Lapdance hidden camera

2020.05.01 05:32 the14thaccount Lapdance hidden camera

I woke up groggy the next morning. To my relief, the door was closed and I was alone. Comfortable.
I slid on my Buddy Holly glasses. At peace with the solitude around me… until I saw a letter lying on the dresser. The elaborate scribbled scrawl told me all I needed to know: Nicki had snuck in here during the night. Groaning, I grabbed the letter.
There was the schedule literally spelled out for me: gym, shower, interview. Even a curated wardrobe was included.
I put on the tight gym shorts. The red sleeveless shirt. Upon opening the bedroom door, Bobby Helms’s “Jingle Bell Rock” bombarded me. Not to mention this mansion’s blizzard… I couldn’t help but think how some people would find the holiday playlist a welcome reprieve from the Nickimania usually blasting. But not me. I missed the pop music in the face of this seasonal shit.
Then I hit the gym. The treadmill, the crunches. My meager weightlifting. All under those cameras’ red eyes. Not to mention the bizarre wax figure standing in the corner. The one watching me this whole time: a life-size Roman waxwork. Complete with the blonde wig, messy black dress… that deranged scowl.
Out of breath, I faced my reflection. The giant mirror painted me in a flattering but realistic light. Nicki and Ashley had taken care of me, after all. I looked better than ever. Maybe not the Great Value Zac Efron Nicki was hyping me up to be, but hey, what can I say? Even I was impressed my own appearance.
Turning, I confronted the wax Roman. Her fake eyes met mine. Somehow, I was sure she’d moved ever so slightly. Just enough to turn that female gaze toward me.
I then headed for the shower. The warm water soothed me from this Christmas cold. Now I could really get lost in horror thoughts. In my storyteller wilderness.
Relaxed, I stepped back. Looked toward the metal soap holder… then my unease returned. Intensified.
I saw a red light hidden behind the soap bar. One blocked by a narrow glass case. Maybe I was too tired to notice it last night. More than likely too drunk… but apparently, Nicki had eyes on me the whole time.
But I felt aroused amidst the disgust. I couldn’t stop the erection… even when it stemmed from fantasies violating my privacy. But still, where was my dignity? Apparently not enough of it to stop me from modeling in that shower.
In the hallway, the cold hit me hard. Especially when all I had on was the boxers. Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” serenaded my chills. Those voices then returned… I looked toward the last door.
The muffled voices came from there. The fateful room’s light still on. I walked up to the door. Grabbed the handle.
“I told you not to go in there!” came that frenetic scream.
Nicki’s hand grabbed mine. I looked into her fiery eyes. She had on the librarian’s glasses. The red blouse. Her hair pulled back in an unassuming ponytail. Her claws replaced by groomed fingernails. “What the fuck, Rhonnie!”
Under the glare, I crumbled. “I was just curious…”
“Yeah, well, curiosity killed the cat, bitch!” Nicki tossed my hand back to me.
“Well, what happened?” I asked. Still hearing the voices, I waved toward the room. “What’s that noise?”
Behind a cold gaze, Nicki grabbed my wrist in a death grip. “None of your business. Not now!”
I said nothing. Too scared to respond….
“Now get your ass in that bedroom!” Nicki continued. She motioned toward my room. Savoring her power… “Get dressed!”
“My bad…” I responded. But I still listened to her. I walked into my bedroom. Saw my sweater and red khakis laid out for me.
Bing Crosby’s voice echoed everywhere as I snagged the red trousers. Got ready to put them on.
“And what’d I tell you about going to that room!” Nicki’s voice reprimanded me.
Startled, I looked toward the open doorway. Right to the one-and-only Nicki Minaj watching me get dressed.
“I’m sorry!” I said with a laugh.
“Mmm-hmm,” Nicki replied. She leaned against the doorway. Not going anywhere… and neither was that excited gaze of hers. The one that never left my body. “You best start listening to me, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her hungry eyes, I slid on the pants. “I will!”
I felt her eyes on me the entire time. Nicki never once left this show….
We later got together in the home studio. Both of us in our swivel chairs and with a glass of wine...
The ideas came fast and furious. Some good, some great.
“What about like a sex cult?” Nicki suggested.
“A sex cult?” I joked.
Behind the glasses, Nicki sat up straight. "Is that too realistic?”
I chuckled. “With you, man, anything is possible.”
“We just need to give them something crazy!” Nicki went on. She straightened her blouse. “Like whether it’s a cult or anything crazy I did. Like the pegging, anything hot like that!”
“Awesome. I agree.”
“I’ll be your muse for all things sexy and…” Nicki hunched her shoulders. Angled her head for a murderer’s photo shoot. That killer gaze fixated on me. “Scary."
Uncomfortable, I glanced down at my notebook. “Yeah, there’s so much potential.”
“Oh, definitely.”
I worked up the nerve to face her. Then ask a question that’d been bothering me: “So what was up with the garage?”
Nicki gave me a weird look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean all the weird shit in there? The cars, lockers-”
Nicki scoffed. “Bitch, please…”
“Naw, I’m curious.”
With an indifferent flourish, Nicki waved me off. “Your nosyass shouldn’t worry!”
Like a reporter, I leaned in closer. “So why all the cameras then? The guards?”
Nicki stared at me, her eyes eviscerating my soul. “I done told you, Rhonnie.” She moved in toward my face, holding me captive with that stare. “I value my privacy.”
“So why keep that shit then?"
Chuckling, Nicki leaned back in her seat. “Don’t be so worried, Rhonnie…”
“What?”
Nicki looked right at me. Her inner strength obvious. "I’m a tough girl, Rhonnie! You know that.”
Our brainstorming session ended soon after. To be honest, I had enough macabre material minus the Queen’s input. Even if the session proved entertaining.
That afternoon, I entered the kitchen. And there was Nicki seated on a bar stool. Glued to her phone. The Killers’ “Don’t Shoot Me Santa” the latest on the dancefloor's playlist.
“Hey, boo,” Nicki said to me.
“Hey,” I replied as I grabbed a Dos Equis. “I was just about to start writing. ” I opened the longneck. Still basking in the wine buzz… then I heard more moans and groans. Pleasurable exhalations hitting euphoria…
I looked toward the hallway. Drowning out the Christmas music, Club Staff’s sex sounded closer. Somehow more familiar. I stepped toward Nicki. “Yo, what are you watching?”
Nicki didn’t even try hiding the footage. The HD video of me, her, Ashley, and Kellan engaging in a most wild intimacy. Our own filmed sex tape… For whatever reason, I was on the bottom.
“Whoa, what the fuck!” I yelled.
Cackling, Nicki lowered her phone. “What? I can’t relive the past, bitch?”
“I mean you kept that on your phone?”
Nicki shrugged. “Duh. It’s hot…”
I couldn’t argue. “It’s fun and all, but-"
Nicki stood up and held her phone toward me. Giving me a front row view to a clip of her and Ashley dicking me down with those huge dildos. “If I wanna take a break, Rhonnie, I can. I'm not addicted, bitch.” She then got in my face. A delayed flourish of a finish. I could already smell the wine in her breath. “And I’m the one paying you. Remember?”
I gave her a weak smirk. “Okay…”
“That’s right, boo.”
I waved toward her, annoyed. "So when can I get my phone?”
That wacky Nicki grin appeared. She marched toward the hallway. Her erotica conquering the Christmas music. “Oh, you know the rules, Rhonnie.”
“Well, what about Zoo? When the Hell’s he coming over?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Nicki started. She stopped and faced me. Her smile still on display. “He’s coming.”
“Yeah but when-”
A chaotic vibration interrupted us. Nicki glanced at her pulsating phone.
“Shit, I gotta get this!” she said. She grinned at me. “Don’t go anywhere!”
Left alone, I looked over at the kitchen bar. At all those drinks.
Swept away by The Killers’ Christmas song, I staggered up to the pink wine bottles. Grabbed the biggest one.
Buried beneath the booze were torn scratch sheets of paper. A rainbow catalog veering between construction paper and sticky notes. The font matched the pattern: notes scrolled in everything from pen, marker, to even crayon.
I placed the wine on the counter. Picked up a cluster of messages.
Judging by the writing, no way these were the musings of one person. The handwriting was different on each and every message. The emotions different: Greatest xperience eva! I ain’t ever leaving!! I <3 Nicki Minaj Nickis bitch
Battling the unease, I took another swig. But still couldn’t shake the increasing chills.
Then one pink note in particular caught my eye. Brought about waves of anxiety… and sweet nostalgia. I recognized Ashley’s scrawl immediately. Her excellent grammar: Ashley And Rhonnie Forever! We love you, Nicki!
I put the beer down. Picked up my love’s note. Felt adrenaline rush through me. Heard Ashley’s beaming voice as I read it once more… Fuck, I missed her.
Grinning, I slid the letter into my pocket. A cherished memento from our stay at Nicki’s resort… My eyes then went back to this hidden collection. To the white sheet of paper lying under Ash’s message…
In an instant, my romantic remembrance vanished. All of it conquered by fear.
HELP ME read the scribbled touch of a pencil’s panic. The big, bold letters screamed those words. Underlined for emphasis. The message too terrifying not to be genuine…
I grabbed the piece of paper. Got a closer inspection at the all-too-real horror. The reality that everything wasn’t Utopia. Not for everyone, at least...
I downed the Dos Equis. But my buzz didn’t soothe the restless tension.
My eyes scanned the other notes. This scared detective confirming his instincts: there were just too many subtle differences. Too many eccentricities for Nicki and her personalities to have written all these. Especially now that I had Ashley’s note for evidence.
From the dancefloor, The Killers faded out. And in the brief silence came the many voices. Those muffled shouts and cries…
I turned toward the hallway. The sounds obviously coming from Club Staff. The Forbidden Room. Nicki’s wax museum. Her lair of wild dreams and nightmares.
Still clinging to the eerie note, I sensed my opportunity. Somehow gathering courage amidst the anxiety, I rushed into the dark hallway. Saw the only light here coming from beneath that final door.
The coast was clear. No one was around... Just me and whomever lurked inside that room. And as I got closer, the voices grew louder. More excited.
For once, the fear chilled me more than Nicki’s arctic A/C. But I still kept going. Reached out toward the knob.
The sudden struts of a guitar made me jump. So did Elvis Presley’s crooning… Startled, I looked down the hall. Glaring on at “Blue Christmas” now playing on the dancefloor.
Recovering from the scare, I turned my attention toward the door. Reached out once more.
“Rhonnie, what is you doing!” rang Nicki’s siren cry through the darkness. The Queen’s voice all power and attitude. Just like her firm grip snatching my arm.
Scared again, I whirled around. “Shit!”
Nicki’s smirk greeted me. As did her latest costume change: a black Strokes tee and skintight white pants. With no make-up and a shorter red wig, Onika Maraj looked dressed for an underground rock show. How she changed so fast, how she appeared so quick behind me still remains a mystery to this day. Not to mention where the fuck did she keep getting all these wigs and where did she keep them? But in that surreall moment, I was just glad she wasn’t wearing that fucking strap...
Nicki waved at her shirt with excitement to spare. “You like it? You’re a Strokes fan, right?”
The letter in my hand grabbed my gaze. “Yeah…” I held the message toward Nicki. “What the Hell is this!”
Caught off guard, Nicki’s grin disappeared. Her suspicion set in.
“I found this in the kitchen,” I said.
In a fierce instant, Nicki snatched the sheet. Read the note.
“I just wanna know who wrote it,” I continued.
Feigning indifference, Nicki tossed it to the ground. “It’s nothing, I wrote that shit.”
For once, her performance lacked emotion. Gone was the confidence.. her biggest strength.
I flashed a nervous smile. “No, you didn’t! There’s no fucking way!”
Nicki placed a hand to her temple. Avoiding eye contact. At war with her own invasive thoughts.
“I found the note Ashley left too,” I said. “I found all of them! I mean why’d someone write ‘help me,’ Nicki! Goddamn!”
Nicki stayed silent. There was no word. No explanation.
I leaned toward her. “That’s fucking crazy! I mean just-”
Staying strong in the face of my fake toughness, Nicki looked right at me. “Chill, Rhonnie.”
“But I wanna know-”
“Do you think anyone would ever wanna leave here?” Like a dismissive diva, she pushed me back. “Seriously, Rhonnie?”
Scoffing, I pointed toward the note. “Well, someone did apparently!”
“Just think about you and Ashley!” Nicki then flashed that taunting smile. “Y’all’s asses know you didn’t wanna leave!”
I hesitated in the cold. Let “Blue Christmas” continue through the hallway. The mansion. And deep down, I knew I had no response. Nicki was right.
Sensing my weakness, Nicki took an aggressive step toward me. Her pretty face matching mine. “You know I’m right, don’t you,” she cooed. In a slow lunge, Nicki ran her hands along my chest. Leaned in toward my ear for a sensual purrr….
The memories hit me hard. Flashbacks to the ferocious sex. Me, Ash, Nicki, Kellan. Our weeks of fun. Our thrist constantly quenched in this erotic paradise.
“You and Ashley still wanna come back,” Nicki teased in a gentle tone. She squeezed my ass. And got closer to my lips. “Y’all still miss me…”
I smelt the sweet wine in her breath. The booze helping us both lose control.
“We do...” I said. Now I ran my hands up and down Nicki’s majestic body. Felt along the smooth skin. The plastic… The best implants money can buy.
Our bodies collided. Swaying to the rhythm of “Blue Christmas.” Our souls stirred into a happy hysteria.
Nicki’s grin grew wider. “I missed y’all too…”
She gave me a drunken kiss. And I damn sure returned the favor. Gladly still clinging to my ass, Nicki’s other hand went down toward my crotch.
I lost control. The excitement too much.
“Rhonnie, get Ashley,” Nicki said between kisses. She draped her hands around my neck. “Stay here forevvverrrr…”
Smiling, I looked on at those brown eyes. Their mischievous glint. “I’ll think about it-”
A bombastic beat crushed Elvis’s crooning. Loud and obnoxious. A hip-hop air strike had hit Christmas.
I immediately recognized the song. And immediately cringed.
Cackling, Nicki leaned back. “Oh shit!”
I groaned. “Fuck, ‘Anaconda’? “Really?”
“Yes!”
Amidst the pop assault, Nicki pulled me in closer toward her. Another sloppy kiss accompanied this grating tune. The Queen’s hands went wild over my body. The song getting better as the make-out session continued. The intensity matching the incessant rhythm of “Anaconda.”
Nicki held me back. Her female gaze salivating me. The smile starving for more.
Grooving and shaking to the beat, I gave her a smug, seductive smirk. Pleased to have Nicki’s spotlight. “Hey,” I quipped.
Then Mrs. Majesty made her move. Lunging forward, Nicki was fast and quick. Her hands latched on to my arms.
“Whoa!” I joked.
Crying out, Nicki threw me up against the wall. Her sheer strength sent me into it hard… leaving me pinned to it.
There were some nerves. Not to mention a rising thrill. I turned and looked back at it. At Nicki.
Armed with that madcap grin, she descended upon me. Her fingers itching to grab. Her steps aligned with the song… As if she were pantomiming and acting out her own twisted music video. But that sly voice shined through. Even over the deafening soundtrack. Nicki’s excitement too high at this point...
“Oh my Gosh....” she said in a robotic melody. “Look at her butt…”
I was too drunk to move. But still enthralled… erect beyond belief. Here I was Nicki’s prisoner once more. At her manic mercy.
Smirking in silence, I let her tear off my sweater.
“Oh my Gosh, look at her butt,” Nicki kept singing. Those same lyrics repeated in a sexy mantra… Getting me all the more hot. The collision of the song and Nicki’s performance hypnotized me. I gave in to her fantasy… and my own.
Nicki pulled my pants down. Into the music, I grooved. Shook at her touch. All while she yanked off the khakis, then my tight boxers. I held my feet out, letting Nicki slide the socks off. She had me nude. Just as she wanted me.
Still singing along, Nicki pushed me further down. Bending me over… I felt those white pants fasten against my popped out ass. Felt her fasten those clamps of fingers to my hips.
Swaying to the reckless rhythm, Nicki’s passionate thrusts matched the song. One hit after the other...
“My anaconda don’t!” Nicki hollered. “My anaconda don’t!”
I closed my eyes and moaned. The sensations so amazing. Nicki didn’t even need a dildo to fuck hard. She had too much power as is.
Enjoying the show, Nicki moved my ass back-and-forth. Making me twerk on that crotch. Nicki getting the lapdance of her dreams. Not that I was complaining... Being her personal stripper was nothing new for either of us.
Continuing the concert, Nicki sang in a playful tone. Her voice so energetic and full of delight it overtook the fucking record. And only stopping for those dominant grunts. Nicki leaned in next to my ear. “This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles…”
My breathing got heavier. In awe of Nicki’s poise. Behind aroused eyes, I watched her grab a hold of my big dick. All while she kept pounding away in this delirious dry humping. Nicki a Goddamn athlete.
“Dick bigger than a tower,” the Queen continued as she tugged on my cock for emphatic emphasis. “I ain’t talking about Eiffel’s…”
Something moist hit my ass. The crashes were repetitive and heavy. Nicki got out of control. A sexbot on the verge of exploding.
I moaned once more. Until Nicki’s hand covered my mouth. But she still kept going. I moved along with her. Shaking my ass to her delight.
“Real country-ass nigga, let me play with his rifle,” Nicki sang. “Pussy put his ass to sleep, now he calling me NyQuil…” In a wild flourish, she licked my face. A serpent’s tongue all along my smooth skin.
And the show went on. Through every lyric, every thrust. I gave in to the rap Goddess’s every move. Not to mention to her amazing stamina. Here I was sweating in the cold. Still erect. Still twerking...
At the fadeout, Nicki’s cackling hit overdrive. Her histrionics natural. She staggered back and gave my ass a passionate smack.
Exhausted, I turned and looked back at the Queen. At her triumphant smile. The colossal wet stain on the crotch of those white pants… An ocean of desire.
Another haunting rap beat started. Nicki’s “Get On Your Knees” began playing. A song reverberating through my mind. My body.
Nicki ran her hands down her pants in a sensual taunt. “Ooh, bring that ass here, baby.”
Gasping for breath, I staggered to my feet. Still naked. Still recovering from being dicked down.
“You should’ve been here all along,” Nicki continued.
I turned my attention to Club Staff. My mystery powered through… even in the post-sex bliss.
Nicki reached toward me. “Come here, baby.”
Avoiding her touch, I stumbled toward the room. Without the strap, at least my ass wasn’t in too much pain.
“Rhonnie!” I heard Nicki shout. “Don’t go in there!”
Over Nicki’s recorded harmonies and all-too-live screams, I could hear those voices. The cryptic chorus behind door number three. I snatched the knob. Glad to find it unlocked.
Behind me, I heard Nicki chase after me. “Bring that ass here!” she commanded.
I swung the door open and rushed inside. Being back in Club Staff ended my drunk disorientation. Not from reflective warmth but from the strange sight sprawling before me…
Nervous, I stopped in the middle of the room. The pink walls were still flawless. The antique jukebox still timeless. And from here I saw the secret room, its door wide open. Ashley and I’s personal suite…
The other wax figures were spread out like a staged party scene. Nicki Minaj by way of the Uncanny Valley. There was nerdy Nicki, tomboy Nicki. All aspects of the artist’s personality.
Both the pink dildo and red blouse were lying on the ground. The glasses she wore earlier. Wigs piled up in a colorful conglomeration. Club Staff now Nicki’s dressing room for all those costume changes. And also the site of her darkest desires.
But these familiar sights did little to soothe my dread. Still doused in sweat, I felt Nicki’s literal drip slide off my ass... Somehow, Nicki had shocked me once more. Scared me with the secrets of her forbidden room.
Open laptops were arranged on all those large tables. Rows and rows of them leading up to a large demigod of a flatscreen. The room featuring an electrical cult ceremony…
What they showed were live feeds. HD footage clearly taken from all these fucking cameras. In rooms I’d never seen. Areas of Nicki’s home and property I never knew existed. Many of the rooms from the sheds out back, I figured.
Strangers stayed on those screens. Attractive men and women, ranging from young adults to senior citizens. But they were all hot… All of them either stripped down or dressed in the nice fashion I knew Nicki picked out. They were her community. The Barbz she really wanted.
Most of these hottiees were engaged in sex. The mics made that much clear. There was everything: missionary, pegging, three-ways, Devil’s Threesomes, guy-on-guy. Whatever your hungry heart desired. Whatever the Hell Nicki wanted.
With several clips taking place at night, I knew the Queen had recorded everything. Not so much for security or surveillance. Just for herself.
In the videos, I recognized a few faces, the bodyguards amongst them. And of course, I recognized Kellan and his large dick. He was in a room of four, using the same playbook me, him, Ash, and Nicki perfected.
The same playbook I saw broadcast on that flatscreen. The footage showed the four of us from just a few months ago. The four of us having the sex of our lives. We must’ve really been amongst Nicki’s favs to be her star attraction…
Sure, I was disturbed. But nostalgia crept in upon seeing us on the silver screen. I gotta say I missed Kellan. Not to mention he was a long way from Trinidad… But maybe to him, the Minaj mansion was home. We did have our fun, after all.
But the romanticism died soon after seeing one laptop showing me in the lair. Showing me right now. In the nude. I now noticed several cameras dangling down from the ceiling, filming my fear.
More vivid glows emanated from the secret room. Undoubtedly there was more where this came from…
I now realized Nicki Minaj was a mirage. A sexially-explicit illusion used to draw in the thirstiest men and women. A Venus flytrap for Onika Maraj’s most depraved pleasures.
But still I needed to see more... Even over the chilling epiphany, curiosity compelled me. I charged up to the secret room. Until a certain singing stopped me.
I whirled around to face Nicki. She stood tall and defiant. Regardless of the striking stain, she didn’t look trashy. She wore that wet vagina well. After all, that crotch certainly didn’t feel like a pussy at times...
And all the while, Nicki sang along to the chorus of “Get On Your Knees.” A sly smile accompanying her flow. Her joy.
An intimate audience, I watched her the whole way through. This was Nicki The Artist and she sounded even better live. More natural. More raw.
As the track faded out, Nicki nodded toward the laptops. “You know they wanna be here, Rhonnie.” She strutted up to me.
Like looking at a much prettier Medusa, I turned to stone. Held in place by the beauty. The charisma.
“No one’s being held against their will,” Nicki continued. She stole an admiring glance at my cock before looking into my green eyes. “That’s their shit cars they left in the garage. Their shit clothes in the lockers. Their shit lives they left behind.”
“But still… it’s not right,” I struggled to say. “It’s weird.”
Soothing me, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “They just wanted to be happy, Rhonnie. That’s all.”
I couldn’t respond. Naked and in front of Nicki, I was conflicted. Torn between the seduction and slavery.
Nicki leaned in closer. “I didn’t want you to see till you were ready.” She caressed my face. Her touch so… warm. “Till you and Ashley were here.” Her other hand clinged to my thigh.
Quiet, I ran my fingers through Nicki’s short hair. “Regret In Your Tears” next on Nicki’s always-appropriate soundtrack. This setlist always in sync with our current mood.
“I didn’t want y’all to get scared,” Nicki went on. Her hand drifted down to my ass. For another sensual squeeze. “That was all, Rhonnie.”
I pulled away from her. “Naw, I can’t…”
Forcing a cackle, Nicki grabbed my arm. Her demeanor drunk, her mannerisms driven by madness. “Rhonnie, look!” She pointed toward the station of so many screens. “I dress them well, they get to live with me!” Selling herself well, Nicki felt along her well-endowed chest. “They get to be with me, baby…” She lunged in closer, inches away from my face. “And that should’ve been you and Ashley!”
Now I yanked my arm back. “No! This isn’t right, Nicki! You’re asking us to give up everything! We’ve got fucking lives, man! I wanna write!”
Nicki’s smile stagnated. “And you can… You can write about me.” She pointed across the room. Of course, right at that huge dildo. “And spend more time with that!” She grabbed on to my shoulders. “Me, you, and Ash. Kellan. It’ll be just like old times, babe.”
“I can’t.” Struggling against that strength, I finally managed to escape her grips once more.
A glower overtook Nicki’s face. “What do you think this is then, Rhonnie!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“This house! Me, bitch!”
Never had I seen her get this pissed. Sure, maybe crazy as Hell. Maybe psychosexual but not fucking angry.
Nicki pointed at herself. ”I’m the reason they wanna come! I bring them here, I keep them happy! They make me happy! I’m their fucking queen, Rhonnie! I make them want me, you understand!” She got in my face. But I was already scared into obedience. “Just like I did to you and Ashley!” She pointed to her head. “It’s in here, Rhonnie.” Immediately, she gravitated to that body. “And all here, baby! It’s got nothing to do with Onika! Nothing to do with me, the girl from Queens! The crazy family, the tragedies. It’s the way I look, Rhonnie! The ass and titties! The sex. Fucking. Sells.”
The height difference didn’t matter. Not now. Nicki stared me down hard. From both lust and anger. The dangerous ends of both emotions. I shivered under that spare. Nicki knowing full well she had me under her spell.
“What’s going on?” a deep voice rivaling mine asked.
We both turned. And well, Nicki’s excited smile contrasted my shock.
There was the man of the hour: Zoo. He stood a few feet away from us. His naked body no longer too surreal a sight in this freaky fortress. He was a handsome guy. Much taller than us. Much more sculpted than me A pretty prisoner both in the past and now. Kenneth checked off most of Nicki’s boxes: tough, thicc, and well-hung. Somehow, him and I had both managed to stay erect. Maybe there was something in the mansion’s air. But now Zoo’s glare stayed on me. The dude likely to break me by hand or dick…
Nicki’s grin hit sitcom levels. “Hey, baby!” she gushed. Drawn to her man, she rushed over and hugged him.
But Kenneth and I’s staredown wasn’t going anywhere.
“Is that the writer guy?” he asked Nicki.
“Yeah, that’s Rhonnie!” she beamed.
They fixated their gazes on me. There we were, the three of us with our dicks hanging out. Well, with Nicki’s lying closeby.
Through the tense silence, all we heard was the Minaj playlist. And the sounds of her prisoners. Their pleasurable moans and cries a constant off those laptops. Of course, I recognized my own exhalations on that flatscreen. God knows what the Hell I was taking in that clip...
Nicki pulled Kenneth closer toward her. Her man definitely lacked her enthusiasm. “He’s the one writing about us, Zoo!” she exclaimed. “And I’m helping him out! He’s gonna make us even more famous!”
“So I’ve heard,” he replied. His hands stayed by his side. Ready for any false move from rhonnie14.
“Ain’t that right, Rhonnie!” Nicki said. Her wicked gaze settled in on me. “You’re gonna write so many crazy stories, right.”
Reaching into the recesses of my soul, I found some half-ass courage. “I’m writing the truth, Nicki,” I finally said. I waved toward the laptops. “I’m writing about all this! The people you got here, the ones you’ve got trapped! Your prisoners!”
Needless to say, Zoo wasn’t amused. His glare now more permanent than Nicki’s glowing smile. But now Nicki was no different. She had no chance at hiding the rage boiling within.
“I’m telling the truth!” I yelled.
Nicki took a ferocious step toward me.
Trying to restrain her, Zoo grabbed the Queen’s arm. “Nicki-”
But nothing could stop her. Not even Zoo’s impressive muscles. Nicki bulldozed on by. Straight for me.
Oh fuck, I thought...
Nicki put a finger to my face. “And do you think anyone’s gonna believe you, motherfucker!”
I stayed quiet. Yeah, I was a chickenshit.
“I’ll just tell them you’re some fucking creep obsessed with me!” Nicki continued. “No one will buy what the fuck some random horror writer has to say! Yo ass look like you’re sixteen anyway!”
Crumbling under her irate pressure, I shrugged my shoulders. “That’s a compliment...”
“Shut the fuck up!” Nicki yelled.
I locked eyes with Zoo. Even he was keeping his distance from her.
“Yeah, listen to Nicki!” he added.
Nicki gave me a light shove. The glare slicing into me like a knife. “So you go write your goofy fucking stories! Pimp my name to the horror crowd! They’ll wanna be with the Queen too, boo! You know that!”
“You got him, Nicki,” I heard Zoo chime in.
Giving me her patented stank face, Nicki walked back toward her husband. Leaving me in an awkward, uneasy state.
I watched Nicki drape her arm around Zoo’s waist. Her outburst now veering toward a manic melancholy. “You should’ve stayed, you and Ashley both!” Nicki said. I saw her grab on to Kenneth’s ass. “Y’all’d have been the Paula Patton and Zac Efron in here. All for me…”
Doing his best to be supportive, Zoo held on to her tight. Caressed Nicki’s shoulder. Anything to stay on her sweet side.
Now Nicki’s performance hit pathos. Somehow, I felt sorry for her. Sympathy even in the face of millions and nothing but pretty people surrounding her.
“Y’all should’ve just stayed!” she said in a trembling voice. The emotions erupted. Shielding her eyes, she turned away.
I took a calm step toward her. “I can’t stay Nicki. We just can’t.”
Both Nicki and Zoo confronted me. They showed their hurt physically. Their wounds within. The dark side of being a social media freakshow.
Nicki showed teardrops. Wearing her usual melodramatic make-up, she’d have resembled a crying clown. But not when she was just dressed as herself… Not when she was Onika. A lonely, young woman simultaneously vindicated and destroyed by her own fucking dream.
Concerned, I ran a hand through my swoop. Kept an appropriate distance from the distraught couple. “What’s this really about, man?” I asked, forcing my voice at a chill calm. “Nicki, maybe you should talk to someone.”
That glare flashed through Mrs. Majesty’s tears.
“You just need to get some help,” I struggled to say. “There’s nothing wrong with that-”
“Help!?” Nicki shouted. She pulled away from Zoo. All her weeping eyes on me. “I don’t need any help, Rhonnie! I need people to fucking care!”
A worried Zoo reached toward her. “Babe.” This was the side of Kenneth I’d never seen. Unlike Nicki, he was no performer or actor. Just a caring husband to one of the most complex personalities in Hollyweird.
Nicki held him back. Instead, her attention stayed on me. The stare sharpened. Her defensiveness a weak disguise for those insecurities galore. “That’s all I want, Rhonnie! I love my fans, the real fans!”
“I know,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to-”
“But that’s not what people want!” Nicki cried. The floodgate of tears burst. Here was a woman on the verge of a brutal breakdown. A sad glimpse behind the bravado. Nicki the beautiful diva facing fate and alienation. “They want the big titty bitch! That’s it!” She pointed toward that ‘perfect’ figure. “They don’t care about me! The lyrics or the drive! It’s this! I just want someone to look past that! Someone like you! Lile Ashley!” She snatched Kenneth’s hand in a loving grip. “And Zoo… Y’all need to stay with me for more! For the music!”
Zoo and I made quick eye contact. I imagine we didn’t have much in common other than worrying over Nicki’s mental state… but that was bond enough.
Like a Shakespearean monologue, Nicki continued spilling her guts. The raw emotion on display. Whatever warts and all could be on those perfect physical features. “It’s why I do this!” She waved toward her body. “The surgeries, the make-up! I can’t get anyone to just listen!”
“But Nicki, there’s plenty of us,” I said. “Hell, I like the music!”
“It’s just sex, Rhonnie! Like I told you!” Nicki stared right at me. “That’s all they care about at the end of the day.” She waved toward the laptops. Nicki’s movements so fast and frenetic, her boobs could’ve caused an earthquake. Just as much as her morose expression would elicit heartbreak. “It’s why I don’t give a fuck about those sluts and shrimp-dicked idiots just getting off to me! They can’t understand me like you! Like all the people I bring here can!”
“There’s more of us though, Nicki. I swear! We don’t have to stay here to support you, man. We’re everywhere!”
“I just want them to like me for the music! The talent! Not the sex, not the bullshit!” Lost in her sorrow, Nicki turned away. Wiped off those countless tears. “I can’t do anything as a female rapper… I can’t be a Pac or Ye. I have to be the hot bitch… You don’t understand, Rhonnie. I never wanted it like this!”
Zoo grabbed her shoulder. “Yo, babe-”
Possessed by passion, Nicki swatted his hand away. She screamed aloud. Into the air. Into her own crazed soul. Exorcist Nicki her latest personality. Then those maniacal sights settled in on me. “I don’t need help, Rhonnie! I need supporters! People who like me for who I am! For who I fucking * really* am! I need them with me twenty-four seven, Rhonnie!”
Fighting my own tears, I stepped toward her. “And I do. Ashley and I both-”
“Then stay!”
Nicki’s anguish made me stop. All while it ate me alive. Maybe I knew Nicki more than most. But here I was wanting her to be okay... Here I was desperate to reassure the Queen of hip-hop.
“Stay here forever!” Nicki yelled.
I shook my head. “I can’t, Nicki. I can’t.”
With weary defeat, Nicki shook her head. Each and every tear nothing but bullets piercing into my naked flesh.
Zoo ran a hand along her arm. “Nicki. Hey-”
Nicki stormed out. Off stage and away from her erotic island. She never said goodbye. Never gave me that bright smile. For someone with her talent and dictionary, she didn’t say shit.
Feeling guilty, I watched Nicki adjust her pants. Adjust the stain sticking to her skin… And then she was gone. A gorgeous witch disappearing into the night.
The catchy Nicki tunes still played. Not to mention the enthusiastic voices still blasting off those feeds. But Kenneth and I may as well have stood in silence. So thick the tension was.
He finally looked at me. His stare was smoldering, intense. “Get the fuck out.”
Put on the spot, I glanced around the room. At the sex videos. Then at my own naked body. With a nervous smile, I confronted Zoo. Shrugged my shoulders. “Can I at least put my boxers on?”
I got to put on the nice clothes Nicki stripped from me. Got my bag, got an Uber for LAX, and got the fuck out of there. All on Nicki’s tab, thankfully.
Now I sat alone at the airport. Waiting on a two A.M. flight… All alone in my corner. No one was around me this late. The cold isolation here like a cavern. Not even the Christmas wreaths and trees could soothe me.
Holding my phone, I tried to pass the time. Tried to keep my mind off the bizarre Nicki encounter. I just had to put on Bruce. Now blasting “No Surrender” through my earbuds and into my rattled mind. Scared that playing any Nicki would be a siren call luring my ass back to her place… Her world.
That being said, the long wait left me in reflection. Nicki wasn’t wrong on any count. To quote one of her more obnoxious tracks, we were all just beez in the trap. Caught up in her lore, her talent. And yes, the insane beauty. But what unsettled me most was how she related it to me. You see, Nicki spelled out her personal dilemma. Fuck it, she even related the twisted reality to me. And Nicki was right all along. Regardless of how much she liked creeping on my Reddit porn accounts, she had a point. I had more fans piling in there for a pic I took in seconds rather than a story I poured my heart and soul into. A situation no different than Nicki’s more serious jams getting shunned in favor of twerking and brainless exploitation. Sex sells, man. No matter her personality, Nicki wasn’t wrong about that. Call it my What Price, Hollywood? moment… All courtesy of Onika Maraj.
And through the thoughts, my phone kept buzzing. Now here came call number three from Nicki. I chose to ignore it. I couldn’t face her this soon. Not after the unsettling encounters and her unsettling set-up. After the harrowing breakdown, I couldn’t answer her. I wouldn’t answer that call, I plead to my nervous self in an internal intervention.
And all the while, I texted Ashley. Told her how much I loved her. How I couldn’t wait to see her. Our bond rekindled to first-month glories until she sent me a new text: You should’ve stayed!
I looked on at the message, uneasy.
Then came Ash’s quick follow-up: Go back and I’ll come! :)
The fear returned. Nicki had been hypnotizing me. And apparently, she’d long had Ash under control. “What…” I said.
Overtaking my screen was another incessant call: Nicki. Who knew how drunk or high she was? Much less lonely.
Don’t answer, I reminded myself. Don’t give in.
Forcing myself, I silenced the call. Then sat there in awkward silence. In a quiet dread I couldn’t identify. Or control.
Just when I needed it, Bruce left me. My rallying cry of “No Surrender” gone. My whole Goddamn support system.
I texted Ashley back: Are you sure? I think we should wait, boo…
Her reply appeared immediately: YES! GO THERE NOW, STU-STU!
I stared on at her message. Her demand. Her eager euphoria. Here I was caught between arousal and disappointment. And at the end of the day I had no say in this weird, wild mess. Ash did.
Seconds later came a new text message. Not from Ashley but Nicki: Come back over, Rhonnie
The next SMS bullet hit me: I miss y’all already ;)
Another one appeared: Again
“Shit…” I said to myself. I got ready to ignore the message. This was Rhonnie’s last stand against the impulses. The thirst.
Until my phone pulsated to life. The call so ferocious I almost missed Nicki’s next text: I talked to Ashley!!! <3 :p
And that was when I laid eyes on the caller ID: on my girlfriend’s number. The death sentence to my attempt at defiance. As always.
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2020.05.01 05:30 the14thaccount Lapdance hidden camera

The shower was quick and painless. Only when I went back to my room there wasn’t the closet catalog to choose from: just the tight jeans and tight black t-shirt already sprawled out on the bed. Already selected by Nicki.
Later on, I walked past the constant cameras. The clothes tight and stylish. Just like how Nicki wanted them. I heard Tom Petty’s “Christmas (All Over Again)” coming from that dancefloor. Nicki’s Christmas playlist a twenty-four hour affair. The club open all night… Only Club Staff wasn’t. Down the hall I saw its door still closed. The lights off inside. Its Nicki soundtrack silent. Her wax sisters no longer partying since Ash and I left.
Ready for the Queen, I journeyed through the labyrinthe. The Christmas maze, the lights. The mairjuana tree. The long hallways and glowing gold records.
I only made one beer detour. One stop amongst the many roadside bars. After downing three bottles of Dos Equis, I felt more relaxed. More comfortable for Nicki and I’s forthcoming conversation.
I saw the open doorway leading to the studio. Leading me to Nicki Minaj. I glanced down at the tight jeans that would surely get her salivating. Took a deep breath. My soul with some hesitation before I went straight inside.
There was the intimate space. The soundproof walls. The live room where Mrs. Majesty made the magic happen. A Trinidad decor was evident in the various colorful trinkets from Nicki’s many travels. The elephant figurines, the kaleidoscopic paintings of various women of color. And of course, there were the notebooks. Dozens and dozens of them scattered about like toys in Nicki’s personal playland. Well, the non-sex toys, that is…
Each open notebook was covered in the rapper’s pretty scrawl. Lyrics both clever and insane. A beautiful madness punctured the pages. Judging by the sheer amount of binders, when Nicki got on a roll, she was a frenetic force. Unstoppable in her drive and creativity.
On the control room table was a bottle of wine. Two glasses already poured. And there sat the Queen on her pink swivel chair. The studio her throne. Her bitch.
Her fingernails were now red claws. A match to the fiery red wig. The make-up vivid but professional. Along with thin wire-rimmed glasses, her beige pants suit was somehow scholarly and bland even with such beauty lying beneath it. Sitting there with a pen in hand and notebook in lap, Nicki looked to be in academic mode. All business inside the studio.
Nicki flashed me a warm smile. “Mmm, those look nice…”
Flattered, I glanced down at the preppy attire. The type of clothes late-twenty-somethings flaunted when they played high schoolers on T.V. And they were a perfect fit too. “Yeah, thanks.”
The two of us looked on at each other. Nothing weird. Just mutual respect… or attraction. The Ronettes’ “Sleigh Ride” the only sound through the silence.
Nicki relaxed in her seat. “Hey, shut the door!”
Following orders, I closed it behind me. Gone was The Ronettes’ harmonies. That was curtains for Nicki’s Christmas playlist here in the soundproof studio.
Using the notebook, Nicki motioned toward the other swivel chair. “Have a seat, Rhonnie. Let’s get down to business, shall we.”
I sat down and rolled the chair closer. Nicki now loomed up over me. Her huge ass undoubtedly helped in the height advantage. Then again, her aura had power, and it always kept the Queen in control.
Nicki waved around the room. “Bringing back any memories?”
“Oh yeah. The interview…” An awkward chuckle escaped my lips.
Behind confident eyes, Nicki watched me. Her claws kept tapping the notebook in a repetitive rhythm. “You know, I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
Through her weak smile, I sensed Nicki’s sincerity. This personality wasn’t manic or aggressive. Not yet at least. “Naw, you’re fine,” I said. “We, uh… we had fun.”
Nicki laughed. “Definitely!” Then she lunged forward, getting closer to me. “But I really wanted a book. I wanted my story to be told, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her female gaze, I hesitated. “And it still can… I’d love to give it another try.”
“Ooh, I’d love that….” Nicki leaned back. “You know, I really love your writing, Rhonnie. I think you’d do amazing things covering the life and times of Onika Maraj.”
Now I was flying high. A horrible actor, I did my best to play it cool. “Well, I’m glad somebody thinks so...”
“Oh, we do! Trust me. You’ve got the talent, baby.”
“I appreciate it.”
Nicki pointed her blood-red finger right at me. “You write movies too, right?” I laughed. “Whoa, shit, look at you!”
“I know my shit…”
“But yeah, I started out with the screenplays. I’ve always been a movie person-”
“So what happened?”
Pausing for a second, I took note of Nicki’s focused gaze. She was interested, alright… “These filmmakers, man. They’re all broke and do a shitty job.”
“Ah…” Nicki took a quick sip of wine.
“It’s a long story. I just… I don’t have an agent, they don’t read shit unless you know somebody. And I’m broke as fuck so I can’t film anything…” Here I was rambling. Rhonnie The Jaded Writer making his grand return. Angry. Talking with my hands. “But that’s why I started the NoSleeps. I actually wrote a couple of novels before that, but I’m just trying to build an audience now.”
“Well, you got me hooked!”.
Even I had to smile. “I’m glad. I just got tired of getting fucked by Hollywood.”
Nicki struggled to suppress a smirk. “Well, hey, at least it was fun when I fucked you.”
Damn, she was clever. I grinned. “Yeah. My best Hollywood experience for sure!” I ran a hand through my swoop. “And Hell, at least you paid me!”
Getting comfortable, Nicki readjusted on her throne. Her tone stayed consistent and precise. Her T.V. journalist performance pretty impressive. “But about the biography, would you be willing to do something else for me?”
“Yeah, uh. What do you mean?”
“Look, Rhonnie, the Barbz loved the story.”.
I smirked. “I guess it has a cult following going.”
Nicki just kept her eyes on me. There was no unwavering smile to offset the seriousness. She meant business. All as her relentless claws kept tapping the notebook... “I did the research. My album sales, the downloads, everything went up after you posted that NoSleep.” In a mic drop moment, Nicki’s hand collapsed on to the binder. “And now I want more!”
“Whoa…” I struggled to say through the excitement. “So you want like a whole series?”
“Preciseleee…”
The shit-eating grin never left my face. Already my mind was racing with ideas. I turned away, disoriented by my life-long dream.
“I’ll pay you as well,” Nicki continued. “You can even go back to Albany, Georgia.” With seductive poise, Nicki leaned in a little closer. “Or Hell, you and Ash can come here.”
I faced Nicki. “So did people really like the story that much?”
“Oh, Hell yeah!”
“Did any of them… believe it?”
Nicki revealed a sly smile. “Some.”
Enjoying the spotlight, I folded my arms. “So fucking crazy… Honestly, I just wanted to tell the truth about what happened… I wasn’t trying to write creepy fan fic or erotic shit. I was just wanting to portray you as accurately as possible, Nicki. I mean Hell, I thought that’d be my only shot at the biography!”
Nicki’s female gaze was starting to appear. “Not at all.”
Still rambling, I threw my hands up. “And then some people found it hot. They seemed more aroused than anything-”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
I gave her an amused look… realizing she was kinda right.
“Pegging’s hot,” Nicki continued. “And it ain’t like those rumors about me fucking men in the ass weren’t around before your story.”
I revealed a smirk. “Yeah...”
Rivaling my own elation, Nicki rolled her chair in closer toward me. “I just want you to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Make it even sexier! Get fucking crazy with it!”
“What… You’re joking, right?”
Nicki pointed at her stone cold glare. “Do I look like I’m fucking joking, Rhonnie!” She gave me a light punch on the arm. And damn, it still hurt… “Just do what I say! Write about all the sex. About how hot I am.” For emphasis, she squeezed her own breasts. “These titties, this ass, the pegging.” Nicki pointed at me. ”Squeezing a guy’s ass or making him strip down, the fucking hot shit, Rhonnie! I need more of that!”
The speech left me in stunned silence. There was a lot to unpack. Amongst the shock and intrigue, there was also disappointment...
Nicki shook my shoulder. “Just do more of that! That’s what we need.”
I pulled away from her. “But why...”
“Why!”
I pointed between us. “I just told you, I didn’t intend to just make you out to be some fucking bimbo, Nicki! I wanted to humanize you. That was the whole point!”
With a subtle smile on her face, Nicki just watched me.
“Like yeah, I told the truth,” I went on. “I wrote about the crazy sex but that wasn’t the point! I wanted to show the world the real you. I wanted them to see Onika Maraj. This was a biography.”
In a twisted taunt, Nicki caressed my face. “Oh, that’s so cute, Rhonnie.”
I knocked her hand away. “No, I mean it!”
Her smile was swiped clean. Nicki now literally got in my face. “And that’s fan-fucking-tastic!”
Scared, I cowered back into my seat. Nicki hadn’t even yelled... she didn’t need to.
“Look, baby, what you’re saying is true,” continued Nicki. She laid a hand in my lap. Dangerously close to awakening my penis... “And I appreciate it, Rhonnie. I’m glad you captured the real me.”
“I tried,” I said. I stole a look down at her hand. “Are you sure Zoo’s cool with this?”
Nicki’s grip got tighter. “Yes, Zoo’s fine, Rhonnie!”
“I’m just saying…”
Like a starved animal, Nicki pulled my chair closer toward her. “You got my vibe well, but that’s not what got me famous, Rhonnie! I wish it was but it wasn’t.”
“What are you talking about? You’re talented as fuck and that’s another reason I-”
“And so are you!” Nicki interrupted. “And that’s my whole point!” Gentle, Nicki’s claws ran along my cheeks… “I was like you once, Rhonnie. I had the talent. The drive, the dedication.”
Rivetered, I watched her every move. Her every emotion.
Nicki sat back in her seat. “But none of that mattered. I got nowhere in my career... I was broke…” She flashed a weary smile. “Those Barbie dreams were far away back then.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Being a female rapper…” Nicki shrugged her shoulders. “You just have to play the game.”
“Sex, the male gaze.” I waved toward her body. “All that shit just to have your voice heard.”
Nicki nodded. But the bitterness didn’t manifest itself in tears or weakness. Just hardened toughness. “I had to play the freak. For every ‘Regret In Your Tears,’ I have to do three or four whackass sex songs.”
Showing support amidst the Queen’s self-reflection, I grinned. “Like ‘Anaconda’?”
Nicki laughed. “What! You don’t like-”
“God, I hate that song!”
Nicki grabbed my arm. “But you see my point, right!”
“I do. Definitely.”
Ruminating on the famed career, Nicki ran her hands along the notebook. Struggled to maintain eye contact. Obviously relieved for the deeper conversation… if uncomfortable. “That’s why I have to do all this shit. To do what I really want I have to shake my ass or flaunt my titties! It’s frustrating, man. To have to write some of these lyrics and keep being the freaky bitch for everyone… I mean for once I’d like to have Channing Tatum or someone give me a lapdance in a music video but that’d scare the ‘straight’ guys watching… I can’t objectify men for the serious money.” She looked right at me. A vague glimmer of defeat in her power. “Just myself.”
The words, the realities left me in a sad silence. I had even more empathy for Onika now. Especially after hearing this requiem for Nicki’s initial rap idealism.
“So you see,” Nicki said. “The sex sells, Rhonnie. That’s all that matters.” She pointed a red claw at me. “And that’s why we need more of it in the stories.”
“But we don’t!” I replied. “You don’t have to do-”
“Listen, if you’re wanting to do this full time, Rhonnie, you gotta compromise!” Nicki yelled in a voice driven by years of rage. Years of industry suppression.
I waved toward the studio. “But look, you have the money! You’ve already played their stupid fucking game!”
Nicki stared at me. The glasses hid any tears or melancholy. Then again, Nicki always hid it well. She had the perfect poise. The confidence necessary for a black woman to climb her way to the top of the entertainment food chain.
“We can just write the truth,” I continued. “You can write the songs you want to write. You don’t have to satisfy this fucking thirst from others who just watch you for the sex. You don’t have to make money off that shit anymore! You can be the great artist you are! The one you were born to be!”
Right before me, Nicki’s creative mind went into contemplation. “At this point, I’ve got no choice,” she said. “I need the money just like anyone else, Rhonnie.”
I groaned.
Snapping into scary Nicki, she lunged toward me. A fiery fervor consumed her. The red wig and fingernails made her a rap Goddess straight from Hell.
I got quiet real quick.
“Don’t you understand! I’ve got no choice, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted. “I’m thirty-seven years old! There’s not much time for a woman in this industry to be the best, man!”
“I know,” I said in a low voice. “I’m sorry...”
More calm, Nicki leaned back. “I’m just glad I can talk about pegging now,” she admitted. “Hell, that’s some progress for female empowerment for you.”
“True… But I just think there’s nothing to lose by focusing more on your artistic vision. You don’t have to keep exploiting yourself-”
“Maybe I want to,” Nicki interrupted.
“What?”
With seductive slowness, Nicki creeped in closer. “Sometimes I like the attention.” She let out a confident cackle. “The thought of all those guys and girls finding me hot… I don’t know.” She bit her lip with erotic emphasis. “It turns me on.”
I grinned. “I’m not arguing with-”
Giving in to her natural theatrics, Nicki collapsed back on the chair. Now channeling her inner Bob Dylan. Her inner eccentric rock star. Letting all those quirks and tics whisk her away. “I mean yeah, it’s frustrating not to get to do my deeper songs all the time. To embrace being the artist I know I am... That’s what I really want, don’t get me wrong.” Holding my gaze hostage, she shrugged her shoulders. “But sometimes it’s sexy to play the star. To be all hot and beautiful... I like it sometimes...” She flashed that beaming smile. “And it gives me money. Power. Certainly helped me get you here.”
Nicki’s hands veered under the notebook. Stacking them on top of one another, she created a literal handmade dick. “It lets me do whatever I want to you, Rhonnie…” Moaning and grunting, Nicki pretended to peg me right then and there. Her thrusts always so aggressive. Even when she was only pretending to fuck me hard…
I couldn’t turn away. Nor couldn’t help but be aroused… Trying not to give in to the steamy sight, I sifted in my seat. Battled my rising bulge. “But still, there’s no way to ignore the money?” I asked. “Do the music that best captures you.”
Ignoring me, Nicki kept on with the imaginary fucking. Her grunts got louder. The Queen clearly nearing her orgasm…
Still I tried to steer us back on track. I moved in toward her. “Just make your own album about you and all these hot guys or you and your relationships,” I continued, my voice louder in an attempt to overpower Nicki’s carnal cries. “Instead of having to exploit your body so much, you can do more songs you care about!”
Cackling, Nicki sat up straight. She clapped her hands together.
“What?” I said.
“You’re funny. God… you’re always funny, Rhonnie.”
I revealed an amused smile. “Well, thanks...”
“I mean it!” Nicki pushed her dangling red hair back. “Oh shit.”
In the cold room, I hesitated. Struggling to stay serious and heartfelt amidst Nicki’s lingering laughter. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m judging you, Nicki because I’m not.” I felt her stare settle in on me. “You make a lot more than me and still can make great music… I just think you’re better than that.”
“And so are you,” Nicki said in a sharp reply.
Confused, I felt unease surge through me. My goofy smile couldn’t play it off either. “What do you mean?”
Armed with a wide grin, Nicki slowly crept closer toward me. “I told you this last time.” The two of us were now just inches apart. “I know allll about you, Rhonnie.”
Anxiety joined my unease. I now trembled...
“You like the attention too,” Nicki said. “I know you do!”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“I’m just proving my point.” Mrs. Majesty shrugged her shoulders. Her smirk slicing into me. “Sex sells.” She rested a hand on my knee. “You should know that as well as anyone.”
Warm sensations erupted inside me. I felt body heat. As if our emotional therapy session had morphed into a Skinemax porno...
“You’re the one that’s always posting on Reddit,” Nicki teased. “Letting all those horny desperate girls and guys ogle you like that. Jerking off to you... You fucking love it, don’t you?”
She had me. “Yeah,” I admitted.
Nicki now felt along my chest. “Your dick and ass pictures on ladyboners and gaybros. I know you do it, Rhonnie. I know alll about you remember...”
The room finally got hotter…
“Let’s go through those accounts, shall we,” Nicki pressed further. “Ronaldlongdick.”
I smiled at Nicki. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Ronaldlongdick77, unknownhorrorwriter.”
“That one was obvious...”
Nicki’s claws ran wild across my body. Fueled by her desire. Not that I was complaining…
“Bubblebutt4days,” Nicki continued. She let out a soft chuckle. “And rhonnie141414. Hmm, that’s sure discreet.”
“Yeah, that was when I was twenty-four, man...”
“But that’s the thing.” Nicki’s grip settled in on my thighs. “You know that account you deleted. Ronaldlongdick.”
“Yeah…”
Nicki got closer. The two of us now noses apart. “How many followers did it end up with?”
Not wanting to answer, I turned away.
“Come on now,” Nicki taunted. “You know how many, bitch.”
I gave her a defeated smirk. Knowing full well what she was about to say… And how she’d proven this harsh reality: sex sells.
“Thirteen hundred followers, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted.
The inevitable set in. I nodded along with her. Overpowered by the Queen once more. “I know...”
Nicki purred with delight. “And compare that to your writing, huh? The rhonnie14 sub?” She nudged my chin. “How many?”
“Eight hundred and-”
“Five!” Nicki said with me. Her triumphant laugh blared.
Cornered by Nicki, I shrugged. “Well… you got me...”
“So think about this, Rhonnie. You’re more famous for that dick.” With excited delight, Nicki slid her hands on to my booty. “And that ass than your horror stories...”
“Thanks, Nicki,” I deadpanned. “I appreciate the support!”
Nicki chuckled as she squeezed tighter to my ass. “All I’m saying’s you gotta do what you gotta do to get famous, boo. To make real money.” She ran her hands along my abs. “And now that you’ve been working out, I can go ahead and tell you, you’d make bank flaunting all this on-line. Those down low brothas and thirstyass sistas would be all up on you.”
“Stop it!” I joked. “I can’t handle this many compliments.”
“Bitch, please!” Nicki gave me a shove before sitting back in her seat. “You love that shit and you know it! You know you do!”
“Naw, you’re right... You’re totally right.”
“All I’m saying’s they appreciate your body more than the Goddamn stories! The shit you bust your ass to write, but they’d rather see that big dick and booty than anything else! You gotta profit off that, babe!”
I smirked. “So what are you saying? That I become a male stripper or something?”
Nicki snorted with laughter. “Hell, maybe! But just think about these stories for instance. You mix sex with storytelling like I did with the raps, and you got something that’ll sell, Rhonnie!”
Goddamn, she made sense… I nodded in agreement. “I see.”
“Like this next one, just go crazy with it! You know the Barbz will eat it up. Me pegging this Zac Efron-looking writer and his fineass all over the place!”
“Man, you’re really on this Efron kick lately...”
Nicki readjusted her glasses. “Bieber too. Because y’all fine and kinda look alike. Kinda built alike.”
Genuinely flattered, I probably blushed. “Thanks.”
“But people are fucking dumb. That’s the shit you gotta do to get fans, boo!”
“Naw, you’re totally right...”
Nicki straightened the notebook. “Like write about Ashley pegging you, you showing your dick to dudes on-line. That’ll sell like crazy. More views, more readers. Exploit it!”
“I guess I’ll start now then. With these new stories and all, the series.”
Like a supportive coach, Nicki pointed toward me, hyping me up. “Exactly! You got this!”
Already the wheels were turning. The crazy scenarios I could write about the Minaj mansion.
“You and Ashley can always come back here too,” I heard Nicki say. “I’ll give y’all another vacation...”
I smiled at Nicki. “I bet you would.”
She opened the binder. “Hey, y’all sexy. And I got you dressing in those clothes I like.”
I felt on the shirt’s fine fabric. “Yeah, from like 2008.”
“Bitchhh….”
“But trust me, Ash’s ready…”
“I bet she’s tearing that ass up every night too...”
Playful, I gave Nicki a weirded out look.
Laughing, she flipped through a few pages. “You know I’m crazy as Hell.”
“No doubt…” And then I saw the joint tucked away toward the back of the binder... Pristine California grass. A pink lighter laying right beside it. Holy shit…
“But for real, I wanna help,” Nicki said. She picked up the j. “You need someone dominant guiding you. Like with you and Ashley.”
“Yeah.”
Nicki held the pot out toward me. “You think you can handle it?”
“Shit…” I stood up. “If I can handle what you did to me last time, I can take anything.”
With a Devilish laugh, Nicki flicked the lighter. The flame showcased a wild glint in her eyes. Further revealed the ferocious soul under that red wig...
It turns out I couldn’t handle it. The next few hours were a blur. A gonzo production directed by wine and the strongest pot I ever smoked. Shit got weird. Nicki and I’s conversations ranged from 90s horror movies to heteroflexibility (don’t ask). Our high happiness interspersed with hysteria. Maybe there was a kiss. More groping. I honestly can’t remember...
Hours later, I awoke from the Christmas cannabis. All to the tune of Maroon 5’s “Happy Xmas (War Is Over).” Adam Levine’s piercing falsetto a ringing church bell to my haze.
Shivering, I folded my arms. “Fuck…” I muttered. First, I was glad to be wearing the same MySpace-era wardrobe. To actually be in a fucking bed, much less my bedroom… Until I saw who was laying beside me: Nicki herself. She was out cold. Another bottle of wine clasped in her hands like a teddy bear. A Santa Claus hat blended into her wig. Now I realized I had a Santa hat draped over my swoop... But, at least we were both dressed and lying on the covers. Neither of us could get MeToo’d now.
Staying quiet, I snuck out of bed. I slipped around in my socks. My clumsy footsteps drowned out by Maroon 5’s holiday cheese.
I looked toward the open doorway. Out toward where the Christmas concert continued… from Nicki’s personal nightclub.
Glasses slid down my nose. Confused, I took them off… They were the purple Buddy Holly ones. The same pair Nicki gave me last time. I put them back on and looked over at the bed… Toward the resting Queen. Had she taken my contacts out for me? The gesture was odd… but still kinda sweet.
The holiday playlist changed to Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” A pretty melody and even prettier voice. But one that should soothe Nicki to sleep for the time being...
Battling the migraine, I entered the hallway. Curiosity compelled me. Not to mention snacks, man.
I turned and looked down the hall. Toward the fateful Club Staff. Sextopia City. Now there was a light on inside the room… Even a faint chatter I could hear over this Christmas classic.
I took another step toward it. Now I heard multiple, muffled voices. It couldn’t have been the wax figures… Certainly, not Nicki herself. Sure, her range was supreme but not even she could hit those deeper male tones.
Uneasy, I looked on at the closed door. The room taunting me, tempting me. But it was too late for this shit… And I knew once I snuck in there, Club Staff would be hard to leave.
I proceeded through the rest of the mansion. Every clock read three A.M. The munchies made me stop once for those amazing cookies. And to my relief, there was no weed in them...
The barrage of standard Christmas crooners scored my journey. Stuck in the cold and surrounded by the decorations, I could even feel the holiday spirit.
I decided to dodge the nightclub. All the fucking bars. Through windows, I saw those powerful security lights bring daylight to the dead of night. Everything was illuminated. The pillars, the colors. All those fucking cameras. Nicki’s palace a fusion of government compound and wacky art exhibit.
I strayed into corridors unknown. Into yet another long hallway on the first floor. Fuck it, I was already lost in the Minaj maze. Then I saw a pair of wide-open double doors. The clinical lab lighting inside drew me in.
I stepped into the wide, vast space. The garage was fucking freezing... and there were quite a few cars in here. Quite a few crammed shelves and boxes. Only something was off… There was no style. Not a damn thing was pink.
Intrigued, I walked on through. Emulating a cheap detective. Dean Martin’s “Let It Snow!” echoed all around me… only the Christmas cheer was long gone by now. Replaced instead by rising unease.
The cars weren’t necessarily hideous. Just average. Used cars with lots of mileage. None of them any newer than 2016 models. Perfect for a blue-collar neighborhood or modest suburbia. But nothing befitting Nicki Minaj’s mansion.
The boxes and shelves offered more of the same mediocrity. Wrinkled clothes. Bland casual wear comprising of tee-shirts, jeans, and dresses. Nothing Nicki would touch much less showcase. Then there was the shitty jewelry. Obvious fake gold and silver. Yard sale fashion.
Scoffing, I glanced around the garage. Were all these items from the Queen’s pre-Minaj days? Mementos from her beloved past? Or was it just shit she planned on donating?
My handsome reflection caught my eye. I got a good glimpse of the perfect-fitting clothes.
A stained mirror leaned up against a set of rejected high school lockers. All of them with padlocks.
I stepped toward them. Tried yanking on those unwavering locker doors… I leaned in closer, peering through their metal’s holes. Clearly, shit was piled up inside. Hidden away. But why?
The mystery further unnerved me. My fear returned.
Then I heard a louder song: Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas” blared through this mausoleum of a garage. The bells and chimes engulfed me. Trembling in the cold air, I looked toward the very back.
A window showcased Nicki’s sprawling backyard. Not to mention the different smaller buildings occupying the green acres. One larger shed caught my eye.... After all, who else would have a two story efficiency unit?
Much less one with two tall security guards stationed at the front door. Under the bright security lights, I saw the building’s windows were all boarded up. Spastic cameras hovering over it.
“What the fuck…” I said. Battling the nerves, I stepped closer to see another shed had the same set-up of guards and cameras. What exactly was going on...
All the while, no one saw me spying. The Queen’s guards remained silent and still. A 24/7 shield.
I felt a large pendulum bump into my ass… Then felt a pair of thirsty hands grab each cheek. Startled, I whirled around.
“Hey, boo!” rang that hypnotic voice.
There Nicki stood right behind me. Now dressed in casual booty shorts and a red tank top., she was barefoot and missing a wig. Her natural beauty a nice contrast to the trash treasure trove surrounding us. Her smile as enthusiastic as ever.
And of course, there was the strap. From her crotch, Nicki’s pink dildo danged down like a snake… A real anaconda brushing against my ass.
I staggered back out of fear… and maybe some excitement. “Whoa…”
Nicki cackled. “Did I scare you!”
“Uh, yeah.”
Singing along, Nicki swung the dildo to the tune of Burl Ives. To the beat of the “ding…. dong…. ding...” harmonies.
I stared on at her third leg. Intimidated by the size… yet hypnotized by Nicki’s passion. Her magnetism. “Really, Nicki,” I quipped.
Chuckling, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “What? I wanted to surprise you!”
“With the fucking pinkosaurus?”
“Yeah, why not.” She leaned in closer. “You’re the one sneaking out...”
I stole one look out the window. Out toward the guards. The strange buildings. “I just couldn’t sleep,” I told the Queen.
Nicki squeezed my wrist in a death grip of passion. “I can fix that.”
Flashing a smile, I broke away from her spell. “Naw, I need to go lay down. I can’t keep up with you!”
“Maybe tomorrow then?” Nicki teased.
“Maybe!” I then walked through the valley of Christmas music. Right into Burl Ives’ joyous vocals. The entire time I felt Nicki’s hungry eyes watch me. Staring me down hard… Her smile driven by nothing but desire. I forced myself not to turn. The temptation too much… but my tired state helped me persevere against the gorgeous rapper.
“You better be glad I don’t get a shake weight on that ass!” I heard Nicki shout with sadistic glee.
[Part 3]( https://www.reddit.com/Erotica/comments/ga1ggv/nicki_minaj_called_me_part_33/)
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2020.04.28 07:32 the14thaccount Lapdance hidden camera

I woke up groggy the next morning. To my relief, the door was closed and I was alone. Comfortable. Far from Nicki’s aggression. Far from this madness in general.
I slid on my Buddy Holly glasses. At peace with the solitude around me… until I saw a letter lying on the dresser. The elaborate scribbled scrawl told me all I needed to know: Nicki had snuck in here during the night. Groaning, I grabbed the letter.
There was the schedule literally spelled out for me: gym, shower, interview. Even a curated wardrobe was included.
I put on the tight gym shorts. The red sleeveless shirt. Upon opening the bedroom door, Bobby Helms’s “Jingle Bell Rock” bombarded me. Not to mention this mansion’s blizzard… I couldn’t help but think how some people would find the holiday playlist a welcome reprieve from the Nickimania usually blasting. But not me. I missed the pop music in the face of this seasonal shit.
Then I hit the gym. The treadmill, the crunches. My meager weightlifting. All under those cameras’ red eyes. Not to mention the bizarre wax figure standing in the corner. The one watching me this whole time: a life-size Roman waxwork. Complete with the blonde wig, messy black dress… that deranged scowl.
Out of breath, I faced my reflection. The giant mirror painted me in a flattering but realistic light. Nicki and Ashley had taken care of me, after all. I looked better than ever. Maybe not the Great Value Zac Efron Nicki was hyping me up to be, but hey, what can I say? Even I was impressed my own appearance.
Turning, I confronted the wax Roman. Her fake eyes met mine. Somehow, I was sure she’d moved ever so slightly. Just enough to turn that female gaze toward me.
I then headed for the shower. The warm water soothed me from this Christmas cold. Now I could really get lost in horror thoughts. In my storyteller wilderness.
Relaxed, I stepped back. Looked toward the metal soap holder… then my unease returned. Intensified.
I saw a red light hidden behind the soap bar. One blocked by a narrow glass case. Maybe I was too tired to notice it last night. More than likely too drunk… but apparently, Nicki had eyes on me the whole time.
Butt I felt aroused amidst the disgust. I couldn’t stop the erection… even when it stemmed from fantasies violating my privacy. But still, where was my dignity? Apparently not enough of it to stop me from modeling in that shower.
In the hallway, the cold hit me hard. Especially when all I had on was the boxers. Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” serenaded my chills. Those voices then returned… I looked toward the last door.
The muffled voices came from there. The fateful room’s light still on. I walked up to the door. Grabbed the handle.
“I told you not to go in there!” came that frenetic scream.
Nicki’s hand grabbed mine. I looked into her fiery eyes. She had on the librarian’s glasses. The red blouse. Her hair pulled back in an unassuming ponytail. Her claws replaced by groomed fingernails. “What the fuck, Rhonnie!”
Under the glare, I crumbled. “I was just curious…”
“Yeah, well, curiosity killed the cat, bitch!” Nicki tossed my hand back to me.
“Well, what happened?” I asked. Still hearing the voices, I waved toward the room. “What’s that noise?”
Behind a cold gaze, Nicki grabbed my wrist in a death grip. “None of your business. Not now!”
I said nothing. Too scared to respond….
“Now get your ass in that bedroom!” Nicki continued. She motioned toward my room. Savoring her power… “Get dressed!”
“My bad…” I responded. But I still listened to her. I walked into my bedroom. Saw my sweater and red khakis laid out for me.
Bing Crosby’s voice echoed everywhere as I snagged the red trousers. Got ready to put them on.
“And what’d I tell you about going to that room!” Nicki’s voice reprimanded me.
Startled, I looked toward the open doorway. Right to the one-and-only Nicki Minaj watching me get dressed.
“I’m sorry!” I said with a laugh.
“Mmm-hmm,” Nicki replied. She leaned against the doorway. Not going anywhere… and neither was that excited gaze of hers. The one that never left my body. “You best start listening to me, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her hungry eyes, I slid on the pants. “I will!”
I felt her eyes on me the entire time. Nicki never once left this show….
We later got together in the home studio. Both of us in our swivel chairs and with a glass of wine...
The ideas came fast and furious. Some good, some great.
“What about like a sex cult?” Nicki suggested.
“A sex cult?” I joked.
Behind the glasses, Nicki sat up straight. "Is that too realistic?”
I chuckled. “With you, man, anything is possible.”
“We just need to give them something crazy!” Nicki went on. She straightened her blouse. “Like whether it’s a cult or anything crazy I did. Like the pegging, anything hot like that!”
“Awesome. I agree.”
“I’ll be your muse for all things sexy and…” Nicki hunched her shoulders. Angled her head for a murderer’s photo shoot. That killer gaze fixated on me. “Scary."
Uncomfortable, I glanced down at my notebook. “Yeah, there’s so much potential.”
“Oh, definitely.”
I worked up the nerve to face her. Then ask a question that’d been bothering me: “So what was up with the garage?”
Nicki gave me a weird look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean all the weird shit in there? The cars, lockers-”
Nicki scoffed. “Bitch, please…”
“Naw, I’m curious.”
With an indifferent flourish, Nicki waved me off. “Your nosyass shouldn’t worry!”
Like a reporter, I leaned in closer. “So why all the cameras then? The guards?”
Nicki stared at me, her eyes eviscerating my soul. “I done told you, Rhonnie.” She moved in toward my face, holding me captive with that stare. “I value my privacy.”
“So why keep that shit then?"
Chuckling, Nicki leaned back in her seat. “Don’t be so worried, Rhonnie…”
“What?”
Nicki looked right at me. Her inner strength obvious. "I’m a tough girl, Rhonnie! You know that.”
Our brainstorming session ended soon after. To be honest, I had enough macabre material minus the Queen’s input. Even if the session proved entertaining.
That afternoon, I entered the kitchen. And there was Nicki seated on a bar stool. Glued to her phone. The Killers’ “Don’t Shoot Me Santa” the latest on the dancefloor's playlist.
“Hey, boo,” Nicki said to me.
“Hey,” I replied as I grabbed a Dos Equis. “I was just about to start writing. ” I opened the longneck. Still basking in the wine buzz… then I heard more moans and groans. Pleasurable exhalations hitting euphoria…
I looked toward the hallway. Drowning out the Christmas music, Club Staff’s sex sounded closer. Somehow more familiar. I stepped toward Nicki. “Yo, what are you watching?”
Nicki didn’t even try hiding the footage. The HD video of me, her, Ashley, and Kellan engaging in a most wild intimacy. Our own filmed sex tape… For whatever reason, I was on the bottom.
“Whoa, what the fuck!” I yelled.
Cackling, Nicki lowered her phone. “What? I can’t relive the past, bitch?”
“I mean you kept that on your phone?”
Nicki shrugged. “Duh. It’s hot…”
I couldn’t argue. “It’s fun and all, but-"
Nicki stood up and held her phone toward me. Giving me a front row view to a clip of her and Ashley dicking me down with those huge dildos. “If I wanna take a break, Rhonnie, I can. I'm not addicted, bitch.” She then got in my face. A delayed flourish of a finish. I could already smell the wine in her breath. “And I’m the one paying you. Remember?”
I gave her a weak smirk. “Okay…”
“That’s right, boo.”
I waved toward her, annoyed. "So when can I get my phone?”
That wacky Nicki grin appeared. She marched toward the hallway. Her erotica conquering the Christmas music. “Oh, you know the rules, Rhonnie.”
“Well, what about Zoo? When the Hell’s he coming over?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Nicki started. She stopped and faced me. Her smile still on display. “He’s coming.”
“Yeah but when-”
A chaotic vibration interrupted us. Nicki glanced at her pulsating phone.
“Shit, I gotta get this!” she said. She grinned at me. “Don’t go anywhere!”
Left alone, I looked over at the kitchen bar. At all those drinks.
Swept away by The Killers’ Christmas song, I staggered up to the pink wine bottles. Grabbed the biggest one.
Buried beneath the booze were torn scratch sheets of paper. A rainbow catalog veering between construction paper and sticky notes. The font matched the pattern: notes scrolled in everything from pen, marker, to even crayon.
I placed the wine on the counter. Picked up a cluster of messages.
Judging by the writing, no way these were the musings of one person. The handwriting was different on each and every message. The emotions different: Greatest xperience eva! I ain’t ever leaving!! I <3 Nicki Minaj Nickis bitch
Battling the unease, I took another swig. But still couldn’t shake the increasing chills.
Then one pink note in particular caught my eye. Brought about waves of anxiety… and sweet nostalgia. I recognized Ashley’s scrawl immediately. Her excellent grammar: Ashley And Rhonnie Forever! We love you, Nicki!
I put the beer down. Picked up my love’s note. Felt adrenaline rush through me. Heard Ashley’s beaming voice as I read it once more… Fuck, I missed her.
Grinning, I slid the letter into my pocket. A cherished memento from our stay at Nicki’s resort… My eyes then went back to this hidden collection. To the white sheet of paper lying under Ash’s message…
In an instant, my romantic remembrance vanished. All of it conquered by fear.
HELP ME read the scribbled touch of a pencil’s panic. The big, bold letters screamed those words. Underlined for emphasis. The message too terrifying not to be genuine…
I grabbed the piece of paper. Got a closer inspection at the all-too-real horror. The reality that everything wasn’t Utopia. Not for everyone, at least...
I downed the Dos Equis. But my buzz didn’t soothe the restless tension.
My eyes scanned the other notes. This scared detective confirming his instincts: there were just too many subtle differences. Too many eccentricities for Nicki and her personalities to have written all these. Especially now that I had Ashley’s note for evidence.
From the dancefloor, The Killers faded out. And in the brief silence came the many voices. Those muffled shouts and cries…
I turned toward the hallway. The sounds obviously coming from Club Staff. The Forbidden Room. Nicki’s wax museum. Her lair of wild dreams and nightmares.
Still clinging to the eerie note, I sensed my opportunity. Somehow gathering courage amidst the anxiety, I rushed into the dark hallway. Saw the only light here coming from beneath that final door.
The coast was clear. No one was around... Just me and whomever lurked inside that room. And as I got closer, the voices grew louder. More excited.
For once, the fear chilled me more than Nicki’s arctic A/C. But I still kept going. Reached out toward the knob.
The sudden struts of a guitar made me jump. So did Elvis Presley’s crooning… Startled, I looked down the hall. Glaring on at “Blue Christmas” now playing on the dancefloor.
Recovering from the scare, I turned my attention toward the door. Reached out once more.
“Rhonnie, what is you doing!” rang Nicki’s siren cry through the darkness. The Queen’s voice all power and attitude. Just like her firm grip snatching my arm.
Scared again, I whirled around. “Shit!”
Nicki’s smirk greeted me. As did her latest costume change: a black Strokes tee and skintight white pants. With no make-up and a shorter red wig, Onika Maraj looked dressed for an underground rock show. How she changed so fast, how she appeared so quick behind me still remains a mystery to this day. Not to mention where the fuck did she keep getting all these wigs and where did she keep them? But in that surreall moment, I was just glad she wasn’t wearing that fucking strap...
Nicki waved at her shirt with excitement to spare. “You like it? You’re a Strokes fan, right?”
The letter in my hand grabbed my gaze. “Yeah…” I held the message toward Nicki. “What the Hell is this!”
Caught off guard, Nicki’s grin disappeared. Her suspicion set in.
“I found this in the kitchen,” I said.
In a fierce instant, Nicki snatched the sheet. Read the note.
“I just wanna know who wrote it,” I continued.
Feigning indifference, Nicki tossed it to the ground. “It’s nothing, I wrote that shit.”
For once, her performance lacked emotion. Gone was the confidence.. her biggest strength.
I flashed a nervous smile. “No, you didn’t! There’s no fucking way!”
Nicki placed a hand to her temple. Avoiding eye contact. At war with her own invasive thoughts.
“I found the note Ashley left too,” I said. “I found all of them! I mean why’d someone write ‘help me,’ Nicki! Goddamn!”
Nicki stayed silent. There was no word. No explanation.
I leaned toward her. “That’s fucking crazy! I mean just-”
Staying strong in the face of my fake toughness, Nicki looked right at me. “Chill, Rhonnie.”
“But I wanna know-”
“Do you think anyone would ever wanna leave here?” Like a dismissive diva, she pushed me back. “Seriously, Rhonnie?”
Scoffing, I pointed toward the note. “Well, someone did apparently!”
“Just think about you and Ashley!” Nicki then flashed that taunting smile. “Y’all’s asses know you didn’t wanna leave!”
I hesitated in the cold. Let “Blue Christmas” continue through the hallway. The mansion. And deep down, I knew I had no response. Nicki was right.
Sensing my weakness, Nicki took an aggressive step toward me. Her pretty face matching mine. “You know I’m right, don’t you,” she cooed. In a slow lunge, Nicki ran her hands along my chest. Leaned in toward my ear for a sensual purrr….
The memories hit me hard. Flashbacks to the ferocious sex. Me, Ash, Nicki, Kellan. Our weeks of fun. Our thrist constantly quenched in this erotic paradise.
“You and Ashley still wanna come back,” Nicki teased in a gentle tone. She squeezed my ass. And got closer to my lips. “Y’all still miss me…”
I smelt the sweet wine in her breath. The booze helping us both lose control.
“We do...” I said. Now I ran my hands up and down Nicki’s majestic body. Felt along the smooth skin. The plastic… The best implants money can buy.
Our bodies collided. Swaying to the rhythm of “Blue Christmas.” Our souls stirred into a happy hysteria.
Nicki’s grin grew wider. “I missed y’all too…”
She gave me a drunken kiss. And I damn sure returned the favor. Gladly still clinging to my ass, Nicki’s other hand went down toward my crotch.
I lost control. The excitement too much.
“Rhonnie, get Ashley,” Nicki said between kisses. She draped her hands around my neck. “Stay here forevvverrrr…”
Smiling, I looked on at those brown eyes. Their mischievous glint. “I’ll think about it-”
A bombastic beat crushed Elvis’s crooning. Loud and obnoxious. A hip-hop air strike had hit Christmas.
I immediately recognized the song. And immediately cringed.
Cackling, Nicki leaned back. “Oh shit!”
I groaned. “Fuck, ‘Anaconda’? “Really?”
“Yes!”
Amidst the pop assault, Nicki pulled me in closer toward her. Another sloppy kiss accompanied this grating tune. The Queen’s hands went wild over my body. The song getting better as the make-out session continued. The intensity matching the incessant rhythm of “Anaconda.”
Nicki held me back. Her female gaze salivating me. The smile starving for more.
Grooving and shaking to the beat, I gave her a smug, seductive smirk. Pleased to have Nicki’s spotlight. “Hey,” I quipped.
Then Mrs. Majesty made her move. Lunging forward, Nicki was fast and quick. Her hands latched on to my arms.
“Whoa!” I joked.
Crying out, Nicki threw me up against the wall. Her sheer strength sent me into it hard… leaving me pinned to it.
There were some nerves. Not to mention a rising thrill. I turned and looked back at it. At Nicki.
Armed with that madcap grin, she descended upon me. Her fingers itching to grab. Her steps aligned with the song… As if she were pantomiming and acting out her own twisted music video. But that sly voice shined through. Even over the deafening soundtrack. Nicki’s excitement too high at this point...
“Oh my Gosh....” she said in a robotic melody. “Look at her butt…”
I was too drunk to move. But still enthralled… erect beyond belief. Here I was Nicki’s prisoner once more. At her manic mercy.
Smirking in silence, I let her tear off my sweater.
“Oh my Gosh, look at her butt,” Nicki kept singing. Those same lyrics repeated in a sexy mantra… Getting me all the more hot. The collision of the song and Nicki’s performance hypnotized me. I gave in to her fantasy… and my own.
Nicki pulled my pants down. Into the music, I grooved. Shook at her touch. All while she yanked off the khakis, then my tight boxers. I held my feet out, letting Nicki slide the socks off. She had me nude. Just as she wanted me.
Still singing along, Nicki pushed me further down. Bending me over… I felt those white pants fasten against my popped out ass. Felt her fasten those clamps of fingers to my hips.
Swaying to the reckless rhythm, Nicki’s passionate thrusts matched the song. One hit after the other...
“My anaconda don’t!” Nicki hollered. “My anaconda don’t!”
I closed my eyes and moaned. The sensations so amazing. Nicki didn’t even need a dildo to fuck hard. She had too much power as is.
Enjoying the show, Nicki moved my ass back-and-forth. Making me twerk on that crotch. Nicki getting the lapdance of her dreams. Not that I was complaining... Being her personal stripper was nothing new for either of us.
Continuing the concert, Nicki sang in a playful tone. Her voice so energetic and full of delight it overtook the fucking record. And only stopping for those dominant grunts. Nicki leaned in next to my ear. “This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles…”
My breathing got heavier. In awe of Nicki’s poise. Behind aroused eyes, I watched her grab a hold of my big dick. All while she kept pounding away in this delirious dry humping. Nicki a Goddamn athlete.
“Dick bigger than a tower,” the Queen continued as she tugged on my cock for emphatic emphasis. “I ain’t talking about Eiffel’s…”
Something moist hit my ass. The crashes were repetitive and heavy. Nicki got out of control. A sexbot on the verge of exploding.
I moaned once more. Until Nicki’s hand covered my mouth. But she still kept going. I moved along with her. Shaking my ass to her delight.
“Real country-ass nigga, let me play with his rifle,” Nicki sang. “Pussy put his ass to sleep, now he calling me NyQuil…” In a wild flourish, she licked my face. A serpent’s tongue all along my smooth skin.
And the show went on. Through every lyric, every thrust. I gave in to the rap Goddess’s every move. Not to mention to her amazing stamina. Here I was sweating in the cold. Still erect. Still twerking...
At the fadeout, Nicki’s cackling hit overdrive. Her histrionics natural. She staggered back and gave my ass a passionate smack.
Exhausted, I turned and looked back at the Queen. At her triumphant smile. The colossal wet stain on the crotch of those white pants… An ocean of desire.
Another haunting rap beat started. Nicki’s “Get On Your Knees” began playing. A song reverberating through my mind. My body.
Nicki ran her hands down her pants in a sensual taunt. “Ooh, bring that ass here, baby.”
Gasping for breath, I staggered to my feet. Still naked. Still recovering from being dicked down.
“You should’ve been here all along,” Nicki continued.
I turned my attention to Club Staff. My mystery powered through… even in the post-sex bliss.
Nicki reached toward me. “Come here, baby.”
Avoiding her touch, I stumbled toward the room. Without the strap, at least my ass wasn’t in too much pain.
“Rhonnie!” I heard Nicki shout. “Don’t go in there!”
Over Nicki’s recorded harmonies and all-too-live screams, I could hear those voices. The cryptic chorus behind door number three. I snatched the knob. Glad to find it unlocked.
Behind me, I heard Nicki chase after me. “Bring that ass here!” she commanded.
I swung the door open and rushed inside. Being back in Club Staff ended my drunk disorientation. Not from reflective warmth but from the strange sight sprawling before me…
Nervous, I stopped in the middle of the room. The pink walls were still flawless. The antique jukebox still timeless. And from here I saw the secret room, its door wide open. Ashley and I’s personal suite…
The other wax figures were spread out like a staged party scene. Nicki Minaj by way of the Uncanny Valley. There was nerdy Nicki, tomboy Nicki. All aspects of the artist’s personality.
Both the pink dildo and red blouse were lying on the ground. The glasses she wore earlier. Wigs piled up in a colorful conglomeration. Club Staff now Nicki’s dressing room for all those costume changes. And also the site of her darkest desires.
But these familiar sights did little to soothe my dread. Still doused in sweat, I felt Nicki’s literal drip slide off my ass... Somehow, Nicki had shocked me once more. Scared me with the secrets of her forbidden room.
Open laptops were arranged on all those large tables. Rows and rows of them leading up to a large demigod of a flatscreen. The room featuring an electrical cult ceremony…
What they showed were live feeds. HD footage clearly taken from all these fucking cameras. In rooms I’d never seen. Areas of Nicki’s home and property I never knew existed. Many of the rooms from the sheds out back, I figured.
Strangers stayed on those screens. Attractive men and women, ranging from young adults to senior citizens. But they were all hot… All of them either stripped down or dressed in the nice fashion I knew Nicki picked out. They were her community. The Barbz she really wanted.
Most of these hottiees were engaged in sex. The mics made that much clear. There was everything: missionary, pegging, three-ways, Devil’s Threesomes, guy-on-guy. Whatever your hungry heart desired. Whatever the Hell Nicki wanted.
With several clips taking place at night, I knew the Queen had recorded everything. Not so much for security or surveillance. Just for herself.
In the videos, I recognized a few faces, the bodyguards amongst them. And of course, I recognized Kellan and his large dick. He was in a room of four, using the same playbook me, him, Ash, and Nicki perfected.
The same playbook I saw broadcast on that flatscreen. The footage showed the four of us from just a few months ago. The four of us having the sex of our lives. We must’ve really been amongst Nicki’s favs to be her star attraction…
Sure, I was disturbed. But nostalgia crept in upon seeing us on the silver screen. I gotta say I missed Kellan. Not to mention he was a long way from Trinidad… But maybe to him, the Minaj mansion was home. We did have our fun, after all.
But the romanticism died soon after seeing one laptop showing me in the lair. Showing me right now. In the nude. I now noticed several cameras dangling down from the ceiling, filming my fear.
More vivid glows emanated from the secret room. Undoubtedly there was more where this came from…
I now realized Nicki Minaj was a mirage. A sexially-explicit illusion used to draw in the thirstiest men and women. A Venus flytrap for Onika Maraj’s most depraved pleasures.
But still I needed to see more... Even over the chilling epiphany, curiosity compelled me. I charged up to the secret room. Until a certain singing stopped me.
I whirled around to face Nicki. She stood tall and defiant. Regardless of the striking stain, she didn’t look trashy. She wore that wet vagina well. After all, that crotch certainly didn’t feel like a pussy at times...
And all the while, Nicki sang along to the chorus of “Get On Your Knees.” A sly smile accompanying her flow. Her joy.
An intimate audience, I watched her the whole way through. This was Nicki The Artist and she sounded even better live. More natural. More raw.
As the track faded out, Nicki nodded toward the laptops. “You know they wanna be here, Rhonnie.” She strutted up to me.
Like looking at a much prettier Medusa, I turned to stone. Held in place by the beauty. The charisma.
“No one’s being held against their will,” Nicki continued. She stole an admiring glance at my cock before looking into my green eyes. “That’s their shit cars they left in the garage. Their shit clothes in the lockers. Their shit lives they left behind.”
“But still… it’s not right,” I struggled to say. “It’s weird.”
Soothing me, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “They just wanted to be happy, Rhonnie. That’s all.”
I couldn’t respond. Naked and in front of Nicki, I was conflicted. Torn between the seduction and slavery.
Nicki leaned in closer. “I didn’t want you to see till you were ready.” She caressed my face. Her touch so… warm. “Till you and Ashley were here.” Her other hand clinged to my thigh.
Quiet, I ran my fingers through Nicki’s short hair. “Regret In Your Tears” next on Nicki’s always-appropriate soundtrack. This setlist always in sync with our current mood.
“I didn’t want y’all to get scared,” Nicki went on. Her hand drifted down to my ass. For another sensual squeeze. “That was all, Rhonnie.”
I pulled away from her. “Naw, I can’t…”
Forcing a cackle, Nicki grabbed my arm. Her demeanor drunk, her mannerisms driven by madness. “Rhonnie, look!” She pointed toward the station of so many screens. “I dress them well, they get to live with me!” Selling herself well, Nicki felt along her well-endowed chest. “They get to be with me, baby…” She lunged in closer, inches away from my face. “And that should’ve been you and Ashley!”
Now I yanked my arm back. “No! This isn’t right, Nicki! You’re asking us to give up everything! We’ve got fucking lives, man! I wanna write!”
Nicki’s smile stagnated. “And you can… You can write about me.” She pointed across the room. Of course, right at that huge dildo. “And spend more time with that!” She grabbed on to my shoulders. “Me, you, and Ash. Kellan. It’ll be just like old times, babe.”
“I can’t.” Struggling against that strength, I finally managed to escape her grips once more.
A glower overtook Nicki’s face. “What do you think this is then, Rhonnie!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“This house! Me, bitch!”
Never had I seen her get this pissed. Sure, maybe crazy as Hell. Maybe psychosexual but not fucking angry.
Nicki pointed at herself. ”I’m the reason they wanna come! I bring them here, I keep them happy! They make me happy! I’m their fucking queen, Rhonnie! I make them want me, you understand!” She got in my face. But I was already scared into obedience. “Just like I did to you and Ashley!” She pointed to her head. “It’s in here, Rhonnie.” Immediately, she gravitated to that body. “And all here, baby! It’s got nothing to do with Onika! Nothing to do with me, the girl from Queens! The crazy family, the tragedies. It’s the way I look, Rhonnie! The ass and titties! The sex. Fucking. Sells.”
The height difference didn’t matter. Not now. Nicki stared me down hard. From both lust and anger. The dangerous ends of both emotions. I shivered under that spare. Nicki knowing full well she had me under her spell.
“What’s going on?” a deep voice rivaling mine asked.
We both turned. And well, Nicki’s excited smile contrasted my shock.
There was the man of the hour: Zoo. He stood a few feet away from us. His naked body no longer too surreal a sight in this freaky fortress. He was a handsome guy. Much taller than us. Much more sculpted than me A pretty prisoner both in the past and now. Kenneth checked off most of Nicki’s boxes: tough, thicc, and well-hung. Somehow, him and I had both managed to stay erect. Maybe there was something in the mansion’s air. But now Zoo’s glare stayed on me. The dude likely to break me by hand or dick…
Nicki’s grin hit sitcom levels. “Hey, baby!” she gushed. Drawn to her man, she rushed over and hugged him.
But Kenneth and I’s staredown wasn’t going anywhere.
“Is that the writer guy?” he asked Nicki.
“Yeah, that’s Rhonnie!” she beamed.
They fixated their gazes on me. There we were, the three of us with our dicks hanging out. Well, with Nicki’s lying closeby.
Through the tense silence, all we heard was the Minaj playlist. And the sounds of her prisoners. Their pleasurable moans and cries a constant off those laptops. Of course, I recognized my own exhalations on that flatscreen. God knows what the Hell I was taking in that clip...
Nicki pulled Kenneth closer toward her. Her man definitely lacked her enthusiasm. “He’s the one writing about us, Zoo!” she exclaimed. “And I’m helping him out! He’s gonna make us even more famous!”
“So I’ve heard,” he replied. His hands stayed by his side. Ready for any false move from rhonnie14.
“Ain’t that right, Rhonnie!” Nicki said. Her wicked gaze settled in on me. “You’re gonna write so many crazy stories, right.”
Reaching into the recesses of my soul, I found some half-ass courage. “I’m writing the truth, Nicki,” I finally said. I waved toward the laptops. “I’m writing about all this! The people you got here, the ones you’ve got trapped! Your prisoners!”
Needless to say, Zoo wasn’t amused. His glare now more permanent than Nicki’s glowing smile. But now Nicki was no different. She had no chance at hiding the rage boiling within.
“I’m telling the truth!” I yelled.
Nicki took a ferocious step toward me.
Trying to restrain her, Zoo grabbed the Queen’s arm. “Nicki-”
But nothing could stop her. Not even Zoo’s impressive muscles. Nicki bulldozed on by. Straight for me.
Oh fuck, I thought...
Nicki put a finger to my face. “And do you think anyone’s gonna believe you, motherfucker!”
I stayed quiet. Yeah, I was a chickenshit.
“I’ll just tell them you’re some fucking creep obsessed with me!” Nicki continued. “No one will buy what the fuck some random horror writer has to say! Yo ass look like you’re sixteen anyway!”
Crumbling under her irate pressure, I shrugged my shoulders. “That’s a compliment...”
“Shut the fuck up!” Nicki yelled.
I locked eyes with Zoo. Even he was keeping his distance from her.
“Yeah, listen to Nicki!” he added.
Nicki gave me a light shove. The glare slicing into me like a knife. “So you go write your goofy fucking stories! Pimp my name to the horror crowd! They’ll wanna be with the Queen too, boo! You know that!”
“You got him, Nicki,” I heard Zoo chime in.
Giving me her patented stank face, Nicki walked back toward her husband. Leaving me in an awkward, uneasy state.
I watched Nicki drape her arm around Zoo’s waist. Her outburst now veering toward a manic melancholy. “You should’ve stayed, you and Ashley both!” Nicki said. I saw her grab on to Kenneth’s ass. “Y’all’d have been the Paula Patton and Zac Efron in here. All for me…”
Doing his best to be supportive, Zoo held on to her tight. Caressed Nicki’s shoulder. Anything to stay on her sweet side.
Now Nicki’s performance hit pathos. Somehow, I felt sorry for her. Sympathy even in the face of millions and nothing but pretty people surrounding her.
“Y’all should’ve just stayed!” she said in a trembling voice. The emotions erupted. Shielding her eyes, she turned away.
I took a calm step toward her. “I can’t stay Nicki. We just can’t.”
Both Nicki and Zoo confronted me. They showed their hurt physically. Their wounds within. The dark side of being a social media freakshow.
Nicki showed teardrops. Wearing her usual melodramatic make-up, she’d have resembled a crying clown. But not when she was just dressed as herself… Not when she was Onika. A lonely, young woman simultaneously vindicated and destroyed by her own fucking dream.
Concerned, I ran a hand through my swoop. Kept an appropriate distance from the distraught couple. “What’s this really about, man?” I asked, forcing my voice at a chill calm. “Nicki, maybe you should talk to someone.”
That glare flashed through Mrs. Majesty’s tears.
“You just need to get some help,” I struggled to say. “There’s nothing wrong with that-”
“Help!?” Nicki shouted. She pulled away from Zoo. All her weeping eyes on me. “I don’t need any help, Rhonnie! I need people to fucking care!”
A worried Zoo reached toward her. “Babe.” This was the side of Kenneth I’d never seen. Unlike Nicki, he was no performer or actor. Just a caring husband to one of the most complex personalities in Hollyweird.
Nicki held him back. Instead, her attention stayed on me. The stare sharpened. Her defensiveness a weak disguise for those insecurities galore. “That’s all I want, Rhonnie! I love my fans, the real fans!”
“I know,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to-”
“But that’s not what people want!” Nicki cried. The floodgate of tears burst. Here was a woman on the verge of a brutal breakdown. A sad glimpse behind the bravado. Nicki the beautiful diva facing fate and alienation. “They want the big titty bitch! That’s it!” She pointed toward that ‘perfect’ figure. “They don’t care about me! The lyrics or the drive! It’s this! I just want someone to look past that! Someone like you! Lile Ashley!” She snatched Kenneth’s hand in a loving grip. “And Zoo… Y’all need to stay with me for more! For the music!”
Zoo and I made quick eye contact. I imagine we didn’t have much in common other than worrying over Nicki’s mental state… but that was bond enough.
Like a Shakespearean monologue, Nicki continued spilling her guts. The raw emotion on display. Whatever warts and all could be on those perfect physical features. “It’s why I do this!” She waved toward her body. “The surgeries, the make-up! I can’t get anyone to just listen!”
“But Nicki, there’s plenty of us,” I said. “Hell, I like the music!”
“It’s just sex, Rhonnie! Like I told you!” Nicki stared right at me. “That’s all they care about at the end of the day.” She waved toward the laptops. Nicki’s movements so fast and frenetic, her boobs could’ve caused an earthquake. Just as much as her morose expression would elicit heartbreak. “It’s why I don’t give a fuck about those sluts and shrimp-dicked idiots just getting off to me! They can’t understand me like you! Like all the people I bring here can!”
“There’s more of us though, Nicki. I swear! We don’t have to stay here to support you, man. We’re everywhere!”
“I just want them to like me for the music! The talent! Not the sex, not the bullshit!” Lost in her sorrow, Nicki turned away. Wiped off those countless tears. “I can’t do anything as a female rapper… I can’t be a Pac or Ye. I have to be the hot bitch… You don’t understand, Rhonnie. I never wanted it like this!”
Zoo grabbed her shoulder. “Yo, babe-”
Possessed by passion, Nicki swatted his hand away. She screamed aloud. Into the air. Into her own crazed soul. Exorcist Nicki her latest personality. Then those maniacal sights settled in on me. “I don’t need help, Rhonnie! I need supporters! People who like me for who I am! For who I fucking * really* am! I need them with me twenty-four seven, Rhonnie!”
Fighting my own tears, I stepped toward her. “And I do. Ashley and I both-”
“Then stay!”
Nicki’s anguish made me stop. All while it ate me alive. Maybe I knew Nicki more than most. But here I was wanting her to be okay... Here I was desperate to reassure the Queen of hip-hop.
“Stay here forever!” Nicki yelled.
I shook my head. “I can’t, Nicki. I can’t.”
With weary defeat, Nicki shook her head. Each and every tear nothing but bullets piercing into my naked flesh.
Zoo ran a hand along her arm. “Nicki. Hey-”
Nicki stormed out. Off stage and away from her erotic island. She never said goodbye. Never gave me that bright smile. For someone with her talent and dictionary, she didn’t say shit.
Feeling guilty, I watched Nicki adjust her pants. Adjust the stain sticking to her skin… And then she was gone. A gorgeous witch disappearing into the night.
The catchy Nicki tunes still played. Not to mention the enthusiastic voices still blasting off those feeds. But Kenneth and I may as well have stood in silence. So thick the tension was.
He finally looked at me. His stare was smoldering, intense. “Get the fuck out.”
Put on the spot, I glanced around the room. At the sex videos. Then at my own naked body. With a nervous smile, I confronted Zoo. Shrugged my shoulders. “Can I at least put my boxers on?”
I got to put on the nice clothes Nicki stripped from me. Got my bag, got an Uber for LAX, and got the fuck out of there. All on Nicki’s tab, thankfully.
Now I sat alone at the airport. Waiting on a two A.M. flight… All alone in my corner. No one was around me this late. The cold isolation here like a cavern. Not even the Christmas wreaths and trees could soothe me.
Holding my phone, I tried to pass the time. Tried to keep my mind off the bizarre Nicki encounter. I just had to put on Bruce. Now blasting “No Surrender” through my earbuds and into my rattled mind. Scared that playing any Nicki would be a siren call luring my ass back to her place… Her world.
That being said, the long wait left me in reflection. Nicki wasn’t wrong on any count. To quote one of her more obnoxious tracks, we were all just beez in the trap. Caught up in her lore, her talent. And yes, the insane beauty. But what unsettled me most was how she related it to me. You see, Nicki spelled out her personal dilemma. Fuck it, she even related the twisted reality to me. And Nicki was right all along. Regardless of how much she liked creeping on my Reddit porn accounts, she had a point. I had more fans piling in there for a pic I took in seconds rather than a story I poured my heart and soul into. A situation no different than Nicki’s more serious jams getting shunned in favor of twerking and brainless exploitation. Sex sells, man. No matter her personality, Nicki wasn’t wrong about that. Call it my What Price, Hollywood? moment… All courtesy of Onika Maraj.
And through the thoughts, my phone kept buzzing. Now here came call number three from Nicki. I chose to ignore it. I couldn’t face her this soon. Not after the unsettling encounters and her unsettling set-up. After the harrowing breakdown, I couldn’t answer her. I wouldn’t answer that call, I plead to my nervous self in an internal intervention.
And all the while, I texted Ashley. Told her how much I loved her. How I couldn’t wait to see her. Our bond rekindled to first-month glories until she sent me a new text: You should’ve stayed!
I looked on at the message, uneasy.
Then came Ash’s quick follow-up: Go back and I’ll come! :)
The fear returned. Nicki had been hypnotizing me. And apparently, she’d long had Ash under control. “What…” I said.
Overtaking my screen was another incessant call: Nicki. Who knew how drunk or high she was? Much less lonely.
Don’t answer, I reminded myself. Don’t give in.
Forcing myself, I silenced the call. Then sat there in awkward silence. In a quiet dread I couldn’t identify. Or control.
Just when I needed it, Bruce left me. My rallying cry of “No Surrender” gone. My whole Goddamn support system.
I texted Ashley back: Are you sure? I think we should wait, boo…
Her reply appeared immediately: YES! GO THERE NOW, STU-STU!
I stared on at her message. Her demand. Her eager euphoria. Here I was caught between arousal and disappointment. And at the end of the day I had no say in this weird, wild mess. Ash did.
Seconds later came a new text message. Not from Ashley but Nicki: Come back over, Rhonnie
The next SMS bullet hit me: I miss y’all already ;)
Another one appeared: Again
“Shit…” I said to myself. I got ready to ignore the message. This was Rhonnie’s last stand against the impulses. The thirst.
Until my phone pulsated to life. The call so ferocious I almost missed Nicki’s next text: I talked to Ashley!!! <3 :p
And that was when I laid eyes on the caller ID: on my girlfriend’s number. The death sentence to my attempt at defiance. As always.
[14](https://www.reddit.com/rhonnie14FanPage/)
submitted by the14thaccount to eroticstoriesxxx [link] [comments]


2020.04.28 07:17 the14thaccount Lapdance camera hidden

The shower was quick and painless. Only when I went back to my room there wasn’t the closet catalog to choose from: just the tight jeans and tight black t-shirt already sprawled out on the bed. Already selected by Nicki.
Later on, I walked past the constant cameras. The clothes tight and stylish. Just like how Nicki wanted them. I heard Tom Petty’s “Christmas (All Over Again)” coming from that dancefloor. Nicki’s Christmas playlist a twenty-four hour affair. The club open all night… Only Club Staff wasn’t. Down the hall I saw its door still closed. The lights off inside. Its Nicki soundtrack silent. Her wax sisters no longer partying since Ash and I left.
Ready for the Queen, I journeyed through the labyrinthe. The Christmas maze, the lights. The mairjuana tree. The long hallways and glowing gold records.
I only made one beer detour. One stop amongst the many roadside bars. After downing three bottles of Dos Equis, I felt more relaxed. More comfortable for Nicki and I’s forthcoming conversation.
I saw the open doorway leading to the studio. Leading me to Nicki Minaj. I glanced down at the tight jeans that would surely get her salivating. Took a deep breath. My soul with some hesitation before I went straight inside.
There was the intimate space. The soundproof walls. The live room where Mrs. Majesty made the magic happen. A Trinidad decor was evident in the various colorful trinkets from Nicki’s many travels. The elephant figurines, the kaleidoscopic paintings of various women of color. And of course, there were the notebooks. Dozens and dozens of them scattered about like toys in Nicki’s personal playland. Well, the non-sex toys, that is…
Each open notebook was covered in the rapper’s pretty scrawl. Lyrics both clever and insane. A beautiful madness punctured the pages. Judging by the sheer amount of binders, when Nicki got on a roll, she was a frenetic force. Unstoppable in her drive and creativity.
On the control room table was a bottle of wine. Two glasses already poured. And there sat the Queen on her pink swivel chair. The studio her throne. Her bitch.
Her fingernails were now red claws. A match to the fiery red wig. The make-up vivid but professional. Along with thin wire-rimmed glasses, her beige pants suit was somehow scholarly and bland even with such beauty lying beneath it. Sitting there with a pen in hand and notebook in lap, Nicki looked to be in academic mode. All business inside the studio.
Nicki flashed me a warm smile. “Mmm, those look nice…”
Flattered, I glanced down at the preppy attire. The type of clothes late-twenty-somethings flaunted when they played high schoolers on T.V. And they were a perfect fit too. “Yeah, thanks.”
The two of us looked on at each other. Nothing weird. Just mutual respect… or attraction. The Ronettes’ “Sleigh Ride” the only sound through the silence.
Nicki relaxed in her seat. “Hey, shut the door!”
Following orders, I closed it behind me. Gone was The Ronettes’ harmonies. That was curtains for Nicki’s Christmas playlist here in the soundproof studio.
Using the notebook, Nicki motioned toward the other swivel chair. “Have a seat, Rhonnie. Let’s get down to business, shall we.”
I sat down and rolled the chair closer. Nicki now loomed up over me. Her huge ass undoubtedly helped in the height advantage. Then again, her aura had power, and it always kept the Queen in control.
Nicki waved around the room. “Bringing back any memories?”
“Oh yeah. The interview…” An awkward chuckle escaped my lips.
Behind confident eyes, Nicki watched me. Her claws kept tapping the notebook in a repetitive rhythm. “You know, I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
Through her weak smile, I sensed Nicki’s sincerity. This personality wasn’t manic or aggressive. Not yet at least. “Naw, you’re fine,” I said. “We, uh… we had fun.”
Nicki laughed. “Definitely!” Then she lunged forward, getting closer to me. “But I really wanted a book. I wanted my story to be told, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her female gaze, I hesitated. “And it still can… I’d love to give it another try.”
“Ooh, I’d love that….” Nicki leaned back. “You know, I really love your writing, Rhonnie. I think you’d do amazing things covering the life and times of Onika Maraj.”
Now I was flying high. A horrible actor, I did my best to play it cool. “Well, I’m glad somebody thinks so...”
“Oh, we do! Trust me. You’ve got the talent, baby.”
“I appreciate it.”
Nicki pointed her blood-red finger right at me. “You write movies too, right?” I laughed. “Whoa, shit, look at you!”
“I know my shit…”
“But yeah, I started out with the screenplays. I’ve always been a movie person-”
“So what happened?”
Pausing for a second, I took note of Nicki’s focused gaze. She was interested, alright… “These filmmakers, man. They’re all broke and do a shitty job.”
“Ah…” Nicki took a quick sip of wine.
“It’s a long story. I just… I don’t have an agent, they don’t read shit unless you know somebody. And I’m broke as fuck so I can’t film anything…” Here I was rambling. Rhonnie The Jaded Writer making his grand return. Angry. Talking with my hands. “But that’s why I started the NoSleeps. I actually wrote a couple of novels before that, but I’m just trying to build an audience now.”
“Well, you got me hooked!”.
Even I had to smile. “I’m glad. I just got tired of getting fucked by Hollywood.”
Nicki struggled to suppress a smirk. “Well, hey, at least it was fun when I fucked you.”
Damn, she was clever. I grinned. “Yeah. My best Hollywood experience for sure!” I ran a hand through my swoop. “And Hell, at least you paid me!”
Getting comfortable, Nicki readjusted on her throne. Her tone stayed consistent and precise. Her T.V. journalist performance pretty impressive. “But about the biography, would you be willing to do something else for me?”
“Yeah, uh. What do you mean?”
“Look, Rhonnie, the Barbz loved the story.”.
I smirked. “I guess it has a cult following going.”
Nicki just kept her eyes on me. There was no unwavering smile to offset the seriousness. She meant business. All as her relentless claws kept tapping the notebook... “I did the research. My album sales, the downloads, everything went up after you posted that NoSleep.” In a mic drop moment, Nicki’s hand collapsed on to the binder. “And now I want more!”
“Whoa…” I struggled to say through the excitement. “So you want like a whole series?”
“Preciseleee…”
The shit-eating grin never left my face. Already my mind was racing with ideas. I turned away, disoriented by my life-long dream.
“I’ll pay you as well,” Nicki continued. “You can even go back to Albany, Georgia.” With seductive poise, Nicki leaned in a little closer. “Or Hell, you and Ash can come here.”
I faced Nicki. “So did people really like the story that much?”
“Oh, Hell yeah!”
“Did any of them… believe it?”
Nicki revealed a sly smile. “Some.”
Enjoying the spotlight, I folded my arms. “So fucking crazy… Honestly, I just wanted to tell the truth about what happened… I wasn’t trying to write creepy fan fic or erotic shit. I was just wanting to portray you as accurately as possible, Nicki. I mean Hell, I thought that’d be my only shot at the biography!”
Nicki’s female gaze was starting to appear. “Not at all.”
Still rambling, I threw my hands up. “And then some people found it hot. They seemed more aroused than anything-”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
I gave her an amused look… realizing she was kinda right.
“Pegging’s hot,” Nicki continued. “And it ain’t like those rumors about me fucking men in the ass weren’t around before your story.”
I revealed a smirk. “Yeah...”
Rivaling my own elation, Nicki rolled her chair in closer toward me. “I just want you to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Make it even sexier! Get fucking crazy with it!”
“What… You’re joking, right?”
Nicki pointed at her stone cold glare. “Do I look like I’m fucking joking, Rhonnie!” She gave me a light punch on the arm. And damn, it still hurt… “Just do what I say! Write about all the sex. About how hot I am.” For emphasis, she squeezed her own breasts. “These titties, this ass, the pegging.” Nicki pointed at me. ”Squeezing a guy’s ass or making him strip down, the fucking hot shit, Rhonnie! I need more of that!”
The speech left me in stunned silence. There was a lot to unpack. Amongst the shock and intrigue, there was also disappointment...
Nicki shook my shoulder. “Just do more of that! That’s what we need.”
I pulled away from her. “But why...”
“Why!”
I pointed between us. “I just told you, I didn’t intend to just make you out to be some fucking bimbo, Nicki! I wanted to humanize you. That was the whole point!”
With a subtle smile on her face, Nicki just watched me.
“Like yeah, I told the truth,” I went on. “I wrote about the crazy sex but that wasn’t the point! I wanted to show the world the real you. I wanted them to see Onika Maraj. This was a biography.”
In a twisted taunt, Nicki caressed my face. “Oh, that’s so cute, Rhonnie.”
I knocked her hand away. “No, I mean it!”
Her smile was swiped clean. Nicki now literally got in my face. “And that’s fan-fucking-tastic!”
Scared, I cowered back into my seat. Nicki hadn’t even yelled... she didn’t need to.
“Look, baby, what you’re saying is true,” continued Nicki. She laid a hand in my lap. Dangerously close to awakening my penis... “And I appreciate it, Rhonnie. I’m glad you captured the real me.”
“I tried,” I said. I stole a look down at her hand. “Are you sure Zoo’s cool with this?”
Nicki’s grip got tighter. “Yes, Zoo’s fine, Rhonnie!”
“I’m just saying…”
Like a starved animal, Nicki pulled my chair closer toward her. “You got my vibe well, but that’s not what got me famous, Rhonnie! I wish it was but it wasn’t.”
“What are you talking about? You’re talented as fuck and that’s another reason I-”
“And so are you!” Nicki interrupted. “And that’s my whole point!” Gentle, Nicki’s claws ran along my cheeks… “I was like you once, Rhonnie. I had the talent. The drive, the dedication.”
Rivetered, I watched her every move. Her every emotion.
Nicki sat back in her seat. “But none of that mattered. I got nowhere in my career... I was broke…” She flashed a weary smile. “Those Barbie dreams were far away back then.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Being a female rapper…” Nicki shrugged her shoulders. “You just have to play the game.”
“Sex, the male gaze.” I waved toward her body. “All that shit just to have your voice heard.”
Nicki nodded. But the bitterness didn’t manifest itself in tears or weakness. Just hardened toughness. “I had to play the freak. For every ‘Regret In Your Tears,’ I have to do three or four whackass sex songs.”
Showing support amidst the Queen’s self-reflection, I grinned. “Like ‘Anaconda’?”
Nicki laughed. “What! You don’t like-”
“God, I hate that song!”
Nicki grabbed my arm. “But you see my point, right!”
“I do. Definitely.”
Ruminating on the famed career, Nicki ran her hands along the notebook. Struggled to maintain eye contact. Obviously relieved for the deeper conversation… if uncomfortable. “That’s why I have to do all this shit. To do what I really want I have to shake my ass or flaunt my titties! It’s frustrating, man. To have to write some of these lyrics and keep being the freaky bitch for everyone… I mean for once I’d like to have Channing Tatum or someone give me a lapdance in a music video but that’d scare the ‘straight’ guys watching… I can’t objectify men for the serious money.” She looked right at me. A vague glimmer of defeat in her power. “Just myself.”
The words, the realities left me in a sad silence. I had even more empathy for Onika now. Especially after hearing this requiem for Nicki’s initial rap idealism.
“So you see,” Nicki said. “The sex sells, Rhonnie. That’s all that matters.” She pointed a red claw at me. “And that’s why we need more of it in the stories.”
“But we don’t!” I replied. “You don’t have to do-”
“Listen, if you’re wanting to do this full time, Rhonnie, you gotta compromise!” Nicki yelled in a voice driven by years of rage. Years of industry suppression.
I waved toward the studio. “But look, you have the money! You’ve already played their stupid fucking game!”
Nicki stared at me. The glasses hid any tears or melancholy. Then again, Nicki always hid it well. She had the perfect poise. The confidence necessary for a black woman to climb her way to the top of the entertainment food chain.
“We can just write the truth,” I continued. “You can write the songs you want to write. You don’t have to satisfy this fucking thirst from others who just watch you for the sex. You don’t have to make money off that shit anymore! You can be the great artist you are! The one you were born to be!”
Right before me, Nicki’s creative mind went into contemplation. “At this point, I’ve got no choice,” she said. “I need the money just like anyone else, Rhonnie.”
I groaned.
Snapping into scary Nicki, she lunged toward me. A fiery fervor consumed her. The red wig and fingernails made her a rap Goddess straight from Hell.
I got quiet real quick.
“Don’t you understand! I’ve got no choice, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted. “I’m thirty-seven years old! There’s not much time for a woman in this industry to be the best, man!”
“I know,” I said in a low voice. “I’m sorry...”
More calm, Nicki leaned back. “I’m just glad I can talk about pegging now,” she admitted. “Hell, that’s some progress for female empowerment for you.”
“True… But I just think there’s nothing to lose by focusing more on your artistic vision. You don’t have to keep exploiting yourself-”
“Maybe I want to,” Nicki interrupted.
“What?”
With seductive slowness, Nicki creeped in closer. “Sometimes I like the attention.” She let out a confident cackle. “The thought of all those guys and girls finding me hot… I don’t know.” She bit her lip with erotic emphasis. “It turns me on.”
I grinned. “I’m not arguing with-”
Giving in to her natural theatrics, Nicki collapsed back on the chair. Now channeling her inner Bob Dylan. Her inner eccentric rock star. Letting all those quirks and tics whisk her away. “I mean yeah, it’s frustrating not to get to do my deeper songs all the time. To embrace being the artist I know I am... That’s what I really want, don’t get me wrong.” Holding my gaze hostage, she shrugged her shoulders. “But sometimes it’s sexy to play the star. To be all hot and beautiful... I like it sometimes...” She flashed that beaming smile. “And it gives me money. Power. Certainly helped me get you here.”
Nicki’s hands veered under the notebook. Stacking them on top of one another, she created a literal handmade dick. “It lets me do whatever I want to you, Rhonnie…” Moaning and grunting, Nicki pretended to peg me right then and there. Her thrusts always so aggressive. Even when she was only pretending to fuck me hard…
I couldn’t turn away. Nor couldn’t help but be aroused… Trying not to give in to the steamy sight, I sifted in my seat. Battled my rising bulge. “But still, there’s no way to ignore the money?” I asked. “Do the music that best captures you.”
Ignoring me, Nicki kept on with the imaginary fucking. Her grunts got louder. The Queen clearly nearing her orgasm…
Still I tried to steer us back on track. I moved in toward her. “Just make your own album about you and all these hot guys or you and your relationships,” I continued, my voice louder in an attempt to overpower Nicki’s carnal cries. “Instead of having to exploit your body so much, you can do more songs you care about!”
Cackling, Nicki sat up straight. She clapped her hands together.
“What?” I said.
“You’re funny. God… you’re always funny, Rhonnie.”
I revealed an amused smile. “Well, thanks...”
“I mean it!” Nicki pushed her dangling red hair back. “Oh shit.”
In the cold room, I hesitated. Struggling to stay serious and heartfelt amidst Nicki’s lingering laughter. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m judging you, Nicki because I’m not.” I felt her stare settle in on me. “You make a lot more than me and still can make great music… I just think you’re better than that.”
“And so are you,” Nicki said in a sharp reply.
Confused, I felt unease surge through me. My goofy smile couldn’t play it off either. “What do you mean?”
Armed with a wide grin, Nicki slowly crept closer toward me. “I told you this last time.” The two of us were now just inches apart. “I know allll about you, Rhonnie.”
Anxiety joined my unease. I now trembled...
“You like the attention too,” Nicki said. “I know you do!”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“I’m just proving my point.” Mrs. Majesty shrugged her shoulders. Her smirk slicing into me. “Sex sells.” She rested a hand on my knee. “You should know that as well as anyone.”
Warm sensations erupted inside me. I felt body heat. As if our emotional therapy session had morphed into a Skinemax porno...
“You’re the one that’s always posting on Reddit,” Nicki teased. “Letting all those horny desperate girls and guys ogle you like that. Jerking off to you... You fucking love it, don’t you?”
She had me. “Yeah,” I admitted.
Nicki now felt along my chest. “Your dick and ass pictures on ladyboners and gaybros. I know you do it, Rhonnie. I know alll about you remember...”
The room finally got hotter…
“Let’s go through those accounts, shall we,” Nicki pressed further. “Ronaldlongdick.”
I smiled at Nicki. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Ronaldlongdick77, unknownhorrorwriter.”
“That one was obvious...”
Nicki’s claws ran wild across my body. Fueled by her desire. Not that I was complaining…
“Bubblebutt4days,” Nicki continued. She let out a soft chuckle. “And rhonnie141414. Hmm, that’s sure discreet.”
“Yeah, that was when I was twenty-four, man...”
“But that’s the thing.” Nicki’s grip settled in on my thighs. “You know that account you deleted. Ronaldlongdick.”
“Yeah…”
Nicki got closer. The two of us now noses apart. “How many followers did it end up with?”
Not wanting to answer, I turned away.
“Come on now,” Nicki taunted. “You know how many, bitch.”
I gave her a defeated smirk. Knowing full well what she was about to say… And how she’d proven this harsh reality: sex sells.
“Thirteen hundred followers, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted.
The inevitable set in. I nodded along with her. Overpowered by the Queen once more. “I know...”
Nicki purred with delight. “And compare that to your writing, huh? The rhonnie14 sub?” She nudged my chin. “How many?”
“Eight hundred and-”
“Five!” Nicki said with me. Her triumphant laugh blared.
Cornered by Nicki, I shrugged. “Well… you got me...”
“So think about this, Rhonnie. You’re more famous for that dick.” With excited delight, Nicki slid her hands on to my booty. “And that ass than your horror stories...”
“Thanks, Nicki,” I deadpanned. “I appreciate the support!”
Nicki chuckled as she squeezed tighter to my ass. “All I’m saying’s you gotta do what you gotta do to get famous, boo. To make real money.” She ran her hands along my abs. “And now that you’ve been working out, I can go ahead and tell you, you’d make bank flaunting all this on-line. Those down low brothas and thirstyass sistas would be all up on you.”
“Stop it!” I joked. “I can’t handle this many compliments.”
“Bitch, please!” Nicki gave me a shove before sitting back in her seat. “You love that shit and you know it! You know you do!”
“Naw, you’re right... You’re totally right.”
“All I’m saying’s they appreciate your body more than the Goddamn stories! The shit you bust your ass to write, but they’d rather see that big dick and booty than anything else! You gotta profit off that, babe!”
I smirked. “So what are you saying? That I become a male stripper or something?”
Nicki snorted with laughter. “Hell, maybe! But just think about these stories for instance. You mix sex with storytelling like I did with the raps, and you got something that’ll sell, Rhonnie!”
Goddamn, she made sense… I nodded in agreement. “I see.”
“Like this next one, just go crazy with it! You know the Barbz will eat it up. Me pegging this Zac Efron-looking writer and his fineass all over the place!”
“Man, you’re really on this Efron kick lately...”
Nicki readjusted her glasses. “Bieber too. Because y’all fine and kinda look alike. Kinda built alike.”
Genuinely flattered, I probably blushed. “Thanks.”
“But people are fucking dumb. That’s the shit you gotta do to get fans, boo!”
“Naw, you’re totally right...”
Nicki straightened the notebook. “Like write about Ashley pegging you, you showing your dick to dudes on-line. That’ll sell like crazy. More views, more readers. Exploit it!”
“I guess I’ll start now then. With these new stories and all, the series.”
Like a supportive coach, Nicki pointed toward me, hyping me up. “Exactly! You got this!”
Already the wheels were turning. The crazy scenarios I could write about the Minaj mansion.
“You and Ashley can always come back here too,” I heard Nicki say. “I’ll give y’all another vacation...”
I smiled at Nicki. “I bet you would.”
She opened the binder. “Hey, y’all sexy. And I got you dressing in those clothes I like.”
I felt on the shirt’s fine fabric. “Yeah, from like 2008.”
“Bitchhh….”
“But trust me, Ash’s ready…”
“I bet she’s tearing that ass up every night too...”
Playful, I gave Nicki a weirded out look.
Laughing, she flipped through a few pages. “You know I’m crazy as Hell.”
“No doubt…” And then I saw the joint tucked away toward the back of the binder... Pristine California grass. A pink lighter laying right beside it. Holy shit…
“But for real, I wanna help,” Nicki said. She picked up the j. “You need someone dominant guiding you. Like with you and Ashley.”
“Yeah.”
Nicki held the pot out toward me. “You think you can handle it?”
“Shit…” I stood up. “If I can handle what you did to me last time, I can take anything.”
With a Devilish laugh, Nicki flicked the lighter. The flame showcased a wild glint in her eyes. Further revealed the ferocious soul under that red wig...
It turns out I couldn’t handle it. The next few hours were a blur. A gonzo production directed by wine and the strongest pot I ever smoked. Shit got weird. Nicki and I’s conversations ranged from 90s horror movies to heteroflexibility (don’t ask). Our high happiness interspersed with hysteria. Maybe there was a kiss. More groping. I honestly can’t remember...
Hours later, I awoke from the Christmas cannabis. All to the tune of Maroon 5’s “Happy Xmas (War Is Over).” Adam Levine’s piercing falsetto a ringing church bell to my haze.
Shivering, I folded my arms. “Fuck…” I muttered. First, I was glad to be wearing the same MySpace-era wardrobe. To actually be in a fucking bed, much less my bedroom… Until I saw who was laying beside me: Nicki herself. She was out cold. Another bottle of wine clasped in her hands like a teddy bear. A Santa Claus hat blended into her wig. Now I realized I had a Santa hat draped over my swoop... But, at least we were both dressed and lying on the covers. Neither of us could get MeToo’d now.
Staying quiet, I snuck out of bed. I slipped around in my socks. My clumsy footsteps drowned out by Maroon 5’s holiday cheese.
I looked toward the open doorway. Out toward where the Christmas concert continued… from Nicki’s personal nightclub.
Glasses slid down my nose. Confused, I took them off… They were the purple Buddy Holly ones. The same pair Nicki gave me last time. I put them back on and looked over at the bed… Toward the resting Queen. Had she taken my contacts out for me? The gesture was odd… but still kinda sweet.
The holiday playlist changed to Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” A pretty melody and even prettier voice. But one that should soothe Nicki to sleep for the time being...
Battling the migraine, I entered the hallway. Curiosity compelled me. Not to mention snacks, man.
I turned and looked down the hall. Toward the fateful Club Staff. Sextopia City. Now there was a light on inside the room… Even a faint chatter I could hear over this Christmas classic.
I took another step toward it. Now I heard multiple, muffled voices. It couldn’t have been the wax figures… Certainly, not Nicki herself. Sure, her range was supreme but not even she could hit those deeper male tones.
Uneasy, I looked on at the closed door. The room taunting me, tempting me. But it was too late for this shit… And I knew once I snuck in there, Club Staff would be hard to leave.
I proceeded through the rest of the mansion. Every clock read three A.M. The munchies made me stop once for those amazing cookies. And to my relief, there was no weed in them...
The barrage of standard Christmas crooners scored my journey. Stuck in the cold and surrounded by the decorations, I could even feel the holiday spirit.
I decided to dodge the nightclub. All the fucking bars. Through windows, I saw those powerful security lights bring daylight to the dead of night. Everything was illuminated. The pillars, the colors. All those fucking cameras. Nicki’s palace a fusion of government compound and wacky art exhibit.
I strayed into corridors unknown. Into yet another long hallway on the first floor. Fuck it, I was already lost in the Minaj maze. Then I saw a pair of wide-open double doors. The clinical lab lighting inside drew me in.
I stepped into the wide, vast space. The garage was fucking freezing... and there were quite a few cars in here. Quite a few crammed shelves and boxes. Only something was off… There was no style. Not a damn thing was pink.
Intrigued, I walked on through. Emulating a cheap detective. Dean Martin’s “Let It Snow!” echoed all around me… only the Christmas cheer was long gone by now. Replaced instead by rising unease.
The cars weren’t necessarily hideous. Just average. Used cars with lots of mileage. None of them any newer than 2016 models. Perfect for a blue-collar neighborhood or modest suburbia. But nothing befitting Nicki Minaj’s mansion.
The boxes and shelves offered more of the same mediocrity. Wrinkled clothes. Bland casual wear comprising of tee-shirts, jeans, and dresses. Nothing Nicki would touch much less showcase. Then there was the shitty jewelry. Obvious fake gold and silver. Yard sale fashion.
Scoffing, I glanced around the garage. Were all these items from the Queen’s pre-Minaj days? Mementos from her beloved past? Or was it just shit she planned on donating?
My handsome reflection caught my eye. I got a good glimpse of the perfect-fitting clothes.
A stained mirror leaned up against a set of rejected high school lockers. All of them with padlocks.
I stepped toward them. Tried yanking on those unwavering locker doors… I leaned in closer, peering through their metal’s holes. Clearly, shit was piled up inside. Hidden away. But why?
The mystery further unnerved me. My fear returned.
Then I heard a louder song: Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas” blared through this mausoleum of a garage. The bells and chimes engulfed me. Trembling in the cold air, I looked toward the very back.
A window showcased Nicki’s sprawling backyard. Not to mention the different smaller buildings occupying the green acres. One larger shed caught my eye.... After all, who else would have a two story efficiency unit?
Much less one with two tall security guards stationed at the front door. Under the bright security lights, I saw the building’s windows were all boarded up. Spastic cameras hovering over it.
“What the fuck…” I said. Battling the nerves, I stepped closer to see another shed had the same set-up of guards and cameras. What exactly was going on...
All the while, no one saw me spying. The Queen’s guards remained silent and still. A 24/7 shield.
I felt a large pendulum bump into my ass… Then felt a pair of thirsty hands grab each cheek. Startled, I whirled around.
“Hey, boo!” rang that hypnotic voice.
There Nicki stood right behind me. Now dressed in casual booty shorts and a red tank top., she was barefoot and missing a wig. Her natural beauty a nice contrast to the trash treasure trove surrounding us. Her smile as enthusiastic as ever.
And of course, there was the strap. From her crotch, Nicki’s pink dildo danged down like a snake… A real anaconda brushing against my ass.
I staggered back out of fear… and maybe some excitement. “Whoa…”
Nicki cackled. “Did I scare you!”
“Uh, yeah.”
Singing along, Nicki swung the dildo to the tune of Burl Ives. To the beat of the “ding…. dong…. ding...” harmonies.
I stared on at her third leg. Intimidated by the size… yet hypnotized by Nicki’s passion. Her magnetism. “Really, Nicki,” I quipped.
Chuckling, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “What? I wanted to surprise you!”
“With the fucking pinkosaurus?”
“Yeah, why not.” She leaned in closer. “You’re the one sneaking out...”
I stole one look out the window. Out toward the guards. The strange buildings. “I just couldn’t sleep,” I told the Queen.
Nicki squeezed my wrist in a death grip of passion. “I can fix that.”
Flashing a smile, I broke away from her spell. “Naw, I need to go lay down. I can’t keep up with you!”
“Maybe tomorrow then?” Nicki teased.
“Maybe!” I then walked through the valley of Christmas music. Right into Burl Ives’ joyous vocals. The entire time I felt Nicki’s hungry eyes watch me. Staring me down hard… Her smile driven by nothing but desire. I forced myself not to turn. The temptation too much… but my tired state helped me persevere against the gorgeous rapper.
“You better be glad I don’t get a shake weight on that ass!” I heard Nicki shout with sadistic glee.
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2020.03.27 08:36 rhonnie14 Lapdance hidden camera

Part 2
I woke up groggy the next morning. To my relief, the door was closed and I was alone. Comfortable. Far from Nicki’s aggression. Far from this madness in general.
I slid on my Buddy Holly glasses. At peace with the solitude around me… until I saw a letter lying on the dresser. The elaborate scribbled scrawl told me all I needed to know: Nicki had snuck in here during the night. Groaning, I grabbed the letter.
There was the schedule literally spelled out for me: gym, shower, interview. Even a curated wardrobe was included.
I put on the tight gym shorts. The red sleeveless shirt. Upon opening the bedroom door, Bobby Helms’s “Jingle Bell Rock” bombarded me. Not to mention this mansion’s blizzard… I couldn’t help but think how some people would find the holiday playlist a welcome reprieve from the Nickimania usually blasting. But not me. I missed the pop music in the face of this seasonal shit.
Then I hit the gym. The treadmill, the crunches. My meager weightlifting. All under those cameras’ red eyes. Not to mention the bizarre wax figure standing in the corner. The one watching me this whole time: a life-size Roman waxwork. Complete with the blonde wig, messy black dress… that deranged scowl.
Out of breath, I faced my reflection. The giant mirror painted me in a flattering but realistic light. Nicki and Ashley had taken care of me, after all. I looked better than ever. Maybe not the Great Value Zac Efron Nicki was hyping me up to be, but hey, what can I say? Even I was impressed my own appearance.
Turning, I confronted the wax Roman. Her fake eyes met mine. Somehow, I was sure she’d moved ever so slightly. Just enough to turn that female gaze toward me.
I then headed for the shower. The warm water soothed me from this Christmas cold. Now I could really get lost in horror thoughts. In my storyteller wilderness.
Relaxed, I stepped back. Looked toward the metal soap holder… then my unease returned. Intensified.
I saw a red light hidden behind the soap bar. One blocked by a narrow glass case. Maybe I was too tired to notice it last night. More than likely too drunk… but apparently, Nicki had eyes on me the whole time.
Butt I felt aroused amidst the disgust. I couldn’t stop the erection… even when it stemmed from fantasies violating my privacy. But still, where was my dignity? Apparently not enough of it to stop me from modeling in that shower.
In the hallway, the cold hit me hard. Especially when all I had on was the boxers. Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” serenaded my chills. Those voices then returned… I looked toward the last door.
The muffled voices came from there. The fateful room’s light still on. I walked up to the door. Grabbed the handle.
“I told you not to go in there!” came that frenetic scream.
Nicki’s hand grabbed mine. I looked into her fiery eyes. She had on the librarian’s glasses. The red blouse. Her hair pulled back in an unassuming ponytail. Her claws replaced by groomed fingernails. “What the fuck, Rhonnie!”
Under the glare, I crumbled. “I was just curious…”
“Yeah, well, curiosity killed the cat, bitch!” Nicki tossed my hand back to me.
“Well, what happened?” I asked. Still hearing the voices, I waved toward the room. “What’s that noise?”
Behind a cold gaze, Nicki grabbed my wrist in a death grip. “None of your business. Not now!”
I said nothing. Too scared to respond….
“Now get your ass in that bedroom!” Nicki continued. She motioned toward my room. Savoring her power… “Get dressed!”
“My bad…” I responded. But I still listened to her. I walked into my bedroom. Saw my sweater and red khakis laid out for me.
Bing Crosby’s voice echoed everywhere as I snagged the red trousers. Got ready to put them on.
“And what’d I tell you about going to that room!” Nicki’s voice reprimanded me.
Startled, I looked toward the open doorway. Right to the one-and-only Nicki Minaj watching me get dressed.
“I’m sorry!” I said with a laugh.
“Mmm-hmm,” Nicki replied. She leaned against the doorway. Not going anywhere… and neither was that excited gaze of hers. The one that never left my body. “You best start listening to me, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her hungry eyes, I slid on the pants. “I will!”
I felt her eyes on me the entire time. Nicki never once left this show….
We later got together in the home studio. Both of us in our swivel chairs and with a glass of wine...
The ideas came fast and furious. Some good, some great.
“What about like a sex cult?” Nicki suggested.
“A sex cult?” I joked.
Behind the glasses, Nicki sat up straight. "Is that too realistic?”
I chuckled. “With you, man, anything is possible.”
“We just need to give them something crazy!” Nicki went on. She straightened her blouse. “Like whether it’s a cult or anything crazy I did. Like the pegging, anything hot like that!”
“Awesome. I agree.”
“I’ll be your muse for all things sexy and…” Nicki hunched her shoulders. Angled her head for a murderer’s photo shoot. That killer gaze fixated on me. “Scary."
Uncomfortable, I glanced down at my notebook. “Yeah, there’s so much potential.”
“Oh, definitely.”
I worked up the nerve to face her. Then ask a question that’d been bothering me: “So what was up with the garage?”
Nicki gave me a weird look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean all the weird shit in there? The cars, lockers-”
Nicki scoffed. “Bitch, please…”
“Naw, I’m curious.”
With an indifferent flourish, Nicki waved me off. “Your nosyass shouldn’t worry!”
Like a reporter, I leaned in closer. “So why all the cameras then? The guards?”
Nicki stared at me, her eyes eviscerating my soul. “I done told you, Rhonnie.” She moved in toward my face, holding me captive with that stare. “I value my privacy.”
“So why keep that shit then?"
Chuckling, Nicki leaned back in her seat. “Don’t be so worried, Rhonnie…”
“What?”
Nicki looked right at me. Her inner strength obvious. "I’m a tough girl, Rhonnie! You know that.”
Our brainstorming session ended soon after. To be honest, I had enough macabre material minus the Queen’s input. Even if the session proved entertaining.
That afternoon, I entered the kitchen. And there was Nicki seated on a bar stool. Glued to her phone. The Killers’ “Don’t Shoot Me Santa” the latest on the dancefloor's playlist.
“Hey, boo,” Nicki said to me.
“Hey,” I replied as I grabbed a Dos Equis. “I was just about to start writing. ” I opened the longneck. Still basking in the wine buzz… then I heard more moans and groans. Pleasurable exhalations hitting euphoria…
I looked toward the hallway. Drowning out the Christmas music, Club Staff’s sex sounded closer. Somehow more familiar. I stepped toward Nicki. “Yo, what are you watching?”
Nicki didn’t even try hiding the footage. The HD video of me, her, Ashley, and Kellan engaging in a most wild intimacy. Our own filmed sex tape… For whatever reason, I was on the bottom.
“Whoa, what the fuck!” I yelled.
Cackling, Nicki lowered her phone. “What? I can’t relive the past, bitch?”
“I mean you kept that on your phone?”
Nicki shrugged. “Duh. It’s hot…”
I couldn’t argue. “It’s fun and all, but-"
Nicki stood up and held her phone toward me. Giving me a front row view to a clip of her and Ashley dicking me down with those huge dildos. “If I wanna take a break, Rhonnie, I can. I'm not addicted, bitch.” She then got in my face. A delayed flourish of a finish. I could already smell the wine in her breath. “And I’m the one paying you. Remember?”
I gave her a weak smirk. “Okay…”
“That’s right, boo.”
I waved toward her, annoyed. "So when can I get my phone?”
That wacky Nicki grin appeared. She marched toward the hallway. Her erotica conquering the Christmas music. “Oh, you know the rules, Rhonnie.”
“Well, what about Zoo? When the Hell’s he coming over?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Nicki started. She stopped and faced me. Her smile still on display. “He’s coming.”
“Yeah but when-”
A chaotic vibration interrupted us. Nicki glanced at her pulsating phone.
“Shit, I gotta get this!” she said. She grinned at me. “Don’t go anywhere!”
Left alone, I looked over at the kitchen bar. At all those drinks.
Swept away by The Killers’ Christmas song, I staggered up to the pink wine bottles. Grabbed the biggest one.
Buried beneath the booze were torn scratch sheets of paper. A rainbow catalog veering between construction paper and sticky notes. The font matched the pattern: notes scrolled in everything from pen, marker, to even crayon.
I placed the wine on the counter. Picked up a cluster of messages.
Judging by the writing, no way these were the musings of one person. The handwriting was different on each and every message. The emotions different: Greatest xperience eva! I ain’t ever leaving!! I <3 Nicki Minaj Nickis bitch
Battling the unease, I took another swig. But still couldn’t shake the increasing chills.
Then one pink note in particular caught my eye. Brought about waves of anxiety… and sweet nostalgia. I recognized Ashley’s scrawl immediately. Her excellent grammar: Ashley And Rhonnie Forever! We love you, Nicki!
I put the beer down. Picked up my love’s note. Felt adrenaline rush through me. Heard Ashley’s beaming voice as I read it once more… Fuck, I missed her.
Grinning, I slid the letter into my pocket. A cherished memento from our stay at Nicki’s resort… My eyes then went back to this hidden collection. To the white sheet of paper lying under Ash’s message…
In an instant, my romantic remembrance vanished. All of it conquered by fear.
HELP ME read the scribbled touch of a pencil’s panic. The big, bold letters screamed those words. Underlined for emphasis. The message too terrifying not to be genuine…
I grabbed the piece of paper. Got a closer inspection at the all-too-real horror. The reality that everything wasn’t Utopia. Not for everyone, at least...
I downed the Dos Equis. But my buzz didn’t soothe the restless tension.
My eyes scanned the other notes. This scared detective confirming his instincts: there were just too many subtle differences. Too many eccentricities for Nicki and her personalities to have written all these. Especially now that I had Ashley’s note for evidence.
From the dancefloor, The Killers faded out. And in the brief silence came the many voices. Those muffled shouts and cries…
I turned toward the hallway. The sounds obviously coming from Club Staff. The Forbidden Room. Nicki’s wax museum. Her lair of wild dreams and nightmares.
Still clinging to the eerie note, I sensed my opportunity. Somehow gathering courage amidst the anxiety, I rushed into the dark hallway. Saw the only light here coming from beneath that final door.
The coast was clear. No one was around... Just me and whomever lurked inside that room. And as I got closer, the voices grew louder. More excited.
For once, the fear chilled me more than Nicki’s arctic A/C. But I still kept going. Reached out toward the knob.
The sudden struts of a guitar made me jump. So did Elvis Presley’s crooning… Startled, I looked down the hall. Glaring on at “Blue Christmas” now playing on the dancefloor.
Recovering from the scare, I turned my attention toward the door. Reached out once more.
“Rhonnie, what is you doing!” rang Nicki’s siren cry through the darkness. The Queen’s voice all power and attitude. Just like her firm grip snatching my arm.
Scared again, I whirled around. “Shit!”
Nicki’s smirk greeted me. As did her latest costume change: a black Strokes tee and skintight white pants. With no make-up and a shorter red wig, Onika Maraj looked dressed for an underground rock show. How she changed so fast, how she appeared so quick behind me still remains a mystery to this day. Not to mention where the fuck did she keep getting all these wigs and where did she keep them? But in that surreall moment, I was just glad she wasn’t wearing that fucking strap...
Nicki waved at her shirt with excitement to spare. “You like it? You’re a Strokes fan, right?”
The letter in my hand grabbed my gaze. “Yeah…” I held the message toward Nicki. “What the Hell is this!”
Caught off guard, Nicki’s grin disappeared. Her suspicion set in.
“I found this in the kitchen,” I said.
In a fierce instant, Nicki snatched the sheet. Read the note.
“I just wanna know who wrote it,” I continued.
Feigning indifference, Nicki tossed it to the ground. “It’s nothing, I wrote that shit.”
For once, her performance lacked emotion. Gone was the confidence.. her biggest strength.
I flashed a nervous smile. “No, you didn’t! There’s no fucking way!”
Nicki placed a hand to her temple. Avoiding eye contact. At war with her own invasive thoughts.
“I found the note Ashley left too,” I said. “I found all of them! I mean why’d someone write ‘help me,’ Nicki! Goddamn!”
Nicki stayed silent. There was no word. No explanation.
I leaned toward her. “That’s fucking crazy! I mean just-”
Staying strong in the face of my fake toughness, Nicki looked right at me. “Chill, Rhonnie.”
“But I wanna know-”
“Do you think anyone would ever wanna leave here?” Like a dismissive diva, she pushed me back. “Seriously, Rhonnie?”
Scoffing, I pointed toward the note. “Well, someone did apparently!”
“Just think about you and Ashley!” Nicki then flashed that taunting smile. “Y’all’s asses know you didn’t wanna leave!”
I hesitated in the cold. Let “Blue Christmas” continue through the hallway. The mansion. And deep down, I knew I had no response. Nicki was right.
Sensing my weakness, Nicki took an aggressive step toward me. Her pretty face matching mine. “You know I’m right, don’t you,” she cooed. In a slow lunge, Nicki ran her hands along my chest. Leaned in toward my ear for a sensual purrr….
The memories hit me hard. Flashbacks to the ferocious sex. Me, Ash, Nicki, Kellan. Our weeks of fun. Our thrist constantly quenched in this erotic paradise.
“You and Ashley still wanna come back,” Nicki teased in a gentle tone. She squeezed my ass. And got closer to my lips. “Y’all still miss me…”
I smelt the sweet wine in her breath. The booze helping us both lose control.
“We do...” I said. Now I ran my hands up and down Nicki’s majestic body. Felt along the smooth skin. The plastic… The best implants money can buy.
Our bodies collided. Swaying to the rhythm of “Blue Christmas.” Our souls stirred into a happy hysteria.
Nicki’s grin grew wider. “I missed y’all too…”
She gave me a drunken kiss. And I damn sure returned the favor. Gladly still clinging to my ass, Nicki’s other hand went down toward my crotch.
I lost control. The excitement too much.
“Rhonnie, get Ashley,” Nicki said between kisses. She draped her hands around my neck. “Stay here forevvverrrr…”
Smiling, I looked on at those brown eyes. Their mischievous glint. “I’ll think about it-”
A bombastic beat crushed Elvis’s crooning. Loud and obnoxious. A hip-hop air strike had hit Christmas.
I immediately recognized the song. And immediately cringed.
Cackling, Nicki leaned back. “Oh shit!”
I groaned. “Fuck, ‘Anaconda’? “Really?”
“Yes!”
Amidst the pop assault, Nicki pulled me in closer toward her. Another sloppy kiss accompanied this grating tune. The Queen’s hands went wild over my body. The song getting better as the make-out session continued. The intensity matching the incessant rhythm of “Anaconda.”
Nicki held me back. Her female gaze salivating me. The smile starving for more.
Grooving and shaking to the beat, I gave her a smug, seductive smirk. Pleased to have Nicki’s spotlight. “Hey,” I quipped.
Then Mrs. Majesty made her move. Lunging forward, Nicki was fast and quick. Her hands latched on to my arms.
“Whoa!” I joked.
Crying out, Nicki threw me up against the wall. Her sheer strength sent me into it hard… leaving me pinned to it.
There were some nerves. Not to mention a rising thrill. I turned and looked back at it. At Nicki.
Armed with that madcap grin, she descended upon me. Her fingers itching to grab. Her steps aligned with the song… As if she were pantomiming and acting out her own twisted music video. But that sly voice shined through. Even over the deafening soundtrack. Nicki’s excitement too high at this point...
“Oh my Gosh....” she said in a robotic melody. “Look at her butt…”
I was too drunk to move. But still enthralled… erect beyond belief. Here I was Nicki’s prisoner once more. At her manic mercy.
Smirking in silence, I let her tear off my sweater.
“Oh my Gosh, look at her butt,” Nicki kept singing. Those same lyrics repeated in a sexy mantra… Getting me all the more hot. The collision of the song and Nicki’s performance hypnotized me. I gave in to her fantasy… and my own.
Nicki pulled my pants down. Into the music, I grooved. Shook at her touch. All while she yanked off the khakis, then my tight boxers. I held my feet out, letting Nicki slide the socks off. She had me nude. Just as she wanted me.
Still singing along, Nicki pushed me further down. Bending me over… I felt those white pants fasten against my popped out ass. Felt her fasten those clamps of fingers to my hips.
Swaying to the reckless rhythm, Nicki’s passionate thrusts matched the song. One hit after the other...
“My anaconda don’t!” Nicki hollered. “My anaconda don’t!”
I closed my eyes and moaned. The sensations so amazing. Nicki didn’t even need a dildo to fuck hard. She had too much power as is.
Enjoying the show, Nicki moved my ass back-and-forth. Making me twerk on that crotch. Nicki getting the lapdance of her dreams. Not that I was complaining... Being her personal stripper was nothing new for either of us.
Continuing the concert, Nicki sang in a playful tone. Her voice so energetic and full of delight it overtook the fucking record. And only stopping for those dominant grunts. Nicki leaned in next to my ear. “This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles…”
My breathing got heavier. In awe of Nicki’s poise. Behind aroused eyes, I watched her grab a hold of my big dick. All while she kept pounding away in this delirious dry humping. Nicki a Goddamn athlete.
“Dick bigger than a tower,” the Queen continued as she tugged on my cock for emphatic emphasis. “I ain’t talking about Eiffel’s…”
Something moist hit my ass. The crashes were repetitive and heavy. Nicki got out of control. A sexbot on the verge of exploding.
I moaned once more. Until Nicki’s hand covered my mouth. But she still kept going. I moved along with her. Shaking my ass to her delight.
“Real country-ass nigga, let me play with his rifle,” Nicki sang. “Pussy put his ass to sleep, now he calling me NyQuil…” In a wild flourish, she licked my face. A serpent’s tongue all along my smooth skin.
And the show went on. Through every lyric, every thrust. I gave in to the rap Goddess’s every move. Not to mention to her amazing stamina. Here I was sweating in the cold. Still erect. Still twerking...
At the fadeout, Nicki’s cackling hit overdrive. Her histrionics natural. She staggered back and gave my ass a passionate smack.
Exhausted, I turned and looked back at the Queen. At her triumphant smile. The colossal wet stain on the crotch of those white pants… An ocean of desire.
Another haunting rap beat started. Nicki’s “Get On Your Knees” began playing. A song reverberating through my mind. My body.
Nicki ran her hands down her pants in a sensual taunt. “Ooh, bring that ass here, baby.”
Gasping for breath, I staggered to my feet. Still naked. Still recovering from being dicked down.
“You should’ve been here all along,” Nicki continued.
I turned my attention to Club Staff. My mystery powered through… even in the post-sex bliss.
Nicki reached toward me. “Come here, baby.”
Avoiding her touch, I stumbled toward the room. Without the strap, at least my ass wasn’t in too much pain.
“Rhonnie!” I heard Nicki shout. “Don’t go in there!”
Over Nicki’s recorded harmonies and all-too-live screams, I could hear those voices. The cryptic chorus behind door number three. I snatched the knob. Glad to find it unlocked.
Behind me, I heard Nicki chase after me. “Bring that ass here!” she commanded.
I swung the door open and rushed inside. Being back in Club Staff ended my drunk disorientation. Not from reflective warmth but from the strange sight sprawling before me…
Nervous, I stopped in the middle of the room. The pink walls were still flawless. The antique jukebox still timeless. And from here I saw the secret room, its door wide open. Ashley and I’s personal suite…
The other wax figures were spread out like a staged party scene. Nicki Minaj by way of the Uncanny Valley. There was nerdy Nicki, tomboy Nicki. All aspects of the artist’s personality.
Both the pink dildo and red blouse were lying on the ground. The glasses she wore earlier. Wigs piled up in a colorful conglomeration. Club Staff now Nicki’s dressing room for all those costume changes. And also the site of her darkest desires.
But these familiar sights did little to soothe my dread. Still doused in sweat, I felt Nicki’s literal drip slide off my ass... Somehow, Nicki had shocked me once more. Scared me with the secrets of her forbidden room.
Open laptops were arranged on all those large tables. Rows and rows of them leading up to a large demigod of a flatscreen. The room featuring an electrical cult ceremony…
What they showed were live feeds. HD footage clearly taken from all these fucking cameras. In rooms I’d never seen. Areas of Nicki’s home and property I never knew existed. Many of the rooms from the sheds out back, I figured.
Strangers stayed on those screens. Attractive men and women, ranging from young adults to senior citizens. But they were all hot… All of them either stripped down or dressed in the nice fashion I knew Nicki picked out. They were her community. The Barbz she really wanted.
Most of these hottiees were engaged in sex. The mics made that much clear. There was everything: missionary, pegging, three-ways, Devil’s Threesomes, guy-on-guy. Whatever your hungry heart desired. Whatever the Hell Nicki wanted.
With several clips taking place at night, I knew the Queen had recorded everything. Not so much for security or surveillance. Just for herself.
In the videos, I recognized a few faces, the bodyguards amongst them. And of course, I recognized Kellan and his large dick. He was in a room of four, using the same playbook me, him, Ash, and Nicki perfected.
The same playbook I saw broadcast on that flatscreen. The footage showed the four of us from just a few months ago. The four of us having the sex of our lives. We must’ve really been amongst Nicki’s favs to be her star attraction…
Sure, I was disturbed. But nostalgia crept in upon seeing us on the silver screen. I gotta say I missed Kellan. Not to mention he was a long way from Trinidad… But maybe to him, the Minaj mansion was home. We did have our fun, after all.
But the romanticism died soon after seeing one laptop showing me in the lair. Showing me right now. In the nude. I now noticed several cameras dangling down from the ceiling, filming my fear.
More vivid glows emanated from the secret room. Undoubtedly there was more where this came from…
I now realized Nicki Minaj was a mirage. A sexially-explicit illusion used to draw in the thirstiest men and women. A Venus flytrap for Onika Maraj’s most depraved pleasures.
But still I needed to see more... Even over the chilling epiphany, curiosity compelled me. I charged up to the secret room. Until a certain singing stopped me.
I whirled around to face Nicki. She stood tall and defiant. Regardless of the striking stain, she didn’t look trashy. She wore that wet vagina well. After all, that crotch certainly didn’t feel like a pussy at times...
And all the while, Nicki sang along to the chorus of “Get On Your Knees.” A sly smile accompanying her flow. Her joy.
An intimate audience, I watched her the whole way through. This was Nicki The Artist and she sounded even better live. More natural. More raw.
As the track faded out, Nicki nodded toward the laptops. “You know they wanna be here, Rhonnie.” She strutted up to me.
Like looking at a much prettier Medusa, I turned to stone. Held in place by the beauty. The charisma.
“No one’s being held against their will,” Nicki continued. She stole an admiring glance at my cock before looking into my green eyes. “That’s their shit cars they left in the garage. Their shit clothes in the lockers. Their shit lives they left behind.”
“But still… it’s not right,” I struggled to say. “It’s weird.”
Soothing me, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “They just wanted to be happy, Rhonnie. That’s all.”
I couldn’t respond. Naked and in front of Nicki, I was conflicted. Torn between the seduction and slavery.
Nicki leaned in closer. “I didn’t want you to see till you were ready.” She caressed my face. Her touch so… warm. “Till you and Ashley were here.” Her other hand clinged to my thigh.
Quiet, I ran my fingers through Nicki’s short hair. “Regret In Your Tears” next on Nicki’s always-appropriate soundtrack. This setlist always in sync with our current mood.
“I didn’t want y’all to get scared,” Nicki went on. Her hand drifted down to my ass. For another sensual squeeze. “That was all, Rhonnie.”
I pulled away from her. “Naw, I can’t…”
Forcing a cackle, Nicki grabbed my arm. Her demeanor drunk, her mannerisms driven by madness. “Rhonnie, look!” She pointed toward the station of so many screens. “I dress them well, they get to live with me!” Selling herself well, Nicki felt along her well-endowed chest. “They get to be with me, baby…” She lunged in closer, inches away from my face. “And that should’ve been you and Ashley!”
Now I yanked my arm back. “No! This isn’t right, Nicki! You’re asking us to give up everything! We’ve got fucking lives, man! I wanna write!”
Nicki’s smile stagnated. “And you can… You can write about me.” She pointed across the room. Of course, right at that huge dildo. “And spend more time with that!” She grabbed on to my shoulders. “Me, you, and Ash. Kellan. It’ll be just like old times, babe.”
“I can’t.” Struggling against that strength, I finally managed to escape her grips once more.
A glower overtook Nicki’s face. “What do you think this is then, Rhonnie!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“This house! Me, bitch!”
Never had I seen her get this pissed. Sure, maybe crazy as Hell. Maybe psychosexual but not fucking angry.
Nicki pointed at herself. ”I’m the reason they wanna come! I bring them here, I keep them happy! They make me happy! I’m their fucking queen, Rhonnie! I make them want me, you understand!” She got in my face. But I was already scared into obedience. “Just like I did to you and Ashley!” She pointed to her head. “It’s in here, Rhonnie.” Immediately, she gravitated to that body. “And all here, baby! It’s got nothing to do with Onika! Nothing to do with me, the girl from Queens! The crazy family, the tragedies. It’s the way I look, Rhonnie! The ass and titties! The sex. Fucking. Sells.”
The height difference didn’t matter. Not now. Nicki stared me down hard. From both lust and anger. The dangerous ends of both emotions. I shivered under that spare. Nicki knowing full well she had me under her spell.
“What’s going on?” a deep voice rivaling mine asked.
We both turned. And well, Nicki’s excited smile contrasted my shock.
There was the man of the hour: Zoo. He stood a few feet away from us. His naked body no longer too surreal a sight in this freaky fortress. He was a handsome guy. Much taller than us. Much more sculpted than me A pretty prisoner both in the past and now. Kenneth checked off most of Nicki’s boxes: tough, thicc, and well-hung. Somehow, him and I had both managed to stay erect. Maybe there was something in the mansion’s air. But now Zoo’s glare stayed on me. The dude likely to break me by hand or dick…
Nicki’s grin hit sitcom levels. “Hey, baby!” she gushed. Drawn to her man, she rushed over and hugged him.
But Kenneth and I’s staredown wasn’t going anywhere.
“Is that the writer guy?” he asked Nicki.
“Yeah, that’s Rhonnie!” she beamed.
They fixated their gazes on me. There we were, the three of us with our dicks hanging out. Well, with Nicki’s lying closeby.
Through the tense silence, all we heard was the Minaj playlist. And the sounds of her prisoners. Their pleasurable moans and cries a constant off those laptops. Of course, I recognized my own exhalations on that flatscreen. God knows what the Hell I was taking in that clip...
Nicki pulled Kenneth closer toward her. Her man definitely lacked her enthusiasm. “He’s the one writing about us, Zoo!” she exclaimed. “And I’m helping him out! He’s gonna make us even more famous!”
“So I’ve heard,” he replied. His hands stayed by his side. Ready for any false move from rhonnie14.
“Ain’t that right, Rhonnie!” Nicki said. Her wicked gaze settled in on me. “You’re gonna write so many crazy stories, right.”
Reaching into the recesses of my soul, I found some half-ass courage. “I’m writing the truth, Nicki,” I finally said. I waved toward the laptops. “I’m writing about all this! The people you got here, the ones you’ve got trapped! Your prisoners!”
Needless to say, Zoo wasn’t amused. His glare now more permanent than Nicki’s glowing smile. But now Nicki was no different. She had no chance at hiding the rage boiling within.
“I’m telling the truth!” I yelled.
Nicki took a ferocious step toward me.
Trying to restrain her, Zoo grabbed the Queen’s arm. “Nicki-”
But nothing could stop her. Not even Zoo’s impressive muscles. Nicki bulldozed on by. Straight for me.
Oh fuck, I thought...
Nicki put a finger to my face. “And do you think anyone’s gonna believe you, motherfucker!”
I stayed quiet. Yeah, I was a chickenshit.
“I’ll just tell them you’re some fucking creep obsessed with me!” Nicki continued. “No one will buy what the fuck some random horror writer has to say! Yo ass look like you’re sixteen anyway!”
Crumbling under her irate pressure, I shrugged my shoulders. “That’s a compliment...”
“Shut the fuck up!” Nicki yelled.
I locked eyes with Zoo. Even he was keeping his distance from her.
“Yeah, listen to Nicki!” he added.
Nicki gave me a light shove. The glare slicing into me like a knife. “So you go write your goofy fucking stories! Pimp my name to the horror crowd! They’ll wanna be with the Queen too, boo! You know that!”
“You got him, Nicki,” I heard Zoo chime in.
Giving me her patented stank face, Nicki walked back toward her husband. Leaving me in an awkward, uneasy state.
I watched Nicki drape her arm around Zoo’s waist. Her outburst now veering toward a manic melancholy. “You should’ve stayed, you and Ashley both!” Nicki said. I saw her grab on to Kenneth’s ass. “Y’all’d have been the Paula Patton and Zac Efron in here. All for me…”
Doing his best to be supportive, Zoo held on to her tight. Caressed Nicki’s shoulder. Anything to stay on her sweet side.
Now Nicki’s performance hit pathos. Somehow, I felt sorry for her. Sympathy even in the face of millions and nothing but pretty people surrounding her.
“Y’all should’ve just stayed!” she said in a trembling voice. The emotions erupted. Shielding her eyes, she turned away.
I took a calm step toward her. “I can’t stay Nicki. We just can’t.”
Both Nicki and Zoo confronted me. They showed their hurt physically. Their wounds within. The dark side of being a social media freakshow.
Nicki showed teardrops. Wearing her usual melodramatic make-up, she’d have resembled a crying clown. But not when she was just dressed as herself… Not when she was Onika. A lonely, young woman simultaneously vindicated and destroyed by her own fucking dream.
Concerned, I ran a hand through my swoop. Kept an appropriate distance from the distraught couple. “What’s this really about, man?” I asked, forcing my voice at a chill calm. “Nicki, maybe you should talk to someone.”
That glare flashed through Mrs. Majesty’s tears.
“You just need to get some help,” I struggled to say. “There’s nothing wrong with that-”
“Help!?” Nicki shouted. She pulled away from Zoo. All her weeping eyes on me. “I don’t need any help, Rhonnie! I need people to fucking care!”
A worried Zoo reached toward her. “Babe.” This was the side of Kenneth I’d never seen. Unlike Nicki, he was no performer or actor. Just a caring husband to one of the most complex personalities in Hollyweird.
Nicki held him back. Instead, her attention stayed on me. The stare sharpened. Her defensiveness a weak disguise for those insecurities galore. “That’s all I want, Rhonnie! I love my fans, the real fans!”
“I know,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to-”
“But that’s not what people want!” Nicki cried. The floodgate of tears burst. Here was a woman on the verge of a brutal breakdown. A sad glimpse behind the bravado. Nicki the beautiful diva facing fate and alienation. “They want the big titty bitch! That’s it!” She pointed toward that ‘perfect’ figure. “They don’t care about me! The lyrics or the drive! It’s this! I just want someone to look past that! Someone like you! Lile Ashley!” She snatched Kenneth’s hand in a loving grip. “And Zoo… Y’all need to stay with me for more! For the music!”
Zoo and I made quick eye contact. I imagine we didn’t have much in common other than worrying over Nicki’s mental state… but that was bond enough.
Like a Shakespearean monologue, Nicki continued spilling her guts. The raw emotion on display. Whatever warts and all could be on those perfect physical features. “It’s why I do this!” She waved toward her body. “The surgeries, the make-up! I can’t get anyone to just listen!”
“But Nicki, there’s plenty of us,” I said. “Hell, I like the music!”
“It’s just sex, Rhonnie! Like I told you!” Nicki stared right at me. “That’s all they care about at the end of the day.” She waved toward the laptops. Nicki’s movements so fast and frenetic, her boobs could’ve caused an earthquake. Just as much as her morose expression would elicit heartbreak. “It’s why I don’t give a fuck about those sluts and shrimp-dicked idiots just getting off to me! They can’t understand me like you! Like all the people I bring here can!”
“There’s more of us though, Nicki. I swear! We don’t have to stay here to support you, man. We’re everywhere!”
“I just want them to like me for the music! The talent! Not the sex, not the bullshit!” Lost in her sorrow, Nicki turned away. Wiped off those countless tears. “I can’t do anything as a female rapper… I can’t be a Pac or Ye. I have to be the hot bitch… You don’t understand, Rhonnie. I never wanted it like this!”
Zoo grabbed her shoulder. “Yo, babe-”
Possessed by passion, Nicki swatted his hand away. She screamed aloud. Into the air. Into her own crazed soul. Exorcist Nicki her latest personality. Then those maniacal sights settled in on me. “I don’t need help, Rhonnie! I need supporters! People who like me for who I am! For who I fucking * really* am! I need them with me twenty-four seven, Rhonnie!”
Fighting my own tears, I stepped toward her. “And I do. Ashley and I both-”
“Then stay!”
Nicki’s anguish made me stop. All while it ate me alive. Maybe I knew Nicki more than most. But here I was wanting her to be okay... Here I was desperate to reassure the Queen of hip-hop.
“Stay here forever!” Nicki yelled.
I shook my head. “I can’t, Nicki. I can’t.”
With weary defeat, Nicki shook her head. Each and every tear nothing but bullets piercing into my naked flesh.
Zoo ran a hand along her arm. “Nicki. Hey-”
Nicki stormed out. Off stage and away from her erotic island. She never said goodbye. Never gave me that bright smile. For someone with her talent and dictionary, she didn’t say shit.
Feeling guilty, I watched Nicki adjust her pants. Adjust the stain sticking to her skin… And then she was gone. A gorgeous witch disappearing into the night.
The catchy Nicki tunes still played. Not to mention the enthusiastic voices still blasting off those feeds. But Kenneth and I may as well have stood in silence. So thick the tension was.
He finally looked at me. His stare was smoldering, intense. “Get the fuck out.”
Put on the spot, I glanced around the room. At the sex videos. Then at my own naked body. With a nervous smile, I confronted Zoo. Shrugged my shoulders. “Can I at least put my boxers on?”
I got to put on the nice clothes Nicki stripped from me. Got my bag, got an Uber for LAX, and got the fuck out of there. All on Nicki’s tab, thankfully.
Now I sat alone at the airport. Waiting on a two A.M. flight… All alone in my corner. No one was around me this late. The cold isolation here like a cavern. Not even the Christmas wreaths and trees could soothe me.
Holding my phone, I tried to pass the time. Tried to keep my mind off the bizarre Nicki encounter. I just had to put on Bruce. Now blasting “No Surrender” through my earbuds and into my rattled mind. Scared that playing any Nicki would be a siren call luring my ass back to her place… Her world.
That being said, the long wait left me in reflection. Nicki wasn’t wrong on any count. To quote one of her more obnoxious tracks, we were all just beez in the trap. Caught up in her lore, her talent. And yes, the insane beauty. But what unsettled me most was how she related it to me. You see, Nicki spelled out her personal dilemma. Fuck it, she even related the twisted reality to me. And Nicki was right all along. Regardless of how much she liked creeping on my Reddit porn accounts, she had a point. I had more fans piling in there for a pic I took in seconds rather than a story I poured my heart and soul into. A situation no different than Nicki’s more serious jams getting shunned in favor of twerking and brainless exploitation. Sex sells, man. No matter her personality, Nicki wasn’t wrong about that. Call it my What Price, Hollywood? moment… All courtesy of Onika Maraj.
And through the thoughts, my phone kept buzzing. Now here came call number three from Nicki. I chose to ignore it. I couldn’t face her this soon. Not after the unsettling encounters and her unsettling set-up. After the harrowing breakdown, I couldn’t answer her. I wouldn’t answer that call, I plead to my nervous self in an internal intervention.
And all the while, I texted Ashley. Told her how much I loved her. How I couldn’t wait to see her. Our bond rekindled to first-month glories until she sent me a new text: You should’ve stayed!
I looked on at the message, uneasy.
Then came Ash’s quick follow-up: Go back and I’ll come! :)
The fear returned. Nicki had been hypnotizing me. And apparently, she’d long had Ash under control. “What…” I said.
Overtaking my screen was another incessant call: Nicki. Who knew how drunk or high she was? Much less lonely.
Don’t answer, I reminded myself. Don’t give in.
Forcing myself, I silenced the call. Then sat there in awkward silence. In a quiet dread I couldn’t identify. Or control.
Just when I needed it, Bruce left me. My rallying cry of “No Surrender” gone. My whole Goddamn support system.
I texted Ashley back: Are you sure? I think we should wait, boo…
Her reply appeared immediately: YES! GO THERE NOW, STU-STU!
I stared on at her message. Her demand. Her eager euphoria. Here I was caught between arousal and disappointment. And at the end of the day I had no say in this weird, wild mess. Ash did.
Seconds later came a new text message. Not from Ashley but Nicki: Come back over, Rhonnie
The next SMS bullet hit me: I miss y’all already ;)
Another one appeared: Again
“Shit…” I said to myself. I got ready to ignore the message. This was Rhonnie’s last stand against the impulses. The thirst.
Until my phone pulsated to life. The call so ferocious I almost missed Nicki’s next text: I talked to Ashley!!! <3 :p
And that was when I laid eyes on the caller ID: on my girlfriend’s number. The death sentence to my attempt at defiance. As always.
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2020.03.27 08:35 rhonnie14 Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 2/3)

Link To Part One
The shower was quick and painless. Only when I went back to my room there wasn’t the closet catalog to choose from: just the tight jeans and tight black t-shirt already sprawled out on the bed. Already selected by Nicki.
Later on, I walked past the constant cameras. The clothes tight and stylish. Just like how Nicki wanted them. I heard Tom Petty’s “Christmas (All Over Again)” coming from that dancefloor. Nicki’s Christmas playlist a twenty-four hour affair. The club open all night… Only Club Staff wasn’t. Down the hall I saw its door still closed. The lights off inside. Its Nicki soundtrack silent. Her wax sisters no longer partying since Ash and I left.
Ready for the Queen, I journeyed through the labyrinthe. The Christmas maze, the lights. The mairjuana tree. The long hallways and glowing gold records.
I only made one beer detour. One stop amongst the many roadside bars. After downing three bottles of Dos Equis, I felt more relaxed. More comfortable for Nicki and I’s forthcoming conversation.
I saw the open doorway leading to the studio. Leading me to Nicki Minaj. I glanced down at the tight jeans that would surely get her salivating. Took a deep breath. My soul with some hesitation before I went straight inside.
There was the intimate space. The soundproof walls. The live room where Mrs. Majesty made the magic happen. A Trinidad decor was evident in the various colorful trinkets from Nicki’s many travels. The elephant figurines, the kaleidoscopic paintings of various women of color. And of course, there were the notebooks. Dozens and dozens of them scattered about like toys in Nicki’s personal playland. Well, the non-sex toys, that is…
Each open notebook was covered in the rapper’s pretty scrawl. Lyrics both clever and insane. A beautiful madness punctured the pages. Judging by the sheer amount of binders, when Nicki got on a roll, she was a frenetic force. Unstoppable in her drive and creativity.
On the control room table was a bottle of wine. Two glasses already poured. And there sat the Queen on her pink swivel chair. The studio her throne. Her bitch.
Her fingernails were now red claws. A match to the fiery red wig. The make-up vivid but professional. Along with thin wire-rimmed glasses, her beige pants suit was somehow scholarly and bland even with such beauty lying beneath it. Sitting there with a pen in hand and notebook in lap, Nicki looked to be in academic mode. All business inside the studio.
Nicki flashed me a warm smile. “Mmm, those look nice…”
Flattered, I glanced down at the preppy attire. The type of clothes late-twenty-somethings flaunted when they played high schoolers on T.V. And they were a perfect fit too. “Yeah, thanks.”
The two of us looked on at each other. Nothing weird. Just mutual respect… or attraction. The Ronettes’ “Sleigh Ride” the only sound through the silence.
Nicki relaxed in her seat. “Hey, shut the door!”
Following orders, I closed it behind me. Gone was The Ronettes’ harmonies. That was curtains for Nicki’s Christmas playlist here in the soundproof studio.
Using the notebook, Nicki motioned toward the other swivel chair. “Have a seat, Rhonnie. Let’s get down to business, shall we.”
I sat down and rolled the chair closer. Nicki now loomed up over me. Her huge ass undoubtedly helped in the height advantage. Then again, her aura had power, and it always kept the Queen in control.
Nicki waved around the room. “Bringing back any memories?”
“Oh yeah. The interview…” An awkward chuckle escaped my lips.
Behind confident eyes, Nicki watched me. Her claws kept tapping the notebook in a repetitive rhythm. “You know, I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
Through her weak smile, I sensed Nicki’s sincerity. This personality wasn’t manic or aggressive. Not yet at least. “Naw, you’re fine,” I said. “We, uh… we had fun.”
Nicki laughed. “Definitely!” Then she lunged forward, getting closer to me. “But I really wanted a book. I wanted my story to be told, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her female gaze, I hesitated. “And it still can… I’d love to give it another try.”
“Ooh, I’d love that….” Nicki leaned back. “You know, I really love your writing, Rhonnie. I think you’d do amazing things covering the life and times of Onika Maraj.”
Now I was flying high. A horrible actor, I did my best to play it cool. “Well, I’m glad somebody thinks so...”
“Oh, we do! Trust me. You’ve got the talent, baby.”
“I appreciate it.”
Nicki pointed her blood-red finger right at me. “You write movies too, right?” I laughed. “Whoa, shit, look at you!”
“I know my shit…”
“But yeah, I started out with the screenplays. I’ve always been a movie person-”
“So what happened?”
Pausing for a second, I took note of Nicki’s focused gaze. She was interested, alright… “These filmmakers, man. They’re all broke and do a shitty job.”
“Ah…” Nicki took a quick sip of wine.
“It’s a long story. I just… I don’t have an agent, they don’t read shit unless you know somebody. And I’m broke as fuck so I can’t film anything…” Here I was rambling. Rhonnie The Jaded Writer making his grand return. Angry. Talking with my hands. “But that’s why I started the NoSleeps. I actually wrote a couple of novels before that, but I’m just trying to build an audience now.”
“Well, you got me hooked!”.
Even I had to smile. “I’m glad. I just got tired of getting fucked by Hollywood.”
Nicki struggled to suppress a smirk. “Well, hey, at least it was fun when I fucked you.”
Damn, she was clever. I grinned. “Yeah. My best Hollywood experience for sure!” I ran a hand through my swoop. “And Hell, at least you paid me!”
Getting comfortable, Nicki readjusted on her throne. Her tone stayed consistent and precise. Her T.V. journalist performance pretty impressive. “But about the biography, would you be willing to do something else for me?”
“Yeah, uh. What do you mean?”
“Look, Rhonnie, the Barbz loved the story.”.
I smirked. “I guess it has a cult following going.”
Nicki just kept her eyes on me. There was no unwavering smile to offset the seriousness. She meant business. All as her relentless claws kept tapping the notebook... “I did the research. My album sales, the downloads, everything went up after you posted that NoSleep.” In a mic drop moment, Nicki’s hand collapsed on to the binder. “And now I want more!”
“Whoa…” I struggled to say through the excitement. “So you want like a whole series?”
“Preciseleee…”
The shit-eating grin never left my face. Already my mind was racing with ideas. I turned away, disoriented by my life-long dream.
“I’ll pay you as well,” Nicki continued. “You can even go back to Albany, Georgia.” With seductive poise, Nicki leaned in a little closer. “Or Hell, you and Ash can come here.”
I faced Nicki. “So did people really like the story that much?”
“Oh, Hell yeah!”
“Did any of them… believe it?”
Nicki revealed a sly smile. “Some.”
Enjoying the spotlight, I folded my arms. “So fucking crazy… Honestly, I just wanted to tell the truth about what happened… I wasn’t trying to write creepy fan fic or erotic shit. I was just wanting to portray you as accurately as possible, Nicki. I mean Hell, I thought that’d be my only shot at the biography!”
Nicki’s female gaze was starting to appear. “Not at all.”
Still rambling, I threw my hands up. “And then some people found it hot. They seemed more aroused than anything-”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
I gave her an amused look… realizing she was kinda right.
“Pegging’s hot,” Nicki continued. “And it ain’t like those rumors about me fucking men in the ass weren’t around before your story.”
I revealed a smirk. “Yeah...”
Rivaling my own elation, Nicki rolled her chair in closer toward me. “I just want you to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Make it even sexier! Get fucking crazy with it!”
“What… You’re joking, right?”
Nicki pointed at her stone cold glare. “Do I look like I’m fucking joking, Rhonnie!” She gave me a light punch on the arm. And damn, it still hurt… “Just do what I say! Write about all the sex. About how hot I am.” For emphasis, she squeezed her own breasts. “These titties, this ass, the pegging.” Nicki pointed at me. ”Squeezing a guy’s ass or making him strip down, the fucking hot shit, Rhonnie! I need more of that!”
The speech left me in stunned silence. There was a lot to unpack. Amongst the shock and intrigue, there was also disappointment...
Nicki shook my shoulder. “Just do more of that! That’s what we need.”
I pulled away from her. “But why...”
“Why!”
I pointed between us. “I just told you, I didn’t intend to just make you out to be some fucking bimbo, Nicki! I wanted to humanize you. That was the whole point!”
With a subtle smile on her face, Nicki just watched me.
“Like yeah, I told the truth,” I went on. “I wrote about the crazy sex but that wasn’t the point! I wanted to show the world the real you. I wanted them to see Onika Maraj. This was a biography.”
In a twisted taunt, Nicki caressed my face. “Oh, that’s so cute, Rhonnie.”
I knocked her hand away. “No, I mean it!”
Her smile was swiped clean. Nicki now literally got in my face. “And that’s fan-fucking-tastic!”
Scared, I cowered back into my seat. Nicki hadn’t even yelled... she didn’t need to.
“Look, baby, what you’re saying is true,” continued Nicki. She laid a hand in my lap. Dangerously close to awakening my penis... “And I appreciate it, Rhonnie. I’m glad you captured the real me.”
“I tried,” I said. I stole a look down at her hand. “Are you sure Zoo’s cool with this?”
Nicki’s grip got tighter. “Yes, Zoo’s fine, Rhonnie!”
“I’m just saying…”
Like a starved animal, Nicki pulled my chair closer toward her. “You got my vibe well, but that’s not what got me famous, Rhonnie! I wish it was but it wasn’t.”
“What are you talking about? You’re talented as fuck and that’s another reason I-”
“And so are you!” Nicki interrupted. “And that’s my whole point!” Gentle, Nicki’s claws ran along my cheeks… “I was like you once, Rhonnie. I had the talent. The drive, the dedication.”
Rivetered, I watched her every move. Her every emotion.
Nicki sat back in her seat. “But none of that mattered. I got nowhere in my career... I was broke…” She flashed a weary smile. “Those Barbie dreams were far away back then.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Being a female rapper…” Nicki shrugged her shoulders. “You just have to play the game.”
“Sex, the male gaze.” I waved toward her body. “All that shit just to have your voice heard.”
Nicki nodded. But the bitterness didn’t manifest itself in tears or weakness. Just hardened toughness. “I had to play the freak. For every ‘Regret In Your Tears,’ I have to do three or four whackass sex songs.”
Showing support amidst the Queen’s self-reflection, I grinned. “Like ‘Anaconda’?”
Nicki laughed. “What! You don’t like-”
“God, I hate that song!”
Nicki grabbed my arm. “But you see my point, right!”
“I do. Definitely.”
Ruminating on the famed career, Nicki ran her hands along the notebook. Struggled to maintain eye contact. Obviously relieved for the deeper conversation… if uncomfortable. “That’s why I have to do all this shit. To do what I really want I have to shake my ass or flaunt my titties! It’s frustrating, man. To have to write some of these lyrics and keep being the freaky bitch for everyone… I mean for once I’d like to have Channing Tatum or someone give me a lapdance in a music video but that’d scare the ‘straight’ guys watching… I can’t objectify men for the serious money.” She looked right at me. A vague glimmer of defeat in her power. “Just myself.”
The words, the realities left me in a sad silence. I had even more empathy for Onika now. Especially after hearing this requiem for Nicki’s initial rap idealism.
“So you see,” Nicki said. “The sex sells, Rhonnie. That’s all that matters.” She pointed a red claw at me. “And that’s why we need more of it in the stories.”
“But we don’t!” I replied. “You don’t have to do-”
“Listen, if you’re wanting to do this full time, Rhonnie, you gotta compromise!” Nicki yelled in a voice driven by years of rage. Years of industry suppression.
I waved toward the studio. “But look, you have the money! You’ve already played their stupid fucking game!”
Nicki stared at me. The glasses hid any tears or melancholy. Then again, Nicki always hid it well. She had the perfect poise. The confidence necessary for a black woman to climb her way to the top of the entertainment food chain.
“We can just write the truth,” I continued. “You can write the songs you want to write. You don’t have to satisfy this fucking thirst from others who just watch you for the sex. You don’t have to make money off that shit anymore! You can be the great artist you are! The one you were born to be!”
Right before me, Nicki’s creative mind went into contemplation. “At this point, I’ve got no choice,” she said. “I need the money just like anyone else, Rhonnie.”
I groaned.
Snapping into scary Nicki, she lunged toward me. A fiery fervor consumed her. The red wig and fingernails made her a rap Goddess straight from Hell.
I got quiet real quick.
“Don’t you understand! I’ve got no choice, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted. “I’m thirty-seven years old! There’s not much time for a woman in this industry to be the best, man!”
“I know,” I said in a low voice. “I’m sorry...”
More calm, Nicki leaned back. “I’m just glad I can talk about pegging now,” she admitted. “Hell, that’s some progress for female empowerment for you.”
“True… But I just think there’s nothing to lose by focusing more on your artistic vision. You don’t have to keep exploiting yourself-”
“Maybe I want to,” Nicki interrupted.
“What?”
With seductive slowness, Nicki creeped in closer. “Sometimes I like the attention.” She let out a confident cackle. “The thought of all those guys and girls finding me hot… I don’t know.” She bit her lip with erotic emphasis. “It turns me on.”
I grinned. “I’m not arguing with-”
Giving in to her natural theatrics, Nicki collapsed back on the chair. Now channeling her inner Bob Dylan. Her inner eccentric rock star. Letting all those quirks and tics whisk her away. “I mean yeah, it’s frustrating not to get to do my deeper songs all the time. To embrace being the artist I know I am... That’s what I really want, don’t get me wrong.” Holding my gaze hostage, she shrugged her shoulders. “But sometimes it’s sexy to play the star. To be all hot and beautiful... I like it sometimes...” She flashed that beaming smile. “And it gives me money. Power. Certainly helped me get you here.”
Nicki’s hands veered under the notebook. Stacking them on top of one another, she created a literal handmade dick. “It lets me do whatever I want to you, Rhonnie…” Moaning and grunting, Nicki pretended to peg me right then and there. Her thrusts always so aggressive. Even when she was only pretending to fuck me hard…
I couldn’t turn away. Nor couldn’t help but be aroused… Trying not to give in to the steamy sight, I sifted in my seat. Battled my rising bulge. “But still, there’s no way to ignore the money?” I asked. “Do the music that best captures you.”
Ignoring me, Nicki kept on with the imaginary fucking. Her grunts got louder. The Queen clearly nearing her orgasm…
Still I tried to steer us back on track. I moved in toward her. “Just make your own album about you and all these hot guys or you and your relationships,” I continued, my voice louder in an attempt to overpower Nicki’s carnal cries. “Instead of having to exploit your body so much, you can do more songs you care about!”
Cackling, Nicki sat up straight. She clapped her hands together.
“What?” I said.
“You’re funny. God… you’re always funny, Rhonnie.”
I revealed an amused smile. “Well, thanks...”
“I mean it!” Nicki pushed her dangling red hair back. “Oh shit.”
In the cold room, I hesitated. Struggling to stay serious and heartfelt amidst Nicki’s lingering laughter. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m judging you, Nicki because I’m not.” I felt her stare settle in on me. “You make a lot more than me and still can make great music… I just think you’re better than that.”
“And so are you,” Nicki said in a sharp reply.
Confused, I felt unease surge through me. My goofy smile couldn’t play it off either. “What do you mean?”
Armed with a wide grin, Nicki slowly crept closer toward me. “I told you this last time.” The two of us were now just inches apart. “I know allll about you, Rhonnie.”
Anxiety joined my unease. I now trembled...
“You like the attention too,” Nicki said. “I know you do!”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“I’m just proving my point.” Mrs. Majesty shrugged her shoulders. Her smirk slicing into me. “Sex sells.” She rested a hand on my knee. “You should know that as well as anyone.”
Warm sensations erupted inside me. I felt body heat. As if our emotional therapy session had morphed into a Skinemax porno...
“You’re the one that’s always posting on Reddit,” Nicki teased. “Letting all those horny desperate girls and guys ogle you like that. Jerking off to you... You fucking love it, don’t you?”
She had me. “Yeah,” I admitted.
Nicki now felt along my chest. “Your dick and ass pictures on ladyboners and gaybros. I know you do it, Rhonnie. I know alll about you remember...”
The room finally got hotter…
“Let’s go through those accounts, shall we,” Nicki pressed further. “Ronaldlongdick.”
I smiled at Nicki. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Ronaldlongdick77, unknownhorrorwriter.”
“That one was obvious...”
Nicki’s claws ran wild across my body. Fueled by her desire. Not that I was complaining…
“Bubblebutt4days,” Nicki continued. She let out a soft chuckle. “And rhonnie141414. Hmm, that’s sure discreet.”
“Yeah, that was when I was twenty-four, man...”
“But that’s the thing.” Nicki’s grip settled in on my thighs. “You know that account you deleted. Ronaldlongdick.”
“Yeah…”
Nicki got closer. The two of us now noses apart. “How many followers did it end up with?”
Not wanting to answer, I turned away.
“Come on now,” Nicki taunted. “You know how many, bitch.”
I gave her a defeated smirk. Knowing full well what she was about to say… And how she’d proven this harsh reality: sex sells.
“Thirteen hundred followers, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted.
The inevitable set in. I nodded along with her. Overpowered by the Queen once more. “I know...”
Nicki purred with delight. “And compare that to your writing, huh? The rhonnie14 sub?” She nudged my chin. “How many?”
“Eight hundred and-”
“Five!” Nicki said with me. Her triumphant laugh blared.
Cornered by Nicki, I shrugged. “Well… you got me...”
“So think about this, Rhonnie. You’re more famous for that dick.” With excited delight, Nicki slid her hands on to my booty. “And that ass than your horror stories...”
“Thanks, Nicki,” I deadpanned. “I appreciate the support!”
Nicki chuckled as she squeezed tighter to my ass. “All I’m saying’s you gotta do what you gotta do to get famous, boo. To make real money.” She ran her hands along my abs. “And now that you’ve been working out, I can go ahead and tell you, you’d make bank flaunting all this on-line. Those down low brothas and thirstyass sistas would be all up on you.”
“Stop it!” I joked. “I can’t handle this many compliments.”
“Bitch, please!” Nicki gave me a shove before sitting back in her seat. “You love that shit and you know it! You know you do!”
“Naw, you’re right... You’re totally right.”
“All I’m saying’s they appreciate your body more than the Goddamn stories! The shit you bust your ass to write, but they’d rather see that big dick and booty than anything else! You gotta profit off that, babe!”
I smirked. “So what are you saying? That I become a male stripper or something?”
Nicki snorted with laughter. “Hell, maybe! But just think about these stories for instance. You mix sex with storytelling like I did with the raps, and you got something that’ll sell, Rhonnie!”
Goddamn, she made sense… I nodded in agreement. “I see.”
“Like this next one, just go crazy with it! You know the Barbz will eat it up. Me pegging this Zac Efron-looking writer and his fineass all over the place!”
“Man, you’re really on this Efron kick lately...”
Nicki readjusted her glasses. “Bieber too. Because y’all fine and kinda look alike. Kinda built alike.”
Genuinely flattered, I probably blushed. “Thanks.”
“But people are fucking dumb. That’s the shit you gotta do to get fans, boo!”
“Naw, you’re totally right...”
Nicki straightened the notebook. “Like write about Ashley pegging you, you showing your dick to dudes on-line. That’ll sell like crazy. More views, more readers. Exploit it!”
“I guess I’ll start now then. With these new stories and all, the series.”
Like a supportive coach, Nicki pointed toward me, hyping me up. “Exactly! You got this!”
Already the wheels were turning. The crazy scenarios I could write about the Minaj mansion.
“You and Ashley can always come back here too,” I heard Nicki say. “I’ll give y’all another vacation...”
I smiled at Nicki. “I bet you would.”
She opened the binder. “Hey, y’all sexy. And I got you dressing in those clothes I like.”
I felt on the shirt’s fine fabric. “Yeah, from like 2008.”
“Bitchhh….”
“But trust me, Ash’s ready…”
“I bet she’s tearing that ass up every night too...”
Playful, I gave Nicki a weirded out look.
Laughing, she flipped through a few pages. “You know I’m crazy as Hell.”
“No doubt…” And then I saw the joint tucked away toward the back of the binder... Pristine California grass. A pink lighter laying right beside it. Holy shit…
“But for real, I wanna help,” Nicki said. She picked up the j. “You need someone dominant guiding you. Like with you and Ashley.”
“Yeah.”
Nicki held the pot out toward me. “You think you can handle it?”
“Shit…” I stood up. “If I can handle what you did to me last time, I can take anything.”
With a Devilish laugh, Nicki flicked the lighter. The flame showcased a wild glint in her eyes. Further revealed the ferocious soul under that red wig...
It turns out I couldn’t handle it. The next few hours were a blur. A gonzo production directed by wine and the strongest pot I ever smoked. Shit got weird. Nicki and I’s conversations ranged from 90s horror movies to heteroflexibility (don’t ask). Our high happiness interspersed with hysteria. Maybe there was a kiss. More groping. I honestly can’t remember...
Hours later, I awoke from the Christmas cannabis. All to the tune of Maroon 5’s “Happy Xmas (War Is Over).” Adam Levine’s piercing falsetto a ringing church bell to my haze.
Shivering, I folded my arms. “Fuck…” I muttered. First, I was glad to be wearing the same MySpace-era wardrobe. To actually be in a fucking bed, much less my bedroom… Until I saw who was laying beside me: Nicki herself. She was out cold. Another bottle of wine clasped in her hands like a teddy bear. A Santa Claus hat blended into her wig. Now I realized I had a Santa hat draped over my swoop... But, at least we were both dressed and lying on the covers. Neither of us could get MeToo’d now.
Staying quiet, I snuck out of bed. I slipped around in my socks. My clumsy footsteps drowned out by Maroon 5’s holiday cheese.
I looked toward the open doorway. Out toward where the Christmas concert continued… from Nicki’s personal nightclub.
Glasses slid down my nose. Confused, I took them off… They were the purple Buddy Holly ones. The same pair Nicki gave me last time. I put them back on and looked over at the bed… Toward the resting Queen. Had she taken my contacts out for me? The gesture was odd… but still kinda sweet.
The holiday playlist changed to Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” A pretty melody and even prettier voice. But one that should soothe Nicki to sleep for the time being...
Battling the migraine, I entered the hallway. Curiosity compelled me. Not to mention snacks, man.
I turned and looked down the hall. Toward the fateful Club Staff. Sextopia City. Now there was a light on inside the room… Even a faint chatter I could hear over this Christmas classic.
I took another step toward it. Now I heard multiple, muffled voices. It couldn’t have been the wax figures… Certainly, not Nicki herself. Sure, her range was supreme but not even she could hit those deeper male tones.
Uneasy, I looked on at the closed door. The room taunting me, tempting me. But it was too late for this shit… And I knew once I snuck in there, Club Staff would be hard to leave.
I proceeded through the rest of the mansion. Every clock read three A.M. The munchies made me stop once for those amazing cookies. And to my relief, there was no weed in them...
The barrage of standard Christmas crooners scored my journey. Stuck in the cold and surrounded by the decorations, I could even feel the holiday spirit.
I decided to dodge the nightclub. All the fucking bars. Through windows, I saw those powerful security lights bring daylight to the dead of night. Everything was illuminated. The pillars, the colors. All those fucking cameras. Nicki’s palace a fusion of government compound and wacky art exhibit.
I strayed into corridors unknown. Into yet another long hallway on the first floor. Fuck it, I was already lost in the Minaj maze. Then I saw a pair of wide-open double doors. The clinical lab lighting inside drew me in.
I stepped into the wide, vast space. The garage was fucking freezing... and there were quite a few cars in here. Quite a few crammed shelves and boxes. Only something was off… There was no style. Not a damn thing was pink.
Intrigued, I walked on through. Emulating a cheap detective. Dean Martin’s “Let It Snow!” echoed all around me… only the Christmas cheer was long gone by now. Replaced instead by rising unease.
The cars weren’t necessarily hideous. Just average. Used cars with lots of mileage. None of them any newer than 2016 models. Perfect for a blue-collar neighborhood or modest suburbia. But nothing befitting Nicki Minaj’s mansion.
The boxes and shelves offered more of the same mediocrity. Wrinkled clothes. Bland casual wear comprising of tee-shirts, jeans, and dresses. Nothing Nicki would touch much less showcase. Then there was the shitty jewelry. Obvious fake gold and silver. Yard sale fashion.
Scoffing, I glanced around the garage. Were all these items from the Queen’s pre-Minaj days? Mementos from her beloved past? Or was it just shit she planned on donating?
My handsome reflection caught my eye. I got a good glimpse of the perfect-fitting clothes.
A stained mirror leaned up against a set of rejected high school lockers. All of them with padlocks.
I stepped toward them. Tried yanking on those unwavering locker doors… I leaned in closer, peering through their metal’s holes. Clearly, shit was piled up inside. Hidden away. But why?
The mystery further unnerved me. My fear returned.
Then I heard a louder song: Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas” blared through this mausoleum of a garage. The bells and chimes engulfed me. Trembling in the cold air, I looked toward the very back.
A window showcased Nicki’s sprawling backyard. Not to mention the different smaller buildings occupying the green acres. One larger shed caught my eye.... After all, who else would have a two story efficiency unit?
Much less one with two tall security guards stationed at the front door. Under the bright security lights, I saw the building’s windows were all boarded up. Spastic cameras hovering over it.
“What the fuck…” I said. Battling the nerves, I stepped closer to see another shed had the same set-up of guards and cameras. What exactly was going on...
All the while, no one saw me spying. The Queen’s guards remained silent and still. A 24/7 shield.
I felt a large pendulum bump into my ass… Then felt a pair of thirsty hands grab each cheek. Startled, I whirled around.
“Hey, boo!” rang that hypnotic voice.
There Nicki stood right behind me. Now dressed in casual booty shorts and a red tank top., she was barefoot and missing a wig. Her natural beauty a nice contrast to the trash treasure trove surrounding us. Her smile as enthusiastic as ever.
And of course, there was the strap. From her crotch, Nicki’s pink dildo danged down like a snake… A real anaconda brushing against my ass.
I staggered back out of fear… and maybe some excitement. “Whoa…”
Nicki cackled. “Did I scare you!”
“Uh, yeah.”
Singing along, Nicki swung the dildo to the tune of Burl Ives. To the beat of the “ding…. dong…. ding...” harmonies.
I stared on at her third leg. Intimidated by the size… yet hypnotized by Nicki’s passion. Her magnetism. “Really, Nicki,” I quipped.
Chuckling, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “What? I wanted to surprise you!”
“With the fucking pinkosaurus?”
“Yeah, why not.” She leaned in closer. “You’re the one sneaking out...”
I stole one look out the window. Out toward the guards. The strange buildings. “I just couldn’t sleep,” I told the Queen.
Nicki squeezed my wrist in a death grip of passion. “I can fix that.”
Flashing a smile, I broke away from her spell. “Naw, I need to go lay down. I can’t keep up with you!”
“Maybe tomorrow then?” Nicki teased.
“Maybe!” I then walked through the valley of Christmas music. Right into Burl Ives’ joyous vocals. The entire time I felt Nicki’s hungry eyes watch me. Staring me down hard… Her smile driven by nothing but desire. I forced myself not to turn. The temptation too much… but my tired state helped me persevere against the gorgeous rapper.
“You better be glad I don’t get a shake weight on that ass!” I heard Nicki shout with sadistic glee.
14
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2020.03.20 07:27 rhonnie14 Lapdance hidden camera

Part 2
I woke up groggy the next morning. To my relief, the door was closed and I was alone. Comfortable. Far from Nicki’s aggression. Far from this madness in general.
I slid on my Buddy Holly glasses. At peace with the solitude around me… until I saw a letter lying on the dresser. The elaborate scribbled scrawl told me all I needed to know: Nicki had snuck in here during the night. Groaning, I grabbed the letter.
There was the schedule literally spelled out for me: gym, shower, interview. Even a curated wardrobe was included.
I put on the tight gym shorts. The red sleeveless shirt. Upon opening the bedroom door, Bobby Helms’s “Jingle Bell Rock” bombarded me. Not to mention this mansion’s blizzard… I couldn’t help but think how some people would find the holiday playlist a welcome reprieve from the Nickimania usually blasting. But not me. I missed the pop music in the face of this seasonal shit.
Then I hit the gym. The treadmill, the crunches. My meager weightlifting. All under those cameras’ red eyes. Not to mention the bizarre wax figure standing in the corner. The one watching me this whole time: a life-size Roman waxwork. Complete with the blonde wig, messy black dress… that deranged scowl.
Out of breath, I faced my reflection. The giant mirror painted me in a flattering but realistic light. Nicki and Ashley had taken care of me, after all. I looked better than ever. Maybe not the Great Value Zac Efron Nicki was hyping me up to be, but hey, what can I say? Even I was impressed my own appearance.
Turning, I confronted the wax Roman. Her fake eyes met mine. Somehow, I was sure she’d moved ever so slightly. Just enough to turn that female gaze toward me.
I then headed for the shower. The warm water soothed me from this Christmas cold. Now I could really get lost in horror thoughts. In my storyteller wilderness.
Relaxed, I stepped back. Looked toward the metal soap holder… then my unease returned. Intensified.
I saw a red light hidden behind the soap bar. One blocked by a narrow glass case. Maybe I was too tired to notice it last night. More than likely too drunk… but apparently, Nicki had eyes on me the whole time.
Butt I felt aroused amidst the disgust. I couldn’t stop the erection… even when it stemmed from fantasies violating my privacy. But still, where was my dignity? Apparently not enough of it to stop me from modeling in that shower.
In the hallway, the cold hit me hard. Especially when all I had on was the boxers. Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” serenaded my chills. Those voices then returned… I looked toward the last door.
The muffled voices came from there. The fateful room’s light still on. I walked up to the door. Grabbed the handle.
“I told you not to go in there!” came that frenetic scream.
Nicki’s hand grabbed mine. I looked into her fiery eyes. She had on the librarian’s glasses. The red blouse. Her hair pulled back in an unassuming ponytail. Her claws replaced by groomed fingernails. “What the fuck, Rhonnie!”
Under the glare, I crumbled. “I was just curious…”
“Yeah, well, curiosity killed the cat, bitch!” Nicki tossed my hand back to me.
“Well, what happened?” I asked. Still hearing the voices, I waved toward the room. “What’s that noise?”
Behind a cold gaze, Nicki grabbed my wrist in a death grip. “None of your business. Not now!”
I said nothing. Too scared to respond….
“Now get your ass in that bedroom!” Nicki continued. She motioned toward my room. Savoring her power… “Get dressed!”
“My bad…” I responded. But I still listened to her. I walked into my bedroom. Saw my sweater and red khakis laid out for me.
Bing Crosby’s voice echoed everywhere as I snagged the red trousers. Got ready to put them on.
“And what’d I tell you about going to that room!” Nicki’s voice reprimanded me.
Startled, I looked toward the open doorway. Right to the one-and-only Nicki Minaj watching me get dressed.
“I’m sorry!” I said with a laugh.
“Mmm-hmm,” Nicki replied. She leaned against the doorway. Not going anywhere… and neither was that excited gaze of hers. The one that never left my body. “You best start listening to me, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her hungry eyes, I slid on the pants. “I will!”
I felt her eyes on me the entire time. Nicki never once left this show….
We later got together in the home studio. Both of us in our swivel chairs and with a glass of wine...
The ideas came fast and furious. Some good, some great.
“What about like a sex cult?” Nicki suggested.
“A sex cult?” I joked.
Behind the glasses, Nicki sat up straight. "Is that too realistic?”
I chuckled. “With you, man, anything is possible.”
“We just need to give them something crazy!” Nicki went on. She straightened her blouse. “Like whether it’s a cult or anything crazy I did. Like the pegging, anything hot like that!”
“Awesome. I agree.”
“I’ll be your muse for all things sexy and…” Nicki hunched her shoulders. Angled her head for a murderer’s photo shoot. That killer gaze fixated on me. “Scary."
Uncomfortable, I glanced down at my notebook. “Yeah, there’s so much potential.”
“Oh, definitely.”
I worked up the nerve to face her. Then ask a question that’d been bothering me: “So what was up with the garage?”
Nicki gave me a weird look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean all the weird shit in there? The cars, lockers-”
Nicki scoffed. “Bitch, please…”
“Naw, I’m curious.”
With an indifferent flourish, Nicki waved me off. “Your nosyass shouldn’t worry!”
Like a reporter, I leaned in closer. “So why all the cameras then? The guards?”
Nicki stared at me, her eyes eviscerating my soul. “I done told you, Rhonnie.” She moved in toward my face, holding me captive with that stare. “I value my privacy.”
“So why keep that shit then?"
Chuckling, Nicki leaned back in her seat. “Don’t be so worried, Rhonnie…”
“What?”
Nicki looked right at me. Her inner strength obvious. "I’m a tough girl, Rhonnie! You know that.”
Our brainstorming session ended soon after. To be honest, I had enough macabre material minus the Queen’s input. Even if the session proved entertaining.
That afternoon, I entered the kitchen. And there was Nicki seated on a bar stool. Glued to her phone. The Killers’ “Don’t Shoot Me Santa” the latest on the dancefloor's playlist.
“Hey, boo,” Nicki said to me.
“Hey,” I replied as I grabbed a Dos Equis. “I was just about to start writing. ” I opened the longneck. Still basking in the wine buzz… then I heard more moans and groans. Pleasurable exhalations hitting euphoria…
I looked toward the hallway. Drowning out the Christmas music, Club Staff’s sex sounded closer. Somehow more familiar. I stepped toward Nicki. “Yo, what are you watching?”
Nicki didn’t even try hiding the footage. The HD video of me, her, Ashley, and Kellan engaging in a most wild intimacy. Our own filmed sex tape… For whatever reason, I was on the bottom.
“Whoa, what the fuck!” I yelled.
Cackling, Nicki lowered her phone. “What? I can’t relive the past, bitch?”
“I mean you kept that on your phone?”
Nicki shrugged. “Duh. It’s hot…”
I couldn’t argue. “It’s fun and all, but-"
Nicki stood up and held her phone toward me. Giving me a front row view to a clip of her and Ashley dicking me down with those huge dildos. “If I wanna take a break, Rhonnie, I can. I'm not addicted, bitch.” She then got in my face. A delayed flourish of a finish. I could already smell the wine in her breath. “And I’m the one paying you. Remember?”
I gave her a weak smirk. “Okay…”
“That’s right, boo.”
I waved toward her, annoyed. "So when can I get my phone?”
That wacky Nicki grin appeared. She marched toward the hallway. Her erotica conquering the Christmas music. “Oh, you know the rules, Rhonnie.”
“Well, what about Zoo? When the Hell’s he coming over?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Nicki started. She stopped and faced me. Her smile still on display. “He’s coming.”
“Yeah but when-”
A chaotic vibration interrupted us. Nicki glanced at her pulsating phone.
“Shit, I gotta get this!” she said. She grinned at me. “Don’t go anywhere!”
Left alone, I looked over at the kitchen bar. At all those drinks.
Swept away by The Killers’ Christmas song, I staggered up to the pink wine bottles. Grabbed the biggest one.
Buried beneath the booze were torn scratch sheets of paper. A rainbow catalog veering between construction paper and sticky notes. The font matched the pattern: notes scrolled in everything from pen, marker, to even crayon.
I placed the wine on the counter. Picked up a cluster of messages.
Judging by the writing, no way these were the musings of one person. The handwriting was different on each and every message. The emotions different: Greatest xperience eva! I ain’t ever leaving!! I <3 Nicki Minaj Nickis bitch
Battling the unease, I took another swig. But still couldn’t shake the increasing chills.
Then one pink note in particular caught my eye. Brought about waves of anxiety… and sweet nostalgia. I recognized Ashley’s scrawl immediately. Her excellent grammar: Ashley And Rhonnie Forever! We love you, Nicki!
I put the beer down. Picked up my love’s note. Felt adrenaline rush through me. Heard Ashley’s beaming voice as I read it once more… Fuck, I missed her.
Grinning, I slid the letter into my pocket. A cherished memento from our stay at Nicki’s resort… My eyes then went back to this hidden collection. To the white sheet of paper lying under Ash’s message…
In an instant, my romantic remembrance vanished. All of it conquered by fear.
HELP ME read the scribbled touch of a pencil’s panic. The big, bold letters screamed those words. Underlined for emphasis. The message too terrifying not to be genuine…
I grabbed the piece of paper. Got a closer inspection at the all-too-real horror. The reality that everything wasn’t Utopia. Not for everyone, at least...
I downed the Dos Equis. But my buzz didn’t soothe the restless tension.
My eyes scanned the other notes. This scared detective confirming his instincts: there were just too many subtle differences. Too many eccentricities for Nicki and her personalities to have written all these. Especially now that I had Ashley’s note for evidence.
From the dancefloor, The Killers faded out. And in the brief silence came the many voices. Those muffled shouts and cries…
I turned toward the hallway. The sounds obviously coming from Club Staff. The Forbidden Room. Nicki’s wax museum. Her lair of wild dreams and nightmares.
Still clinging to the eerie note, I sensed my opportunity. Somehow gathering courage amidst the anxiety, I rushed into the dark hallway. Saw the only light here coming from beneath that final door.
The coast was clear. No one was around... Just me and whomever lurked inside that room. And as I got closer, the voices grew louder. More excited.
For once, the fear chilled me more than Nicki’s arctic A/C. But I still kept going. Reached out toward the knob.
The sudden struts of a guitar made me jump. So did Elvis Presley’s crooning… Startled, I looked down the hall. Glaring on at “Blue Christmas” now playing on the dancefloor.
Recovering from the scare, I turned my attention toward the door. Reached out once more.
“Rhonnie, what is you doing!” rang Nicki’s siren cry through the darkness. The Queen’s voice all power and attitude. Just like her firm grip snatching my arm.
Scared again, I whirled around. “Shit!”
Nicki’s smirk greeted me. As did her latest costume change: a black Strokes tee and skintight white pants. With no make-up and a shorter red wig, Onika Maraj looked dressed for an underground rock show. How she changed so fast, how she appeared so quick behind me still remains a mystery to this day. Not to mention where the fuck did she keep getting all these wigs and where did she keep them? But in that surreall moment, I was just glad she wasn’t wearing that fucking strap...
Nicki waved at her shirt with excitement to spare. “You like it? You’re a Strokes fan, right?”
The letter in my hand grabbed my gaze. “Yeah…” I held the message toward Nicki. “What the Hell is this!”
Caught off guard, Nicki’s grin disappeared. Her suspicion set in.
“I found this in the kitchen,” I said.
In a fierce instant, Nicki snatched the sheet. Read the note.
“I just wanna know who wrote it,” I continued.
Feigning indifference, Nicki tossed it to the ground. “It’s nothing, I wrote that shit.”
For once, her performance lacked emotion. Gone was the confidence.. her biggest strength.
I flashed a nervous smile. “No, you didn’t! There’s no fucking way!”
Nicki placed a hand to her temple. Avoiding eye contact. At war with her own invasive thoughts.
“I found the note Ashley left too,” I said. “I found all of them! I mean why’d someone write ‘help me,’ Nicki! Goddamn!”
Nicki stayed silent. There was no word. No explanation.
I leaned toward her. “That’s fucking crazy! I mean just-”
Staying strong in the face of my fake toughness, Nicki looked right at me. “Chill, Rhonnie.”
“But I wanna know-”
“Do you think anyone would ever wanna leave here?” Like a dismissive diva, she pushed me back. “Seriously, Rhonnie?”
Scoffing, I pointed toward the note. “Well, someone did apparently!”
“Just think about you and Ashley!” Nicki then flashed that taunting smile. “Y’all’s asses know you didn’t wanna leave!”
I hesitated in the cold. Let “Blue Christmas” continue through the hallway. The mansion. And deep down, I knew I had no response. Nicki was right.
Sensing my weakness, Nicki took an aggressive step toward me. Her pretty face matching mine. “You know I’m right, don’t you,” she cooed. In a slow lunge, Nicki ran her hands along my chest. Leaned in toward my ear for a sensual purrr….
The memories hit me hard. Flashbacks to the ferocious sex. Me, Ash, Nicki, Kellan. Our weeks of fun. Our thrist constantly quenched in this erotic paradise.
“You and Ashley still wanna come back,” Nicki teased in a gentle tone. She squeezed my ass. And got closer to my lips. “Y’all still miss me…”
I smelt the sweet wine in her breath. The booze helping us both lose control.
“We do...” I said. Now I ran my hands up and down Nicki’s majestic body. Felt along the smooth skin. The plastic… The best implants money can buy.
Our bodies collided. Swaying to the rhythm of “Blue Christmas.” Our souls stirred into a happy hysteria.
Nicki’s grin grew wider. “I missed y’all too…”
She gave me a drunken kiss. And I damn sure returned the favor. Gladly still clinging to my ass, Nicki’s other hand went down toward my crotch.
I lost control. The excitement too much.
“Rhonnie, get Ashley,” Nicki said between kisses. She draped her hands around my neck. “Stay here forevvverrrr…”
Smiling, I looked on at those brown eyes. Their mischievous glint. “I’ll think about it-”
A bombastic beat crushed Elvis’s crooning. Loud and obnoxious. A hip-hop air strike had hit Christmas.
I immediately recognized the song. And immediately cringed.
Cackling, Nicki leaned back. “Oh shit!”
I groaned. “Fuck, ‘Anaconda’? “Really?”
“Yes!”
Amidst the pop assault, Nicki pulled me in closer toward her. Another sloppy kiss accompanied this grating tune. The Queen’s hands went wild over my body. The song getting better as the make-out session continued. The intensity matching the incessant rhythm of “Anaconda.”
Nicki held me back. Her female gaze salivating me. The smile starving for more.
Grooving and shaking to the beat, I gave her a smug, seductive smirk. Pleased to have Nicki’s spotlight. “Hey,” I quipped.
Then Mrs. Majesty made her move. Lunging forward, Nicki was fast and quick. Her hands latched on to my arms.
“Whoa!” I joked.
Crying out, Nicki threw me up against the wall. Her sheer strength sent me into it hard… leaving me pinned to it.
There were some nerves. Not to mention a rising thrill. I turned and looked back at it. At Nicki.
Armed with that madcap grin, she descended upon me. Her fingers itching to grab. Her steps aligned with the song… As if she were pantomiming and acting out her own twisted music video. But that sly voice shined through. Even over the deafening soundtrack. Nicki’s excitement too high at this point...
“Oh my Gosh....” she said in a robotic melody. “Look at her butt…”
I was too drunk to move. But still enthralled… erect beyond belief. Here I was Nicki’s prisoner once more. At her manic mercy.
Smirking in silence, I let her tear off my sweater.
“Oh my Gosh, look at her butt,” Nicki kept singing. Those same lyrics repeated in a sexy mantra… Getting me all the more hot. The collision of the song and Nicki’s performance hypnotized me. I gave in to her fantasy… and my own.
Nicki pulled my pants down. Into the music, I grooved. Shook at her touch. All while she yanked off the khakis, then my tight boxers. I held my feet out, letting Nicki slide the socks off. She had me nude. Just as she wanted me.
Still singing along, Nicki pushed me further down. Bending me over… I felt those white pants fasten against my popped out ass. Felt her fasten those clamps of fingers to my hips.
Swaying to the reckless rhythm, Nicki’s passionate thrusts matched the song. One hit after the other...
“My anaconda don’t!” Nicki hollered. “My anaconda don’t!”
I closed my eyes and moaned. The sensations so amazing. Nicki didn’t even need a dildo to fuck hard. She had too much power as is.
Enjoying the show, Nicki moved my ass back-and-forth. Making me twerk on that crotch. Nicki getting the lapdance of her dreams. Not that I was complaining... Being her personal stripper was nothing new for either of us.
Continuing the concert, Nicki sang in a playful tone. Her voice so energetic and full of delight it overtook the fucking record. And only stopping for those dominant grunts. Nicki leaned in next to my ear. “This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles…”
My breathing got heavier. In awe of Nicki’s poise. Behind aroused eyes, I watched her grab a hold of my big dick. All while she kept pounding away in this delirious dry humping. Nicki a Goddamn athlete.
“Dick bigger than a tower,” the Queen continued as she tugged on my cock for emphatic emphasis. “I ain’t talking about Eiffel’s…”
Something moist hit my ass. The crashes were repetitive and heavy. Nicki got out of control. A sexbot on the verge of exploding.
I moaned once more. Until Nicki’s hand covered my mouth. But she still kept going. I moved along with her. Shaking my ass to her delight.
“Real country-ass nigga, let me play with his rifle,” Nicki sang. “Pussy put his ass to sleep, now he calling me NyQuil…” In a wild flourish, she licked my face. A serpent’s tongue all along my smooth skin.
And the show went on. Through every lyric, every thrust. I gave in to the rap Goddess’s every move. Not to mention to her amazing stamina. Here I was sweating in the cold. Still erect. Still twerking...
At the fadeout, Nicki’s cackling hit overdrive. Her histrionics natural. She staggered back and gave my ass a passionate smack.
Exhausted, I turned and looked back at the Queen. At her triumphant smile. The colossal wet stain on the crotch of those white pants… An ocean of desire.
Another haunting rap beat started. Nicki’s “Get On Your Knees” began playing. A song reverberating through my mind. My body.
Nicki ran her hands down her pants in a sensual taunt. “Ooh, bring that ass here, baby.”
Gasping for breath, I staggered to my feet. Still naked. Still recovering from being dicked down.
“You should’ve been here all along,” Nicki continued.
I turned my attention to Club Staff. My mystery powered through… even in the post-sex bliss.
Nicki reached toward me. “Come here, baby.”
Avoiding her touch, I stumbled toward the room. Without the strap, at least my ass wasn’t in too much pain.
“Rhonnie!” I heard Nicki shout. “Don’t go in there!”
Over Nicki’s recorded harmonies and all-too-live screams, I could hear those voices. The cryptic chorus behind door number three. I snatched the knob. Glad to find it unlocked.
Behind me, I heard Nicki chase after me. “Bring that ass here!” she commanded.
I swung the door open and rushed inside. Being back in Club Staff ended my drunk disorientation. Not from reflective warmth but from the strange sight sprawling before me…
Nervous, I stopped in the middle of the room. The pink walls were still flawless. The antique jukebox still timeless. And from here I saw the secret room, its door wide open. Ashley and I’s personal suite…
The other wax figures were spread out like a staged party scene. Nicki Minaj by way of the Uncanny Valley. There was nerdy Nicki, tomboy Nicki. All aspects of the artist’s personality.
Both the pink dildo and red blouse were lying on the ground. The glasses she wore earlier. Wigs piled up in a colorful conglomeration. Club Staff now Nicki’s dressing room for all those costume changes. And also the site of her darkest desires.
But these familiar sights did little to soothe my dread. Still doused in sweat, I felt Nicki’s literal drip slide off my ass... Somehow, Nicki had shocked me once more. Scared me with the secrets of her forbidden room.
Open laptops were arranged on all those large tables. Rows and rows of them leading up to a large demigod of a flatscreen. The room featuring an electrical cult ceremony…
What they showed were live feeds. HD footage clearly taken from all these fucking cameras. In rooms I’d never seen. Areas of Nicki’s home and property I never knew existed. Many of the rooms from the sheds out back, I figured.
Strangers stayed on those screens. Attractive men and women, ranging from young adults to senior citizens. But they were all hot… All of them either stripped down or dressed in the nice fashion I knew Nicki picked out. They were her community. The Barbz she really wanted.
Most of these hottiees were engaged in sex. The mics made that much clear. There was everything: missionary, pegging, three-ways, Devil’s Threesomes, guy-on-guy. Whatever your hungry heart desired. Whatever the Hell Nicki wanted.
With several clips taking place at night, I knew the Queen had recorded everything. Not so much for security or surveillance. Just for herself.
In the videos, I recognized a few faces, the bodyguards amongst them. And of course, I recognized Kellan and his large dick. He was in a room of four, using the same playbook me, him, Ash, and Nicki perfected.
The same playbook I saw broadcast on that flatscreen. The footage showed the four of us from just a few months ago. The four of us having the sex of our lives. We must’ve really been amongst Nicki’s favs to be her star attraction…
Sure, I was disturbed. But nostalgia crept in upon seeing us on the silver screen. I gotta say I missed Kellan. Not to mention he was a long way from Trinidad… But maybe to him, the Minaj mansion was home. We did have our fun, after all.
But the romanticism died soon after seeing one laptop showing me in the lair. Showing me right now. In the nude. I now noticed several cameras dangling down from the ceiling, filming my fear.
More vivid glows emanated from the secret room. Undoubtedly there was more where this came from…
I now realized Nicki Minaj was a mirage. A sexially-explicit illusion used to draw in the thirstiest men and women. A Venus flytrap for Onika Maraj’s most depraved pleasures.
But still I needed to see more... Even over the chilling epiphany, curiosity compelled me. I charged up to the secret room. Until a certain singing stopped me.
I whirled around to face Nicki. She stood tall and defiant. Regardless of the striking stain, she didn’t look trashy. She wore that wet vagina well. After all, that crotch certainly didn’t feel like a pussy at times...
And all the while, Nicki sang along to the chorus of “Get On Your Knees.” A sly smile accompanying her flow. Her joy.
An intimate audience, I watched her the whole way through. This was Nicki The Artist and she sounded even better live. More natural. More raw.
As the track faded out, Nicki nodded toward the laptops. “You know they wanna be here, Rhonnie.” She strutted up to me.
Like looking at a much prettier Medusa, I turned to stone. Held in place by the beauty. The charisma.
“No one’s being held against their will,” Nicki continued. She stole an admiring glance at my cock before looking into my green eyes. “That’s their shit cars they left in the garage. Their shit clothes in the lockers. Their shit lives they left behind.”
“But still… it’s not right,” I struggled to say. “It’s weird.”
Soothing me, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “They just wanted to be happy, Rhonnie. That’s all.”
I couldn’t respond. Naked and in front of Nicki, I was conflicted. Torn between the seduction and slavery.
Nicki leaned in closer. “I didn’t want you to see till you were ready.” She caressed my face. Her touch so… warm. “Till you and Ashley were here.” Her other hand clinged to my thigh.
Quiet, I ran my fingers through Nicki’s short hair. “Regret In Your Tears” next on Nicki’s always-appropriate soundtrack. This setlist always in sync with our current mood.
“I didn’t want y’all to get scared,” Nicki went on. Her hand drifted down to my ass. For another sensual squeeze. “That was all, Rhonnie.”
I pulled away from her. “Naw, I can’t…”
Forcing a cackle, Nicki grabbed my arm. Her demeanor drunk, her mannerisms driven by madness. “Rhonnie, look!” She pointed toward the station of so many screens. “I dress them well, they get to live with me!” Selling herself well, Nicki felt along her well-endowed chest. “They get to be with me, baby…” She lunged in closer, inches away from my face. “And that should’ve been you and Ashley!”
Now I yanked my arm back. “No! This isn’t right, Nicki! You’re asking us to give up everything! We’ve got fucking lives, man! I wanna write!”
Nicki’s smile stagnated. “And you can… You can write about me.” She pointed across the room. Of course, right at that huge dildo. “And spend more time with that!” She grabbed on to my shoulders. “Me, you, and Ash. Kellan. It’ll be just like old times, babe.”
“I can’t.” Struggling against that strength, I finally managed to escape her grips once more.
A glower overtook Nicki’s face. “What do you think this is then, Rhonnie!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“This house! Me, bitch!”
Never had I seen her get this pissed. Sure, maybe crazy as Hell. Maybe psychosexual but not fucking angry.
Nicki pointed at herself. ”I’m the reason they wanna come! I bring them here, I keep them happy! They make me happy! I’m their fucking queen, Rhonnie! I make them want me, you understand!” She got in my face. But I was already scared into obedience. “Just like I did to you and Ashley!” She pointed to her head. “It’s in here, Rhonnie.” Immediately, she gravitated to that body. “And all here, baby! It’s got nothing to do with Onika! Nothing to do with me, the girl from Queens! The crazy family, the tragedies. It’s the way I look, Rhonnie! The ass and titties! The sex. Fucking. Sells.”
The height difference didn’t matter. Not now. Nicki stared me down hard. From both lust and anger. The dangerous ends of both emotions. I shivered under that spare. Nicki knowing full well she had me under her spell.
“What’s going on?” a deep voice rivaling mine asked.
We both turned. And well, Nicki’s excited smile contrasted my shock.
There was the man of the hour: Zoo. He stood a few feet away from us. His naked body no longer too surreal a sight in this freaky fortress. He was a handsome guy. Much taller than us. Much more sculpted than me A pretty prisoner both in the past and now. Kenneth checked off most of Nicki’s boxes: tough, thicc, and well-hung. Somehow, him and I had both managed to stay erect. Maybe there was something in the mansion’s air. But now Zoo’s glare stayed on me. The dude likely to break me by hand or dick…
Nicki’s grin hit sitcom levels. “Hey, baby!” she gushed. Drawn to her man, she rushed over and hugged him.
But Kenneth and I’s staredown wasn’t going anywhere.
“Is that the writer guy?” he asked Nicki.
“Yeah, that’s Rhonnie!” she beamed.
They fixated their gazes on me. There we were, the three of us with our dicks hanging out. Well, with Nicki’s lying closeby.
Through the tense silence, all we heard was the Minaj playlist. And the sounds of her prisoners. Their pleasurable moans and cries a constant off those laptops. Of course, I recognized my own exhalations on that flatscreen. God knows what the Hell I was taking in that clip...
Nicki pulled Kenneth closer toward her. Her man definitely lacked her enthusiasm. “He’s the one writing about us, Zoo!” she exclaimed. “And I’m helping him out! He’s gonna make us even more famous!”
“So I’ve heard,” he replied. His hands stayed by his side. Ready for any false move from rhonnie14.
“Ain’t that right, Rhonnie!” Nicki said. Her wicked gaze settled in on me. “You’re gonna write so many crazy stories, right.”
Reaching into the recesses of my soul, I found some half-ass courage. “I’m writing the truth, Nicki,” I finally said. I waved toward the laptops. “I’m writing about all this! The people you got here, the ones you’ve got trapped! Your prisoners!”
Needless to say, Zoo wasn’t amused. His glare now more permanent than Nicki’s glowing smile. But now Nicki was no different. She had no chance at hiding the rage boiling within.
“I’m telling the truth!” I yelled.
Nicki took a ferocious step toward me.
Trying to restrain her, Zoo grabbed the Queen’s arm. “Nicki-”
But nothing could stop her. Not even Zoo’s impressive muscles. Nicki bulldozed on by. Straight for me.
Oh fuck, I thought...
Nicki put a finger to my face. “And do you think anyone’s gonna believe you, motherfucker!”
I stayed quiet. Yeah, I was a chickenshit.
“I’ll just tell them you’re some fucking creep obsessed with me!” Nicki continued. “No one will buy what the fuck some random horror writer has to say! Yo ass look like you’re sixteen anyway!”
Crumbling under her irate pressure, I shrugged my shoulders. “That’s a compliment...”
“Shut the fuck up!” Nicki yelled.
I locked eyes with Zoo. Even he was keeping his distance from her.
“Yeah, listen to Nicki!” he added.
Nicki gave me a light shove. The glare slicing into me like a knife. “So you go write your goofy fucking stories! Pimp my name to the horror crowd! They’ll wanna be with the Queen too, boo! You know that!”
“You got him, Nicki,” I heard Zoo chime in.
Giving me her patented stank face, Nicki walked back toward her husband. Leaving me in an awkward, uneasy state.
I watched Nicki drape her arm around Zoo’s waist. Her outburst now veering toward a manic melancholy. “You should’ve stayed, you and Ashley both!” Nicki said. I saw her grab on to Kenneth’s ass. “Y’all’d have been the Paula Patton and Zac Efron in here. All for me…”
Doing his best to be supportive, Zoo held on to her tight. Caressed Nicki’s shoulder. Anything to stay on her sweet side.
Now Nicki’s performance hit pathos. Somehow, I felt sorry for her. Sympathy even in the face of millions and nothing but pretty people surrounding her.
“Y’all should’ve just stayed!” she said in a trembling voice. The emotions erupted. Shielding her eyes, she turned away.
I took a calm step toward her. “I can’t stay Nicki. We just can’t.”
Both Nicki and Zoo confronted me. They showed their hurt physically. Their wounds within. The dark side of being a social media freakshow.
Nicki showed teardrops. Wearing her usual melodramatic make-up, she’d have resembled a crying clown. But not when she was just dressed as herself… Not when she was Onika. A lonely, young woman simultaneously vindicated and destroyed by her own fucking dream.
Concerned, I ran a hand through my swoop. Kept an appropriate distance from the distraught couple. “What’s this really about, man?” I asked, forcing my voice at a chill calm. “Nicki, maybe you should talk to someone.”
That glare flashed through Mrs. Majesty’s tears.
“You just need to get some help,” I struggled to say. “There’s nothing wrong with that-”
“Help!?” Nicki shouted. She pulled away from Zoo. All her weeping eyes on me. “I don’t need any help, Rhonnie! I need people to fucking care!”
A worried Zoo reached toward her. “Babe.” This was the side of Kenneth I’d never seen. Unlike Nicki, he was no performer or actor. Just a caring husband to one of the most complex personalities in Hollyweird.
Nicki held him back. Instead, her attention stayed on me. The stare sharpened. Her defensiveness a weak disguise for those insecurities galore. “That’s all I want, Rhonnie! I love my fans, the real fans!”
“I know,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to-”
“But that’s not what people want!” Nicki cried. The floodgate of tears burst. Here was a woman on the verge of a brutal breakdown. A sad glimpse behind the bravado. Nicki the beautiful diva facing fate and alienation. “They want the big titty bitch! That’s it!” She pointed toward that ‘perfect’ figure. “They don’t care about me! The lyrics or the drive! It’s this! I just want someone to look past that! Someone like you! Lile Ashley!” She snatched Kenneth’s hand in a loving grip. “And Zoo… Y’all need to stay with me for more! For the music!”
Zoo and I made quick eye contact. I imagine we didn’t have much in common other than worrying over Nicki’s mental state… but that was bond enough.
Like a Shakespearean monologue, Nicki continued spilling her guts. The raw emotion on display. Whatever warts and all could be on those perfect physical features. “It’s why I do this!” She waved toward her body. “The surgeries, the make-up! I can’t get anyone to just listen!”
“But Nicki, there’s plenty of us,” I said. “Hell, I like the music!”
“It’s just sex, Rhonnie! Like I told you!” Nicki stared right at me. “That’s all they care about at the end of the day.” She waved toward the laptops. Nicki’s movements so fast and frenetic, her boobs could’ve caused an earthquake. Just as much as her morose expression would elicit heartbreak. “It’s why I don’t give a fuck about those sluts and shrimp-dicked idiots just getting off to me! They can’t understand me like you! Like all the people I bring here can!”
“There’s more of us though, Nicki. I swear! We don’t have to stay here to support you, man. We’re everywhere!”
“I just want them to like me for the music! The talent! Not the sex, not the bullshit!” Lost in her sorrow, Nicki turned away. Wiped off those countless tears. “I can’t do anything as a female rapper… I can’t be a Pac or Ye. I have to be the hot bitch… You don’t understand, Rhonnie. I never wanted it like this!”
Zoo grabbed her shoulder. “Yo, babe-”
Possessed by passion, Nicki swatted his hand away. She screamed aloud. Into the air. Into her own crazed soul. Exorcist Nicki her latest personality. Then those maniacal sights settled in on me. “I don’t need help, Rhonnie! I need supporters! People who like me for who I am! For who I fucking * really* am! I need them with me twenty-four seven, Rhonnie!”
Fighting my own tears, I stepped toward her. “And I do. Ashley and I both-”
“Then stay!”
Nicki’s anguish made me stop. All while it ate me alive. Maybe I knew Nicki more than most. But here I was wanting her to be okay... Here I was desperate to reassure the Queen of hip-hop.
“Stay here forever!” Nicki yelled.
I shook my head. “I can’t, Nicki. I can’t.”
With weary defeat, Nicki shook her head. Each and every tear nothing but bullets piercing into my naked flesh.
Zoo ran a hand along her arm. “Nicki. Hey-”
Nicki stormed out. Off stage and away from her erotic island. She never said goodbye. Never gave me that bright smile. For someone with her talent and dictionary, she didn’t say shit.
Feeling guilty, I watched Nicki adjust her pants. Adjust the stain sticking to her skin… And then she was gone. A gorgeous witch disappearing into the night.
The catchy Nicki tunes still played. Not to mention the enthusiastic voices still blasting off those feeds. But Kenneth and I may as well have stood in silence. So thick the tension was.
He finally looked at me. His stare was smoldering, intense. “Get the fuck out.”
Put on the spot, I glanced around the room. At the sex videos. Then at my own naked body. With a nervous smile, I confronted Zoo. Shrugged my shoulders. “Can I at least put my boxers on?”
I got to put on the nice clothes Nicki stripped from me. Got my bag, got an Uber for LAX, and got the fuck out of there. All on Nicki’s tab, thankfully.
Now I sat alone at the airport. Waiting on a two A.M. flight… All alone in my corner. No one was around me this late. The cold isolation here like a cavern. Not even the Christmas wreaths and trees could soothe me.
Holding my phone, I tried to pass the time. Tried to keep my mind off the bizarre Nicki encounter. I just had to put on Bruce. Now blasting “No Surrender” through my earbuds and into my rattled mind. Scared that playing any Nicki would be a siren call luring my ass back to her place… Her world.
That being said, the long wait left me in reflection. Nicki wasn’t wrong on any count. To quote one of her more obnoxious tracks, we were all just beez in the trap. Caught up in her lore, her talent. And yes, the insane beauty. But what unsettled me most was how she related it to me. You see, Nicki spelled out her personal dilemma. Fuck it, she even related the twisted reality to me. And Nicki was right all along. Regardless of how much she liked creeping on my Reddit porn accounts, she had a point. I had more fans piling in there for a pic I took in seconds rather than a story I poured my heart and soul into. A situation no different than Nicki’s more serious jams getting shunned in favor of twerking and brainless exploitation. Sex sells, man. No matter her personality, Nicki wasn’t wrong about that. Call it my What Price, Hollywood? moment… All courtesy of Onika Maraj.
And through the thoughts, my phone kept buzzing. Now here came call number three from Nicki. I chose to ignore it. I couldn’t face her this soon. Not after the unsettling encounters and her unsettling set-up. After the harrowing breakdown, I couldn’t answer her. I wouldn’t answer that call, I plead to my nervous self in an internal intervention.
And all the while, I texted Ashley. Told her how much I loved her. How I couldn’t wait to see her. Our bond rekindled to first-month glories until she sent me a new text: You should’ve stayed!
I looked on at the message, uneasy.
Then came Ash’s quick follow-up: Go back and I’ll come! :)
The fear returned. Nicki had been hypnotizing me. And apparently, she’d long had Ash under control. “What…” I said.
Overtaking my screen was another incessant call: Nicki. Who knew how drunk or high she was? Much less lonely.
Don’t answer, I reminded myself. Don’t give in.
Forcing myself, I silenced the call. Then sat there in awkward silence. In a quiet dread I couldn’t identify. Or control.
Just when I needed it, Bruce left me. My rallying cry of “No Surrender” gone. My whole Goddamn support system.
I texted Ashley back: Are you sure? I think we should wait, boo…
Her reply appeared immediately: YES! GO THERE NOW, STU-STU!
I stared on at her message. Her demand. Her eager euphoria. Here I was caught between arousal and disappointment. And at the end of the day I had no say in this weird, wild mess. Ash did.
Seconds later came a new text message. Not from Ashley but Nicki: Come back over, Rhonnie
The next SMS bullet hit me: I miss y’all already ;)
Another one appeared: Again
“Shit…” I said to myself. I got ready to ignore the message. This was Rhonnie’s last stand against the impulses. The thirst.
Until my phone pulsated to life. The call so ferocious I almost missed Nicki’s next text: I talked to Ashley!!! <3 :p
And that was when I laid eyes on the caller ID: on my girlfriend’s number. The death sentence to my attempt at defiance. As always.
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2020.03.17 07:39 rhonnie14 PREMIERE: Nicki Minaj Called Me (Part 2/4 or 2/3) WEIRD WARNING

Link To Part One
The shower was quick and painless. Only when I went back to my room there wasn’t the closet catalog to choose from: just the tight jeans and tight black t-shirt already sprawled out on the bed. Already selected by Nicki.
Later on, I walked past the constant cameras. The clothes tight and stylish. Just like how Nicki wanted them. I heard Tom Petty’s “Christmas (All Over Again)” coming from that dancefloor. Nicki’s Christmas playlist a twenty-four hour affair. The club open all night… Only Club Staff wasn’t. Down the hall I saw its door still closed. The lights off inside. Its Nicki soundtrack silent. Her wax sisters no longer partying since Ash and I left.
Ready for the Queen, I journeyed through the labyrinthe. The Christmas maze, the lights. The mairjuana tree. The long hallways and glowing gold records.
I only made one beer detour. One stop amongst the many roadside bars. After downing three bottles of Dos Equis, I felt more relaxed. More comfortable for Nicki and I’s forthcoming conversation.
I saw the open doorway leading to the studio. Leading me to Nicki Minaj. I glanced down at the tight jeans that would surely get her salivating. Took a deep breath. My soul with some hesitation before I went straight inside.
There was the intimate space. The soundproof walls. The live room where Mrs. Majesty made the magic happen. A Trinidad decor was evident in the various colorful trinkets from Nicki’s many travels. The elephant figurines, the kaleidoscopic paintings of various women of color. And of course, there were the notebooks. Dozens and dozens of them scattered about like toys in Nicki’s personal playland. Well, the non-sex toys, that is…
Each open notebook was covered in the rapper’s pretty scrawl. Lyrics both clever and insane. A beautiful madness punctured the pages. Judging by the sheer amount of binders, when Nicki got on a roll, she was a frenetic force. Unstoppable in her drive and creativity.
On the control room table was a bottle of wine. Two glasses already poured. And there sat the Queen on her pink swivel chair. The studio her throne. Her bitch.
Her fingernails were now red claws. A match to the fiery red wig. The make-up vivid but professional. Along with thin wire-rimmed glasses, her beige pants suit was somehow scholarly and bland even with such beauty lying beneath it. Sitting there with a pen in hand and notebook in lap, Nicki looked to be in academic mode. All business inside the studio.
Nicki flashed me a warm smile. “Mmm, those look nice…”
Flattered, I glanced down at the preppy attire. The type of clothes late-twenty-somethings flaunted when they played high schoolers on T.V. And they were a perfect fit too. “Yeah, thanks.”
The two of us looked on at each other. Nothing weird. Just mutual respect… or attraction. The Ronettes’ “Sleigh Ride” the only sound through the silence.
Nicki relaxed in her seat. “Hey, shut the door!”
Following orders, I closed it behind me. Gone was The Ronettes’ harmonies. That was curtains for Nicki’s Christmas playlist here in the soundproof studio.
Using the notebook, Nicki motioned toward the other swivel chair. “Have a seat, Rhonnie. Let’s get down to business, shall we.”
I sat down and rolled the chair closer. Nicki now loomed up over me. Her huge ass undoubtedly helped in the height advantage. Then again, her aura had power, and it always kept the Queen in control.
Nicki waved around the room. “Bringing back any memories?”
“Oh yeah. The interview…” An awkward chuckle escaped my lips.
Behind confident eyes, Nicki watched me. Her claws kept tapping the notebook in a repetitive rhythm. “You know, I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”
Through her weak smile, I sensed Nicki’s sincerity. This personality wasn’t manic or aggressive. Not yet at least. “Naw, you’re fine,” I said. “We, uh… we had fun.”
Nicki laughed. “Definitely!” Then she lunged forward, getting closer to me. “But I really wanted a book. I wanted my story to be told, Rhonnie.”
Struggling under her female gaze, I hesitated. “And it still can… I’d love to give it another try.”
“Ooh, I’d love that….” Nicki leaned back. “You know, I really love your writing, Rhonnie. I think you’d do amazing things covering the life and times of Onika Maraj.”
Now I was flying high. A horrible actor, I did my best to play it cool. “Well, I’m glad somebody thinks so...”
“Oh, we do! Trust me. You’ve got the talent, baby.”
“I appreciate it.”
Nicki pointed her blood-red finger right at me. “You write movies too, right?” I laughed. “Whoa, shit, look at you!”
“I know my shit…”
“But yeah, I started out with the screenplays. I’ve always been a movie person-”
“So what happened?”
Pausing for a second, I took note of Nicki’s focused gaze. She was interested, alright… “These filmmakers, man. They’re all broke and do a shitty job.”
“Ah…” Nicki took a quick sip of wine.
“It’s a long story. I just… I don’t have an agent, they don’t read shit unless you know somebody. And I’m broke as fuck so I can’t film anything…” Here I was rambling. Rhonnie The Jaded Writer making his grand return. Angry. Talking with my hands. “But that’s why I started the NoSleeps. I actually wrote a couple of novels before that, but I’m just trying to build an audience now.”
“Well, you got me hooked!”.
Even I had to smile. “I’m glad. I just got tired of getting fucked by Hollywood.”
Nicki struggled to suppress a smirk. “Well, hey, at least it was fun when I fucked you.”
Damn, she was clever. I grinned. “Yeah. My best Hollywood experience for sure!” I ran a hand through my swoop. “And Hell, at least you paid me!”
Getting comfortable, Nicki readjusted on her throne. Her tone stayed consistent and precise. Her T.V. journalist performance pretty impressive. “But about the biography, would you be willing to do something else for me?”
“Yeah, uh. What do you mean?”
“Look, Rhonnie, the Barbz loved the story.”.
I smirked. “I guess it has a cult following going.”
Nicki just kept her eyes on me. There was no unwavering smile to offset the seriousness. She meant business. All as her relentless claws kept tapping the notebook... “I did the research. My album sales, the downloads, everything went up after you posted that NoSleep.” In a mic drop moment, Nicki’s hand collapsed on to the binder. “And now I want more!”
“Whoa…” I struggled to say through the excitement. “So you want like a whole series?”
“Preciseleee…”
The shit-eating grin never left my face. Already my mind was racing with ideas. I turned away, disoriented by my life-long dream.
“I’ll pay you as well,” Nicki continued. “You can even go back to Albany, Georgia.” With seductive poise, Nicki leaned in a little closer. “Or Hell, you and Ash can come here.”
I faced Nicki. “So did people really like the story that much?”
“Oh, Hell yeah!”
“Did any of them… believe it?”
Nicki revealed a sly smile. “Some.”
Enjoying the spotlight, I folded my arms. “So fucking crazy… Honestly, I just wanted to tell the truth about what happened… I wasn’t trying to write creepy fan fic or erotic shit. I was just wanting to portray you as accurately as possible, Nicki. I mean Hell, I thought that’d be my only shot at the biography!”
Nicki’s female gaze was starting to appear. “Not at all.”
Still rambling, I threw my hands up. “And then some people found it hot. They seemed more aroused than anything-”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
I gave her an amused look… realizing she was kinda right.
“Pegging’s hot,” Nicki continued. “And it ain’t like those rumors about me fucking men in the ass weren’t around before your story.”
I revealed a smirk. “Yeah...”
Rivaling my own elation, Nicki rolled her chair in closer toward me. “I just want you to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Make it even sexier! Get fucking crazy with it!”
“What… You’re joking, right?”
Nicki pointed at her stone cold glare. “Do I look like I’m fucking joking, Rhonnie!” She gave me a light punch on the arm. And damn, it still hurt… “Just do what I say! Write about all the sex. About how hot I am.” For emphasis, she squeezed her own breasts. “These titties, this ass, the pegging.” Nicki pointed at me. ”Squeezing a guy’s ass or making him strip down, the fucking hot shit, Rhonnie! I need more of that!”
The speech left me in stunned silence. There was a lot to unpack. Amongst the shock and intrigue, there was also disappointment...
Nicki shook my shoulder. “Just do more of that! That’s what we need.”
I pulled away from her. “But why...”
“Why!”
I pointed between us. “I just told you, I didn’t intend to just make you out to be some fucking bimbo, Nicki! I wanted to humanize you. That was the whole point!”
With a subtle smile on her face, Nicki just watched me.
“Like yeah, I told the truth,” I went on. “I wrote about the crazy sex but that wasn’t the point! I wanted to show the world the real you. I wanted them to see Onika Maraj. This was a biography.”
In a twisted taunt, Nicki caressed my face. “Oh, that’s so cute, Rhonnie.”
I knocked her hand away. “No, I mean it!”
Her smile was swiped clean. Nicki now literally got in my face. “And that’s fan-fucking-tastic!”
Scared, I cowered back into my seat. Nicki hadn’t even yelled... she didn’t need to.
“Look, baby, what you’re saying is true,” continued Nicki. She laid a hand in my lap. Dangerously close to awakening my penis... “And I appreciate it, Rhonnie. I’m glad you captured the real me.”
“I tried,” I said. I stole a look down at her hand. “Are you sure Zoo’s cool with this?”
Nicki’s grip got tighter. “Yes, Zoo’s fine, Rhonnie!”
“I’m just saying…”
Like a starved animal, Nicki pulled my chair closer toward her. “You got my vibe well, but that’s not what got me famous, Rhonnie! I wish it was but it wasn’t.”
“What are you talking about? You’re talented as fuck and that’s another reason I-”
“And so are you!” Nicki interrupted. “And that’s my whole point!” Gentle, Nicki’s claws ran along my cheeks… “I was like you once, Rhonnie. I had the talent. The drive, the dedication.”
Rivetered, I watched her every move. Her every emotion.
Nicki sat back in her seat. “But none of that mattered. I got nowhere in my career... I was broke…” She flashed a weary smile. “Those Barbie dreams were far away back then.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Being a female rapper…” Nicki shrugged her shoulders. “You just have to play the game.”
“Sex, the male gaze.” I waved toward her body. “All that shit just to have your voice heard.”
Nicki nodded. But the bitterness didn’t manifest itself in tears or weakness. Just hardened toughness. “I had to play the freak. For every ‘Regret In Your Tears,’ I have to do three or four whackass sex songs.”
Showing support amidst the Queen’s self-reflection, I grinned. “Like ‘Anaconda’?”
Nicki laughed. “What! You don’t like-”
“God, I hate that song!”
Nicki grabbed my arm. “But you see my point, right!”
“I do. Definitely.”
Ruminating on the famed career, Nicki ran her hands along the notebook. Struggled to maintain eye contact. Obviously relieved for the deeper conversation… if uncomfortable. “That’s why I have to do all this shit. To do what I really want I have to shake my ass or flaunt my titties! It’s frustrating, man. To have to write some of these lyrics and keep being the freaky bitch for everyone… I mean for once I’d like to have Channing Tatum or someone give me a lapdance in a music video but that’d scare the ‘straight’ guys watching… I can’t objectify men for the serious money.” She looked right at me. A vague glimmer of defeat in her power. “Just myself.”
The words, the realities left me in a sad silence. I had even more empathy for Onika now. Especially after hearing this requiem for Nicki’s initial rap idealism.
“So you see,” Nicki said. “The sex sells, Rhonnie. That’s all that matters.” She pointed a red claw at me. “And that’s why we need more of it in the stories.”
“But we don’t!” I replied. “You don’t have to do-”
“Listen, if you’re wanting to do this full time, Rhonnie, you gotta compromise!” Nicki yelled in a voice driven by years of rage. Years of industry suppression.
I waved toward the studio. “But look, you have the money! You’ve already played their stupid fucking game!”
Nicki stared at me. The glasses hid any tears or melancholy. Then again, Nicki always hid it well. She had the perfect poise. The confidence necessary for a black woman to climb her way to the top of the entertainment food chain.
“We can just write the truth,” I continued. “You can write the songs you want to write. You don’t have to satisfy this fucking thirst from others who just watch you for the sex. You don’t have to make money off that shit anymore! You can be the great artist you are! The one you were born to be!”
Right before me, Nicki’s creative mind went into contemplation. “At this point, I’ve got no choice,” she said. “I need the money just like anyone else, Rhonnie.”
I groaned.
Snapping into scary Nicki, she lunged toward me. A fiery fervor consumed her. The red wig and fingernails made her a rap Goddess straight from Hell.
I got quiet real quick.
“Don’t you understand! I’ve got no choice, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted. “I’m thirty-seven years old! There’s not much time for a woman in this industry to be the best, man!”
“I know,” I said in a low voice. “I’m sorry...”
More calm, Nicki leaned back. “I’m just glad I can talk about pegging now,” she admitted. “Hell, that’s some progress for female empowerment for you.”
“True… But I just think there’s nothing to lose by focusing more on your artistic vision. You don’t have to keep exploiting yourself-”
“Maybe I want to,” Nicki interrupted.
“What?”
With seductive slowness, Nicki creeped in closer. “Sometimes I like the attention.” She let out a confident cackle. “The thought of all those guys and girls finding me hot… I don’t know.” She bit her lip with erotic emphasis. “It turns me on.”
I grinned. “I’m not arguing with-”
Giving in to her natural theatrics, Nicki collapsed back on the chair. Now channeling her inner Bob Dylan. Her inner eccentric rock star. Letting all those quirks and tics whisk her away. “I mean yeah, it’s frustrating not to get to do my deeper songs all the time. To embrace being the artist I know I am... That’s what I really want, don’t get me wrong.” Holding my gaze hostage, she shrugged her shoulders. “But sometimes it’s sexy to play the star. To be all hot and beautiful... I like it sometimes...” She flashed that beaming smile. “And it gives me money. Power. Certainly helped me get you here.”
Nicki’s hands veered under the notebook. Stacking them on top of one another, she created a literal handmade dick. “It lets me do whatever I want to you, Rhonnie…” Moaning and grunting, Nicki pretended to peg me right then and there. Her thrusts always so aggressive. Even when she was only pretending to fuck me hard…
I couldn’t turn away. Nor couldn’t help but be aroused… Trying not to give in to the steamy sight, I sifted in my seat. Battled my rising bulge. “But still, there’s no way to ignore the money?” I asked. “Do the music that best captures you.”
Ignoring me, Nicki kept on with the imaginary fucking. Her grunts got louder. The Queen clearly nearing her orgasm…
Still I tried to steer us back on track. I moved in toward her. “Just make your own album about you and all these hot guys or you and your relationships,” I continued, my voice louder in an attempt to overpower Nicki’s carnal cries. “Instead of having to exploit your body so much, you can do more songs you care about!”
Cackling, Nicki sat up straight. She clapped her hands together.
“What?” I said.
“You’re funny. God… you’re always funny, Rhonnie.”
I revealed an amused smile. “Well, thanks...”
“I mean it!” Nicki pushed her dangling red hair back. “Oh shit.”
In the cold room, I hesitated. Struggling to stay serious and heartfelt amidst Nicki’s lingering laughter. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m judging you, Nicki because I’m not.” I felt her stare settle in on me. “You make a lot more than me and still can make great music… I just think you’re better than that.”
“And so are you,” Nicki said in a sharp reply.
Confused, I felt unease surge through me. My goofy smile couldn’t play it off either. “What do you mean?”
Armed with a wide grin, Nicki slowly crept closer toward me. “I told you this last time.” The two of us were now just inches apart. “I know allll about you, Rhonnie.”
Anxiety joined my unease. I now trembled...
“You like the attention too,” Nicki said. “I know you do!”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“I’m just proving my point.” Mrs. Majesty shrugged her shoulders. Her smirk slicing into me. “Sex sells.” She rested a hand on my knee. “You should know that as well as anyone.”
Warm sensations erupted inside me. I felt body heat. As if our emotional therapy session had morphed into a Skinemax porno...
“You’re the one that’s always posting on Reddit,” Nicki teased. “Letting all those horny desperate girls and guys ogle you like that. Jerking off to you... You fucking love it, don’t you?”
She had me. “Yeah,” I admitted.
Nicki now felt along my chest. “Your dick and ass pictures on ladyboners and gaybros. I know you do it, Rhonnie. I know alll about you remember...”
The room finally got hotter…
“Let’s go through those accounts, shall we,” Nicki pressed further. “Ronaldlongdick.”
I smiled at Nicki. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Ronaldlongdick77, unknownhorrorwriter.”
“That one was obvious...”
Nicki’s claws ran wild across my body. Fueled by her desire. Not that I was complaining…
“Bubblebutt4days,” Nicki continued. She let out a soft chuckle. “And rhonnie141414. Hmm, that’s sure discreet.”
“Yeah, that was when I was twenty-four, man...”
“But that’s the thing.” Nicki’s grip settled in on my thighs. “You know that account you deleted. Ronaldlongdick.”
“Yeah…”
Nicki got closer. The two of us now noses apart. “How many followers did it end up with?”
Not wanting to answer, I turned away.
“Come on now,” Nicki taunted. “You know how many, bitch.”
I gave her a defeated smirk. Knowing full well what she was about to say… And how she’d proven this harsh reality: sex sells.
“Thirteen hundred followers, Rhonnie!” Nicki shouted.
The inevitable set in. I nodded along with her. Overpowered by the Queen once more. “I know...”
Nicki purred with delight. “And compare that to your writing, huh? The rhonnie14 sub?” She nudged my chin. “How many?”
“Eight hundred and-”
“Five!” Nicki said with me. Her triumphant laugh blared.
Cornered by Nicki, I shrugged. “Well… you got me...”
“So think about this, Rhonnie. You’re more famous for that dick.” With excited delight, Nicki slid her hands on to my booty. “And that ass than your horror stories...”
“Thanks, Nicki,” I deadpanned. “I appreciate the support!”
Nicki chuckled as she squeezed tighter to my ass. “All I’m saying’s you gotta do what you gotta do to get famous, boo. To make real money.” She ran her hands along my abs. “And now that you’ve been working out, I can go ahead and tell you, you’d make bank flaunting all this on-line. Those down low brothas and thirstyass sistas would be all up on you.”
“Stop it!” I joked. “I can’t handle this many compliments.”
“Bitch, please!” Nicki gave me a shove before sitting back in her seat. “You love that shit and you know it! You know you do!”
“Naw, you’re right... You’re totally right.”
“All I’m saying’s they appreciate your body more than the Goddamn stories! The shit you bust your ass to write, but they’d rather see that big dick and booty than anything else! You gotta profit off that, babe!”
I smirked. “So what are you saying? That I become a male stripper or something?”
Nicki snorted with laughter. “Hell, maybe! But just think about these stories for instance. You mix sex with storytelling like I did with the raps, and you got something that’ll sell, Rhonnie!”
Goddamn, she made sense… I nodded in agreement. “I see.”
“Like this next one, just go crazy with it! You know the Barbz will eat it up. Me pegging this Zac Efron-looking writer and his fineass all over the place!”
“Man, you’re really on this Efron kick lately...”
Nicki readjusted her glasses. “Bieber too. Because y’all fine and kinda look alike. Kinda built alike.”
Genuinely flattered, I probably blushed. “Thanks.”
“But people are fucking dumb. That’s the shit you gotta do to get fans, boo!”
“Naw, you’re totally right...”
Nicki straightened the notebook. “Like write about Ashley pegging you, you showing your dick to dudes on-line. That’ll sell like crazy. More views, more readers. Exploit it!”
“I guess I’ll start now then. With these new stories and all, the series.”
Like a supportive coach, Nicki pointed toward me, hyping me up. “Exactly! You got this!”
Already the wheels were turning. The crazy scenarios I could write about the Minaj mansion.
“You and Ashley can always come back here too,” I heard Nicki say. “I’ll give y’all another vacation...”
I smiled at Nicki. “I bet you would.”
She opened the binder. “Hey, y’all sexy. And I got you dressing in those clothes I like.”
I felt on the shirt’s fine fabric. “Yeah, from like 2008.”
“Bitchhh….”
“But trust me, Ash’s ready…”
“I bet she’s tearing that ass up every night too...”
Playful, I gave Nicki a weirded out look.
Laughing, she flipped through a few pages. “You know I’m crazy as Hell.”
“No doubt…” And then I saw the joint tucked away toward the back of the binder... Pristine California grass. A pink lighter laying right beside it. Holy shit…
“But for real, I wanna help,” Nicki said. She picked up the j. “You need someone dominant guiding you. Like with you and Ashley.”
“Yeah.”
Nicki held the pot out toward me. “You think you can handle it?”
“Shit…” I stood up. “If I can handle what you did to me last time, I can take anything.”
With a Devilish laugh, Nicki flicked the lighter. The flame showcased a wild glint in her eyes. Further revealed the ferocious soul under that red wig...
It turns out I couldn’t handle it. The next few hours were a blur. A gonzo production directed by wine and the strongest pot I ever smoked. Shit got weird. Nicki and I’s conversations ranged from 90s horror movies to heteroflexibility (don’t ask). Our high happiness interspersed with hysteria. Maybe there was a kiss. More groping. I honestly can’t remember...
Hours later, I awoke from the Christmas cannabis. All to the tune of Maroon 5’s “Happy Xmas (War Is Over).” Adam Levine’s piercing falsetto a ringing church bell to my haze.
Shivering, I folded my arms. “Fuck…” I muttered. First, I was glad to be wearing the same MySpace-era wardrobe. To actually be in a fucking bed, much less my bedroom… Until I saw who was laying beside me: Nicki herself. She was out cold. Another bottle of wine clasped in her hands like a teddy bear. A Santa Claus hat blended into her wig. Now I realized I had a Santa hat draped over my swoop... But, at least we were both dressed and lying on the covers. Neither of us could get MeToo’d now.
Staying quiet, I snuck out of bed. I slipped around in my socks. My clumsy footsteps drowned out by Maroon 5’s holiday cheese.
I looked toward the open doorway. Out toward where the Christmas concert continued… from Nicki’s personal nightclub.
Glasses slid down my nose. Confused, I took them off… They were the purple Buddy Holly ones. The same pair Nicki gave me last time. I put them back on and looked over at the bed… Toward the resting Queen. Had she taken my contacts out for me? The gesture was odd… but still kinda sweet.
The holiday playlist changed to Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” A pretty melody and even prettier voice. But one that should soothe Nicki to sleep for the time being...
Battling the migraine, I entered the hallway. Curiosity compelled me. Not to mention snacks, man.
I turned and looked down the hall. Toward the fateful Club Staff. Sextopia City. Now there was a light on inside the room… Even a faint chatter I could hear over this Christmas classic.
I took another step toward it. Now I heard multiple, muffled voices. It couldn’t have been the wax figures… Certainly, not Nicki herself. Sure, her range was supreme but not even she could hit those deeper male tones.
Uneasy, I looked on at the closed door. The room taunting me, tempting me. But it was too late for this shit… And I knew once I snuck in there, Club Staff would be hard to leave.
I proceeded through the rest of the mansion. Every clock read three A.M. The munchies made me stop once for those amazing cookies. And to my relief, there was no weed in them...
The barrage of standard Christmas crooners scored my journey. Stuck in the cold and surrounded by the decorations, I could even feel the holiday spirit.
I decided to dodge the nightclub. All the fucking bars. Through windows, I saw those powerful security lights bring daylight to the dead of night. Everything was illuminated. The pillars, the colors. All those fucking cameras. Nicki’s palace a fusion of government compound and wacky art exhibit.
I strayed into corridors unknown. Into yet another long hallway on the first floor. Fuck it, I was already lost in the Minaj maze. Then I saw a pair of wide-open double doors. The clinical lab lighting inside drew me in.
I stepped into the wide, vast space. The garage was fucking freezing... and there were quite a few cars in here. Quite a few crammed shelves and boxes. Only something was off… There was no style. Not a damn thing was pink.
Intrigued, I walked on through. Emulating a cheap detective. Dean Martin’s “Let It Snow!” echoed all around me… only the Christmas cheer was long gone by now. Replaced instead by rising unease.
The cars weren’t necessarily hideous. Just average. Used cars with lots of mileage. None of them any newer than 2016 models. Perfect for a blue-collar neighborhood or modest suburbia. But nothing befitting Nicki Minaj’s mansion.
The boxes and shelves offered more of the same mediocrity. Wrinkled clothes. Bland casual wear comprising of tee-shirts, jeans, and dresses. Nothing Nicki would touch much less showcase. Then there was the shitty jewelry. Obvious fake gold and silver. Yard sale fashion.
Scoffing, I glanced around the garage. Were all these items from the Queen’s pre-Minaj days? Mementos from her beloved past? Or was it just shit she planned on donating?
My handsome reflection caught my eye. I got a good glimpse of the perfect-fitting clothes.
A stained mirror leaned up against a set of rejected high school lockers. All of them with padlocks.
I stepped toward them. Tried yanking on those unwavering locker doors… I leaned in closer, peering through their metal’s holes. Clearly, shit was piled up inside. Hidden away. But why?
The mystery further unnerved me. My fear returned.
Then I heard a louder song: Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas” blared through this mausoleum of a garage. The bells and chimes engulfed me. Trembling in the cold air, I looked toward the very back.
A window showcased Nicki’s sprawling backyard. Not to mention the different smaller buildings occupying the green acres. One larger shed caught my eye.... After all, who else would have a two story efficiency unit?
Much less one with two tall security guards stationed at the front door. Under the bright security lights, I saw the building’s windows were all boarded up. Spastic cameras hovering over it.
“What the fuck…” I said. Battling the nerves, I stepped closer to see another shed had the same set-up of guards and cameras. What exactly was going on...
All the while, no one saw me spying. The Queen’s guards remained silent and still. A 24/7 shield.
I felt a large pendulum bump into my ass… Then felt a pair of thirsty hands grab each cheek. Startled, I whirled around.
“Hey, boo!” rang that hypnotic voice.
There Nicki stood right behind me. Now dressed in casual booty shorts and a red tank top., she was barefoot and missing a wig. Her natural beauty a nice contrast to the trash treasure trove surrounding us. Her smile as enthusiastic as ever.
And of course, there was the strap. From her crotch, Nicki’s pink dildo danged down like a snake… A real anaconda brushing against my ass.
I staggered back out of fear… and maybe some excitement. “Whoa…”
Nicki cackled. “Did I scare you!”
“Uh, yeah.”
Singing along, Nicki swung the dildo to the tune of Burl Ives. To the beat of the “ding…. dong…. ding...” harmonies.
I stared on at her third leg. Intimidated by the size… yet hypnotized by Nicki’s passion. Her magnetism. “Really, Nicki,” I quipped.
Chuckling, Nicki ran a hand along my arm. “What? I wanted to surprise you!”
“With the fucking pinkosaurus?”
“Yeah, why not.” She leaned in closer. “You’re the one sneaking out...”
I stole one look out the window. Out toward the guards. The strange buildings. “I just couldn’t sleep,” I told the Queen.
Nicki squeezed my wrist in a death grip of passion. “I can fix that.”
Flashing a smile, I broke away from her spell. “Naw, I need to go lay down. I can’t keep up with you!”
“Maybe tomorrow then?” Nicki teased.
“Maybe!” I then walked through the valley of Christmas music. Right into Burl Ives’ joyous vocals. The entire time I felt Nicki’s hungry eyes watch me. Staring me down hard… Her smile driven by nothing but desire. I forced myself not to turn. The temptation too much… but my tired state helped me persevere against the gorgeous rapper.
“You better be glad I don’t get a shake weight on that ass!” I heard Nicki shout with sadistic glee.
14
submitted by rhonnie14 to rhonnie14 [link] [comments]


2018.06.17 04:22 jimbohick6 Lapdance hidden camera

This Pay-Per-View opens with Natalya, Carmella and The Bella Twins standing in Stephanie McMahon's vacant office. Lana and Mandy Rose are each restrained with their hands cuffed to their feet so that they are bending over and both have ballgags in.
Nattie: Are you ok Carmella?
Carmella: I'm fine. After what Bayley made me go through I did a little digging and remembered that her friend Becky has to go through a crowd walk tonight.
Nikki: Well Carmella I feel a little better about being tied up tonight after what happened to you.
Carmella: What is that supposed to mean?
Nikki: Well at least all that'll happen to me tonight is being tied up for a little bit. But you had to share a gag with Mandy and probably shared more than that once you arrived to whatever pervert took you home.
Nattie: What the hell is your problem Nikki? You're the reason we're in this situation to begin with.
Nikki: Oh I'm the reason-
Carmella: Guys!
Carmella interrupts the bickering between her two friends.
Carmella: Let's leave the past alone and just do what we have to do tonight. Now if you excuse me I'm going to pick up Becky.
Carmella grabs a pair of handcuffs, some rope, and a ballgag then walks down the hallway into Charlotte and Becky's locker room.
Becky: How'd your threesome go?
Carmella: Good one Becky. I'm sure the fans out there will appreciate your jokes.
Becky's face goes pale as she realizes Carmella remembered Stephanie's ruling at the last Pay-Per-View. Carmella handcuffs Becky then forces Charlotte to lay on the ground.
Charlotte: You know you're going to put those big lips on Bayley's ass tonight right?
Carmella: You know you're going to have this ballgag in your mouth all night right?
Carmella then hogties and gags Charlotte before stripping Becky naked.
Carmella: Well I'll call for security to escort you out there Bex.
Becky shudders imagining her night as Carmella leaves the room.
Back in the office Carmella is sitting behind the desk while The Bella's sit on the couch and Nattie sits in a chair she pulled to the side of the desk. Lana and Mandy are both whining through their gags after having been tied like this for well over an hour.
Nattie: Look at how pathetic these two look
Carmella: I know, I think this might be the most humiliating position yet.
Brie: You know I bet Alexa's ass would look great next to these two.
Carmella: That's a great idea, why don't you two go grab her.
Nikki and Brie head out of the room while Mandy and Lana struggle to free themselves only being able to move a little.
Carmella: I'm surprised to see you both still shaking your asses like this.
On the television screen a live shot is shown of Becky Lynch in the crowd. Becky is currently being held in place in the middle of an aisle while other fans grope and smack her tits and ass. Becky also has a bunch of dollar bills stuffed in her mouth.
Carmella: You two should feel lucky I don't make you do this.
A replay shows Becky being motorboated by every member of a row. The next replay shows Becky attempting to run up the stairs only for a fan to grab her by the hair.
Becky: Please just let me go I'll do whatever you want.
Fan: You know I've always found that Irish accent cute.
The fan then pulls Becky all the way up the steps towards one of the exits.
Fan: What I want is for you to dance on me
Becky: What do you mean?
Fan: Why don't you start by grinding on me.
Becky: Then you'll let me leave?
Fan: That depends on how well you do
Becky reluctantly backs her ass up onto the fans crotch and grinds slowly but stops once the fan grabs onto one of her tits.
Fan: Why'd you stop?
Becky: I'm sorry
Becky goes to start dancing again but the fan harshly grabs her by the hair and walks her back down the aisle.
Becky: No. Please don't send me back out.
Fan: I'm just trying to get you some money.
The fan holds Becky up outside of the row.
Fan: Everyone in row 14 gets a lapdance from Becky Lynch!
The row cheers as Becky shakes her head no
Fan: Be sure to tip her and if she doesn't do it right make sure she's disciplined.
The fan throws Becky into to the fan sitting in the end's lap but she tries to escape only to be grabbed by the hair and brought back.
Fan: Do I need to tip first?
The fan grabs a 5 dollar bill out of his wallet then balls it up.
Fan: Here you go.
The fan stuffs the dirty 5 into Becky's mouth. Becky still tried to break away but is then put over the fans knee as he spanks her ass 20 times turning it red as Becky whines and kicks her feet
Fan: Ready to dance yet?
Becky gives in and begins to give the fan a seductive lapdance, Becky puts her handcuffed arms around the fan's head who burries his face in her tits and grabs a handful of her red ass before passing her onto the next fan. By the time Becky is done with the row her mouth is almost overfilled with cash and she looks completely embarrassed over being used like a stripper as the replay ends.
Carmella: Wow, that was great.
Nattie: Looks like we have a well-entertained crowd tonight.
Nikki and Brie then enter the room with Alexa Bliss. Alexa has her arms tied behind her back and has a crotchrope on.
Carmella: I'm glad she'll be our slave for another month.
Carmella unties Alexa but leaves the crothrope on.
Carmella: Say hi to Lana and Mandy, Alexa
Alexa glances over at her two friends then looks away.
Carmella: I said look at them!
Carmella then yanks up on Alexa's crothrope until Alexa stares towards Lana and Mandy.
Carmella: That's better. Now Alexa we brought you in here because we thought you would look great next to these two don't you think?
Alexa doesn't respond to Carmella who then slaps Alexa across the face.
Carmella: That was a question I expect you to answer.
Alexa: I think you'd look better
Carmella: Still talking back to me huh? Don't worry Alexa I'll be sure to take plenty of pictures so you can see I was right.
Carmella then walks behind Alexa and spanks her on the ass.
Alexa: Jealous?
Carmella: Alexa, I don't think anyone could possibly jealous of you after how we've destroyed your reputation. I mean you're a complete laughing stock now and there's nothing you can do about it.
This statement causes Alexa to snap and she shoves Carmella to the ground only to then have Nikki and Brie each grab one of her arms to restrain her. Natalya grabs a massively oversized ballgag and two pairs of handcuffs as Carmella laughs and gets to her feet.
Carmella: You dumb bitch. That's exactly how I wanted you to react, now I have you for 2 extra months.
Alexa: Trust me Carmella, I'm going to get my revenge on you
Carmella: We'll see about that.
As The Bella's hold Alexa, Carmella reaches into her purse and pulls out her lipstick. Carmella then opens it up and writes "SLUT" on Alexa's forehead as she struggles to break free.
Alexa: You'll regret this.
Carmella: I doubt that.
Natalya then comes up on Bliss from behind and surprises her with the gag. It barely fits in Alexa's mouth and she shakes wildly as Nattie fastens it on while Carmella takes pictures with her phone. Nattie then attached an end of each cuff around Alexa's wrists.
Nattie: Bend over bitch
Alexa shakes her head no but The Bella's force her arm's down to her feet and Nattie attaches the open end of the cuffs around Alexa's ankles. Nikki and Brie let go as Alexa thrashed around wildly trying to break free.
Carmella: Lets get her over to her friends.
Carmella takes a paddle sitting behind the desk and begins to spank Alexa's exposed ass making her moan.
Carmella: This'll stop once you get between Mandy and Lana.
Carmella continues to paddle Alexa's thick ass as Alexa slowly moves towards Mandy and Lana. Once Alexa gets over there Carmella pulls out the lipstick once again and writes "Carmella's bitch across Alexa's ass then pulls out her phone and takes a picture of just Alexa's red ass with the writing on it as she's bent over.
Carmella: This'll make a great new profile picture for your Twitter Alexa.
Carmella then gives Alexa one more smack on the ass before returning back to her seat.
Carmella: That was a great idea Brie.
Brie: Thank you. I couldn't have expected it to go that well though.
The camera comes back to the office about half an hour later. Carmella is stretching and now is dressed in her ring gear the other three women are all sitting around while Mandy, Lana, and Alexa have all settled down in the corner when there's a knock on the door.
Carmella: I'll get it
Carmella opens the door and Bayley enters the room carrying a large sack with her.
Bayley: Hello girls. I love what you've done with Mandy, Lana, and Alexa. Maybe you can join them later Mella.
Carmella: Oh I actually decided to tie them up like that so you know what's in store for your ass.
Bayley: Well I'm glad you've been thinking about my ass since you're going to kiss it later.
Bayley then shuts and locks the office door.
Bayley: Remember, if any of you touch me Carmella ends up with those three.
Bayley opens up the sack and pulls out a hammer along with 3 small hooks, Bayley then goes over to the desk and nails each of the hooks into the desk an equal distance away from each other. The hooks are about three quarters of the way up the desk.
Nikki: What the fuck are you doing?
Bayley: You'll find out shortly Nikki. You wearing that to the ring tonight Mella?
Carmella: Why else would I be wearing it?
Bayley: I don't know.
Bayley grabs a pair of scissors off of the desk then walks over to opponent.
Bayley: I think there are some adjustments I could make.
Carmella tries to back away from Bayley but Bayley grabs the top end of her singlet and makes a cut between her tits. Bayley continues to cut about half of the material before pulling the rest of leaving Carmella in just a small bra and a thong.
Carmella: I'm so fucking tired of you Bayley. I can't wait until you learn your lesson.
Bayley reaches back into the bag and pulls out a dog collar and leash.
Bayley: I think it's time to teach you one.
Bayley puts the collar around Carmella's neck then attaches the leash.
Bayley: How about we go take a little walk.
Carmella: No fuckin-
Carmella coughs as Bayley yanks on the leash then forces Carmella to walk out of the room. Bayley walks Carmella all throughout the backstage area showing off her reluctant pet before returning to the room and locking the door once again. Once back Bayley reaches into the bag and pulls out handcuffs then handcuffs Carmella.
Bayley: Now be a good little bitch and sit on that couch while I embarrass your friends.
Carmella stays standing until Bayley shoves her onto the couch. Bayley pulls out a ton of rope from her bag which she throws onto the floor.
Bayley: So I think we should start with Brie
Nikki: You better watch what you're doing
Brie: Nikki, calm down.
Bayley then walks over to Brie and leads her by the arm over to the center of the room. Bayley then pulls Brie's t-shirt over her head removing it.
Carmella: I never agreed to you stripping them
Bayley: It doesn't matter you agreed that none of you can lay a finger on me.
Bayley then removes Brie's jeans leaving her in just a pink bra and panties set.
Bayley: I want to see you face down-ass up Brie.
Brie: Go fuck yourself
Bayley: Fine.
Bayley then removes Brie's bra leaving her topless.
Brie: Ok stop I'll do it.
Brie gets down on the ground then sticks her ass up in the air.
Bayley: Good job. Since you did that for me you get to keep your panties on.
Bayley lightly taps Brie's ass with her foot.
Bayley: Put it down now.
Brie lays face down on the ground and Bayley begins tie her arms and legs together before connecting them in a hogtie. Bayley then drags Brie across the floor to the desk where she has Brie's feet underneath the hook on the right. Bayley grabs another piece of rope and slips a knot onto Brie's hair.
Bayley: This is why I built these hooks.
Bayley then yanks back on the rope and Brie's hair and slips it onto the hook causing Brie's upper body to be lifted off the ground and her tits to be on display.
Brie: Ahh
Bayley: Little tight Brie?
Brie winces in pain.
Carmella: I'm sorry girls.
Nattie: It's not your fault Mella.
Bayley walks over to Nattie and Nikki
Bayley: So who'll be next?
Nikki: I swear Bayley this time next we-
Bayley kicks Nikki in the gut then delivers a DDT on the barely carpeted floor leaving Nikki almost knocked out on the ground. Bayley then grabs Nattie by the hair and drags her to the center of the room. Where she quickly strips her down to her bra and panties.
Bayley: Now Nattie, you have the chance to keep your panties on but the bra....
Bayley unhooks the blonde's bra letting her massive tits spill out.
Bayley: Now do 20 jumping jacks or else
Nattie reluctantly does her 20 jumping jacks which make her tits and ass jiggle all over the place.
Bayley: Good job Nattie, now touch your toes for me.
While Nattie bends over and touches her toes. Bayley grabs hold of her black pair of panties and yanks upwards giving Nattie a massive wedgie.
Bayley: That was fun. Now time to get on the ground so I can hogtie you.
Nattie lays face down on the ground as Bayley hogties her. Bayley then drags across the floor and positions her just like Brie is under the hook on the left. Bayley then does Nattie's hair tie how Brie's was done and connects it to the hook pulling Nattie off of the ground, Nattie's tits are almost touching the ground while she whines.
Nattie: Fuck this hurts
Bayley grabs Nikki under her arms and drags her to the center of the room where she strips her completely naked then ties her arms together behind her back. Bayley then puts Nikki over her knee.
Bayley: This'll teach you for talking back.
Bayley then begins to spank Nikki's thick ass until the groggy woman regains consciousness.
Nikki: Ugh, get off of me
Bayley gives Nikki 5 more shots to her already red ass before forcing her to stand.
Bayley: Since you've been an annoying bitch for so long I thought I'd add a little punishment for you.
Bayley grabs another rope which she uses to give Nikki a crotchrope, Nikki tries to avoid it but can't as Bayley yanks the rope up on her pussy.
Nikki: Get the fuck off of me you creep.
Bayley shoves Nikki onto the ground then finished hogtying her. Bayley then drags her to the middle hook and ties her hair to it keeping Nikki's tits in the air just like Nattie and Brie. The three struggle with Nikki struggling the hardest but none are able to escape.
Nikki: This is going to be the first way we tie you up tomorrow.
Bayley: Good luck with that.
Bayley then walks over to Lana, Mandy, and Alexa and removes their gags.
Mandy: Thank you, please let us go
Bayley: I don't like you three
Bayley then grabs Nikki's t-shirt and stuffs it in Mandy's mouth, she grabs Brie's shirt and stuffs it into Lana's mouth, then grabs Nikki's thong and stuffs Alexa's mouth. Bayley walks over with the three ballgags to where her captives are.
Nattie: Bayley don't do this
Brie: Yeah we won't make anymore noise
Bayley: Too late.
Bayley puts the gag which formerly belonged to Mandy and forces Nattie to open her mouth for it by pinching her nose then does the same to Brie using Lana's gag. Finally she goes over to Nikki with the oversized gag Alexa has had in and makes it fit into Nikki's mouth.
Bayley: Well that's enough fun for you three.
Bayley turns to Carmella who is silently fuming over her friends treatment.
Bayley: but I can't have you messing up my work.
Carmella: I can't wait until our match.
Bayley: Me neither. And I have a plan to keep you occupied until then.
Bayley pulls two pairs of handcuffs from her bag then grabs Carmella's leash.
Carmella: Don't you fucking dare.
Bayley then walks Carmella out of the room and over to the locker room where Charlotte has been hogtied all night, she is rolling on the carpet and moaning as she drools through her ballgag.
Bayley: I got you some company Charlotte.
Bayley unties Carmella's arms and the champion tries to run from the room but Bayley grabs her by the hair and throws her on the ground before attaching one cuff to each wrist.
Carmella: Please Bayley don't do this
Bayley: Oh I'm going to to do this.
Bayley then forces Carmella to bend over and handcuffs her arms to her legs just as Carmella did to Lana, Mandy, and Alexa.
Carmella: You have no idea what you're in for.
Bayley grabs Charlotte's lipstick and smears it all over Carmella's lips. Bayley then grabs a marker and writes "Trash" on Carmella's forehead, Bayley continues by writing "Loser" on Carmella's back then gets and idea. Bayley grabs Carmella's thong and gives her a massive wedgie just as she did to Natalya then Bayley finds a belt laying in the locker room.
Carmella: Bayley don't do this.
Bayley: It looked like fun when I saw Alexa.
Bayley then begins whipping away at Carmella's ass making her scream and whine. Finally once her ass is red enough Bayley copies Carmella and writes "Bayley's bitch" across Carmella's ass then takes a picture of it. Bayley then walks to Charlotte and takes out her drool covered ballgag.
Charlotte: Please untie me Bayley.
Bayley: You know I can't.
Charlotte: Come on
Bayley: Just hang tight.
Bayley then forces Carmella to open her mouth for the gag and fastens it around her head.
Bayley: I have to go get ready. I'll send the referee to let you out about 5 minutes before the match Mella. Don't be late.
Carmella struggles viciously in her bindings but can't free herself as Bayley leaves the room.
About half an hour later the referee for the matchup is shown walking backstage. He enters Stephanie's office to ensure The Bella Twins and Natalya are still tied up before the match. He opens the door to find all three still tied how Bayley left them. Nattie and Brie both seem to have accepted their positions but Nikki is still struggling to free herself which causes her big tits to jiggle. Nikki has a large stream of drool coming from the ballgag that has her mouth stretched around it. The referee moves in closer and makes sure the ropes are tight.
Ref: Nikki you need to relax before you hurt yourself.
Nikki responds by pulling harder against the ropes, still going nowhere. The referee then heads out of the room after taking one last long look back at the 3 exposed women then locks the door behind him. The referee walks down the hall to the locker room where Carmella is tied up with her bruised ass facing the doorway. Carmella is still struggling heavily to get out. The referee takes the key for the cuffs and frees the Women's champion.
Ref: Lets go it's time for your match.
Carmella then pulls her ballgag out
Carmella: I can't go out there like this. I don't even have my title
Ref: It's already out in the timekeeper's area.
Carmella: Well let me get changed first.
Ref: There's no time
The referee takes a grip of the leash which is still on the dog collar Carmella put on Bayley and pulls out the door.
Carmella: Get the fuck off
Carmella attempts to undue the leash but the referee continues to pull so Carmella reluctantly follows him out still in her bra and a thong that is wedgied up her ass with a ballgag around her neck.
Carmella's music hits and she she reluctantly makes her entrance having finally removed the collar and gag. Carmella feels a mixture of embarrassment and anger as she walks out in front of the crowd in her underwear with Bayley's writing all over her. As Carmella enters the ring she gives the referee an evil look. Bayley makes her entrance next laughing at the angry champion. As soon as Bayley enters the ring Carmella attempts to ambush her but Bayley is able to get an elbow to Carmella's gut causing the champ to double over in pain, Bayley then grabs her by the hair and walks her over to the ring rope where she chokes Carmella on the middle rope. Bayley wipes the hair out of Carmella's face to show off where Bayley had written "Trash" on her forehead.
Bayley: Smile for the camera
Bayley pulls Carmella off the rope then flips her over onto her back then stands on her so that the "Loser" she wrote on her back can be seen. Finally Bayley lifts Carmella to her feet and grabs a handful of her thong yanking up on it and throws her out of the ring. Carmella tries to get to her feet but Bayley kicks her in the stomach while she's on all fours. Bayley then lifts her up and brings her over to the barricade where she instructs a fan to hold Carmella's arms. With Carmella trapped Bayley waves for a camera man to come over then slowly pulls off Carmella's bra leaving her topless. Carmella kicks her feet out at Bayley to no avail as Bayley gropes her tits. Bayley then turns Carmella around so that her tits are facing the fans on the barricade and gives Carmella another wedgie and spanks her already bruised ass while the camera man zooms in on Carmella's ass which still has "Bayley's bitch" written across it. Bayley then grabs Carmella by the hair and throws her on the floor.
Bayley: Had enough yet?
Carmella: Go fuck yourself.
Bayley stomps on Carmella then heads under the ring in search of something which she can't find. As Bayley does this Carmella is able to make it to her feet, with Bayley still searching under the ring Carmella sneaks behind her and super kicks her in the back of the head which sends Bayley crashing to the canvas.
Carmella: Think you're going to humiliate me?
Carmella then grabs Bayley by the ponytail and lifts the barely conscious woman's head up.
Carmella: Think again.
Carmella throws Bayley back into the center of the ring then stalks her opponent waiting for her to try and get back up before delivering another superkick. Bayley lands face down on the canvas and Carmella waves to the back bringing out Billie Kay and Peyton Royce. Billie is carrying a large black bag with her
Carmella: Time for the fun part girls.
Billie pulls a pair of scissors from the bag and hands them to Carmella who immediately cuts through Bayley's top and bra then removes both from under her. Carmella then grabs the waistband of her tights and cuts those all the way down to expose Bayley's huge ass. Finally Peyton handcuffs Bayley as Carmella removes Bayley's panties leaving her fully nude in the ring. Carmella is then handed a belt out of the bag and smacks Bayley's ass with it making it jiggle and causing Bayley to regain consciousness. Bayley struggles with the cuffs as the Iconic Duo stares at her
Peyton: Hi love.
Bayley: What the fuck are you doing here?
Billie: Helping out our new friend, is this what you were looking for under the ring by the way?
Billie kicks the black sack towards Bayley who's eyes widen in fear.
Bayley: How did you get that?
Billie: Well you hid it right under the ring stupid
Billie flicks Bayley in the forehead.
Carmella: Well Bayley, looks like it's only a matter of time before you pucker up and kiss my ass.
Bayley: Never
Carmella: Oh you will but you'll have to beg me first and prove you deserve to.
Bayley: Go to hell
Carmella gives Bayley's ass another shot with the belt making it jiggle once again and causing her to recoil in pain. Bayley tries to roll over but can't as Billie plants her foot on Bayley's back and Carmella continues to whip Bayley's massive ass until it is bright red.
Carmella: That seems like enough of that.
Bayley: Is that the best you got?
Carmella: Oh not by a long shot. I just wanted to go easy on you since you did me a favor
Bayley: What favor?
Carmella: Well you're little stunt with the "shipping mixup" means that your friend Sasha has another month of servitude since she no-showed her appearance.
Bayley: You're lying.
Carmella: Nope it's clearly stated in the contract she signed. Now let's see what other toys you brought to play with.
Peyton dumps the bag out which contains some rope, a flog, nipple clamps, a ring gag, a dildo, and a cattle prod.
Carmella: Wow you were going to use all of this on me?
Bayley: I still am.
Carmella: We'll see
Carmella scans the items and focuses on the clamps.
Carmella: Flip her over.
The Iconics flip Bayley over so she's face up. Carmella grabs the clamp and snaps it in front of Bayley's face before attaching it to her left nipple then putting the second clamp on her right one. Carmella yanks on the clamps causing Bayley to whine in pain. Carmella then grabs Bayley by the hair again and lifts her to her knees.
Carmella: You should've never fucked with me
Carmella then puts Bayley's face on the canvas and instructs Peyton to hold it there. Carmella grabs the dildo and hits Bayley's red ass cheeks with it.
Bayley: Carmella that's enough
Carmella: What do you mean?
Bayley: I quit just don't do this.
Carmella: Too late
Carmella then inserts the dildo into Bayley's ass making her moan loudly for the world to hear.
Bayley: Ah fuck
Carmella: Did I turn you on?
Bayley: Please that's enough
Carmella: No it isn't.
Carmella then takes the dildo out of Bayley's ass.
Carmella: Either of you bring the lipstick
Peyton: I have it right here
Peyton hands Carmella a tube of lipstick. Carmella opens up the tube and lifts Bayley's head up, Bayley tries to fight as Carmella writes an "L" on Bayley's forehead. She then flips Bayley over to her stomach with her foot and mounts her.
Carmella: You have no one to blame but yourself Bayley
Carmella takes the lipstick and writes "Bimbo" across her opponent's stomach before once again pulling on her nipple clamps. Carmella flips Bayley over again and draws an arrow towards her ass on Bayley's back which she labels "please use", then to top it off Carmella labels Bayley "Property of Carmella" across her ass. Finally satisfied Carmella motions for the Iconics to get Bayley up to her knees once again.
Carmella: Now kiss my ass and this'll be over.
Carmella sticks her thong covered ass in Bayley's face but as the humiliated challenger goes to kiss it Carmella moves.
Carmella: You need to warm up a bit first Bayley
Carmella then holds back both of Bayley's arms.
Carmella: First up you'll kiss Billie's ass
Billie teases pulling down her jeans but ultimately doesn't, disappointing the audience, and bends over as Bayley kisses her ass.
Carmella: That was ok but this time I want you to do it longer.
Peyton Royce then gets in front of Bayley and hikes up the booty shorts she wore to the ring as Bayley kisses her ass. Bayley holds the kiss for about 3 seconds before pulling away.
Carmella: I should've known you didn't need practice that was perfect.
The Iconics then hold Bayley up again and Carmella bends over sticking her thong covered ass in Bayley's face. Bayley reluctantly kisses it on one of the spot she earlier spanked then wrote in in marker but as Bayley goes to pull her face away both Billie and Peyton force her head back on Carmella's ass for another ten seconds until she can barely breathe. The two let her out as she gasps for air.
Ring announcer: Your winner and still WWE Women's Champion, Carmella.
Carmella grabs the title then exits the ring.
Carmella: You two have fun with her while I go handle some business.
Peyton grabs the ring gag and Billie pinches Bayley's nose forcing her to open up and accept the gag. Billie then balls up Bayley's panties and sticks them in the middle of the gag. The two then take turns swatting Bayley with the flog and groping her large ass and tits. The Iconics also take multiple selfies with Bayley in ways that show off Carmella's graffiti.
Meanwhile Carmella has returned to the locker room and unties Nattie, Brie, then Nikki. All 4 women find clothes and cover up.
Nikki: You could've told us about those two Aussie bimbos coming on board.
Nattie: We all knew besides you Nikki
Nikki: Whatever
Nikki storms out of the locker room.
Carmella: Well tonight ended well enough. Nattie you take Mandy and Lana and throw them wherever the hell you want and Brie you take Alexa back to the hotel. I'm going to finish up with Bayley.
Nattie packs Lana and Mandy into a blue shipping container then puts it on a pushcart.
Nattie: See you later Brie.
Brie: See you
Nattie pushes the container out into the lot then loads Mandy and Lana into two separate trunks. Meanwhile Brie humiliated Alexa a little bit more by forcing her to make a slow walk out to Brie's car while still bent over before pushing her into the trunk by kicking her on the ass.
The crowd boos as Carmella comes back out to the ring in a sweatshirt and sweatpants while The Iconics continue to play with Bayley. They force Bayley up to her feet as Carmella gets into the ring.
Carmella: Well girls you did great here tonight. You're present is waiting backstage.
Peyton: Thank you Carmella.
Carmella picks up the cattle prod and shocks Bayley on the ass
Carmella: Walk out of the ring.
Bayley refuses so Carmella gives her two more quick shocks. Bayley finally walks up the ramp. Bayley steers her towards the parking lot not saying a word as she shocks Bayley according to which direction she wants to go in. Finally the two arrive in the lot.
Carmella: Well Bayley this is how you leave shows now. Pick whichever car you'd like and climb in the trunk.
Bayley protests through the gag but Carmella quickly shuts her down with another zap from the cattle prod. Bayley finds a white car with the trunk open and stands next to it.
Carmella: Climb in.
Bayley freaks out and tries to run away but Carmella shocks her with the prod once again stopping her in her tracks. Carmella then throws Bayley into the trunk.
Carmella: See you in the morning bitch.
Bayley protests through the gag as the trunk is shut and Carmella leaves the arena.
The Iconic Duo open the locker room door for the Four Horsewomen, Charlotte is still on the ground hogtied unaware of the outcome of her friend's match.
Charlotte: You two are on the main roster now?
Peyton: You could say that.
Charlotte: Well could you let me out.
Billie: I'm afraid that's not going to happen dear. In fact you were kind of promised as a gift to me and Peyton.
Charlotte: A gift?
Peyton: Yep a gift. We help Carmella utterly humiliate Bayley and turn her into one of those bondage girls and we get you as our own personal servant.
Charlotte: Uh-uh that isn't happening.
Billie: Well I think otherwise.
Peyton then pulls out a rag and a liquid substance hidden inside the locker room and pours the liquid on the cloth.
Charlotte: I'm not going to be one of your little objects that you parade around here every week.
Peyton: Well this says otherwise.
Charlotte: What is that.
Peyton puts the rag over Charlotte's face as Billie stares at her. Charlotte fights but soon weakens and passes out.
Peyton: Chloroform, love
Billie laughs as Peyton collects the passed out blonde.
Peyton: I'll load her up into the van and meet you back in the hotel room for some fun.
Billie: I'll go pick up the toys and meet you there.
The Iconics leave with Peyton carrying Charlotte out of the building.
Billie: You know what would be fun?
Peyton: What?
Billie: If we use that ballgag she had on earlier on her tonight.
Peyton: That'd be so hot. Go and see if you can find it.
Billie: I think I saw it laying in the room, I'll see you later.
Billie heads back into the locker room she had found Charlotte in.
Billie: Ah ha, found it.
Billie picks up the ballgag and looks at it.
Billie: Decent sized, it should be able to keep even Charlotte's big mouth shut.
Billie then tries the gag on and let's out a scream through it to test it's effectiveness. However as Billie still has the gag on Nikki Bella walks into the room.
Nikki: Trying to steal my spot huh?
Billie looks in shock and embarrassment from having the gag on as Nikki delivers a forearm strike then strips Billie completely naked and carries her back to Stephanie's dressing room. Once back in that room Nikki locks Billie into a cage by tying Billie's arms and hair to the roof then cuffing her legs wide of the cage. Billie comes to as Nikki carries her in the cage out of the building and shakes her big tits as she tries to escape to no avail.
submitted by jimbohick6 to WrestlingHumiliation [link] [comments]


2013.05.18 13:14 tabledresser Lapdance hidden camera

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Date: 2013-05-17
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Questions Answers
I've never been to a strip club, (20male). Am I really missing anything? They sound like I just go home with a boner that my girlfriend could take care of instead? It really depends. Guys go for many reasons. There is the group that wants to go and get drunk and make comments and such. Then there is the lonely guy who just wants a pretty girl to talk to. Then there are the pervs. There are the couples go get off on watching each other get attention, or by getting couple dances. I have been asked numerous times to go home with couples. Sure it is like paying for blue balls I suppose. But its not exactly that, it is entertainment. The womans body is beautiful and there are not many places you can go for merely dollars at a time watch lovely bodies swaying and doing amazing pole tricks. If your girlfriend does not mind you going to a club, and is ok with the idea of taking care of a boner she didn't really cause, then thats what you can do. Honestly the drinks are overpriced. Go in with $50 to spare, get one dance, thats $20 typically. $20 in ones, and $10 for a couple beers. Typically guys tip $1 the first song, then $2 for the second since I take off my bottoms, but if its 3 songs they do $1 each, but thats typically minimum. So you could sit at the rack 10 times almost, get a dance, maybe a slight buzz, and go home and nail your gf.
If I said you had a nice body would you hold it against me? For $20 lol.
Have you ever had a customer that you actually liked? Like, LIKE LIKE! If not, would you ever? Yes I currently do, but I just never do the hustling. Like going up to customers, smooth talking them into getting a private dance. But one guy came in, and I thought "I'm going to talk to this guy before one of these gross bitches does" and well he likes me too and he comes in to see me and such. So far, just the one crush. Kinda had oogly eyes for cute djs too.
Yeah those other bitches are gross, but you are one classy dame. Has there ever been a more apropos instance of a pot calling the kettle black? I mean nasty in that they smell horrible, are actually hookers, do nasty shit on stage like spreading their hooha for everyone to see, making out with every customer, jerking guys off in the back, etc. I am a stripper, but I'm not a stripper
What do you think of the current nhl regular season overtime point structure? should a team that loses still be awarded a point just for going to overtime? I think points ld be earned by the players scoring points in any game, no free points should be given. I do not know much about sports but one of the tvs at work plays hockey which I enjoy.
What's your favorite, non sexy thing about what you do? The exercise I get! I weighed about 145-150 when I started dancing, I was flabby, out of shape. Now I weigh a healthy 110-115, and am tightened and toned. Also I eat like a fat guy so I really need the nightly exercise. Plus I have a ton of energy, like crazy spaz adhd status and it helps me get my energy out.
Nice! I've always wanted a job that gets me to exercise, but all mine does is encourage me to drink coffee nonstop. Speaking of coffee, there are also "Bikini Brews", girls that serve coffee in bikinis. I would do it, but I don't really like real jobs anymore, and I can't stand coffee.
Was it hard to do some of the fancier dancing when you first started? The hard thing is learning to slow down. My dancing is actually very fast, but I more entertain. I sing along with my songs, I dance to the words, make funny faces, dance to fun songs, etc. People come to my rack because I make them laugh. But mostly the pole work, you think sure you can do that trick but it takes a ton of core strength, which I have built up, and I need to actually switch arms on the pole, I'm starting to look like this
As a "fat guy" I'd like to say that MANY people who are more fit than me actually eat more than I do, And from you saying that, You probably even eat more than I do. I don't eat often, but when I do its a big fat greasy something typically.
What is the weirdest thing that a man has said to you while you gave him a dance? I've had them creepily comment on my dancing, like "oh yea, shake it like that, put those in my face" and such. One guy, who I was sure was an undercover said to me during a dance "I want to play in the snow" and honestly I didn't know what he meant, I thought it was a sexual thing? Maybe he was just wierd and wanted snow? But he meant blow and I was like "oh no no no" yea.
How is it working as a stripper? What does your family think of it? My mom was a stripper for a couple months when I was a baby. She made bank in those days though, when men would throw $10's and $20's. I actually brought her with me when I went to find a club and she stayed with me and held my money, gave me tips, watched out for me when I danced my first night. I don't have much family that speak to us at all so they have no idea. My mom doesn't like it because she knows the life and just wants me safe. So I have a baton, tazer, and pepper spray at all times. Have bouncers walk me to the cars and such, I work in places that have cameras in the lap dance rooms, etc.
So there's a guy whose job it is to watch lap dances constantly? Well the bouncers look out for you if they see you in there. Like the international stripper distress signal is immediately standing up from a dance and putting your hands up.
Is there a difference in what you thought the job would be before working as a stripper to the reality of it now? And is it better or worse than your expectations? There is a lot of nasty shit that goes on. You can't really be friends with these girls, they are your competition. And honestly I thought there was higher standards to be a stripper and I have seen some nasty bitches working along side me on saturday nights. Like the ones who have to aerosol their crotches for 30 seconds straight then go on stage, rinse and repeat.
All in all it depends on the club, if you work at a nasty club, expect nasty customers and sleazy stuff to go on. I won't work at a club if there is no pole rag or bleach, if the lap dance room is too hidden and private. I honestly enjoy it, because I have not fallen into the alcoholic/drug addict lifestyle most girls sadly get into.
Do you feel this is a career? My roommate dated(for like... a day) a stripper who basically was barely getting by and in my opinion trying to live this glorious stripper life of drugs and alcohol and partying. It seemed like a really shallow life. You don't seem to be caught up in that shit, so I'm wondering what your plans are. Where could you be in a 2-3 years? I see at as more of a hobby. It does take up 25-30 hours a week, almost a normal job. You make your own day, so most of the time if you have a crap night its your own fault for not being entertaining enough. The drugs and alcohol and partying is fine in moderation. I will have max of 3 drinks on shift, not only because its trashy to be drunk and dancing, but I don't get much out of them and rather have the money. I did get into blow a little heavily about 2-3 months in but that was all rebelness and trying to "live my life" and shit. What keeps me from being like that is seeing the girls affected by it. Like they can't even dance with out being smashed, or the ones who cry at the end of the night because they dont have the money for their drugs.
I kind of want to travel, working in clubs, saving my money, then putting a fat stack down on a place. I plan to be seriously looking into a career or midway through school by the time I'm 25.
Thats not a bad idea actually. Get to see some of the world while doing something you enjoy and saving money. You just got to be sure to make enough that it's not all going into moving/hotels/eating out. I already live in a camper trailer full time, so it is just a matter of finding a vehicle to pull my house, hitch up and hit the road!
When you do you should make a stop by ND. The oil boom has brought a lot of horny guys with money to burn to area. Be perfect for you because finding a place to stay is impossible and lots of people live out of trailers. But be warned though, shit tons of hard drugs floating around. I will be stopping in every state, if their are no clubs I will just travel and sightsee it. I also plan on writing a book. There are drugs here too, I have dabbled in blow, seen bricks of it, smelled girls smoking pills in the bathroom, hearing of girls passed out with a needle next to them in the parking lot. I lived in MT too so I saw a lot of meth heads.
What's your favourite song to dance to? My favorite set is.
Rev 22:20 Puscifer Tainted Love Marilyn Manson Counting Bodies Like Sheep A Perfect Circle.
I also love to dance to Oogie Boogie Song, Kidnap the Sandy Claws, and This is Halloween for fun.
Edit- Aww sweet thank you for the gold!
Nice! A fan of Maynard I see? If you're ever looking for some new material, I saw a girl dance to Sail by AWOLNATION once and it was probably my all time favourite. Ya I like that one too, everytime he says sail I will put my foot high in the air like a ballerina-ish pose. I also like radioactive and when he says "breath in the chemicals" I do this crazy backbend like this except I dont need a rope thingy, I use core muscles and am also able to do sort of a sit up in this position.
What is your favourite cheese? Muenster, or Pepper Jack, Tillamook brand only of course.
Have you ever felt like you've been in danger, either directly (at work) or indirectly (because of work)? There is danger to the job. Never has it been directly from a customer I am interacting with, just bar fights break out and in all that commotion the girls can get hurt.
You mentioned school - what are you thinking of studying? Oh tons of things, art, animal health, psychology, anthropologist, teacher.
Has anyone ever told you you look like Katy Perry? Yes I get told I look like her, and also the underworld chick, the pulp fiction chick, the fight club chick, the twilight chick, their cousin, their sisters best friends niece, etc.
A fellow student of mine worked as a (male) stripper in grad school. I guess it probably paid pretty well, or else he wouldn't have made the time to do it. But I'm guessing it's pretty different for men than it is for women? Male strippers are much less common. Honestly strippers can be a dime a dozen in Portland, so decent clubs are able to let go girls for minor infractions while others let things slide because they need the girls, thus turning their club into a ho-shack.
Sounds like you know people who can't tell white people apart! Seriously, Uma Thurman (Pulp Fiction) and Kate Beckinsale (Underworld) look nothing alike! Link to www.google.com
I wonder what's special about Portland that a) strippers are a dime a dozen (definitely NOT the case here in Boston) and b) it has the most strip clubs per capita? Is it just super boring there or something, or do other jobs there just pay poorly? I've heard it's a pretty cool city... Idk maybe its just the laws, you can legally walk around topless here too, unless you cause a ruckus.
Have you ever found your profession to become an issue with your boyfriend/ex-boyfriends (or girlfriends)? As in, would they be uncomfortable with you jiggling all over men for a living. I was in a relationship when I started, and I asked him and he was fine with it. But then after two months he wasn't, said he didn't like my schedule and all the partying and late hours. The guys I meet are pretty much at my work as I don't really go out, so then I guess they would already know.
Favorite strip club in PDX? How's the food at Mary's? Never been to Marys but I have had Acrop's steakbites which were pretty good. My favorite is Pirates Cove so far.
Pirates Cove...the Vegan Strip Club. Our Motto- No Beef Curtains!! Naw thats Casa, Pirates cove sells meat.
My only time at a strip club was in Portland years ago; a stripper approached me at the end of the night, and the guy who I was there with (who I barely knew and was a douche) tried to pay her for sex. She got very upset, as did her friends who were there, and I felt awful (as well as worried about getting beat up). So the question(s): is that the kind of thing one sees often? Is a douche trying to pay for sex common, or par for the course? You do get the guys asking how much for extra, and they mean sex. you get the drunk guy who doesn't know strip club rules and starts saying odd shit. It depends on the club, if a club is known for having girls who work there to be ho's then thats the crowd you attract. Which makes it hard for no-ho girls like me to make money when you turn down a dance because he wants to touch, so he gets a dance from a ho.
What's your favorite food cart in PDX? Oh man! I just got an Angry Unicorn burger. But I do like gyros.
The donut burger? That was the first one I got, along with the unicorn bawlz, no regrets ate the whole thing.
How do YOU pronounce gyro? Yerr -Row.
What's the most crazy shit that has happened while you were working? I have seen full on bar fights, like 8 hispanic customers against all the black guys in the club, because when a fight breaks out honestly race comes into it. So it wasn't pretty, blood was spilled, cops were called, a couple girls got side swiped.
Have you ever needed a bouncer's help with someone/something? Not so much, its mostly been a bouncer telling a customer they can't do something that I didn't know they couldn't do, like female customers slapping my ass isn't even allowed.
Clubs tend to be more protective of female strippers over male ones. One article I read in the Alantic about male stripping pointed out that they the bouncers dont even throw out the female customers that grope the male strippers. No that's the appeal of the male strippers, I have seen videos of one at a bachelorette party and they were taking turns sucking whip cream off of him.
Have you ever gone to watch men stripping? Does that appeal to you? No, and I have yet to see magic mike. Surprisingly I get really giddy when people do sexual things back to me, like if I were to go in as a customer and the girl put her boobs in my face, or while I'm getting a dance I am giggling and blushing the whole time.
Hi there - what does the move called the 'lean back' involve? I typically will pick a folded dollar bill up between the boobies, then i proceed to lean back like in the picture, but legs more spread for balance, I can lay almost on my back in this position but I typically just sway while slowly leaning back, maybe do a couple "sit ups" in this position. Idk it's just a fun move.
Is this the same for a private dance? Nah, I do a practical lapdance, lots of booty work thats my signature.
Are there any "hipster" strip clubs in Portland? Pirates Cove seems to attract a more nerdy/hipster crowd. Also Assets, a new place that was a hipsterish bar still gets those people in.
Casa Diablo is an all vegan club, and don't allow girls to wear leather and such. But that's as far as I know
So for the most part, all strip clubs are at least topless? Some you must have dresses on, some have regulations on the thickness of g strings, heel height, boob coverage. But mostly you aren't allowed to walk around far from the stage and dressing room area naked, because health codes.
I've never been to a club, but thought about going a couple times. I wonder, as a fat guy, does a dancer see me and immediately brand me as some loser creep? Or is that the way all customers are seen? I like the fat guys. Don't take it the wrong way, but it is less..sexual with a guy with a big belly. My first dance was with a "fat guy" and idk. It doesn't matter your build or weight its how you carry yourself, how you smell that makes you a creepy guy.
Also, aside from deep pockets, what makes for an ideal customer? Being respectful gets you a lot farther. My regulars are guys who don't try to manhandle me, and after a bit it gets you special attention.
I might be too late, but... I just walked in and asked to audition. I watch the girls and then also develop my own technique.
1) How did you get your start? It looks like it takes so much talent and strength! I think it's incredibly admirable. Not necessariliy, because I do work at one, I guess it depends on what kind of customer they are.
2) Do you look down on people who go to strip clubs? I met someone who was a waitress or something in a club in Portland and when I told her I had gone to Casa Diablo the week before (my first and only time) she made a disgusted face and said, "You would go to a strip club?!" Casa, well its known for its raunchiness. I have heard girls eat each other out on stage. I dont approve of that so I can see her reaction.
How much money do you make a month from stripping? It all really depends on how often I work, how well the nights are, and my tip out and stage fees. I work only one club with a stage fee of $10, but I mostly work at 2 other clubs that don't have a fee. Tip out minimum is usually $10 a piece for 1-3 people. I work 5 nights a week and on average I make $60 on a bad night and $300 on a pretty decent night. I don't hustle, so the only dances I get are when a customer comes up to me personally and asks for a dance. I guess you could do the math. In the end I make a bit more than minimum wage, but without the tax cuts. My living situation is fairly cheap, I live frugally, or try to, so I can earn my bill money in 1-2 nights, and the rest is just spending money.
Is it true there is no sex in the champagne room? Only one club I worked at had a champagne room and it was never used its like $2-300 just to get in, but you get a choice of like 3 girls and a bottle of champagne, it was still pretty open though. I have heard stuff goes on in sleazier clubs, but if those places are caught they get in a ton of trouble.
Does penis size matter? Depends on how you use it. I have had everything from like 4in-1ft, it really depends on the guy though and I prefer the average 6-7in respectably.
Why did you start stripping? Because it's easy money and I was tired of being laid off at part time jobs due to hour cuts.
That's average? ... I'm fucked. Well 5 inches is actually average, but due to penis selection, it seems average has gone up.
And you're only fucked if work for it!
Do you like eating at the PDX food carts? Yes, I live close to a bunch.
Aw. Do you know "Drake"? Her real name starts with an S. She's a very good friend of mine that lived in Portland and danced for many years. I cant say that I do.
What is the most embarrassing thing that has happened to you on stage? I haven't fallen because I don't wear heels, and so far have only knocked over 1 drink. I have been spinning and lost my footing before or wrapped myself up in the pole. I've noticeably stumbled, or my shoe comes loose.
Do you wear glasses? Were you a stripper before it was popular? No, and I have been a dancer for only 5.5 months.
Do you find any shame in your job or what's your explanation to why you do it. I have no issue being naked, I grew up around people who would just strut around. The only part that makes me feel bad is when guys start to talk to me like "what are you doing being a stripper blah blah youve got potential for other shit blah blah"
I do it because it can be good money, its great excercise, it fits my schedule.
Please tell me you make use of wheresgeorge.com. I just think it'd be quite entertaining. You know I have come upon several of those, and I think it would be interesting as I travel to do that, and as a side note put that it is a dirty dirty stripper dollar.
I was thinking the same thing. And are you representative of what strippers look like in Portland? Even strippers there are tragic hipsters? There are not many strippers I have come upon with a similar style. There are strippers with crazy industrial, or dreads, tattoos are a huge thing here too. We get the blonde barbie looking girls, ghetto big botty black girls, latina girls always seem to be a little chunky, big boobs, small boobs, meth-head skinny, and break your legs during a lapdance big. Everyone likes something different and on any given night usually at least one girl will appeal to certain customers. I usually attract the bikers, the hipsters, the nerdy guys, and the curious old men.
Thanks for replying in a mature way. I was kidding on the hipster part. Thanks for the AMA. Sorry I don't understand sarcasm well haha.
Is there a big Naruto scene in Portland? I do not really follow that crowd so I wouldn't know.
Last updated: 2013-05-22 12:43 UTC
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