THE ELECTRICIAN Part 7
CONTINUED FROM HERE - This is a newly rewritten story, involving "Privateer" - get to know him....
Twisting her torso around, her fingers stretched for the receiver, just as her right breast popped completely free, blocking her arm movement. Grinding her teeth in frustration, she twisted even farther around, her fingers scrabbling on the handset. She knocked it to the floor, sat directly in front of the cradle, and leaned back -- her fingertips searching for the nine and one button.
She pressed the first once and the second twice, then hurriedly laid down beside the receiver. She waited breathlessly for a ringing, but there was nothing. Tears blinding her, she sat up again, pressed down the disconnect button, and tried again. This time she was so tired she all but fell to the floor. Still nothing.
She stared at the phone for a few moments, then tears began to slide out of her eyes and her body began to shake. He had fucked her again, and she had finally realized it.
"No one home?" he said as he appeared in the kitchen doorway. Then he applauded three times. "Great show, baby. You can crawl with the best of them."
She kept quaking as he held up a videocam. She kept crying as he grabbed her waist and dragged her up to his lap on the couch. He sat with her back against his front, grabbed her totally revealed tit, and clicked “play.”
Alissa watched herself crawling to the door and back again as he mauled her tit and chortled. "See that, baby? You are a piece of work, I can tell you that."
She felt something amid her fingers, and then the electrician's knife was at her tit.
"Feel that, bitch?" he asked mildly, gripping her breast as if it were a grapefruit to be peeled. "Yeah, you've felt it before, haven't you, but not with your hands, right?"
Alissa started to sob, shuddering.
"None of that," he warned, gripping her tit tighter, the blade stinging. She froze in place, sucking in her breath. "Now you know what to do," he told her. "And if you do it nice, maybe I won't cut off your nip and show it to you...."
The girl started to cry again, but her fingers also started to move. He watched TV as she stroked him. Suddenly she realized he was mirroring her motion on her tits.
"See?" he said. "Feel that? That's the way you should do it, okay? You just do what I do, and maybe you'll make it through the night, right?" So he gave her tits a hand job while she did the same to him.
She trembled when his cock began to throb, but by then he was mauling her tits faster and faster. Soon he was moving her entire torso by her tits, helping her to stroke him with increasing fervor. She blubbered in humiliation as he yanked her back and forth, her tears flying off her shaking face. Then, abruptly, he made a noise deep in his throat, and she was hurtling face first to the floor.
Screaming in shock, she spread her legs to cushion some of the drop, her knees landing apart as her bound ankles twisted and her cheek pressed into the dusty carpet pile. She felt her skirt fly up and his hands on her hips. A moment later she shrieked in body-stretching agony as his rock-hard cock stabbed into her sphincter.
His hands were scrambling between her legs and across her chest. One hand clamped onto her left breast while the other scratched at her clitoris. Then he had it, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. Alissa screamed again, the floor muffling her cry almost as much as the gag. But then he was rolling her clit and squeezing her tit for all he was worth while pushing deeper into her butt.
No, she started trying to cry. No! But it was already too late. He was yowling like a madman while frenetically fucking her up the ass. Her hands twisted, clawing at him, and her eyes screwed shut as he had his way with her on the living room floor.
Finally he moaned, grabbed both her tits, rammed himself all the way inside her, and came.
He grunted, then dropped entirely atop her back, bearing her down to the floor, sandwiching her on the shag as she moaned in misery.
"There," he gasped. "Now that's how you jack someone off." Then he just lay there on her, the TV playing some late night comedy show. As she wept, it laughed and laughed at her.
When he finally pulled his cock out of her ass and flipped her recital skirt down to cover the invasion, she didn't move. She just lay there as he dragged himself up to the couch. She remained virtually motionless as he stumbled out to the bathroom. She was there where when he returned, his zipper still open and his penis still out.
"Come on, come on," he said, leaning down to cut her ankle bonds. "Time for bed." Then he dragged her up, yanked the tape from her face and clapped a drug-soaked washcloth over her mouth.
Alissa writhed in his grip, her hands trying to reach his arms, but they could only flutter at the small of her back. She tried to kick or wrench herself forward, but she was too weak and already woozy. She screamed and struggled as best she could in his grip, but it was no use.
He threw the washcloth to the floor when she started to sag. Then he started dragging her by the mouth and tit to the stairs. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he lifted her up the steps, still careful to keep her mouth sealed.
TO BE CONTINUED