Chapter 3

My relationship with Detective Aldo had already reached a fever pitch when I realized that I was crossing the line that I had vowed not to cross with regard to becoming dependent on a dick at the expense of my dignity and self-respect.

My traumatic experiences with rape and sodomy and the physical pain that I had suffered at the hands of a serial rapist were the reasons why I had dedicated my efforts to helping the police track such serial rapists and serial killers of young women in random fits of pleasure-seeking and blood-lust with a genetic defect that saw all females as targets to be destroyed in the shadows of the night.

Despite the reputation of being a woman beater, I found Detective Aldo to be far more gentle than I dared hope he might be in bed. Sure, he had stretched my sphincter with his naughty fingers scaring the shit out of me because of his huge dick, but I had satisfied him with my mouth and my vagina up to now and he was careful back there because he instinctively sensed my fear of being anally taken from behind.

Murphy was all caught up in his adventures with the new interns and he was looking pretty bleary-eyed holding his coffee cup with both hands like he was afraid it would fall to the floor if he wasn’t careful. I wondered what those girls had done to him to cause him to be so fragile. I was forever grateful that we had been able to part on good terms because underneath it all he was a good investigator and I knew I could count on him to back me up in a pinch and I don’t mean my ass.

Buzz and Brenda must have had something covert going on because they kept throwing those meaningful little looks at each other when they didn’t think anyone else was watching.

I hoped that Aldo and I didn’t give off any signals of hidden passion because I wasn’t ready for the rest of the squad informed about our up close and personal time together. He kept up a good act of talking about this broad or this bimbo to everyone never giving me a second glance in front of others. I felt our secret was safe at least for the time being and that was a relief because I couldn’t stand the suspense of answering questions about what the fuck was going on between us.

When we did the update first thing in the morning, I brought up the data sheet facts that pointed out the coincidence of all four of the victims having worked at one time or another for the Flamingo Casino in various jobs but never together and never at the same time.

One victim had worked as a money changer working the gambling floors. Another one worked as a hostess that greeted the big whales that came in and were gifted free rooms in the adjoining hotel. A third victim was a black jack dealer on the night shift and was reputed to put out to administrative staff for free whenever her services were requested. The last victim was a lowly kitchen staff member working the buffet bar on a call-in or stand-by basis when one of the regular employees was sick and unable to work.

I knew that the Flamingo was a hotbed of intrigue due to being sold recently and an expose by a Sacramento newspaper with dubious credentials about the infiltration of the Detroit mob into Las Vegas gambling spots against the rules and regulations of the gaming commission over any such activity.

I had a lot of contacts at the casino because of doing background work on those stories and I was familiar with their organizational setup and knew a lot of the people there on sight and they knew me as a frequent visitor to their different departments just gathering data on the proposed sale and the backgrounds of the prospective buyers.

In fact during the summers of my degree seeking years, I would work for the casino as a change maker and drink server wearing my little French maid costume we all had to wear back in that time with the fishnet stockings that came all the way up from my high heels to my fluffy tutu sitting on top of my partially covered ass cheeks. I remembered those years well. It was before the prolonged rape and sodomy experience on the university campus grounds and was not connected to the casino at all.

The memory of losing my virginity to a security chief with a huge dick I would never forget because he was chewing gum the entire time and he kept punching my ass cheeks instead of spanking them or patting them in a way I would have appreciated a whole lot better.

His name was Ray and he was married to a showgirl that was real loose with the customers if you know what I mean. Each time he punched me in my ass, he would call out her name which was something that sounded Russian like Natasha or Ninochka or something like that. I figured he was pissed off at her for the way she was putting out like that where everyone knew his wife was a whore and they both needed their jobs and had to keep quiet about it. His solution was to take it out on young naïve girls like me and he liked to hear the sound of his fists slamming into a young girl’s defenseless ass cheeks as he took his pleasure deep inside where I have to admit I found it to be absolutely delightful. In fact, it was so good that I would go back for more at every opportunity because in a way I became addicted to the ass punching because it was so different and humiliating to me that I reveled in the dirty thoughts it gave me about getting pounded from behind.

Ray had been arrested for clipping customers of their gambling chips when they were drunk and under his care.