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Simon held up the long strings of pearls and grinned at me. “They’re just cultured, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many in a string before. You?” I held out my hands and let the Savior pool the cool pearls into my palms. They were beautiful, even if they weren’t naturally occurring.
“Only in plastic,” I smiled at him. Simon leaned comfortably against the doorway to the parlor and watched me with those big brown eyes. I raised an eyebrow at him. He was being cagey, which was actually pretty unusual for Simon around me. “Did you have plans for them? Or are you just showing off?”
Simon ducked his head and actually blushed before looking up at me again. “Do you think Kitty would like them?”
“Oh, definitely,” I said with a nod. “This kind of thing’s right up her alley.”
“I uh… I wanted to get her something nice. Surprise her, y’know?” He paused to fidget with the pearls, drawing them over his fingers and watching them.
“There’s something more here,” I murmured, “isn’t there?” You get a sixth sense about that kind of thing around here.
Simon was still blushing when he cleared his throat and nodded. “I hear you’re the parlor’s resident expert on knots.” I nodded for him to continue and he said, “Could you… um…”
I raised an eyebrow, getting an instant mental image of the tall man naked and tied in pearls. It wasn’t a bad look for him. “You want me to tie you up for Kitty to find?”
“I wish,” he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m scheduled for a supply run leaving this afternoon. I was more hoping you’d show me a few knots. And… um, maybe I could leave you for her to find.”
The silence stretched as we watched each other. It was an unusual request, one no other man in the Sanctuary would even dare to make, except maybe Mac. I shifted slowly from one foot to the other and murmured, “Kinda toeing the line here, aren’t you?”
“I’m not asking to fuck you,” he replied and his tone was short, a little embarrassed. “I know better than that. I’m asking to leave you as a present for Kitty. How is that cheating on Negan?”
I smiled, letting my lips curl playfully. “I like to be tied up, Simon. That’s how it risks being cheating.” His eyes widened and my teasing heart fluttered when I saw that his pupils were dilating in spite of himself. His face was too expressive to completely hide his reaction. “You can leave the pearls with me and I can have Rose tie me up, if you really want that.”
“That’d probably be better, I suppose,” he said past the gravel in his throat. “I would like some lessons in knots, though. Not that Kitty would let me tie her up, but I wouldn’t mind being prepared for tying myself.”
“Such a good boy scout.” I caught the pearls between my fingers and drew them out of Simon’s hands. His fingers closed suddenly on the other end and I stopped pulling to watch him. “Simon,” I whispered warningly. “That’s not an option.”
He leaned in close to me and I could feel his breath on my skin when he hissed, “Maybe I’m tired of being the boy scout.” He was intoxicating, magnetic, almost as primally charismatic as Negan and I swayed back from him to clear my head. He could see he was having an effect on me and his grin was a quick flash of white in the dimness. “I spend a lot of time following orders,” he whispered and I felt him tugging on the pearls, drawing me in. “I give my share, but only as the middleman, passing on the boss’s word. And then there’s Kitty. Constantly reminding me that I’m only around because she had a whim.” He put his free hand lightly on my hip and took a long moment to inhale near my ear. “When do I get to be in charge, Amy? When’s it my turn?”
I shivered hard, my eyes closed. I had forgotten he knew my real name, a secret only a few in the Sanctuary held. It was an intimacy only used by Negan and Mac and even then, neither said it often. Hearing it dropped me out of Bitch-space, back into the woman who tuned motorcycles for a living and favored bad boys in leather and denim. The woman who had never gotten married, never pledged faithfulness to anyone, who threw her freedom in the faces of those who would call her fickle, slut, greedy, trash.
I’ve always been a Bitch and proud of it.
My hands found the sides of Simon’s face and I dragged him down to my level, kissing him fiercely. He groaned low in his throat and his arms curled around my waist, half-lifting me against his hard chest. I could feel the rope of pearls tapping against the back of my thigh, heard them clatter when he pushed me up against the wall. I hooked a leg around his hip and gasped as his lips found their way down my jaw, along my neck to the hollow of my throat. “Wait,” I whimpered in his ear. “Simon, stop. Please.” Mac’s face flashed behind my lids and I tried to retreat, still trapped against the wall. “Please.”
He growled against my neck, then let me go and forced himself to take a few steps back. “Sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” We stood in the hallway, both breathing hard and wide-eyed. “Maybe I should just leave these with you,” Simon added in a low voice, holding out the pearls.
“Maybe,” I agreed and let him pool the strings into my hand again. I waited until he let go of the shimmering lengths before I closed my hand over it this time, then looked back into his face. I knew a mistake when I made it. Simon’s eyes were hungry and dark, following me when I stepped back toward the parlor. That hunger stirred an answering fire in my belly and I gritted my teeth. “Simon,” I whispered, “I’ll take care of the present and make sure she knows who it’s from. Could you make sure to assign someone else door duty for a while? This… can’t happen again.”
“No,” he said and I wondered briefly if he’d refuse to stay away. “I’ll put Arat on the roster in rotation with Joey and Tobias.” Simon put his hands up to his face and rubbed vigorously before running his hands back through his hair so it stood up more wildly. “I’ll come when Kitty calls, but I’ll leave you alone. I’m sorry about this.”
I nodded and swallowed the buzzy, hormone-fed rush that had my heart pounding and my panties wet. “Me, too. I like you, Simon. You’re a good man and I trust you. This was just…”
“Bad timing,” he supplied and I smiled.
“That works,” I said with a nod. “Maybe if you’re lucky, Kitty will take pictures.”
Those eyes flashed at me and I knew I’d pushed too hard. “Don’t fuck with me, Bitch. I am right on the fucking edge. How Mac copes being around all that pussy all day, I will never understand. I can’t even think straight around just one of you.” He shook his head and sighed. “I like you, too, Bitch. You’re smart and level-headed and you don’t take shit from anyone. Under other circumstances, I’d probably have asked for your number.”
“You’d have gotten it,” I grinned and we both relaxed a little. I could see the tension leaving Simon’s shoulders.
“Well, it’s not other circumstances,” he sighed. “It’s these circumstances. Thanks for the kiss.”
I forced myself not to add “or the pelvic grinding” and smiled. “I would say you’re welcome, but we both know I can’t welcome it again.” Simon nodded, then turned to walk back down the stairs, shoulders shrugged up so the collar of his jacket almost brushed his ears. I watched him for a moment, then slipped back into the parlor.
Negan’s hands closed on my hips when I lunged across the bed, aiming to land on the other side. He hauled me back to him with a low growl and I gasped when he brought my ass firmly against his crotch. I whimpered a little; I could feel his cock and I wanted nothing more than to surrender right now. But he wanted a fight.
I’d give him one.
I rolled and twisted in his grasp, planted one foot against his thigh and launched myself away. My hands reached the side of the bed, but Negan had me by the foot. He pulled me back and caught my wrist when I tried to push away from his shoulder. With both hands pinned above my head, Negan paused to study me, panting and his eyes glowing with hunger. “Such a bitch,” he murmured and leaned down to kiss me roughly.
“Just how you like me,” I gasped back and gloried in his raspy laughter.
“Fuck this,” Negan mumbles with frustration and tears my shorts open rather than unzipping them.
“Negan!” I shout at him indignantly. We’ve talked about this, how what little clothes I do fit, I can’t risk have being unusable anymore.
“Princess can fix the zipper,” Negan placates me and presses an apologetic kiss to my cheek. “And if she can’t do that, then I’ll tear apart every fucking department store from here to Washington D.C. looking for shorts for you, Rose.”
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Choosing Princess was easy. I knew exactly what kind of girl I wanted for Negan. Someone sweet, compliant, a good girl. I needed the kind of girl who could be the ying to my yang, to fuss and care for him in a way that I couldn’t. Afterall, I wasn’t ignorant. I knew that as much as Negan enjoyed being my submissive there was always going to be a part of him that needed to dominate in the bed as well as out of it.
Princess was working in the kitchen when I first noticed her and she didn’t catch my eye because she was an excellent cook it was because nothing was too much effort for her. She was always willing to go that extra mile and more than anything I liked the way she blushed whenever we spoke.
I tested her for several weeks before I made my decision. I needed to know she would be perfect. Submissive but not boring, loving but not jealous and more than anything she needed to know who was Queen.
When I was certain Princess was exactly what I was looking for I sent Fat Joey to extend an invitation to my room. She arrived promptly, her knock barely a whisper on my door. “Come in,” I called, fluffing my hair and lounging across my bed like a cat in the afternoon sun.
“You wanted to see me?”
I sliked off the bed, my negligee leaving little to the imagination, “make yourself comfortable.” Â
Princess perched on the edge of my sofa, her faded jeans at a contrast with the rest of the room. I wondered what she would look like in something prettier and I wondered how Negan would like her when I gave her to him. With a smile I popped the cork off a bottle of bubbly Negan had brought me.
“This is too much!” Princess protested as I handed her the glass.
“Nothing’s too much when you’re with me…” I replied, chinking my glass with hers and sitting besides her on the loveseat.
After that we talked for an hour or more, me asking her a web of questions and her giving me all the answers I’d been hoping for. “Do you know why I invited you here today?” I asked eventually.
Princess blushed, shaking her head.
“I’ve decided to take a lover and in return I’ve promised Negan the same. How would you feel if I asked you to join us up here in these apartments? To marry Negan, and to belong to us? Both of us...”
Mac held me against his chest as we watched the sun setting far over the treeline. He stroked his hand backwards over my forehead and I sighed, relaxing into him. After a second, he whispered, “Have you ever thought about kids?”
“The whole thing with Cherry and Rose got you scared?” I whispered back. He nodded a little and I could feel the tension in his chest. I knew he still felt guilty for his part in what had happened. “I was never really good with kids,” I went on, “and the world is such shit now. I don’t know if I’d want to try to raise a child in this world.”
“What would you do if… if…”
“I’d ask for help,” I said, taking the question away from him. “I don’t know what I’d do, ultimately, but I know I don’t have to do it alone.” Mac’s arms tightened around me and he rocked a little, his face buried in my hair.
The white sheets slipped down, displaying Negan’s ass for the world to see. But the whole world wasn’t there, just me. I was sitting on the floor, slipping on my stockings from last night, but I looked up just in time to see the morning light stream in, waking Negan up, making him stretch and wiggle and scratch his head. And I saw his ass, and I knew that I had to have it one day. All of it.
Sometimes Princess forgets I’m there. It stings but I completely understand. She had a rough life before this. I was there when the Saviors brought in her ex-boyfriend, saw her running, saw Kitty kill him. Sometimes when she looks at me, she only sees a man and that scares her. I hate that being around me could ever scare her, but when she remembers who I am, she relaxes. She’s like my sister and I could never let anything harm her.
“What do you call two jalapeños getting it on?” Negan asks me, his warm breath ghosting over the shell of my ear.
“I dunno, Negan, what do you call two jalapeños getting it on?” I’m not so much interested in his jokes so much as I am at that which is hot and insistent against my thigh.
“Fucking hot!” Negan tells me, and I actually laugh, even if the joke is lame. But that’s a Negan joke for you. Sexual in nature, using the f-word, and just a bad joke in general.
“Really, Negan?”
“What? You fucking laughed!”
“No more jokes, Negan, just fuck me.”
“Alright, you’d rather scream than laugh, I get it,” he pretends to pout.
Fondly, I stroke my hand over his stubble covered cheek. I love being with Negan because he can make me laugh, and who doesn’t like laughing? But his timing is just…awful. Before I can say something witty in retort, Negan shifts his position, and finally slides his dick in my pussy. And for the rest of the night, I am screaming my head off in pleasure rather than laughing. Luckily for me, Negan loves my screams as much as he loves my laugh.
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The door to the parlor opened and I looked up from the book I was reading over Mac’s shoulder. Negan stood there with a wicked set to his face. “Bitch,” he said and his voice made me shiver. “I need you.”
I knew his eyes. I lifted my chin defiantly. “So? I just got comfy.” Mac’s head craned around to stare at me. He hadn’t seen this side of playtime before.
Negan’s smile curled at the edges and he took a step forward. “Don’t make me chase you.”
“Like you could catch me, old man.” I bolted up from the chair, leaving Mac flailing with his paperback while Negan took off after me. It had been a long time since we’d played chase and I was already just as wet as Negan was hard.
I’m the parlor’s cuddle buddy. I love that about being here. Sex is great, D/s is fantastic, I love following orders.
Sometimes the darkness creeps in, too.
I didn’t want to look at Bitch. She knows too much. I didn’t want to share.
I didn’t want to bring this to Cherry or Rose, though I knew I could. I wanted to protect them from the darkness. All of them.
I went to Negan. I crept into his room on cat feet and slumped on the bed. I just waited there until he came home. And when he saw me, he didn’t say a thing. His boots came off. His arms were around me, his face pressed against my shoulder.
Negan slowly pushed my shirt up, pressing kisses along my ticklish hips until he reaches my belly. I watch him, run my fingers through his black hair that’s slick with product. With me, Negan knows his place, and he loves it. I love it, too, almost as much as I love the man himself.
“Look at that perfect ass,” Negan groaned as he peeled my thong down my thighs. “It’s as red as two juicy fucking cherries.”
I moan softly as Negan kneads the flesh of my ass, the stinging sensation from when he spanked me still present.
“Don’t you worry, Cherry-Pie, I’ve got the best fucking cure for a sore ass,” Negan chuckled behind me as he nudged my thighs apart. It didn’t take long to feel the familiar lapping of his tongue along my drenched slit. I pushed back into him with a whine, desperate to feel his tongue against my most tender areas.
Even though Negan loves to spank me when I ask him to, he certainly knows how to provide such lavish aftercare.
My hands were shaking. When had my hands shaken like this last? I couldn’t even remember. When had I been this nervous before? Ever? “Audition for Richmond.”
“What?” Bitch mumbled softly beside me and I felt her hand sliding over my belly then up my chest. I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but now that she was awake, I could see her trying to process what she’d heard. “What about Richie Rich?”
I laughed and pulled her fingers to my lips. “Richmond Ballet, silly. I was trying to think of a time I was this nervous and the only thing I can think of is my audition to dance in Richmond.”
“Why are you so nervous?” she murmured and propped her chin on my chest to regard my face with sleepy eyes.
I squirmed and looked away. I hadn’t told her about this yet and it was freaking me out more than a little. “Kitty asked me to dance. For her.”Â
Bitch pushed herself up into more alertness and then rocked to sit cross legged beside me in the bed. “I’ve been trying to remember some of my variations, but I’m not sure what music I could use or how. I can’t dance a capella.” Her hand remained in mine, her thumb slowly stroking over my knuckles. It was more comforting than I wanted to admit.
“At least for mine, I just need a steady drum beat,” Bitch said with a smile. “You could ask Negan for some CDs and a player. I’m sure they could find something.”
“I need space to practice,” I added. My stomach was starting to flutter and even though I had been ragingly hungry a few minutes ago, the idea of eating just nauseated me now. “I need shoes. And a dance belt. I haven’t been in shape for almost two years.” My hand twitched in Bitch’s and she sighed, squeezing.
“You’re getting worked up,” she whispered and snuggled against my chest, one hand cupped to my cheek. I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tight. I listened to her as she soothed me with her words, practical and measured, gentle and rational. I didn’t hear many of the actual words, but just hearing her talk was enough. “Can I help?” she finally murmured against my shoulder.
I considered the question. “If Negan can get me a CD player and music that I can plan a dance to, I’ll need space to practice, time to work out and get my muscles and feet back where they need to be, and someone to watch me for mistakes, help me catch bad habits.” I looked down into Bitch’s watching face. “How much do you know about ballet, Encyclopedia Jane?”
“Brown,” she corrected and her face lit up. “I did some reading, watched a few recorded shows and a few movies and documentaries. I think I’ve seen three different versions of the Nutcracker. With a few books to reference, I’m sure I could help, even if it’s just wrapping your feet and figuring out how to rub out your worst pains.” I watched as Bitch rolled over my legs and clambered out of the bed, seeking pencil and paper. “I should start a list for Negan and Simon.”
***
It took me almost two full months to get ready. Between strength training and actual dance practice, I felt like I barely had time to fall asleep before I was getting up again. Simon hit one of the nearby libraries and brought Bitch their entire dance collection, including DVDs and CDs of classical and modern dance music. Having her there steadied me, sometimes literally while I was trying to get back up en pointe. Men don’t usually dance en pointe, but I’d been stubborn about learning it. After she saw what that did to my feet and ankles, she begged me not to go that far, to just dance without torturing myself. I couldn’t tell her that was half of my love of dance, that I had chosen ballet because of the physical stress it put on the body of the dancer. Pain is pleasure. Experience enough pain, find true freedom.
***
I never got to dance Ali in Aldolphe Adam’s Le Corsaire. The Richmond Ballet never did produce the entire three-act ballet, but I did get to perform Conrad’s variation during a short program our ballet master choreographed to show the strengths of our male dancers one summer. And I practiced Ali’s pas de deux on my own. I love that damn part so much. Strength and passion and grace all spread across the stage in complicated jump-spin combinations. My favorite version of it was danced in 2009 by Carlos Acosta. I never could get his height, but it was still playing behind my eyelids as the Saviors cleared the work floor of people and obstructions.
When Kitty said jump, the response could only be how high.
They had built a decent knock-down stage with enough room for me to dance without running into anything or falling off the edge. The lights came down and Negan pointed the spotlight on me. Yes, he had found a set of spotlights from one of the abandoned school auditoriums.
One chair was positioned in the center of the audience space.
When Kitty clicked out to the chair in her stilettos, I discovered that I couldn’t breathe. Standing in the narrow wings of the stage, I curled down on myself and my chest spasmed. Bitch’s hand was on my back and I gasped breath back into myself. “You’ll be fine,” she whispered and kissed my neck. “You’ve got this. Even the tricky bits. You’ve got it.”
Finally, I managed to nod and stood up to kiss her. I turned back to the stage, took a deep breath and strode out to center stage, holding position while Negan turned the spotlights on me. I could see Kitty sitting out there, wrapped in satin and silk. Negan had found her the perfect dress to wear to the ballet and she was wearing it with a flare uniquely hers.
The music started when Bitch turned on the stereo system and I began.
My feet hit the wooden stage with thumps louder than on a sound-proofed stage. The music was tinny from a single pair of speakers instead of a full orchestra in the pit below. It was profoundly cold in the large, concrete-bricked room so my skin was steaming when I finally threw myself into the final presentation. I stayed there, breathing hard and steaming in the spotlights, waiting.
Slowly, a single pair of hands began to clap and Kitty called up to me, “Bravo. Beautifully done, Mac.” I stood up and bowed to her, my hands still professional, my posture still perfect. I waited and watched as she stood up and crossed the room, stepped onto the stage and smiled at me. “You are magnificent,” she whispered when she took my chin firmly in her hand and pulled my head down so she could kiss me. “Entirely wasted in the Saviors. Meet me in Negan’s room tonight. I have plans for that exquisite body.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I gasped. I still hadn’t caught my breath from the dance and mostly what I wanted was a hot bath and the biggest plate of spaghetti I could find. But orders really are my thing; I was already hard, which I need to admit is incredibly awkward and painful when wearing tights and a dance belt.
She kissed me again, then released me. “Two hours,” Kitty smiled. “Get yourself cleaned up and ready. But no sneaking anything on the side. You’re mine tonight.”
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“How much do you like this bra?” Negan asks me between desperate kisses.
“A lot,” I manage to answer him between gasps for much needed oxygen, “be gentle with my lingerie, Negan, but you don’t have to be gentle with me.”
Negan growls in answer, but he does as I asks as he unhooks my bra rather than tearing it down the front between the cups like he normally does. Once I’m completely naked, all gentleness is gone, and I’m ready for him. I can take it.
Every once in a while I’ll lounge on the couch in Negan’s office and curl up with a good book. Negan keeps a lot of the books found on scavenging missions in the numerous wall length shelves in his office, so if I ever finish a book I can grab another.
I know Hubby loves having me in here, though I imagine I can be a bit distracting for him. When he thinks I’m not paying attention, he’ll sneak looks at me, no doubt imagining himself taking me right on the couch. I don’t think it helps when I wear my thigh-high stockings and dresses, as I sometimes let my dress ride up so he can catch a glimpse of my bare thigh.
It’s my way of flirting with him. By the amount of times he’s wandered over to the office door to lock it before turning to me with a grin, I think he enjoys it.
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