The Life of Miss Nyte
Copyright© 2026 by Mixx Nyte
Chapter 5
Another random short story that has no basis in reality.
More show than I bargained for
“Oh my god...” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Let me back up a bit ... I am a pervert. I will admit it shamelessly. Ever since I was a young boy I’ve enjoyed watching women. The way they move about is so beautiful, when they undress I feel the heat rising from the pit of my stomach. It’s such a treat to see them going about their day. I just can’t get enough of it!
I’ve had my fair share of skirmishes with the law. I’ve been caught a few times, sent to jail twice. I didn’t harm anyone though, just watched. They had their windows open for crying out loud, as if they wanted to put on a show. How could I have helped myself?
Well, I have since moved away, and now here I am. The particular woman I am watching I’ve had my eye on for a while. She’s a customer service manager at the local department store.
Allow me to describe this amazing beauty; she’s tall and of a slender build with what one would appropriately call a ‘bubble-butt’ nice and jiggly if you catch my drift. Humble chest, brown hair to her shoulders usually pent up in a messy bun, tattoos to make a sailor blush but she hides those under sleeves while at work, a button nose, honey brown eyes that somehow always look on the verge of tears, and lips that default into a pout when she’s not sporting her customer service smile.
Now you have an idea of this total bombshell of a lady. She’s irresistible, and the way she moves is like a dancer. I can only imagine what her hobbies were as a little girl, I think she was a dancer of types. I’ve never actually talked to her though so I really don’t know much about her beyond our customer service interactions.
I’ve watched her though. She’s so calm under pressure. She’s always sporting a helpful attitude even in the face of absolute trash humans. I’ve never seen anyone talk down a ‘Karen’ with such finesse as she does.
One day, this old hag comes in fire in her eyes and shit. She goes up to the service counter screaming up a storm at the poor kid behind the counter, god only knows what she’s yelling about. So, here she comes, my angel, and she takes the old hag to the side. They talk some, the hag yelling all the while this goddess is keeping a professional air, voice low but sturdy, and eventually the old hag leaves defeated. She is the one who manages the most obscene of customers.
I’ve had my eye on her since I moved here, I’ve studied her at her place of work, and slowly I’ve been shadowing her habits outside of work. However I’ve never pulled an all nighter following her until now. Dear god, what the hell have I stumbled upon?
I should probably add a bit more background to where I live.
This place is by no means a metropolis, nor is it a small town. I’d say we are a pretty decent sized city with a community college at the center. We have our fair share of traffic, new construction, neighborhoods and ghettos, and of course crime rates of drugs, murder, and gang related activities.
So, recently, a few female bodies have been surfacing in and around the particular neck of the woods I live in. Cops have the culprit profiled as such; middle aged to young adult male, caucasian, probably a blue collar job, definitely a recluse of sorts, intelligent enough to clean up their victim and stage in an area away from the kill zone, a rather brutal killer as well since the bodies are in rather terrible condition (What murder doesn’t leave the body in a terrible condition?).
How wrong they are. Oh how wrong they are.
All day I had been a nervous wreck, as tonight was the night. I was going to follow my sweet angel home and watch her, all night long. I was looking forward to observing her undress, go about her nightly rituals, and sleep soundly like the angel she was. I was imagining slipping into the darkest part of her bedroom, or even standing at the foot of her bed, with my special camera and snapping pictures to capture such a pure moment.
Was I ever in for a surprise.
Evening came with the regular fanfare of kids heading home for dinner, and the common working class returning from another mundane day at work.
My dear sweet angel didn’t live in a conventional neighborhood, she was in a modest three-bedroom place in the outskirts of the city. Not many other houses around hers, and she had a rather impressive looking garage on the property, this is important as this is where I witnessed the most grotesque thing I have ever seen.
I had been waiting for her arrival for a while, staked out in a well hidden area on the property, an overgrown garden of sorts. I think it was wisteria I had been hiding in, not sure, I’m a pervert, not a botanist. So, there I was waiting, and my heart leapt when I saw her pull up in her little yellow Volkswagon with the ridiculous eyelash magnets over the headlights. You know, the really stupid looking things that serve no purpose but to ruin the aesthetics of the vehicle? Anyway, she finally came home. She wasn’t alone though.
My angel went to the passenger side of her car and pulled out what seemed to be a rather heavily sedated older female. She was oddly rough with the woman too, like I had never seen her exhibit any trace of aggression until now. She led the woman to the garage and locked the door behind her.
How strange, I thought. I didn’t think she was the type to go out to a bar and come home with a drunkard. She had always done boring things, and was a bit of a loner when she wasn’t at work. This was odd.
My curiosity was burning by this point, what show would I be privy to tonight? My excitement grew and I made my way to standing on an old oil barrel I had moved in order to peer into the garage. Holy fuck.
Now, when people say ‘play room’ they mean something like a she-shed, a man cave, or even a BDSM type place. This was like ... more along the line of the BDSM route, but also like a fucking lab one might expect to see in an old monster movie. What the hell?! My angel, my sweet goddess of purity, was stripping the woman bare.
Once all the clothing had been removed she tied the woman’s wrists up and attached her to a shop crane that stood on a large rubberized mat. Once satisfied the woman was secured to the crane, she wrapped some heavy chains around her from the knees and down, I supposed it was to weigh the woman and keep her from thrashing. After adding a gag she lifted the woman so that her feet were about a foot or so off the ground.
What sort of kinky fetish did this woman have that I did not pick up on?
I continued watching as my angel pulled a cloth covered table closer to the hanging woman. She then retrieved a small generator with jumper cables attached to it next to the table and paused to inspect the woman. She looked as if she were considering something then slid a finger into the woman’s crotch, she looked at her hand after pulling it out and grimaced, “Never on their cycle. Ever.” She seemed completely disappointed. This was more and more interesting as it progressed.
My angel removed the cloth from the table, revealing a glut of what appeared to be torture devices. She selected a syringe and injected it’s contents into the woman’s chest. She waited just a moment and the woman was wildly animated, struggling furtively against her binds and making some rather queer noises as she tried to scream and yowl with the gag in her mouth.
The angel waited for the woman to settle down, “Are you done?” She asked in a voice so cold it sent shivers through my whole body despite it being the middle of summer.
“You’re probably wondering why you’re here. Are you not? Just shake or nod that pretty little head of yours.” She said, the cold voice almost a sultry purr.
The woman nodded. The angel grinned, if I had thought her voice was cold, this grin was even more chilling.
“You were quite rude today to my co-worker.” She said and sashayed around the table, affording a full view to the woman hanging. The sight of the table caused another episode of struggling and strange noises.
The angel attached the jumper cables to the chains on the hanging woman’s legs and turned a small dial on the generator. She must have customized the generator somehow as it seemed to deliver a measured, but not entirely dangerous, shock to the hanging woman. I could see the woman’s whole body seize under the electrocution.
“I don’t mind if I’m berated, it’s no big deal to me, but you belittled my poor little co-worker, this is his first job and he’s only a sophomore in highschool. How old are you? Late thirties? Forties?” She took a five inch serrated blade off the table and cut the gag off the woman, “Please don’t scream or blubber or I’ll shock you again.” She said as she completed the action.
The hanging woman didn’t heed the command and began wailing and screaming as loud as she could.
The angel turned the dial of the generator, and the other woman stopped her howls, seized up again at the flow of electricity, and trembled until the generator was turned off again.
This time the only sound from the woman was sobbing, she learned her lesson quick.
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