked carefully for any sign of sanctuary, his mind working furiously.
"That's okay," he said casually. "We'll see to you very, very soon. And then you'll know what all that shaking your ass in front of fans is really about."
The blonde sobbed in fear as he drove in a huge circle, back onto an interstate, past a campgrounds, a rural mall, a small airport, and then onto a wooded roadway toward where he lived. With every bump, the impaling pipe jerked up into her. With every turn, she rolled into the metal mesh on either side of her.
He passed homes, schools, churches, restaurants, and stores until it was nearly one in the morning. By the time he pulled up to the construction site near the end of a residential road, the blonde was drifting in and out of consciousness.
The project had run out of money in the middle of his wiring work. He knew that they had no cash for a watchman, and he hoped they hadn't changed the lock on the chain fence. They hadn't. He drove in, and locked the chainlink behind him. He then pulled up into the exposed cellar area and parked behind a dividing wall.
"Okay, Blondy," he whispered, sidling into the back, and gripping the pipe along her front. "Time to pay off."
She groaned in pain as he lifted her the way a cannibal would carry a captured explorer on a spit. Having spent as much time as he had with Alissa, he knew what to expect of this one. Before he searched out an unfinished low-income apartment up the concrete stairs, he hefted her out, laid her by an open sewer grate, and started unwiring her legs.
The feel of her smooth, warm, soft flesh made him hard, as did the sounds she made and the way she undulated in the bondage. He occasionally looked up to see her fine tits jiggling in the moonlight, then doubled his efforts to get her legs free. Finally, he spread the numb limbs by her ankles, then carefully slid the pipe from her cunt, watching her silken, dewy thatch glow.
She made a sound from around the cloth-plugged pipe in her mouth -- one he recognized as both a sigh of sexual relief and a cry of shame. He stepped back as she unavoidably evacuated. Although she cringed in humiliation, it didn't bother him in the slightest. It simply meant that he would not be interrupted by any digestive necessity later.
TO BE CONTINUED