chpt 2

Kelly roused in his spacious bed to the fiery aching burn on his ass and thighs. His face twisted uncomfortably.

"F-uck!"

His voice was almost mute and left a gravel like sensation in his throat. He felt like shit, dehydrated as hell and not to mention semen crusted. Before he could get out of bed all the memories of last night hit him like a tidal wave. He hid his face in his pillow and huddled beneath his sheets.

"Why?!"

He remembered how he sounded, how he cried, begged, moaned louder than any girl he had ever seen or been with. Marshall saw and heard everything. What confused Kelly was that he was capable of maintaining throbbing boners and cum from dirty talking and spanking, from a MAN. He liked executing bdsm like sex activities with women, he loved the control, it was sexy. He was always a top and sex with the woman bottoming was great, but why doesn't it even compare to the orgasms he indirectly received from Marshall. This can't be right, all the evil things Marshall did to him were the things he did with the chicks he'd meet. He hated the dirty talking, the pain of being talked down to was almost physical, it was beyond humiliating, but his dick stayed hard regardless of his heart.

Was he gay now? No? No! He has only ever liked girls, ass, tits, and pussy.

What the fuck does this mean? He felt horrible, mouth and skin, both equally gross.

"I need a shower and some water."

He swings his legs over the bed side, the bruises on his ass surged a dull throb up his backside, the image of Marshall forcing his way with him and mercilessly abusing his legs branded his mind. He was winded for a second, his dick puffing up to a half-chub from the memory. He suppresses a scream, the last thing he wants to think about is Marshall. He almost trips over his own feet when reaching for the mini fridge next to the night stand. He obtained the bottle and downed it in a few large gulps. On the nightstand he reaches for his phone, 12:42 pm displayed. Waking up at this time was kinda early considering his trashed sleep schedule. He unlocks it and it shows two messages from Marshall sent earlier this morning, the name rose blood to Kelly's face, his face scrunches up agitated. Rich Fucktard, he bitterly hissed. Fuck him, that asshole thinks I'm actually going to listen to him? After the shit show that was last night? Hell no, I won't give him the benefit of thinking he has power over me! Who does he think he is, expecting me to just easily brush off what he did!

"I don't want to think about this, Oh, dear God."

He limps to his suitcase, which was near the bathroom and dropped to his knees.

"Oww~."

His ass hurts like absolute hell, every step is instant insanity. Marshall is so cruel, couldn't he have been a bit more gentle and not completely sadistic. Yeah, he did bitch here and there after the beef ended, but it was all bullshit and petty stuff not to mention he already apologized for the pic comments. Why would he go out of his way just hurt and humiliate him over stupid things, it was unjust, Marshall was overreacting, or am I at fault. Kelly felt anger simmer within him.

"Fuck the sadistic piece of shit, I did nothing wrong. He's just a power abusing! Egotistical ass-hat!"

Kelly knew he was just being butt hurt, quite literally, and trying to comfort himself with empty words but Marshall no dought bitched him and spanked him like he was a child in his own hotel room. It was painfully obvious who had power over whom. He shook his head violently to rid his head of undeniable facts.

"GOD DAMMIT!"

He pried open the suitcase and ripped out some clothes. He struggled standing back up to walk to the bathroom, his legs about to give from the pain. He slumped on the bathroom door for support and stumbled with in. The bathroom was huge, a bar sink and wall mirror on one side and the other had decorative shelves and such. In the back were two clouded glass doors which held a toilet and shower. He started the water and began to undress in front of the mirror wall. He hooked his fingers onto the bottom hem of his shirt and pulled it over his back, popping his head out. He went pale as he saw his reflection.

"What THE FUCK!"

His eyes were puffy and an alarming red color, his lip was scabbed with blood, his thighs were covered in blue and purple welts. He turned his back to the mirror and looked over his shoulder to evaluate the damage, his eyes nearly popped out of his sockets. Blue and black-ish hand marks littered his ass, drastically noticeably on his light skin.

"Marshall is a fucking monster!"

He looked down his body, his ass and thighs stained with cum. His legs were crude and the B.O. was putrid. He cringed at himself, this was absolutely nasty. He hopped in the shower and slathered his figure in extensive amounts of soap. He snagged a small white rag from the shelves outside the shower and began to scrub his skin raw and angry. He then globed some shampoo into his knotted hair, fingers scratching at his scalp. The hot water soothed over his bruises, steam fogging the stall glass. Thoughts lay heavy like bricks in his skull, depleting his already low energy just by standing. He tentatively bent his legs and placed his butt on the tile, a faint pang of stings danced along his ass and thighs.

"Nghhh~"

He struggled to find a comfortable position but settled with hugging his knees to his chest. Water cascading down his head, and streaming down the crease of his spine. He replayed last night, every detail and sound clear as day. He humiliated himself. He has always thought of himself as pretty masculine, and prided himself on the fact he could pull girls, chicks always begging him to fuck them. Call his cat nip cause he's a pussy magnet. Marshall stripped that pride clean off of him, purposefully watching him squirm, wanting him vulnerable. Kelly hated exposure, he hated how Marshall had peeled away as his defenses and sitting there was the real Kelly, and Marshall could see everything. What pained him the most wasn't the bruises, it was Marshall's words. To be feminized as a slutty bitch, hurt especially coming from his long time idol. Marshall used the most insulting and scornful voice when addressing him. His eyes frowned down on him like he was the lowest form of human trash, like he was a deformity. The pure, saturated hate and anger that seethed from Marshall, plunged deep into Kelly's mind and heart, traveling to his soul. His words crushed Kelly. To Marshall, he is nothing but an annoying fuck-boy wanna be. Kelly wanted to ignore how much Marshall had upset him, but the tears already came. He swore at himself for letting Marshall's get to him, but it doesn't matter what the old man thinks, his fan's tell him he's great 24/7. The boo's of his own fan's distantly rang in his head, remembering the concerts where he had tried to plat kill shot. He bumped his head into his knee.

"Nothing seems to go my way."

How the hell is he supposed to fuck a girl when he literally is one now. He scoffed at himself. He stomach drops as he goes ice-cold. Now that he thinks about it Marshall could've had a camera or phone. Kelly was avoiding eye-contact with Marshall as much as he could yesterday, so there is a possibility. He pulls at the blonde locks on his head, fretting the worst.

"Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!"

Marshall could have half naked photos or videos of him.

"The messages! He's probably blacking mailing me and wanting to discuss the conditions and terms!"

He chewed anxiously at his inner cheek, tears of frustration welling up. If that gets posted, his career is over. Homosexuality is hella frowned upon in rap culture, if this gets out he'll be hounded by press and get harassed on the streets. He wouldn't get any type of respect, it terrified him that if people thought he was gay he'd walk the streets and be ganged up on or worse raped out of spite. Colson formerly know as Machine Gun Kelly now know as Kelly the faggot, a head line like that would shame him for the rest of his life. What the fuck would happen to him and Cassie. With no income he and Cassie would have to convert to how life was when she was a baby. Oh! Dear god, he'd sell a kidney and a limb before he'd ever let her experience being dirt poor again. Tears flowed endlessly. He'd agree to anything Marshall says, just so he doesn't post it. Why does back luck tail him like a shadow, the second best thing to come in his life, and he goes and fucks it up.

"What the fuck have I done? I'm so sorry, Cassie, my baby girl."

He shuts off the water and runs out of the bathroom with a towel in hand. He briskly dries himself with a cotton material. It's been a while since he's woken up, what happens if Marshall's mad that he hasn't responded. He imagined Marshall coming back with a renewed anger, Kelly swallowed dryly. The last thing he wants is Marshall to be angry again and take it out on him, he's scared. He exhaled sharply from the nose, fuck that! He ain't scared, he just,,,wasn't prepared for Marshall yesterday. His dry hands wipe away tears as he lifts the phone with his new-found confidence from the stand and looks at the time, 1:30, he unlocks it and goes to messages.

Marshall: Dress semi formal tonight, I'll pick you up at 6 pm sharp.

Marshall: :)

The tears came flooding again, Marshall dare believe that after what he did, he would even want to be around him, and he texted a smile, a FUCKING SMILE. Kelly stood there with his other hand balled tight, this was utterly irritating. A weight from his body lifted when Marshall didn't mention a video or picture, he sighed loudly. Shit! Maybe he wanted to discuss it in person over a meal! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The fear came back in an instant, what the hell is he going to do? Wait... Marshall is returning at six pm, yesterday he caught me off guard but today I'm going to make sure I'm ready. He got calmer as he realized he could just beat the shit out of Marshall and force him to delete the evidence. Hell yeah! He can take that old fucker! His eyes regained his defiant glare. He went back to his bathroom to finish putting clothes on. Kelly's mind was a freeway of chaotic thoughts, a freak accident car pile up. Shit! What happens if Marshall already posted the evidence and was luring him into a car to be raped! Crap, he hadn't thought about of that! He quickly strutted out of the bathroom while yanking up his gym shorts, he caught his phone and his fingers dashed across the screen to search the web about him. He scrolls across the screen, Okaaay... There are only shit post news articles about their beef and other bull, nothing about him and some specific gay shit...yet. He throws his phone onto his bed and follows suit with the device. He dives head first on the mattress, arms spread and belly down. Marshall is a horrible fucker, bullies him and tries to take him to dinner just to blackmail him, he must really hate him. A familiar sting makes his heart pang, an unbearably deep ache. Kelly replays yesterday, reliving the hell, it hurt more than he could express when Marshall got violent. He then faintly remembers what Marshall did before leaving yesterday. What was it again? It was blurry when it happened, but he could distantly remember the feeling. A large warm hand caressing his back with loving intent. A wave of goosebumps washed over the small of his back, trailing up to his neck in full body tremors. A surprised moan bubbled out of his mouth, his petite lips immediately pressed together, muffling his voice. The spreading warmth encased his body in a surreal like sensation. His skin heats up, his mind piecing together a ghost of Marshall embracing him. The distant echo of him murmuring against his neck in a heavy tone. It's almost like he is in the room with Kelly. For a moment Kelly longed for the delicate touches, craving the sense of security and praise. He snagged his fingers into the sheets and held a death grip. No! Marshall is a sick, perverted old man, who likes to take advantage of people. He's stressed just thinking of Marshall. The name left a sour taste in his mouth, all his anxiety has his gut uneasy. He thumped his crown to his bed to silence his endless concerns, he was beyond fed up with his overthinking. Marshall was mocking him then, holding him like an upset child and comforting him as such. Kelly hated that he loved every second of it, he hated that it was incredible to him. He started to tear up again.

"Shi-t."

He was never this emotional, he had a knack of bottling up any pain and cleverly hiding it. Then Marshall comes and shatters everything and left Kelly in a puddle of his own misery. He turns his head toward the door, tears dripping across his skin like molten glass to the bed sheets. A black bag at the foot of the door caught his attention, when Marshall came over yesterday he did have a bag in hand before barging in his room. Though he never said anything about it. He sniffs as he rises from the bed and strides toward the bag, he seizes the plastic handles and returns to the enormous bed with his find. Curiosity piqued his interest, what kind of bullshit did Marshall leave? He stood at the foot of the bed as he dumps the contents onto the soft sheets. He sorts through the variety of thin fabrics, he questioned why they were so lacey. He pulled out a small black mesh fabric and used both his hands to stretch it for a closer inspection. His face lights up with embarrassment as he dropped the material.

"Why is there a lingerie?!"

The fabric he held was a pair of tiny black panties with a micro fishnet sides. He organized all the items on his bed, so he could see everything clearly. He blushed madly, he could just about pass out from how heated his head is getting. He clasped a hand over his mouth as he processed the scene before him. Two sheer black diamond patterned thigh highs with lace tops, an extremely lacy black piece of underwear with garter straps, a dark mesh bra with thin black straps. Next to the neat layout of clothes was an extravagant pair of ebony red bottom stilettos, the stem of the heels held the girth of a pencil and were eight inches tall at most.

"Why the fuck would Marshall bring these?"

There was no way in hell Marshall would have brought these here for himself. Marshall was way too stalky for the size of the garments, though spotting him in heels would be hilarious. He must have bought the set for Kelly, somehow expecting him to wear them. Marshall would have forced him into wear all of this, just to see him suffer. It pissed Kelly off that he deemed him as compliable, he'd rather cut off a finger before someone coerces him into wearing a lingerie.

He ran a finger over the fabrics, all soft with remarkably thin material, it was suspiciously regal. He winced away from the bed. This must have cost a shit ton, and with the red bottoms, he had to have spent a minimum of two thousand. Kelly's face tinted a bright pink, brows raised and unsure with his position.

Marshall picked out each article of clothing with him in mind. Thinking of how a product would fit him and how they would suit him. He bought all these clothes for him. Eminem, the rap god himself, gave him an expensive semi-thoughtful gift. He squeezed the sides of his arms and nibbled at his lip.

"Marshall, is... disgustingly perverted."

He studied the insidious black garments for what seemed like an eternity, they hypnotized him, pulling him closer. The delicate lace called to him, his skin itching for the fabric's softness. He imagined the drag of the mesh material on his pale skin, the contrast of dark and light colors. He wants to try them on at least once. His hand wandered over to the rows of clothing, but he stopped himself. No, Marshall bought these with the intention of him wearing them. He'd never wear these for Marshall. His pride kept his opinion strong, but a small voice in his mind reminded him that Marshall wasn't in the room. It's just Kelly in the room, no one else can see him, Marshall can't see him. Kelly was going to wear this for himself. He mustered up the courage to further his hand to the bed, his fingers extracted the thigh highs from the mattress. Though he was alone, it felt like eyes were burning through the walls and searing his skin, judging him, a male about to wear something he knew we wasn't supposed to. He dropped his sweats and sat on the end of the bed. He took a deep breath, you've already come this far, there's no backing out. He bent over and pointed his foot into the stocking and shifted the thin material over his foot and pulled the rest up to his upper thigh. He gasped at how nice it felt on him, it hugged his legs but was airy and light. He mirrored the left leg on the right, both thighs garnished with lace. The thigh highs made his legs elegant, the black had a deep purple undertone that shone in the light. He bunched up his shirt and chucked it to the floor, he hooked a finger under one of the bra straps and brought it over his head. He slid the bra down his chest, catching a nipple in the process which induced a sigh. He fit the bra correctly on his chest, straitening out the black straps. He peers down at his chest, then down his thighs. He smiled wide. It feels right, why hasn't he done this before? He shimmies his boxers off the thigh highs and let them fall to the floor, he then wiggled his foot out of the hem. He giddily scoops up the pair of panties and slotted his legs into the holes, when the silk touched his crotch he nearly moaned. He clicked the garters in place to connect the panties and the socks.

"It's soo soft!"

He rolled onto his back, giggling and rubbing his legs together, relishing the velvet texture of the socks. He turned his head to the sheets at the shoes, he could stab someone with heels that sharp. He handled the shoes with caution when lowering them level to the floor. They were dangerously tall, the attitude these two heels screamed for someone of status, the pumps of "the Bitch'. While sitting, he slipped a heel on and did the same for the other. They fit perfectly, Marshall really did put in effort into putting together the gift. He wobbly stood up and doubled back over onto the bed.

"How do women do it? They make it look so easy."

Fueled by determination he strode to the bathroom, eager to see if it was worth his time putting on this outfit. He passed the threshold and clamped his eyes shut, traveling further into the back where the wall mirror had more space. Heels clacking on the tile. Once finally in the back he meekly glimpsed at himself.

"Oh shit-"

He hid his face in his hands, appalled that he wore all the clothes. He looked like a sexy...tree. The lacy bra accentuated his flat chest providing it a fuller effect, the higher part of the garter sat on his waist contributing to a petite figure, the panties below it hardly cover his balls, let alone his dick. His member was fastened to his pelvis by a weak band in the underwear. His thighs seemed thicker from the dark exterior of the stockings, his appearance doubled in lewdness with the garters. The heels really completed the seductive fit, confidence in his step knowing he does look good. God this is weird.

He walked back to the bed with a swagger in his step. He settled back down, rattled that he has taken a fondness towards some feminine clothing.

"I look like a sexy tree."

He turns his leg over to the side examining the stem length and huffs as he extends the leg to stretch it.

"I'm like seven feet tall now."

He rests his back on the bed and slaps a hand down on the black bag to feel the air rush out, only to have an object obstruct the blow. He made a puzzled expression as he dove a hand into the bag for an investigation. He hauled out two small packages, and two heavy-duty batteries and a small light gray egg with a twist dial pad. The egg package's instructions were in a foreign language. Maybe it was an Asian product?

He opened the plastic and laid out the twist dial and the egg, they both could fit in the palm of his hand. The twist dial was a small rounded plastic slate with a nob that had three settings high, low, and medium, and the egg was about two inches diameter. He ripped out the batteries and laid them next to the previous items.

Why did Marshall buy him a plastic egg, he raised the's packaging, scanning the colors and objects on the box. Hearts and winky faces. Kelly was so done with Marshall.

"He... He fucking got me a vibrator."

He was baffled at how far Marshall has gone with his inappropriate gifts. He brings a hand to his neck, fingers rubbing at his Adam's apple.

"That is s-o gro-oss."

His member sprung to life, curiosity beaming for the egg. His body desired a test run of the little egg. He hesitated, putting something in himself is a lot gayer than wearing women's clothing. Fuck it, he has stilettos on, how much gayer can he really get. With some tinkering with the round object, he was able to unscrew the top and stick a battery in the cavity and re-screwed it. He put the other battery into the detachable back of the dial pad and clicked the plastic together, sealing the battery in place. He trots over to his night stand and opens a drawer to retrieve a bottle of lube and retreats back to the bed. He flushes as he fans out his legs, slithering a hand to the back of his panties, prodding at his entrance through the fabric. He bit his tongue, a low whine sounding from him. He reclined, back flush to the sheets as a finger hooked under the panties and sunk into his hole slowly. Kelly hissed, unused to the low burn, it his first time with anal on himself. Once the finger was knuckle deep, he sucked in a quick breath and added another. He exhaled sharply, the pain was subsiding and the pleasure from stretching gradually replaced it. He twisted and scissored his digits, he refused to moan, his voice sounded shamefully erotic in his ears. After a few minutes of pumping his fingers and gasping, he figured he was prepared well enough for the next stage. He clumsily coated the egg with lube and ushered the object to his lower half. The cool exterior of the egg kissed his hole. He breathed deeply, convincing himself again why he thought this was a good idea.

"One, two, three-"

He plunged it into himself, he went rigid, a whimper rolling off his lips. His dick jumped, precum already leaking off the side, threatening to stain the panties. He felt his vision whiteout as he pushed it past his g-spot, power currents surged from his hips down to the tips of his toes.

"Oh~."

He controlled his breathing as he drove the egg deeper, his fingers kept pushing until they hit the knuckle, his hole was very tight and sucked the egg in further down the cavity and settled higher than Kelly would have preferred. He paused letting out a labored wail, he can feel the object lodged deep into himself.

He grabbed the twist dial and thumbed at the knob, accidentally setting it to high. He shrieked as powerful vibrations punched his gut. Pleasure hit him like a train, all muscles taut and twitching, moaning between gasps. The pressure within his gut blew up like a ballon in a millisecond, it was building up fast. His member lay weeping on his abdomen, precum wetting the panty band and the top garter half. His eyes couldn't focus, everything was blotted with static. His eyes dilated and rolled into the back of his head, his pupils almost covered by his eyelids. He bit his tongue and kept his lips clamped, his wails still audible through his mouth.

"HA- o-off, OFF! NE-EED IT OFF!"

He huffs as his thumb stumbles with the knob, his vision blurry, and seems to have lost his sense of direction as he frantically tried to turn the knob with one hand. He cums with a scream, his body going stiff as he arches his back, the syrupy substance splattered all over his belly, the powerful release lead to Kelly breaking off the knob with his thumb. The vibrator was still going strong and brutally attacking his insides, he slammed his legs together to stunt the pleasure but it only seemed to worsen. He hardly noticed that he had broken the dial, now unable to use the knob, it was stuck on high. His body surged with pleasure as if being electrocuted, not even a minute has passed, and he wanted it out. He wheezed and choked on high-pitched moans, the vibrations were so violent that his ass began to ebb in pain.

"Sh-It-!"

He shoves the panties down his thighs, stopping as his calves, in a frenzied panic, freeing his prick from its elastic prison, bobbing with precum dripping from the head. He hikes a leg up on the mattress and holds his thigh in place with one hand. He rams his two long fingers into his hole, searching deep for the device, his legs shaking from stimulation. Sweat formed at his brow, running down his cheek bone, inhaling with quick breaths, moaning as his fingers desperately dug at his walls. He squints his eyes, his eyebrows slanted in a worried expression, his fingers reach the knuckle, yet they still can't get the egg. Every stroke of his fingers rub at his prostate, sending tremors to his thighs. He adds another finger to aid the other two, but with every surge of pleasure that burns in his gut, his strength is being sapped away. He could hear his heart beating in his ears, pared with a deafening ringing noise. No matter how hard he tried to retrieve the sinister object, his fingers could never reach high enough. He cums yet again, clenching down hard on his finger, white ropes are ejected onto the carpet. Usually the most he had ever came in a session was twice rarely three times, never going any farther due to easily tiring out. He already feels drained and squeezed dry, he doesn't know how long he can take this treatment. His legs were exhausted from the strain of the practically abusive pleasure rushing all over his body, the bruises on his ass stinging, his fingers weakly prodding up for the egg he knows he can't get out. The ominous weight in his gut returns, stirring hot within. He whines out a curse as he figures he can't stop the abuse, he throws his head back and lets out a pained cry. His blue eyes well up, pinks lips quivering. He won't be able to endure this for much longer. He has the shittiest luck.