Alex - 10 Days of Torment Ch. 21

The coroner report stated she'd shot herself up at least twenty times over a five day period she was confirmed to have been at the motel. She'd been dead for twelve hours when her body was discovered by a housekeeping woman. It was being ruled an accidental overdose based on Rebecca's prints being on all the drug paraphernalia, but authorities still wanted to know how she got there and who she got the drugs from. The fact that the heroin was laced with fentanyl was of particular concern.

The story resonated with Gerard. It frightened him. Not just because of him being brought in for questioning. It was more to do with a life wasted. A beautiful wife and mother, throwing her life away in search for something she couldn't find at home.

The detective painted a much different picture. Rebecca was a chameleon, blending in wherever she was. Just as comfortable in a five star hotel as she was on a ratty mattress covered with bedbugs. The drugs made that possible. It wasn't just big black dicks she was chasing. Her motive to come to Vegas was the lure of heroin. The prevailing theory was that she had exhausted all of her resources where she lived. Pussy wasn't enough anymore. Her dealers wanted paid in cash too.

In Vegas, she got more than she bargained for. The dealer she must have hooked up hooked up with got both. He got her high, kept her high, and whored her out for days. The rope marks on her extremities were a sign they'd seen before. It was a known practice, and she was the type of woman that would bring top dollar.

It was the fentanyl kicker that was the concern, fearful it was going start a string of overdose deaths across that particular area. They needed to find the person responsible... the one making an already dangerous drug become far more lethal. The part that was knew was the gangbang. It was a wrinkle they hadn't seen before. The idea of taking drug profits and using them to pay participants, including a hooker, showed the callousness of the man who controlled the last days of her young life. She'd become an object for his personal amusement. A profiler that reviewed the case characterized him as a psychopath that needed to push things further than he did the last time to stave off boredom.

Gerard walked out of the police station a shaken man. But he was also wiser from the experience. He knew he didn't drive her to a drug dealer. He didn't pierce her skin with a hypodermic. He stayed four days after she packed up and left, searching the streets for her. He should have known. What kind of woman doesn't have a cell phone? That should have been his first clue that there was something wrong with her.

The detective knew early on that Gerard wasn't a viable suspect. He wasn't even calling it a homicide yet, although he kept that detail close to the vest early on, what with the coroner already ruling is an accident OD. In his mind, there was certainly foul play. She may have wanted to be drugged. Perhaps she even liked the idea of being tied up at first. But she certainly didn't sign up to be a kept that way. Unfortunately she couldn't tell anyone what happened. She might have been untied for days. She might have been shooting herself up. Her fingerprints were on the syringes, after all. There was a lot of circumstantial evidence, but nothing definitive. And there was nothing that pointed directly at Gerard.

The detective knew that. He'd seen it before in his nearly thirty years on the force. A woman wrapped up in drugs, paying the dealer she'd hooked up with by using her body. The 'fuck for drugs' trade was a common practice in the seedier parts of the city. Being prostituted was the next level, and by all appearances Rebecca had quickly graduated into that category as an addict. It was unlikely she went into that motel room without knowing what she was in for. It was the fentanyl that she likely didn't know about.

Gerard was released after questioning. The biggest thing in his favor was he'd stayed in Vegas after she took off. Witnesses at several bars recognized him, and recalled him asking if they'd seen a woman matching Rebecca's description. They had surveillance footage of him coming and going to his room in the following days. Why would he keep paying for an expensive hotel and yet be with her in the place she ended up. It didn't connect.

Nevertheless, Gerard didn't change his approach to life when it came to sex. Because of the circumstances, he didn't see a reason to stop fucking hotwives. But he did become more careful. More cautious. More alert. He changed his total method of operation, utilizing his staff in the vetting process. Particularly Brandi.

She agreed to become his partner of sorts, but she had no intention of being a silent one. In fact, she insisted that she not only be integrally involved in selecting the women he'd chase, she intended to be in control of them. Gerard could fuck them, and he'd be allowed to push them into becoming hotwives as well, but as Brandi explained, only one of them had a vision for where things could go that wouldn't be clouded by pussy, and that was her. She needed him to trust her in that. He did, and she'd proven time and again that it was the best decision he'd ever made. Not only did they both reap sexual gratification from the women she'd choose to pursue for him, the sex between the two of them had become incredible. They were in love, in their own unique way.

Gerard began leaning on Brandi exclusively when it came to hooking new women into the lifestyle. But he also felt compelled to share her gift. He'd held several meetings with his management staff, many of whom played the same game when it came to trolling for pussy. It was the catalyst for promoting the use of Brandi, reminding them that she was the company slut; a role she relished. He wanted to provide a safe outlet for them to have their fun, but he wasn't discouraging them from finding pussy amongst the members. It was a fringe benefit of working there. Yet Gerard wanted his guys to learn from his mistake, and so they worked harder to find out more about who they were thinking of getting involved with sexually. Brandi was key to that vetting process. Her intuition about the true intent of the women that came to the gym was uncanny.

Still, there was some collateral damage Gerard had to deal with. Try as he might, he couldn't keep what happened in Vegas a secret from those back in his old stomping grounds. A black man getting pulled into a police station to talk about a drug overdose? And it happened to be a woman he not only fucked frequently, he drove her with him to Nevada, where she ended up dying? It was incredible how the word spread, even though almost all of the details were wrong. A juicy story like that tends to take on a life of its own.

Sasha had been corrected. She'd gotten the straight scoop directly from Gerard. And then again from Brandi, who explained how she was now protecting him from himself. She knew the truth. Still, her concern about him going to Vegas with Christina had nothing to do with her well being. It had everything to do with his.

"Vegas? Really?" she asked, nodding her head toward Christina.

"It'll be fine. Stop worrying, Sash.

"But I can't go this week," she said with a shake of her head. "I've got Kenya."

"I know which weeks you have your daughter," he smiled, knowing her joint custody schedule as well as she did. It was what allowed him opportunity to fuck her, and to invite her to be a slut at one of his gangbangs occasionally.

"I mean, I could call Martin if you need me to go," she said, wavering. Looking at Christina, she realized how much fun she could have by being the third wheel with a slut like her.

That was one of Gerard's provisions. He never made a trip to Vegas with a hotwife without one of his trusted girls along for the ride. And as a witness in case things got out of control again. Sasha and Brandi were almost always his partners of choice.

"Don't worry about it. B will go."

"Are you sure?"

"She missed out on the gangbang last night. Chrissy owes her one. She'll have five days to make it up to her."

"Five," Christina replied, her eyes blinking.

"I always avoid weekends if I can. We'll drive in Monday morning and come back Saturday. I'm already thinking of ways to use you," he winked.

"Fuck... and I don't have any clothes to pack," she sighed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saturday afternoon, May 18th -- DAY 2

"You really want me to pick out your shoes?" Sarah asked Maggie.

"Yes. We're going to work together to select my wardrobe for work next week. I'm going to teach you about colors, and what looks great together. So, I want you to pick out five pairs of heels that you like, and then we're going to pick out an outfit that goes good with them."

"Is that how you do it? You pick your shoes first?"

"Not normally, but it's the best way to teach you. Go in and look around first. Make sure you don't just pick up the first ones you see. I want you to find ones you like."

"Oh... okay," she said as she went into the closet.

Maggie smiled. With Sarah occupied, it gave her the time to pack things she didn't want her to see. Mainly sexy bras and garters, and a few of her very favorite sex toys. She had already informed Alex she wouldn't be packing any panties, and she didn't want Sarah to question that detail. She was a sharp young girl, and she was also very inquisitive. Maggie had discovered that on the drive from Laguna Beach to Pomona.

"Maggie?" she called out from the closet.

"Yes munchkin?"

"Why are there so many black ones?"

"Because black goes with everything. Only pick out one pair of black ones. That way we'll have more fun finding things I can wear with the other colors you pick."

"Okay." Sarah took her time but eventually picked out what she liked. She brought them out one at a time, and actually took one pair back when she discovered ones she liked better. "You have a lot of shoes," she said when she finished.

"I know. Hard to believe since I only have the two feet," she winked.

"Why do you like heels so much?"

"They make me feel pretty. Men like women that wear heels. The shoes changes the shape of our legs when we walk, and they like that."

"They do?"

She slipped on one of the pair Sarah brought out, showing her how it changed the look of her legs and ankles. "Uh huh. See how my calves pop out a bit, and they also make my rear end stick out a little more. Men really like that. But the main reason I wear them is they make me feel special. I feel prettier in heels."

"You're already pretty."

"Aw... that's sweet Sarah. But what we wear can make us feel even prettier. Heels help with that. Think of some of the Disney characters that wear heels. Snow White, Belle in her pretty yellow dress, Elsa and Anna both wear them. Elastigirl and her daughter Violet. And the most famous is Cinderella. Her glass slipper is a heel. When the Prince puts it on her, she becomes a Princess. Princesses all wear heels."

"I'm a princess," she said, thinking about her hockey jersey, and the crown on it. Maggie was well aware of her obsession with the idea, especially since her mother was being referred to as a queen quite often. "I don't have heels though."

"Well we'll just have to fix that, won't we," Maggie grinned.

"Really?"

"Let's pick out my outfits. I want you to learn about colors in fashion first. Once we're done, I promise we'll stop somewhere on the way home and get you some heels."

"You promise?"

"Absolutely, munchkin. Every girl needs to feel special."

Sarah jumped up and down. "I'm excited."

"I am too."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sunday afternoon, May 18th -- DAY 2

Christina stood in front of a full length mirror, admiring her new look. She was giddy as she spun around, a mirror in her hand as she checked how she appeared from all angles.

"So you really like it," Sasha asked again, for like the seventh time.

"I love it Sasha. There's only one thing that would make it better."

"Really? What's that?"

"I need a pair of Louboutins," she winked.

"Damn, girl. You've got expensive tastes."

"Truthfully, any heels. Sir, are you serious about taking me to Vegas?"

"Yes, babygirl. We're definitely going. My mind is already spinning with things I might have you do."

"Is one of them making me go there with no clothes... or shoes?"

"What?"

"I wore your t-shirt here. That's the only outfit I have right now. I'm not saying I won't do it. I'm not using my safe word. But I'm just wondering how practical it's going to be. I want to obey you, but I don't want either of us arrested. I mean, I bet I could probably get away with it in Vegas, but you never know."

"Yeah... you definitely don't want any trouble with Vegas P.D.," Sasha opined.

"I hear you both loud and clear. We'll get you some clothes appropriate for where you'll be going. More importantly, for what you might be doing. In the meantime, it's time you paid Sasha for the job she did today."

"I already gave her the credit card. And I gave her a very generous tip."

"Not generous enough," he joked.

Sasha knew what he meant, and started scrambling out of the skimpy outfit she was wearing. Christina smiled when she saw the diamond shape of her neatly trimmed pubic hair, died the same purple as the long straight locks on her head.

"Mmm... the carpet matches."

"Most people don't realize how important that is. If you see a natural redhead, you know her pubes are that color. If I color someone's hair red but they don't do their mound, I always suggest they shave their pussy. Don't spoil the illusion."

"Because you really have purple hair."

"It got your attention. Plus it looks hot," she said as she got in the chair Christina had been in.

The new blonde got on her knees, crawling toward Sasha. Nestling between her smooth thighs, she licked at her outer labia, toying with her. Sasha was having none of that.

"I don't think so," she growled, grabbing the hair she'd just styled. Pulling her hard into her crotch, she wiggled her ass, pressing her cunt against Christina's open mouth.

Christina smiled inside. She loved being controlled, and it seemed even hotter whenever a woman did it. She listened to the orders Sasha was barking out, trying to follow them, but it was hard to hear with her head being squeezed like it was.

Sasha was aggressive and she knew what she liked. Christina couldn't help but think of her analogy of the movie Hancock. It was easy to understand why a combination of Sasha and Gerard would become so combustible. They were explosive personalities in their own right. The fight for control in bed had to be epic. She thought of the pay-per-view rights, and how staggering they would be if people could grasp the significance. Most would never understand the appeal, just like she couldn't figure out why MMA fighting was so popular. To each their own, but an octagon match between her bull and her hair stylist would be something she'd watch.

That's also how she now viewed Sasha. She doubted at that moment that she'd ever go back to her regular girl to get her hair done. The way she'd instantly recognized her life in a song just by listening to her describe it, and using that as inspiration to create a look that represented who she was... that was a gift, no matter how radically different she looked in the end. That kind of talent deserved loyalty on her part.

Not to mention how sweet that pussy tasted, especially when she came. Sasha started bubbling over, her juices rising up. Christina's palate was treated to a small sip of what was shortly to come. The emphasis definitely on cum.

"OOOHHH MYYY! FUUUCCCK!" she yelled, her chest jutting out as her head flew back.

Her climax was fierce, and Christina struggled to swallow. Not that she cared. She considered it an honor to wear the ebony beauty's cum on her face, neck and chest. It was the perfect reward, and it made her dig deeper with her tongue.

"AAAAAAWWWWWWW!"

The second orgasm was just as powerful, and she had to grab the arms of the chair to keep from slipping forward. She'd cum so much it slickened the seat, her ass moving toward Christina.

"God damn!" she panted. "How long have you been munchin' on cunts!?"

"I dunno. A couple months?"

"You're good, beautiful. I wanna party with you sometime?"

"Party?"

Gerard chuckled. "That's code for gangbang."

"Yeah... well, I hope to be invited to another some day. But I'm sure I have a lot of lessons to learn yet."

"We've got quite a few days together to work on them," he chuckled.

"I still can't believe I'm going to be with you 'til next weekend. Fuck, I can't believe we're going to Vegas!"

"Be careful what you wish for," Sasha teased.

Gerard's grin grew wide. "That's my line, Sash."

Sasha and Christina embraced, the bond they'd made in such a short time making it hard for them to let go. Christina even kissed her, thanking her for a memorable spa day.

Sasha hugged Gerard next, the sexual heat between them rising quickly. He would have fucked her in seconds if she didn't have the control to step away. Still, she took the time to whisper to him. "Brandi was right. This one is the one. Don't fuck it up. Listen to B... especially in Vegas. If you need me, I can be there Thursday. My mom can watch Kenya until I'd get back Saturday."

"Mmm... might be fun having you and B leading Chrissy."

"That's what I'm thinking. Let me know by Wednesday morning."

"Plan on it unless I say different," he winked.

"God. I'm excited. That girl can eat pussy!"

"I'll take your word for it. C'mon. Let's show her off."

He led Christina out into the front of the salon, and she got plenty of deserved attention. So did Sasha, who literally got a standing ovation from the other people on her staff. It was the kind of validation she lived for. Christina did a slow pirouette, allowing for several pictures to be taken. She was certain there were a video or two filmed as well, but she didn't care. She wasn't the same person that walked into the salon. She saw herself as Venus Butterfly, and she was free to fly.

All except she was owned. Gerard led out onto the sidewalk, Comet close behind, and she walked proudly to his SUV, waiting for him to open the back.

He handed her the t-shirt, and she snickered. "Not going to make me be a contortionist and put it on in the cage?"

"You've graduated from the cage. We're going shopping. You get the backseat," he nodded.

Slipping on the shirt, she flipped her head back, making sure her hair was in the right direction. "How do I look?"

"The same as before."

"What?"

"You were always beautiful, Chrissy. She could have shaved your head bald and that wasn't going to change. The hotwife you are comes from inside you... where your real beauty lies."

"God... that just made me wet," she confessed.

"No wiping it up with the dress you're wearing. I wanna see it running down your legs later."

"Okay, I'm not that wet," she grinned.

"You will be. You're going to make yourself cum on the way. I want your eyes glazed over by the time we get there."

"How am I going to do that?"

"I have a vibrating egg in the truck just like the one Sash let you use."

"You know about that?"

"I know everything, babygirl."

"I... I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Cumming without your permission. I know you're going to punish me for that. And for not telling you before you told me you knew."

"Chrissy, I understand why she did it. She needed you to relax so you'd be able to accept what she was going to do to you. I've never disciplined one of my -"

"Harem?" she interrupted.

"Ha! Yes. I've never done that before."

"Why not?"

"I just told you, she needed to make sure you were calm."