All Characters are to be viewed as over the age of eighteen.
Copyright 2005 by madengineer3, All rights are reserved! This story is not to be copied or circulated except by madengineer3 or by means of the Literotica website, and under Literotica's rules. I greatly appreciate the help I received from bdsmBill as he edited this work.
WARNING! Do not attempt to build the electrical circuit described in this story. The device could be lethal under many circumstances. This is not a joke, do not play with the high voltage section of a photographic strobe!!!!!! Neither Literotica nor the author are liable for death or damages due to anyone trying any modifications or experiments that are similar to what is described. This is a work of FICTION and is not to be turned into reality.
This story is purely fiction and should not be taken as a reflection on the good public servants found in most locales. The police do the best they can under very dangerous and difficult situations. Do not generalize the police and judges in this story to be indicative of the really good public servants that we enjoy in our country.
* * *
Ginny was in her senior year as an engineering student at the City University. The full scholarship to the university was absolutely necessary for her to complete her schooling, since she was an orphan who had come up through the foster care system. She was twenty one years old, was under 5' 2", and quite pretty. Tonight was another rough night for her. It was mid-evening and she had been using the library to get information for a term paper. She knew that meant she would have to walk, alone, back to her apartment. Her apartment was in a run-down industrial/residential section of the city. The apartment, due to street changes made by the city in years past, was at the end of a cul-de-sac. There was only one way to enter or leave her apartment building unless you wanted to climb over rubble or walk down the edge of the river that ran through the city.
She hoped that this time she would be lucky and get there unmolested. The problem was that the only apartments that she could afford were in a bad section of town. In this section, the city didn't bother to keep the streetlights working. The police had all but abandoned the area to the drug dealers (who outnumbered the cops at any given time). The city's mass transit system didn't travel into this part of town. Its nearest approach was five blocks away.
She may have hoped for safety. She desperately wanted to avoid Dave. But, safety was not what she received. Tonight he had raped her, again.
* * *
Ginny finally got back to her apartment, sobbing, bruised, and bleeding. Dave had ambushed her again. She had thought of calling the police many times when this had happened, but knew that it would do no good. After all, Dave was white, and the son of the chief judge in the city. Dave also had a brother who was the officer in charge of the police vice squad. Ginny had already been warned that if she complained she would be arrested for being a prostitute, which she wasn't, and that she would have a very rough time of it once inside the city lockup. Since she was an African-American she had no doubt about the lack of justice in this corrupt city. Dave had made sure that the entire neighborhood knew he was untouchable.
Ginny ran a tub of hot water and, after removing her clothes, she climbed into the tub to try to regain her composure and ease her bruised body. As she lay there she went through her options again. She didn't have many. Legally, she had no way to overcome the "old boy network" of the city's corrupt, mostly white, legal system. She didn't have money enough to take a cab wherever she went. No other students, that she knew, lived in this God forsaken area of the city. She didn't have anything to do with the local gangs. They were mostly ignorant drug users and losers. What could she do?
Ginny's first thoughts were to get a stun gun or a can of mace, but the state that she lived in had all but outlawed any means of self defense other than physically fighting off the other person. Effectively, the crooks could be armed, but the honest citizens couldn't. Although pistol permits could technically be obtained, they cost money. Beside that, in this city unless you had political pull, or lots of money, you couldn't get a permit. Physically, Ginny was no match for the over-six-foot Dave. The other problem with this approach was that if she hurt Dave, he would press charges and ruin her life. How could he be taught a lesson without her being caught? How????
She was almost asleep in the tub due to the warm, soothing water when the idea flicked through her mind. Why couldn't she use what she knew best to teach Dave a lesson? But, how would she do that? She decided to mull this problem over as if it were an engineering problem. The problem had its interesting features. How was she to subdue this thug? How was she to get him to where she could teach him a lesson? How could she prevent him from knowing who she was? These were detail problems and would have to wait until she had gotten some sleep. She needed a clear head to think about the solutions that would be needed.
* * *
Upon waking the next morning, she continued to mull over the problem. It was then that a new idea entered her mind.
After her classes the following day, Ginny went back to the library. She had almost as strong an interest in biology as she had in electronics, but electronics had won out. Now, she was actively going to look at one of the dark areas of overlap between biology and electricity. She started with medical books that discussed electrical shock. From there, she moved to history books that discussed torture as used by the Nazis and Communist Secret Police. Some of these articles almost made her sick to read, but she needed the information.
Ginny was spending a lot of extra time in the electronics lab. Her work made the time move by more quickly. She talked the lab instructor into letting her browse through the miscellaneous old broken equipment for some useless piece of junk that she could take apart for parts. After all, her budget seldom included enough money to go buy new parts. After an hour's searching she found just what she was looking for, a broken, manual, photographic strobe (or, as some people called it, a camera flash gun). She took the strobe to a bench and powered it up on a bench power supply. It didn't take long to verify that the supply still produced several hundred volts. The Xenon flash tube was broken, but the dc/dc power supply was working just fine. She talked the instructor out of the old flash unit, a normally open push button switch, and ten feet of 28 gauge telephone wire. Although she felt guilty about it, she also quietly took about forty feet of 10 gauge iron wire that had been sitting around for the last fifty years or so. She knew that she had never seen this wire used. It had dust and surface rust which she would clean off once she got it home. Ginny cut the 28 gauge telephone wire into two five foot pieces, and soldered the wires to the flash unit. One foot from the flash unit she cut the wire and installed the push button switch. On the free ends of each of the 28 gauge wires she stripped off about ten inches of insulation. Ginny put these treasures in a bag and took them to her apartment. On the way home she purchased a set of new batteries to go into the photo flash unit.
It was now that Ginny had to do her most dangerous work. She knew that Dave had always attacked her on a Tuesday or Thursday evening. All of the attacks had been between nine and ten in the evening, and all of them had been on her street. There were some old, run down, abandoned buildings and crack houses located a block down from her apartment. She now needed to set up surveillance to find out when Dave actually arrived in the area. To do this, she put on her oldest, grubbiest clothes and mimicked the walk of the local crack heads. She had picked an abandoned building that had a second floor window which had a commanding view of the street. She carried a kitchen carving knife as defense, a candy bar, and a soda bottle of water and worked her way to her perch inside a second floor window so that she was there by eight each Tuesday and Thursday evening. She was careful to stay far enough back in the room so that even a careful observer would not be able to see her. Dave showed up on her second night of surveillance. He arrived, by taxi, at about ten to nine. He had the cab stop in front of an old dilapidated building. He waited for the cab to leave, looked carefully up and down the gloomy street, and then went into the building by simply stepping through a broken front window. This building was the building that he had used when he beat or raped her.
She saw no activity until one of the local crack addicted prostitutes walked by. The hooker probably didn't even hear him coming when he grabbed her from behind. Dave knocked her to the ground, slapped a piece of duct tape across her mouth, and dragged her into the same building he had used when he had attacked Ginny. In about fifteen minutes the girl, half staggered and half ran out onto the street trying to put her clothes back on while sobbing hysterically. Even from her location Ginny could see that the hooker's face was bleeding. Moments later Dave could be seen walking away, talking on a cell phone. Less than ten minutes later a cab pulled up to the corner of the street away from where the attack had occurred. Dave got into the cab and left, feeling the pleasure of exerting his will on anyone he chose to dominate.
Ginny would have liked to intervene, but knew that she didn't dare. Over the next five weeks she observed four more attacks. She now had Dave's routine pretty well figured out. Dave was a creature of habit. He always used the same building as his "home base."
One Monday evening Ginny went to Dave's lookout house to see what was there. Downstairs she found a bag with a roll of duct tape. Upstairs there were some old beer bottles, cigarette butts, used condoms, and an old metal bed spring (the type with no cloth covering).
* * *
