[Link To Part 2]( [https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ga1emz/nicki_minaj_called_me_part_23/](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ga1emz/nicki_minaj_called_me_part_23/))
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.
[14]([https://www.reddit.com/r/rhonnie14FanPage/](https://www.reddit.com/r/rhonnie14FanPage/))
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ga1ggv/nicki_minaj_called_me_part_33