*NOTE: This story does not seek to pass judgement whatsoever. There is a fine line where kink can evolve into abuse. This is a story about that fine line.
Eminem cursed as he got out of the limo. “Fucking paparazzi. Fucking award shows. Fucking everything.” He ran his hands down his shirt. He looked over at Dre who nudged him forward. Slowly he made his way down the red carpet, answering questions of the reporters, nodding in all the right places. Funny how being a rebel still means fitting between the lines. Running his hands down his face he walked through the front doors of whatever the hell building they were in this time. `Fuck they all run together,’ he sighed. The young girl led him and Dre and the four other large black men to their seats. He slumped down into his seat. He let out another sigh and Dre looked down at him. “Dude, think about it this way: this is research for future albums.”
Em laughed. “Good point, but fuck Dre, I hate these damn things. They’re all fucking rigged anyways.” Dre flicked him in the head and leaned over to talk to the man on the other side of Em. Continue reading