Break Me |✧Negan 🍯

4• The camera? What camera?!

Holy mother of an ostrich!

Negan, the furious bastard wrapped my poor, poor ponytail I forgot I made straight around his wrist...
And spanked me with that fucking bat.

"This is what happens-." He bellowed. One spank.
Christ it hurt.
My ass unwillingly gave it's blood.
And he started dragging me away as my scalp seared and I yodelled in protest.

"When you're a bad—." He spanked me all the way. I heard my jeans cry with their little rips, wood slapping flesh.

He was dragging me over to the RV. No, no, no, no.

"Bad!" Three spanks. Fuck please stop. His men were laughing their little balls off as I scrambled like Scooby Doo.

"Bad!" Four spanks. I tried to shield my stinging cheeks. But the way he was slinging me forward made them fly out in the instinct to balance.

My arms were useless. I fell anyway.

The last spank was cruel as cholera. Little sparks danced in my eyes, dancing dancing dancing as I yowled and screamed and clawed at the dirt.

I had a feeling he was being gentle, too.

"—Girl!" He breathed with a furious sigh. "Takin' it like a champ, Holly!"

I was thankful he softened his last blow, using her ugly face to prod my tender backside.
The Savior's were delighted. And I was afraid if he left me...shit, I'd be hot dinner to these scum bags.

"Honey..." I gasped through a mouthful of moss, "my names Honey, you big ape."

"What the fuck ever. You're comin' with me, spit-fire." Negan with a exasperated grunt, slung me over his shoulder.

I dangled limp and lifeless. Panting. Gasping. Poking my bum. Ugh, I felt like some tender chicken thigh marinated in a stew of agony.
Not to mention how fucking humiliating it was when his chimps hooted and hollered.

Hang on...
I froze brick solid. What was he actually going to do to me?
It's like his gnomes knew something I seriously didn't.

"Let's see how tough you really fuckin' are, Helen." The boss whispered.
I think he sensed my fear.
He drank it. Churned it into a souffle he snaffled down.

And as my legs dangled and my head pounded, silently pissed his hand was a fraction too high on my iron-gripped thigh, I rolled my eyes as Baseball addressed the troops in his melodramatic holler, "fall-out, assholes. Go wash your cracks or massage each others balls."

I watched through a truck window while his paw stole a cheeky squeeze that made me punch his back. "Watch this shit, Heather."

Big boss aimed Lucille like she was a loaded shotgun.
The cowards kneeled again into little puddles of servitude.

"But you," he pointed to Richard, darting forward like a fencer.

"You, you, you, you, you, you," he pointed viciously at the parade of grim, deathly-silent faces that drained of all colour.

"And fuckin' you," Negan pointed to the rake thin man with a terrible, throaty growl.
Oh, I remembered him. The rib-rattler. The dick who beat me with the stick.

Stick-mans blue-tinted lips puckered like his ring-piece as he gripped his khaki coat hood and pointed to his own chest.

He shat himself. Or looked like he did.
That made me giggle. Which made Negan's hand grope my fleshly thigh in a way that made me quiver.