Turn About is Fair Play

The Story

"I didn't expect you to come to me so soon after hearing my requirements," the voice spoke softly behind the kneeling man. His head was bowed and his hands were clasped behind his back though no binding held them there.

"I couldn't stay away," Negan's deep voice held a hint of a smile within it. The riding crop slapped his open palms and he flinched.

"I don't remember asking you to speak, slave," the voice reprimanded him sharply. He winced but didn't make a sound.

"Remove that silly jacket, darling. It's awful warm here, and I want to see those shoulders. I hope you've been working out. Answer."

"As mistress recommended, yes," Negan answered obediently, removing the jacket slowly, being sure to flex his shoulders and arms as he did so, his pride swelling at the thought of the leather-clad woman admiring his body. He received a slap between the shoulder blades in response, the riding crop hitting squarely on his spine. He didn't dare to move without the woman's permission as she did so.

"I'm so proud of you for remembering not to wear anything under the jacket, Negan. That deserves a reward, don't you agree?" The woman stood before her bowed visitor with only her stocking feet visible to the bowed man's eyes. She'd painted her toenails today, the blood red polish glistening in the dim light of the room, his favorite color.

"If mistress deems me worthy of reward, her slave is happy to receive it," Negan's voice was quiet but the words sent a ripple of pleasure down the woman's back. She loved hearing him speak. His voice was a natural aphrodisiac to her and had been since they first met.

**

Heather had lived through the apocalypse, same as Negan. She'd been from northern Florida when the first case hit and people began dying. She, along with her brother and cousin, fled to Georgia where she had heard of people living together without any cases of the zombie-infecting disease present only to find they were horribly wrong. She was the only one left of her family when Negan found her and offered sanctuary. His eyes had sparkled with interest when she had been cleaned up and he offered her a place among his wives. He was even more intrigued when she turned him down.

Heather chose, instead, to work among the workers of the group, sorting through scavenged clothing and repairing those that needed it. Negan kept his eye on her, sending more and more of his personal clothing (and those of his wives) to the woman until she became his personal seamstress.

Two years she lived like that until, one day, he came upon her alone in a corridor. She had been on one of her few breaks for the day and was sitting quietly in thought. A hand on her shoulder startled her out of her revere but was calmed when she saw the bristled face of the leader. He offered again to sleep with her, at least.

"It's considered an honor around here," he had tried to persuade her but she shook her head.

"Negan, I'm not a conventional woman when it comes to sexual pleasure. If I slept with you, it would be because YOU earned it, not the other way around," she had answered. There was no disrespect in her voice, the statement was made as though she was talking about the sky being blue but Negan went through a series of reactions before smiling at her and walking away.

He'd been pissed at first. Then slightly confused and intrigued how a woman of low rank in his group thought so highly of herself. He was also a little confused. The words weren't spoken in any seductive manner in the least but his excitement was stirred to the point he ended up having sex with the first wife he came upon. He even came at an almost embarrassing speed, thinking of the quiet defiance in Heather's eyes as she spoke those words to him.