by Dave
She could dance with the wind, twisting and turning on the dance floor, her flashing eyes lighting the crowded room.
Her body moved quickly and deftly, and the way she moved her hips was alluring to the entire crowd.
She danced on casting a flirting eye here and there, but always returning to the man who was her date.
They were a mismatch from the start; she was taller than he, outgoing while he was reserved, and sensual while he was composed.
That didn't really matter, for everytime she stepped on the dance floor, regardless of who her companion was, she had the time of her life.
The hours slipped away, and the crowd thinned, but Andrea kept dancing.
She had danced with all the men there, and watched most of them leave including her date; but she had found others to encourage her with wine and winks, so the dancing queen stayed on until tt closing time.
The last in a string of men asked to drive her home, but she had wanted to walk for the exercise.
She hummed to herself , as she waltzed home, occasionally repeating a dance step she remembered while in the arms of one of her suitors.
As she rounded the last corner, she tripped over his legs.
She quickly stumbled backwards and peered through the dark at the slumbering figure - the neighborhood lush had enjoyed a rather pleasant evening himself.
She kicked at his leg in disgust, then trotted on down the dimly lit street and up the stairs to her second story apartment.
Once within the security of its homey embrace, she kicked of her shoes, grabbed her robe, and headed for the shower.
Her legs were tight from the evenings activities, and she knew that they would be stiff tomorrow when she headed off for church.
She climbed beneath her woolen comforter, and reached over into the top drawer of her nightstand for her "helper."
It had been an exciting night, and she was still wide awake.
With the aid of her little helper, she would be able to relax and get some rest. She secured the lamp on the same nightstand, and the room became instantly awash with with a pale blue light from the steetlamp just below her bedroom window.
A boy friend, from a previous life had made it for her; it was a little wooden box with four 24-inch electric leads coming out one side; two of them had alligator clips, and two were regular wires, coated with conductive silicone.
On the inside was a 9-volt transformer, complete with a surge surpressor and two rheostatic controls; one for amperage, and the other for voltage.
At the rear was an emergency cut-off switch (which she never used), a circuit breaker, and the plug. On the left side was a tray for her lotion, and some straight pins she used only when she felt extremely brave.
It hummed quietly as she plugged it in, both contol nobs set to the off position.
Her helper had become such a blessing for her; especially on the nights when men were from a different planet and the rest of the world seemed far away.
The helper always brought her a restful night, without any need of formality or foreplay.
It is small wonder that many of her co-workers considered her frigid; with her helper, a man simply wasn't necessary.
Recently, however, she found herself daydreaming about how she would use her helper on a man, and those very thoughts frightened her.
She lifted the covers, and opened her robe to allow her fingers to caress her velvet skin.
She was a comely women with her glasses, and downright attractive without.
Light auburn shoulder length hair, so fine it would shimmer with the slightest breeze, augmented her coal black eyes.
She had a wisp of a nose, small full lips, and the high cheekbones of an indian princess. Her body was equally impressive, with small firm breasts crowned with rich full nipples, a whisper of a tummy that seemed to touch her backbone when she lay on her tight cheeks.
Her womanhood had a full complement of curly brown hair, neatly trimmed for easy maintenance; and two of the most inviting pussy lips ever placed on a woman.
She kept herself conditioned, not only with daily Kegels, but also with a daily jog that kept her legs firm and well-proportioned with just a ripple of muscle beneath.
Her hands and feet were small and dainty, and she always maintained a light coat of polish to protect the fragile nails from splitting.
Her olive complexion glistened in the evenings' light, adding an almost surreal tone to the vision she was.
Running her tiny fingers around her nipples to awaken her desires, she reached over and grasped the bottle of lotion; smoothing a small amount on her fingertips before returning to her nipple play.
The cool moisture of the water-based lubricant bathed her warm vaginal folds that were visibly trembling in excited anticipation.
She applied the lotion liberally, knowing that it would evaporate quickly with virtually no residue.
As the lotion was fully messaged in and around her clitoris, she inadvertently spasmed from the stimulation and knew it would be a quick release tonight.
Her hand was bathed with a combination of lotion and her own cream now, and she raised it to her nose to enjoy the pungent odor.
Although she didn't ejaculate, her orgasms were always extremely wet, often leaving her genitals and buttocks moist for hours.
Knowing she was ready, she gingerly attached the clips to her outer lips of her womanhood, then wrapped one wire, gingerly, around her swelling clitoris.
The other wire she held to her favorite spot between her anus and pussy lips being careful to hold it by the insulating sleeve.
Then, wetting her lips, she gradually increased the voltage with her free hand.
At first, the sensations were barely detectable, but as she held her breath, and turned the control clockwise to the next distinctive "click," her sexuality awoke, and she began to feel every nerve ending in her abdomen respond to the warm flow of current.
With a slow exhale and another quick breath, she eased the nob up one more notch, and that was all her body required as her legs bucked, her back arched, and the glands deep within her throbbing pussy exploded with a flood of her essence, flowing out of the vaginal opening and down the crack between her buttocks; leaving her body to flow onto the sheet just above her anus.
The machine buzzed and popped as some of her natural lubricant short-circuited her helper and the circuit breaker popped out.
Perfectly content, knowing that no electricity was flowing into her little friend, she released her breath slowly, and enjoyed the remaining spasms of her subsiding orgasm.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him - most of his body was hidden behind the exterior wall, but she could see the ski cap pulled down over his face with the two elongated eye slits.
He was in a dark jacket with dark trousers or jeans, wore gloves, and was a perfect opportunity for her to test the skills learned in self-defense class last year.
Still unaware that she had spied him, he grew more bold, and moved his entire body in front of the window to gaze at her beauty.
This was all she needed, and with one swift fluid motion, she swept the wire leads and remaining covers from her body, and literally flew to the window; breaking it with the sole of her foot.
The momentum planted the same foot into his throat leaving him gasping for air.
She lifted him up completely, thanks to the adrenaline pumping into her veins, and delivered a most deliberate kick to his stomach, knocking the wind from his surprised lungs and making him black out.
She dragged his corpse back into her apartment throwing it down in disgust, and plopped onto the bed to survey the mess she had just made.
At first, she picked up the phone to call the police but then, slowly and deliberately, she replaced the receiver to the cradle.
She stood up, and with a flourish, wrapped her robe back around her body, and set about to the tasks ahead of her.
First, she vacuumed up the broken glass, and straightened the shades on the window.
Then she went to the laundry room, and grabbed an empty box with an end panel larger than her broken window.
"I'll have to get this fixed tomorrow," she thought as she cut through the cardboard with her oversized shears, and, grabbing the duct tape from her writing desk, she sealed the outside chill away from her bed.
Then she looked at her victim; he wasn't a very large man, actually he leaned toward the anaemic and his laboured breath assured her that he hadn't rejoined the living world.
She rolled duct tape around his entire head, covering his mouth completely several times before she stopped.
Grabbing the scissors, she cut away the ski mask and the tape all at once, letting his head fall from her partially uncovered lap with a "plop" when he started to drool.
"How disgusting," she thought, as she grabbed the tape and renewed her efforts to secure his lifeless mouth.
Again his head was pushed off her lap with a resounding "plop" when she insured the integrity of her latest efforts. She then straightened the bed coverings, and gathered all the remnants from her most recent adventure to stow in their appropriate places.
"What a night I'm having!" she exclaimed as she tossed the tape onto her desk; completing her final restorative task.
As she started to walk away, she froze and turned to recapture the masking tape.
With deliberate strides, she walked back into her bedroom and grabbed his limp frame by the collar of his shirt and dragged him into the bathroom.
With anger and a touch of fatigue, she ripped his clothes off.
Being no stranger to the male form, she snickered as she exposed his lifeless manhood; he obviously was short-changed by his natural parents.
He had an average build, and an average face she thought, as she rolled his body into the tub and started running warm water, but he just doesn't have it where it counts.
She scrubbed his body thoroughly as in a frenzy, despising the liberty he took when he viewed her orgasmic bliss.
Pausing briefly, she studied his urethal opening for any signs of discoloration or discharge, and once satisfied that he was of no physical threat to her, she used her fingernail brush to scrub his manhood completely.
She then completed washing him, and with deliberate motions rolled him out of the tub, and onto a beach towel.
Patting his body dry, she pulled his lifeless form into the bed. After a quick trip to the bathroom to clean-up, she dove into the comfort of her now partially occupied bed face first.
Within minutes, she was asleep.
The dawn entered as a thief, robbing her sleep, and forcing a yawn that was quickly cut short when she realised her victim was gone.
Quickly she analysed the possibilities, and sank back into her bed realising that there was very little he could say without convicting himself, and, indeed, with his clothes tattered from the way that she had removed them earlier in the morning, he'd be lucky if her wasn't labelled a vagrant and hauled off to become a guest of the city for a night or two.
Glancing at the clock, she jumped from her bed, and ran for the bathroom to shower as services would begin in twenty minutes.
Singing one of her favourite hymns at the top of her lungs, she messaged her tired legs under the steaming water, unaware of his entrance.
As she finished rinsing her face, she hoped that her hair wasn't too wet as she really didn't have time to fuss with it this morning, and she reached for the towel as she secured the water.
He handed it to her, and it took her several moments to reduce her loud singing to a whisper when she realised towels normally don't fly.
He had a disarming laugh, that was immediately smothered by her scream.
He ran out of the room towards the door, dressed only in his jeans and shoes, but his unfamiliarity with the apartment proved to seal his fate as he tripped over her sewing kit and fell face first onto the linoleum tile of the kitchen floor.
Again his wind was gone, but Andrea took no chances and beaned him smartly with the roasting pot that always hung above the stove.
She wrapped her towel around her trembling form, tucking the free end above her left breast, and dropped onto the arm of the sofa.
"This is a little more than I wanted to deal with today," she thought, as she reached for the phone to complete a call to the local precinct.
The phone was unplugged, and again she returned the receiver to its cradle.
She drew in several deep breaths quite slowly to allow her head to clear, which gave her the necessary time to evaluate her next move.
She always wanted to try her helper on a male; why not on one who, if she screws up, won't really matter! With no collar to grab, she went for his fly, dragging him with a determined resolve into her bedroom and onto the bed.
She ran back to her desk, grabbed the duct tape, and returned as he began to stir from his lesson in kitchenware.
Quickly, she rolled him on his stomach, and taped his wrists tightly together. His hands became a purplish-red instantly, and realising too much was not good, she ripped the tape off, and applied a second layer with a little less pressure.
She followed suit with his ankles after removing his jeans and flipped him over just in time to catch his mouth as he started to speak.
She glanced back at the clock; church had already started.
Satisfied with her accomplishment, she took a little time to study him; a small circumcised member, very little body hair, small features and limbs, a tight little fanny, and soft green eyes.
Again she studied his member, looking at the hairy ball sack and the pale glans.
She then glanced over to her little helper and felt a twinge of anticipation as she turned the controls back to their off position and reset the circuit breaker.
It hummed to life, and so did Andrea, beginning by placing one of the leads in his urethra and the other at the base of his organ on the urethra.
She turned the controls halfway up and watched his back arch obscenely and quickly pushed the kill switch; his muffled screams the only testimonial to her miscalculation.
He had an erection now, and the wires had slid away from his manhood onto his thigh. There was a small line of burnt flesh where the wire had been placed near his ball sack.
She reset the controls, and grabbing the lotion, she coated her hands with lotion and rubbed the slippery goo into every pore of his genitals insuring there would be no more burns.
With her hands trembling slightly she reset the leads; this time one alligator clip pinched his meat and the other just below where she had rested the wire previously at the junction of his manhood and his ballsack.
She then wrapped one lead around his organ where the glans meets its supporting structure, and she wrapped the other around the entire base of his ball sack, insuring all the leads were firmly in place and a safe distance from one another she reached for her helpers controls.
He started whining and moving his hips from side to side threatening to dislodge one of the contacts.
Her eyes met his in a threatening manner, and she pinched one of his gonads between her thumb and forefinger.
His whining increased in volume.
"OK stud," she said in the firmest voice she had; "Your the master of your own destiny here! Settle down, and I may let you leave here with your baby maker intact; keep squirming, and you'll have a scar where you used to pee!"
She kept her eyes firmly on his as she spoke.
With his silence, he acknowledged her offer.
She then carefully re-examined the leads, and satisfied they were positioned correctly, she returned to the controls and slowly increased the voltage.
At first he remained unchanged, staring at a spot in the ceiling.
After the second click, she saw his manhood jump, and appeared to increase in size as his breathing became laboured and his balls changed position.
With the third click, she saw his sexuality come alive and explode - first his manhood began to spasm rhythmically, his back arched slightly, his legs twitched continually, and his eyes became quite large; then his cream shot onto his chest in four straight streams, and continued to bubble and ooze from the opening in his glans, as his torso continued up and down strokes as if his manhood was buried within an imaginary woman atop him.
He continued for as long as she maintained the control at the third click, but as soon as she moved it up one notch, he screamed, and his entire torso began to shake uncontrollably.
She quickly secured the current.
Sweat was rolling from his body, and his dazed stare said everything.
Andrea was disappointed, but not decidedly so. He came too quickly, but, she reasoned, most men do!
With that, she gently removed the leads.
As she turned her back to move her helper away from his trembling form, he quickly rolled over on top of her, and pinned her to the bed with his hands that had been freed by the continual jerking of his hands and body while she stimulated him.
The look on his face of control and menace frightened her momentarily, until she shoved her knee into his ball sack.
He screamed a muffled burst of agony and collapsed beside her in the foetal position; a tear trickled down the side of his face and both of his hands clutched his affected anatomy.
With a smirk, she leapt from his side and grabbed the tape, using it again on his tortured wrists, only she encircled them at least a dozen times, making sure the binding was good and firm.
She then applied several more loops around his ankles as insurance and tossed the roll back onto the night stand.
Infuriated by his attempt to confine her, she decided to try a different approach that she had earlier dismissed as being too cruel.
She grabbed his left gonad between her thumb and forefinger, and rolling it around until she felt it was in the right position, she took one of the straitpins and slowly pushed it into and through the tender egg and scrotum.
She could hear his muffled shrieks, and it pleased her to know that he was responding well to the treatment she was rendering.
Without hesitation, she repeated the same procedure with the other testicle; then clipped one alligator clip to the front side of one gonad and the other to the backside of the other gonad.
She then firmly wrapped one wire around the head of his glans, and the other around the base of his manhood.
Before she started to rotate the control, she looked at him, trembling from the agony in his genitals.
With quick resolve she gradually increased both the voltage and amps simultaneously.
She watched his back arch until only his feet and shoulders were on the bed, and she saw smoke coming from his genital area as his legs twitched uncontrollably.
His face was contorted in unspeakable agony.
She left the controls in the same position until he fell over sideways and off the bed; dislodging the lead to this glans and simultaneously pulling the pins out of both of his gonads.
She hurriedly secured her helper, and jumped across the bed in time to see a long thin rope of semen squirt from his throbbing manhood and drop onto the carpet above his head with a dull sound.
A second shot travelled a fraction of the distance and fell to his bicep, slowly oozing across the skin to drip on the carpet.
A bead of semen grew larger on the head of his throbbing organ and finally dropped onto the carpet forming a little pool that continued to grow, as his gonads continued to released everything he had.
After what seemed like an eternity, she watched his organ loose its size and colour, and slowly release the blood that had kept it so rigid.
"It had been a wonderful event she thought," as she wiped the leads gently with cotton dipped in alcohol, "but now I'm going to have to get the carpet cleaned too" as her eyes looked up at the cardboard where a window had once been.
She straightened her be and returned her victim to the kitchen where she was finally able to resecure his pants and shoes.
She gently positioned his body, then walked over to the window and opened it allowing the cool breeze to wash her face.
She then started screaming at the tope of her lungs:
"Help, there's a strange man in my apartment' call the police."
Within minutes her victim was carted off to the city-run resort, and with a minimum of questions she was free to set about her Sunday afternoon routine.
The next morning , as the cleaners were caring for her carpet she heard the door bell.
Excusing herself, she opened the front door to see his soft green eyes and his frail figure handling her a towel.
"Not today, I've got a headache," she said and closed the door in his startled face.
Nude Dancer, 1900
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This spectacular 1900 photo of a nude dancer doing the splits is by
photographer Henri Oltramare. I found it on Mastodon with descriptive text
by abanana...
20 hours ago
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