"Strip."
Michonne balks at such a request. Is he serious?
"I'm not going to ask you again."
Michonne takes a deep breath, and unknots the bindings of her corset. Once her corset falls to the floor, her ribs and chest expands with air. She shudders in a breath as her skirt falls to the floor, pooling at her feet like a red sea. She stands there, the panties a last remnant of her dignity.
"Those too."
She grits her teeth and shimmies out of her panties, the cold air making her inner core shiver.
"I always imagined you like this," Philip breathes out, circling over her, hands ghosting over every battle scar, every bruise and cut that mars her once perfect skin.
"Only, to see you this vulnerable, this submissive. It's a whole different experience."
"You make me sick," Michonne bites out, gasping when his hands cup her sex.
"How long?"
"What?"
"How long has it's been since someone pleasured you?"
Too long, she thinks, but won't give him the satisfaction of knowing that detail. She bites her lip when his thumb scrapes against her clitoris.
"I asked you a question. I hate repeating myself, dear."
The thumb swirls and caresses her, making her legs shake.
"A while," she yelps out. The Governor chuckles.
"I know."
His hand leaves her.
"I could do it, you know." He begins, "torture you, beat you, kill you. But I'm not going to do any of those things. Instead, I want to find every weakness you have and exploit it."
His hand latches on to her breast, the thumb scraping against the nipple.
"I'll make you come. And I'll make you break." The hand shoots up to wrap around her throat, squeezing gently. He smiles a warm smile at her, but Michonne feels turmoil in her gut, fear racing through her frame.
"I won't let you," her voice raises an octave when his hand is replaced with his lips, his teeth softly tugging at her flesh. His lips latch on to the spot between her neck and shoulder, sucking and licking that spot until it bruised a deep purple and Michonne's struggling to hold on to her sanity.
Stay strong, Michonne. Don't give him what he wants, she tells herself, biting her lip. She won't give him the satisfaction of seeing her feel pleasure, she won't give in to her bodily needs. She won't…
Philip puts her breast in his mouth, tongue swirling and trapping her nipple. He hums a soft tune while stroking her folds. He hums an obscure tune that vibrates across her flesh; she bites back her moans.
"Sing for me, Michonne. Your friends' lives depend on it."
When his teeth scrape over her nipple she moans softly.
"Beautiful." He whispers, his fingers dipping inside of her and stroking her inner walls.
Her legs buckle; she fights to stand upright, but the pleasure is weakening her. His movements are cold, calculated, and borderline sadistic as he drinks in her soft moans and whimpers like fine wine. When his fingers crook and brush against her aching spot, he smirks against her flesh when she draws in a shuddering breath and groans out,
"I hate you…"
His fingers move faster as he suckles her other breast, his eyes watching her fall apart. She's close to her climax, and he wants her to be in the moment and know who's getting her there.
"Look at me." He commands.
Spiteful eyes lock onto his and he smirks.
"Why," she grits out, "won't you let me escape? Why do you insist on reminding me of my torture?"
"Payment for mine." He breathes against her lips. His good eye locks on to hers as she reaches a high-pitched moan and her walls clench his fingers in a vice grip. She takes a deep breath, coming down from her sexual high, never losing eye contact with him. He withdraws his fingers, licks them clean, and smears the residue on her cheek.
"I wish we could continue our little…experiment, but we need to retire for the night; I have an important event I need to prepare for. After that, we'll play some more until I make you crack."
He shackles her foot to his bed and lies down, taking her with him. As her sweaty body molds against his, he holds her close, chuckling.
This is only the beginning.