Prized Possession {Negan}

Chap 7: Fighter{week}

“Come on, doll. I’ve got something to show you.”

You glare up at Negan from your cell floor. You’d gotten quite used to its damp, cold confinements, and your eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness. You looked forward to the pathetic dinners that would be slid in from either Joey, Dwight or Simon on occasion. Most of all, you loved that you didn’t need to see or talk to him. He holds his large hand out for you to take, but you refuse, instead pulling yourself up by the brick wall, to shaky legs. Negan hasn’t hurt you once since you arrived at the Sanctuary. At least, not physically, so you weren’t too afraid of him in that regard, although there was always the thought in the back of your mind that he was more than capable of it, if he’d decided to start at any time.

Negan leads the way down corridors and through to the heart of the compound where people are busy working and enjoying the safety of being part of a corrupt community. Speaking would quieten somewhat as you both pass, and workers would busy themselves twice as much. Negan pays no mind to them, strutting through the dinner hall with a whistle and up the metal stairs with Lucille balanced delicately on his shoulder, and you in tow. You figure you look a state, not having washed for however long it’s been since Rick left you here, you were still in the skimpy black dress and red lace panties soiled with Negan’s cum. Your red lipstick was probably long gone by now and any remaining mascara probably stained your cheeks. His whistling stops, as he starts speaking, making your skin crawl.

“Still giving me fuckin’ silent treatment, huh, sweetheart?” he asks. You don’t answer. You hadn’t said a word to him or anyone for that matter since Rick walked out. “You know, I’m starting to think my fuckin’ cock damaged your vocal chords when I fucked that pretty little face of yours.” He smirks down at you, his fingers lightly brushing your lips as you tense up to his touch. He laughs at your squirming and continues to lead the way.

Eventually, he slows down, coming to a stop outside a door. You don’t recognise it as his, but then again, all the corridors and doors look the same to you in this place. His large hand encases the doorknob and reveals the room slowly. It’s the room you used to get ready in that day.

“I have a proposition for ya, darlin’.” Negan speaks up. You glace around the room as you remember the feeling of the warm water from the shower on your skin, the coolness of the leather chair as you sat and did your make up, using the same products that were still scattered across the table. “Become my fifth wife and all this is yours.” He references to the room.

“Fifth wife?” You scoff, finally breaking your weeks long silence.

“Well fucking chew on my nuts and call me Daddy.” Negan smirks, turning to face you as he towers over you. His hand lightly wraps around your throat. “You’re not broken, I can use that dirty little mouth of yours again after all.” He laughs, letting go of your neck as he starts to pace around the room. “Unfortunately, I’m a wife down.” He tells you, casually.

“Why?” you can’t help yourself from asking, wanting to know exactly why he’s suddenly one wife short and if that was his doing.

“I didn’t fuckin’ kill her if that’s what you’re getting at.” Negan snaps, sounding insulted you would even suggest such a thing. “My wives have the best damn life here. It’s a fuckin’ privilege, darlin’.” He informs you. Although you’re not really sure what’s so great about being one of the many girls Negan uses to get his dick wet, even if the sex was great…which it wasn’t, of course. You keep reminding yourself that, hoping one day you’ll believe it. The fancy room with a hot shower and comfortable bed all seems like a bribe to you. You almost scoffed at Negan’s rule of consent. There was no way his four other wives actually liked him, they probably just cared about their lives enough to submit to him. But you weren’t so easy to win over.

“I’m not interested.” You tell him plainly, crossing your arms over your chest. Negan licks his bottom lip as he smiles a devilish grin.

“Are those double standards I can hear? Don’t mind being shared but hate sharing?” His eyes widen briefly, as if he knows he’s winding you up.

“I’m just not interested.” you repeat.

“Alright, suit yourself, I’m not missing you in that fuckin’ cell of yours.” He shrugs. You know the threat is designed to make you change your mind, but it wouldn’t. “I’m sure you fuckin’ love sitting in that hell hole, thinking about that room and what we did on my fuckin’ table. How your orgasm dripped down my fuckin’ cock as you screamed my name. How I fuckin’ used that pretty little mouth…” his thumb brushed your lips again, parting them slightly as you tasted his rough skin against your teeth, “and abused that soaking cunt…” his hand left your mouth as it trailed down your body, up your dress as his large hand cupped your entire centre in his grasp. You gasp, the intimate gesture making goosebumps erupt all over your body. A smirk dances between Negan’s neat salt and pepper beard, and you can tell he knows he’s worked you up.

“I don’t want to be your wife.” you repeat, “but I do want to be a fighter.” you try to compromise. Negan’s hand withdraws from between your legs as he smirks at you, a small cold chuckle bleeding past his lips as his hazel eyes look you up and down.

“you?”

“I wasn’t just a pretty little trophy for Rick. I was one of his best fighters. And I can be one of yours too.” You tilt your head to the side as you wait for his response.

“Oh sweetheart, I find that fuckin’ hard to believe. One hint of dominance and you’re on your fucking knees with a dripping wet cunt.” You glare at him, hating that’s how he sees you. “You know what? Fine. You can come on this afternoon’s run. If you survive, I’ll consider making you a fighter.” He agrees. He licks his teeth as he stands back, staring at you some more. His hands pull on the hem of your dress, lifting it over your head. You don’t move, wondering where he’s taking this. He throws the clothing on the floor, leaving you stood in the same red thong he’s seen you in already. The callus fingertips on his one uncovered hand reaches to grab one of your nipples, pulling on it until it’s plump and reddened. He smiles at the sight, his hazel eyes flickering to your face. “Baby doll I would much rather you safe, in here as my little fuckin’ play thing, but seeing as you insist….” his hand trails up from your breast, behind your head as he takes a fist full of hair, pulling backwards so your looking up at him. “Who are you?” He whispers, harshly. You swallow, already hating the words you’re about to speak. You make sure you maintain eye contact with him. Not afraid to look at him, unlike most people.

“I am Negan.” You tell him through gritted teeth.