Alex 10 Days Of Torment Ch 21

© 2022, All rights reserved -- mimaster

Christina is transformed; Maggie bonds with the kids.

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Saturday afternoon, May 18th -- DAY 2

Sasha bit her tongue, but her insides were churning. She remembered the horror story of the hotwife Gerard took to Vegas, almost four years prior. She knew he'd gone back several times since then, but she couldn't help her reaction.

It had started out innocently, but things quickly spiraled out if control. Oddly, none of it was actually Gerard's doing. Sasha just didn't know that at first. She'd gotten most of her information third hand. Perhaps even fourth. It was just accurate enough to be plausible, but it wasn't true. Yet she couldn't move past it. Rebecca Stanton always came into her mind when she thought of Las Vegas. She liked her... she'd done her hair the week before the trip, adding bright orange stripes as highlights to her long black hair. She always thought of Rebecca as a bit of a tigress, and felt the style would bring out more of her primal animal instincts to the surface. She was even excited to hear how she'd embrace that mindset on their trip.

A trip that now haunted Sasha. Gerard too, to some extent.

Unfortunately, what happened played on his reputation as a rough, somewhat thuggish man. His roots in the inner city had always seemed to snag him. It was in some ways his own fault for not truly ever letting go. He didn't want to, feeling it was important to remember where he came from, and what it took to escape.

He'd gone to Vegas with a woman he'd had a tumultuous relationship with. She was one of the hottest women he'd ever seen. And she was an incredible fuck. He'd had to work to get into her panties, but once he removed them they never went back on. It took six weeks to bed her, but once he got between her legs she didn't stop spreading them for him. That began a four month affair, although he didn't view it in that way. She was just a hot piece of ass to him, even though he'd become addicted to that magical pussy she had. But she also came with baggage he didn't know about.

It turned out she was estranged from her husband; that in and of itself was not necessarily an issue. But he'd left her because of her drug problem. The story that Brandi had used to scare Christina about the dangers of heroin and cocaine were based in large part on Rebecca, who went to Las Vegas with Gerard and never came home.

Rebecca disappeared after the third night, leaving the room he'd booked. She left in the wee hours of the morning while he was asleep after a long, exhausting fuck-a-thon. Rebecca was one of the few women that could match his stamina when it came to sex. She was insatiable. She was also drawn to drugs. Taking what few belongings she had with her, as well as a couple of his that she knew she could sell, she disappeared.

That was the last time Gerard ever signed for a hotel room, vowing never to do it again. He ended up staying two more days than he'd intended, looking for her, searching places where he thought she might be, yet not knowing where she'd gone. He didn't alert the police because he didn't know what to tell them. She was an adult. She'd packed up her things and left. In his mind, she'd used him as a taxi... a free ride to Vegas. All it took was for her to fuck him a couple of times once they got there to clear her conscience and she could walk away guilt free. That was the only explanation he could come up with as to why she took off.

Returning to Los Angeles seemed like a bad idea, but he wasn't going to keep paying for a room for no reason. He didn't have any contact information for her other than an address. She always met him at the gym. That's where they made any arrangements for what they might do. He found it odd, but it was also a bit thrilling. She'd show up, and they'd be somewhere else within an hour fucking the life out of each other.

He actually wasn't exactly sure of her last name at the time. She'd paid for her three month membership at the gym with cash. The name she'd given could have been an alias for all he knew.

The local police showed up at his gym two weeks later, accompanying a Las Vegas detective. He went with them to the local precinct voluntarily for questioning, although they made it appear like he didn't have much of a choice. When they dropped the hint that they might get a warrant to search his business, vehicles and home, he decided to just play along instead of escalating the situation. The last thing he wanted was to be driven back to Nevada when he knew he hadn't done anything wrong.

They said they had surveillance footage of the two of them together at the posh hotel, although conveniently they had nothing that definitely proved it was her leaving in the early morning hours that third day. She'd covered herself, hiding from the cameras she obviously knew existed. It didn't surprise him that she was trying so hard not to be seen. She'd stolen all his cash, netting about fifteen hundred dollars, along with his watch and a necklace.

Logic told the authorities that it was her slipping away in the video, but the fact remained that Gerard was the last person they could prove that saw her alive. They questioned why he didn't report the theft. That led to him having to explain how he met Rebecca in the first place. How he played to her vulnerabilities. How he quietly pursued her while making it appear that she'd gone after him. There was an art to it.

He explained how he only slept with married women, and how most of them were white. He defined the existence of the hotwife persona, and how that sexual expression between a couple might manifest, while walking through his role in the middle.

He attempted to tell them how his relationship with Rebecca progressed, but he wasn't clear on a few of the details of how they first started. After all, he had three other women in various stages of the hotwife scenario, but he'd fucked all of them many times, and they all considered him their bull. In those early days he seemed to mix up Rebecca and Nikki all the time. They were both buxom beauties with long black hair and brown eyes. They could have been sisters. They even had similar personalities, to a point.

It wasn't until he'd fucked Rebecca that she became memorable to him. She was the kinkiest woman he'd ever been with. She had no inhibitions, and there seemed to be nothing she wouldn't try sexually. But his memories of her only went from that first fuck forward. He still tripped up on their unusual courtship because those details hadn't been important at the time. He was a horndog with a boner, looking to bury it in any bitch he could convince. How he got them to the point of fucking him was an irrelevant question in his head. Rebecca was no different in that regard. She was a sexual conquest, nothing more.

The police didn't simply accept that. Instead they grilled him about his past. About numerous misdemeanor crimes he'd either committed or been charged with as an adolescent. It was a part of the gang life he'd been forced to live to survive. He responded by saying he'd left that life behind at sixteen, and he hadn't been in any trouble since. He'd successfully completed his probation period, as well as enrolling in another program for troubled teens. He'd found a mentor there; someone he could confide in. And he moved, leaving behind a crackhead mother and an incarcerated father, living with his Uncle Felix, who let him work at his motel as a way to stay out of trouble.

That was where he found a work ethic. A drive to succeed. His Aunt Selma kept a close eye on him, and for the first time in his life he felt loved. His cousins helped see to that, including him in everything. He finally took school seriously, hearing Selma preaching to all of them, making them all realize that an education was going to give them a chance. For Gerard, he also needed to break away from the traps that ensnared his mother and father, and Felix and Selma were the stable foundation he'd never had before. They became his parental influence, and he thrived in the environment they provided him.

It was amazing how two brothers could be so different, but Felix was nothing like Gerard's father, who was serving twenty-five in San Quentin for armed robbery. Gerard had started down that same path, but he got out. He'd never dabbled in drugs. He never got the chance. Aunt Selma would have kicked him out in a flash if he did anything to bring a bad influence around her boys. Besides, he'd seen first hand what it had done to his mother. She'd lost her soul smoking crack, and then her teeth smoking meth. That drug cost her her life. It wasn't an overdose. She was murdered in a meth house, along with four other addicts who double-crossed a dealer. It was a life Gerard wanted no part of.

But the police had unsealed his juvenile record in search clues for Rebecca's death. They were trying to find a reason she'd ended up in an expensive hotel room in Vegas with a man that wasn't her husband. They assumed it was an affair. The hotwife angle wasn't even on their radar. And it never occurred to them that a suburban housewife, a married mother of three children, could also be a heroin addict.

Gerard wasn't the man that got her hooked. That was her first bull, three years before he had ever met her. She never had a chance once she felt that demon running through her veins. The high was incredible, and the sex was beyond anything she'd ever dreamed possible. Still, she tried to clean up.

Rebecca's husband had put her in rehab multiple times. He stopped after the third attempt. He didn't divorce her, but he did force her to move out. He couldn't keep lying to the kids that their mother was going to get better. That she was going to come home and be a normal mom again. They'd all fallen for the lies, and they grew weary of the emotional roller coaster she kept putting them through. It was better just not to be around her.

Rebecca got an apartment, and a job as a waitress. Her husband paid for the rent directly, but nothing else. He wasn't about to give her money she could use on drugs. If she was going to do that again, it wouldn't be with his help.

She actually did well at first. She got that meager job, but her looks helped her cash in with more than generous tips. It wasn't hard for her to qualify for the position, even with no waitressing experience. She was literally built to work at a place that had the audacity to call itself Hooters. She even found a way to have some fun on the side, fucking several of the well-endowed men that seemed to frequent her section. She'd quickly gained a reputation as the server that would serve in more ways than one. Her section was generally male, and over time it became predominantly black.

To play with that crowd she knew she needed to keep in the right shape. She scraped up enough cash for that membership to the gym, and she put her energy into working out, using that as a way to stay clean. But the itch called out to her. Not the drugs. The cock. The big black cock she knew Gerard was swinging between his massive thighs. It was one of the biggest she'd ever seen, and she hadn't even seen it yet. But she knew.

She flirted with him big time. He set the hook and slowly reeled her in. He didn't know she was playing the game as expertly as he was. He also had no clue as to the darkness that was inside her soul.

The trip to Vegas was a surprise, as it was her idea. She'd simply said she wanted a longer getaway with him, a refrain he'd heard more than once. He agreed all too easily. The idea of an intoxicating woman in a city founded on sin appealed to him. Rebecca was a good time. In a place as uninhibited as Vegas, he figured she'd be incredible. She'd even alluded to it, saying nobody blinked an eye at a couple fucking against a window or out on a balcony. They'd simply watch. He expected it to be a five day fuck-fest, and she was for those first three days, quickly living up to those first two promises. That hour-long fuck on the balcony was particularly explosive.

His mistake was he hadn't done his homework. He was so enamored with her beauty and her playful response to his advances that he didn't do his due diligence. He hadn't involved any of his staff, particularly Brandi, who didn't become involved in his hotwife activities

until after

that fateful trip to Las Vegas, feeling she needed to step in to help protect someone she cared about deeply.

Gerard hadn't investigated Rebecca's story, choosing to believe her rather than find out if what she was saying were true. He saw a pretty face, a gorgeous ass, a ring on her finger and a willingness to spread her thighs if he so much as looked in her direction. She checked off all the required boxes.

He didn't bother to check why the address on her membership application didn't match her driver's license. Or that her last name didn't match either. Or why she didn't seem to know any pertinent details about her kids activities. Most moms talked about their children during workouts. It was something they did out of habit, especially when they were nervous around a male trainer they found attractive. It was a useful defense mechanism, designed to make the would be suitor know that a family was involved. Gerard didn't discover she even had kids until a month into their involvement as trainer and member. She was too busy trying to play hard to get, and he was too consumed by the getting, hoping to give it to her hard. He didn't understand she was pursuing him just as hard, and that her offspring were a non-factor at that point. She was single in her mind, her family having discarded her like trash.

Gerard should have picked up on the clues, particularly when planning the trip. He asked about timing and length of stay, thinking she'd have to juggle her home life and her job. Rebecca told him to make the reservation for whenever he wanted. That wasn't normal, but he let his guard down. He put pussy ahead of logic. That she seemed extremely unconcerned about where they were staying and what they might do while they were there also should have been a red flag. That went out the window when she removed her clothes as soon as she climbed into his car and proceeded to suck him off all the way to Nevada. If only it was just sex that she craved. Gerard had no way of knowing about her true demon, and that it was calling out to her.

After an extensive interrogation, the veteran detective finally accepted that Gerard had nothing to do with her disappearance or death. He was an unfortunate character in a sad and tragic novella. They still had questions, as they tried to piece together what happened. They were looking for men she'd been with in the days leading up to her demise. They knew there were several, but they had uncorroborated information that a man of similar description to Gerard had been with her when she checked into the roach infested motel she'd been found in on the outskirts of town.

The manager of the place, if you could call him that, said a big, muscular black man was with her when she paid cash for the room. His general description was close enough that they had to check out the lead. But that hotel wasn't the kind to have surveillance. And since they had video of Gerard being with her... actually fucking her in the hallway of their hotel at three in the morning, he was their only viable suspect at the start.

The detective that interviewed him finally spilled the details they had, hoping Gerard might at least be able to fill in some blanks. She'd been found naked, no clothes or shoes of any kind in the room. Her purse was missing, presumed stolen by the person ultimately responsible for her being in the room. The one she got the drugs from.

Her body obviously showed signs of multiple sexual encounters; both her ass and vagina had been used roughly. She had bruises and abrasions all over her, including hickeys and bite marks. Besides the condoms, there were three dildos of various sizes, two vibrators, and a large, black rubber cock attached to a strap-on harness found lying on the floor beside the bed.

Two rubber hoses and fourteen hypodermic needles were recovered. The syringes they found tested positive for heroin, laced with fentanyl, and the autopsy confirmed an overdose. All of the injection marks were between her toes, in hopes of hiding them. The marks from the hose being tied around her lower left leg to expose a vein defeated that purpose, as it bruised her skin from being done so often. One was actually on her when she was found. It had her fingerprints on it, as did the hypodermics found.

If there were foul play involved, it was proving difficult to pin it on anyone in particular. There were dozens of used condoms strewn around the room. DNA of at least fifteen different men were found inside them. The manager of the place admitted that the rooms were cleaned between stays, but it was cursory at best. They didn't change sheets daily, only doing so when someone checked out. Even towels weren't replaced. And when the room was 'cleaned', it was only the bathroom that received attention.

They found seventeen distinct sets of fingerprints in the bathroom. One belonging to Rebecca, the rest to other visitors of the room since she'd signed for it under an alias. The size of the majority of them seemed to corroborate the evidence that the condoms pointed to. Fifteen were men. It would be difficult to prove which of them was the individual that brought Rebecca to the motel, holding her firmly by her upper arm in a way the manager described as on the forceful side. Also odd to them is that only six sets of prints they found popped up in the system. Each and every one of those were known homeless men who were frequent visitors to the local precinct. In fact, all of them were in lockup when the body was discovered, drying out, having been taken in for public intoxication as repeat offenders.

To a man, all of them big and black, they gave eerily similar individual statements within a week that they'd fucked Rebecca, each of them three times. They stated that she was high on heroin at the time of a gangbang, which happened the night before her death, and they were a paid to be a part of it. Each one of them were fed before so they'd have the strength to perform, and then they were given a hundred dollars for their participation at the end. Since they had a meal, they used the cash on booze.

The other set of prints seemed to belong to a female. The investigators felt the likeliest scenario was that they belonged to a random hooker that was brought in to add to the amusement of whomever was running the show. They'd seen that kind of scene before, and were actively looking for the woman involved. The problem was the vast influx of young girls who found their way to Vegas and turned to prostitution as a way to survive. The fingerprints they found didn't match anyone in their database that had previously been busted for soliciting. She had to be a recent arrival; a newbie.

The presence of the strap-on and several strands of long blonde hair on the bathroom counter confirmed her presence, and that she'd been hired to work to the party. The hair was another clue, which didn't lead anywhere. It was human, but it could have been from a wig. It was fifty-fifty, as a lot of the girls that worked the streets wore them.

The coroner stated that Rebecca had probably been tied to the bed at one point, based on additional bruising around her ankles and wrists. That hypothesis was confirmed by a couple of the homeless men. So was the presence of the hot blonde hooker that had been hired to be a fluffer, getting them hard after they came so they could fuck Rebecca again and again. But they didn't know who was running the show. They'd been recruited by a man that never showed up at the room, the food handed to them in a bag when they agreed, and the money was in envelopes in the bathroom. They assumed one of the men there was pretending to be homeless and was participating, so they took an envelope and dressed outside when they were done.