This is the first chapter to a three-part story I wrote with Thematsaidwelcome and Nyese3529 called "Novelty Indulgences" You can find the other chapters for this story under the author: We'reTheOnesWhoWrite

"Beginner?"

"Sorry?" Rick raised a puzzled brow at the woman beside him. Her face-full of makeup was so over the top it could only be rivaled by her hot pink hair and her outfit, or lack thereof, which looked like it was made from strips of black duct tape.

"You a beginner? She repeated a little louder with a smile on her cartoonish magenta lips, gesturing to the arrangement on the table draped in a lush black fabric and skirted with a big fuchsia bow. There was a dark and mysterious but playful vibe to her layout. The array of leather whips with heavy glass handles, fuzzy cuffs and chrome chains, sleek silver vibrators and other adult toys were elegantly displayed. "New to the life? Don't be shy." She sanctioned him and coaxed him over with a tilt of her head before he could answer.

"No ma'am." Rick chuckled openly at the implication, his brow knit in a sexy questioning expression. "I'm on duty." He rested his hands on his gun belt, exuding authority with his lean, muscled frame. His words reminded him to scan the large, bustling annex of the convention center. He did a once over with his sharp blue eyes for any suspicious characters or dangerous elements amid the half naked attendees of the Adult Novelty Expo.

"How long you been married?" She asked, throwing a casual chin to his wedding ring as she fussed over the placement of her goods.

"Twelve amazin' years." He smiled genuinely, thinking about the approaching end of this shift. He was ready to go home and see his beautiful wife and kids.

"What's your wife do?"

"Kick-ass lawyer and a even better mom." he said proudly, looking out over the crowd.

"How many kids?" the woman asked him, pegging him as the quintessential family man, judging from the way he brightened talking about his domestic life. She'd been at her station all day and was just as ready to go home to her brood as Rick was, but she'd love to go home having sold all her merchandise.

Rick pulled his phone from his pocket and displayed his lock screen in answer to her question. A snapshot of Michonne, Carl, Andre and Judith at the county fair left the woman 'awwing' sincerely at his picture perfect family. "How old is baby girl? Look at those cheeks! She's adorable."

"Sixteen months."

The woman gasped, "No way! And your wife has that figure?! Holy cow! She's sexy as hell." She complimented his wife honestly and marked him as an easy sell. The uniform told her that he liked control and from the way he talked about his wife, she knew the love was there. She'd been thinking, if she was his wife, she'd be all over him all the time. Now that she saw his wife glowing in her crop top and denim skirt, she recognized that he was just as lucky as his missus. She felt a real obligation to add a little spice to their sex life. "No wonder you're eyeing my table."

"I wasn't ... I was just ..." Rick stammered on another dutiful survey of the area.

"Look, Deputy Grimes," she interrupted him, reading his name etched in gold on his name tag. She introduced herself, extending her hand for an official greeting. "I'm Crystal by the way." Rick looked around, unsure of the appropriateness of taking her hand but southern chivalry won out and he gave her a respectful handshake. "Mrs. Grimes is working hard being a kick-ass lawyer, giving you twelve amazing years of marriage and three beautiful kids - all while still maintaining that waist. She deserves some extra special attention."

"We don't need all'a this extra stuff." Dismissing the ridiculous idea with a wave, he promised, "I handle thangs just fine on my own." He pulled his hand diagonally over his graying stubble with a candid cockiness that made the woman bite her lip, knowing he was telling the absolute truth.

"Guys always think this is about compensating where they're lacking." she shrugged. "It's not. This is just... the 'salt on steak', brings out more of the flavor. The meat is still the main attraction." Crystal widened her eyes suggestively, pulling the corner of her mouth into a conspiratorial smile. "I'm married." she said, establishing common ground and reminding herself of that fact in his striking presence. "I'm a mom. That's why I started this line. Because women work hard and we deserve every ounce of pleasure." she explained. "Look, I have no doubt you keep Mrs. Grimes more than satisfied in the bedroom, deputy. But if you could take it to another level for her, why wouldn't you?"

...

The sun was setting when Rick pulled into the garage of their large mission style bungalow next to his wife's car. He grabbed his purchase from the passenger seat, hidden in a gift bag with the same color scheme as the table he'd bought it from. He'd talked to Crystal for a while as she packed up her booth about the extraordinary intimacy that could be derived from a bit of bondage and dom/sub play. She gave him some practical advice and he felt confident in his ability to please his wife in this way.

He entered the mud room off the kitchen. He pulled off his bomber jacket and hung it on the hook and placed his boots neatly underneath, wondering at the unusual quiet in his house.

Normally, the thunderous charge of six little feet would rush him. His sons' excited voices vying to be acknowledged and his daughter's set of expressive eyes, that matched Michonne's, peering up at him under bronze curls. Her little chubby hands reaching up silently to hitch a ride on his hip. Rick was somewhat disappointed that his welcome wagon was missing but he was also relieved that little nosy people were not about to ask him what he had in the bag.

"Chonne!" he called to his wife as he made his way through the living room, headed toward the stairs to continue his search for her before he was interrupted by an obnoxious bump against his leg. He was appreciative of the reception from their smoke-colored cat, Misty. She officially belonged to his wife, but Michonne caught Rick spoiling the demanding feline more than he'd ever admit. "Hey." he stooped to pick up the purring cat and cradled her to his chest, scratching under her chin. He spoke into the top of her soft little head, "Where's mommy?"

"Right here. Waiting for daddy." Michonne appeared, answering him from the top of the staircase.

"There you are." Rick glanced up to his wife, immediately donning a smile at her presence and the sound of her voice but his eyes dropped right back to the golden pair of eyes looking up at him from his arms. "Kids in trouble?" he asked his wife, guessing at their absence, assuming she'd banished them to their rooms.

"Took them to my mom's." She answered him taking in the dark crown of his head as he nodded to whisper to the kitty. She loved that view of him. It was the view she got when he buried his face in the bowl of sugar between her legs and stayed there until he was satisfied with the pitch of her screams. He stood there, biceps noticeably flexed in his khaki uniform shirt, paying Misty more attention than Michonne could afford. She enviously shot to steal him back, "So, right now, you're stroking the wrong pussy."

He chuckled at first and it took him a moment to register her naughty words. He raised his eyes to her again, picking up on the dreamy tone of her voice and recognized the look on her face. He undid his gun belt with one hand and hung it over the back of the couch beside him, never taking his eyes off his woman.

Letting his eyes pour over her as she leaned her hip against the rich wood newel at the stair's top landing, he instantly sobered as her beauty fell upon him like a sensorial avalanche. The impact took his breath away. Her hair was left loose, framing her face with large brown curls. The M pendant at her neck caught the dimmed lights around them but paled in comparison to the glimmer of her ebony skin pampered with peach scented coconut oil. The slip she wore was rose gold satin. Dainty cream lace, nearly transparent, hugged at her thighs and dressed the overflowing bounty of her breasts.

Her husband dropped his head for a second, intending to stifle the predatory instinct she'd sparked just that quickly. It didn't work. She was still perched on a slippery slope, his hungry hands waiting to grab her on her first false move ... just as she'd planned.

It was not her favorite thing for him to work the weekends, though, with his profession it was unavoidable. But today the beat he patrolled was full of horny porn stars. She was happy that he made it home unscathed by all the tits and ass strutting around him all day. Her being bad was his reward for being good and she knew exactly how to pull his trigger. Rick tried again to compose himself, pushing back his silky locks. He tilted his head, straining his neck with that signature twitch of aggression on a deep sigh.

"Really?" he asked her, nearly amused at her provocation. Keeping his head on a bowed lean, he raised only his electric blues.

The voltage of his challenging stare swept through her core like a taser's charge and she felt the involuntary contraction of her sex as her body silently clamored for his touch. Pulling her pouty lips to the side, she shrugged to let him decide who he'd prefer to have purring in his arms: her or the cat. Rick dropped Misty on the couch too and Michonne scoffed in victory when the four-legged fur ball meowed in protest.

He knew that skinny nude stiletto heel added inches to her height and would bring her lips, painted in a red wine tint, closer to his own once he stood face to face with her. Willing himself to keep his cool a little while longer until the real games began, he stalked his way slowly up the staircase.

Michonne turned, leaning forward and rested her forearms on the railing. Her plump backside elevated past the dip of her back and she looked to him, running the tip of her tongue across the plumpness of her top lip, she inquired and nodded to the package in his hand, "What's in the bag?" Looking over one shoulder then rolling her neck to look over the other. She followed his towering frame as he passed behind her and swiped his heavy hand across her splendid endowment of ass.

"I'll show you." He gestured to their bedroom with a slant of his head, indicating for her to lead the way. She took his free hand in both of hers retreating past the threshold, her teeth clamping to her bottom lip in anticipation.

The sun streamed into the room on a diagonal through the separations in the heavy neutral drapes. The last of the day's light fell across the heavy pale gold duvet between them where Michonne laid on her belly, ankles crossed and heels in the air and Rick stood facing her from the other side of the large square canopy bed. He pulled out his erotic acquisitions for his wife's perusal. A velvet blindfold, black satin wrist and ankle restraints, leather flogger, padded collar and chain link leash - all in black, made up the starter kit.

This is all about trust, Crystal had told him. Don't push her. But if she really trusts you, she'll try it at least once, no matter how nervous she might be about it. And if you do it right, she'll be begging for it. It'll be the end of life as you know it.

Michonne remained quiet until the bag was empty. Rick watched her silently as she hooked the O-ring of the collar on her index finger. She lifted it from the bed, feeling out the cushioning of its underside, wrapped in soft satin. She looked up at him with her spice-colored eyes and then let them fall slowly back to the items on the bed. He had no idea what she was thinking, which was unusual. He shifted on his feet, ready to assure her that this wasn't about him being bored with her and that he wouldn't be upset if she said no. He reached out and tipped her chin upward, gathering her gaze back to the turquoise love in his eyes, "Michonne..."

"Okay." She softly agreed, catching him off guard. She moved to her hands and knees, crawling in front of him as a crooked smile of a glorious conquest threatened to break over his face. Michonne batted her lashes sleepily and he bent forward to kiss her. She slipped the tip of her tongue between his lips on an otherwise chaste kiss. Rising from her hands to pull his shirt out of his pants and release his buttons, she asked, "How do you want me?"

The rush of blood to his groin was so intense he had to tip his head back to the ceiling, holding tight to the sides of her face, as he contemplated the answer to that. On the way home, he had thought about letting her create the scene. But her confident words were betrayed by her dark begging eyes. He could see that look was familiar. She was begging to submit, begging him to take control of her body. It was what they did anyway, now that he thought about it. Adding toys to their experience really would be just the salt on steak. "How do I want you?" he repeated, now burning through her with a devilish grin. His top lip quivered and his rustic drawl hung thick on his answer. A single word, "Ruined."

...

They agreed to a safe word and worked together, on opposite sides of the king size bed to strip it down to its crisp top sheet. With a blank canvas, Rick ordered his wife to the center of the bed. And she went there, in the muted light of the room. She sat with her heels pulled up to the backs of her thighs. Leaning on her hip, bracing herself on her arm with her palm flat against the mattress, she watched Rick reach for the restraints they'd moved to the nightstand. Her stomach seemed to flutter when he unfurled the straps of shiny fabric.

"Lie back." he said without any overture and she did, her hands folded neatly over her abdomen. "Arms over your head." He made loops for both of her wrists with the soft material and attached the length of surplus to the octagonal shapes in the bed frame's headboard. With her body stretched, he could see the quickened rise and fall of her chest through shallow breaths. "You good?" he asked her, ready to loosen the knots on her word.

"Yes." Michonne answered on a skittish chuckle. "It's just ... it's like our first time." she spoke shyly, studying the ceiling fan above her, instead of looking at Rick busy above her head. "Nerves... that's all."

"You weren't nervous our first time." He remembered with a sentimental smile.

"I may have been somewhat tipsy." she confessed. "It was the only way I could tell you how I felt."

"I didn't know that. I feel kinda like a creep, now."

"Why? You were a real gentleman and I got everything I wanted." She finally took him in and they exchanged knowing looks.

"I got you tonight, too." He promised her, before everything went black behind the blindfold he slipped over her head. His voice seemed amplified and deeper with the loss of her sight and she unconsciously arched her back when his hand drifted over her neck and grazed her breasts as he moved away from her. "I won't promise to be a gentleman, but you're still gonna get ev'rythang you want.

Michonne smiled as desire pooled in the pit of her stomach at his brash guarantee. She could hear him undressing and she started to doubt the blindfold because she loved to see him shed his clothes for her. Most nights he came home to her working with her laptop on her thighs and no matter what she was in the middle of typing she stopped to watch him. His shoulder blades trundled with the muscles in his strong back as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. His forearms flexing below his well-defined abs while he removed his belt and unbuttoned his pants. She turned her head to his direction, though she was blind to his movements. She swore she could feel an energy come off of him, irradiated, almost nuclear, and her skin tingled from the heat.

She felt the bed sink as he climbed over her. She felt the warmth of his growing erection on her legs and she moved to spread her legs for him but he held her knees together. "Mm mnh. Not yet." Rick wanted to keep her on the edge of frenzy as long as he could. He ran his hands over the form fitting negligee, tortuously slow, from her thighs to her hips. He stopped at the curve of her waist, squeezing her petite form in his hulking hands, she twisted restlessly under his touch. His thumbs mirrored each other rubbing circles over her mound as he clutched to her tightly.

His hands began to travel again, up her heaving torso and he finally pushed his palms to cup her breasts firmly then cover them completely and squeeze, then release them with a soft caress. Rick saw her nipples budding like stems in spring time and slipped the straps off her shoulders, one then the other, and passed a finger under the lace at her breast. Goosebumps sprouted along the trail he left over her skin. He looked up at her lips parted for air, though she barely took a breath. He looked up at her secured fingers, intertwined, one hand gripping the other like a prayer for more.

She threw her hips forward and jerked them back. "Rick..."

"Shhh..." he covered her mouth with his, reminding her not to speak unless spoken to like he'd stipulated before they began.

Pulling the elastic lace of her neckline down to expose her breasts,he bit his lip as he watched them spill out and float in front of him. He moved his head slowly side to side to tease her dark peaks with his pulpy pink lips. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and finally gave her what he knew she wanted there. Setting his open mouth over her breast, he suckled that fleshy part of her hard, long and slow. She whimpered at the feeling, mindlessly tugging at the silky cuffs keeping her hands out of his hair, where they would surely be by now.

When he suggested they start with the two most basic items from his new bag of tricks, she concurred, thinking that removing her sense of sight and touch would not be such a radical change. She was wrong. Not being able to touch him, not being able to participate or please him back was a remarkable difference and she loved it and hated it at the same time. The opposing gut reactions made her feel confused, flushed and dizzy. She felt like she was falling, ascending, spinning in place as he continued ravaging her breasts and roughly hiked up the bottom hem of her attire. The thin garment she wore creased above her navel as he moved further down her body.

"How should I stroke this little pussy?" he rasped, his hot breath against her belly had her panting already. She felt like the slip knot cinching her wrists, where the slightest pull would unravel her and leave her in a limp chaotic state. "Hmm?" Rick prodded for an answer, with her thickset thigh in the vice of his grip.

She tried hard to return her brain to a working order but the crushing sense of craving weighed down her tongue.

"How should I stroke this pretty little pussy, Michonne?" he asked her again, now close enough to brush the glistening thatch of curls at the joining of her thighs with the whiskers covering his jaw. "Like this?" He brought a digit to his mouth, coating it with his saliva and slipped it past her slit.

Michonne moaned at the sensation of his big knuckle and long finger invading the softest part of her. Her jaw dropped, shaping her lips into an oval on a long gasp. He moved in and out, pulling the pad of his up-curved finger tensely over her g-spot. A drop of her wet readiness trickled slowly down the back of Rick's finger. When he saw that taste of her taunting him, he couldn't bear to lose a single drop to the threads of white Egyptian cotton serving as his plate.

"Answer me, like a good girl." he gruffly called to her from below as he removed his hand from between her thighs and ran the back of his finger over his tongue.

The loss of that stimulation gave her a chance to focus. "Okay." Michonne's voice offered on a weak retort. "Okay."

"Okay? Okay what?" Rick wondered softly at the unsuitable answer to his question. When she repeated the same breathless word, lifting her swooning head to see him and forgetting her blindfold, he smirked. "I said how should I stroke this thang. 'Okay' ain't no answer. You payin' attention?" he teased her drunken behavior.

Before she could try again, he captured that tricky congregation of nerves above her opening with his lips. He snarled, raking his teeth over that bit of her and she let out a heavenly whine. He went back again sweeping her clit into his mouth, then retreating to her opening to lap at the reward of her body's reaction. Michonne was now in a place fracturing from reality.

She was hard-pressed to recall how she'd even come to be in this state, in this tizzy, in these restraints, in the dark - and deeper than the pitch darkness making her blind. She was so sunken in the moment the darkness was light all around her, warm but blinding in itself. She winced at his performance as she felt him inveigle swarming embers of pleasure to centralize at her tingling nub. The spot that only the two of them had ever mastered the mechanics of.

She literally tasted like salted sugar and Rick went in for the kill, replacing his tongue with the rapid pressure of his thumb. She squealed desperately in response. "That ain't a answer either." he said after a narrow lick through her folds. "Imma stroke it like this."

Rick released his tongue to drive into her center. Pushing her thighs apart with both hands, he poked and wriggled and stirred and flicked his magical tongue inside her, pushing his face into her pussy like he was being barred from going home. Michonne's rampant panting reached a fevered pitch as she dug her heels into the mattress. She bucked so wildly, Rick only had to hold on to the cakes of her ass, giving her license to catch her climax any way she saw fit.

"Yeah..." he growled, "fuck daddy's face." He instructed her, feeling the approaching tidal wave. "God, You taste so good... Tha's right… Cum on my tongue, Michonne... "

And she did. Flaming as she fell, Michonne reached another astral plane like a comet on a journey a million light years long.

"You're such a good girl, baby. You did so good. I love you so much." Rick praised the teacher's pet and chased her down as her orgasm diminished, covering her soft quaking body with his own. He mused at the craft of her cheeks, the shape of her lips, and the lines of her neck. Without the distraction of her bewitching eyes his focus settled on the subtle slope of her nose and he nuzzled over it tenderly with his own. She felt his presence near her face and craned her neck to finesse his lips with a heart-shaped kissed that her husband quickly turned to a frantic tussle.

The band of black around her eyes, made her expressions more difficult to read which, in turn, made Rick more eager to please. He was rock hard and leaking his lust across the rise and fall of her belly, animated by her deep struggling breaths. He took himself, heavy in his hand and set up for conquest firm against her still slippery entrance. The immediate pleasure derived from the tightness of her heaven pushed a faithful "fuck' off his weary tongue, reviving the anatomical warrior.

Rick mumbled a dusting of profanities up and down her neck as he sucked and bit at her addictive skin. He went about ramming repeatedly past her inner walls, swollen with desire and his cock was drenched with her dewy indulgence. He held on to her, resting on his elbow. One hand snatched at the scruff of her neck and his other calloused mitt was at the back of her knee, pressing her thigh to her ribs. He was deeper than heartache and harder than heartbreak when his lady began to sing.

"Oh, Rick!" he startled a scratchy testimony of the waste he laid from her chest. She hissed as the head of his cock demolished her gripping canal. She made her own religion and rearranged the trinity calling his name, "Rick, Jesus… Oh, God!"

He eased up a little, not wanting to make her use her safe word on their first try at this. He'd promised her if it was too much, he'd stop. But the strain in his balls told him, he was at a point of no return. He was lucid enough to curtail the knock against her smaller frame, fully aware that, once he started cumming, his dick would operate with a mind of its own.

The thought of losing control and splashing his seed thick over the wreckage of her walls made it a reality. Michonne let go of a full-throated scream in feedback to his final thrusts as they connected with the dead end inside her.

Rick continued to rock against her effortlessly. He reached up to take her blindfold off her eyes, sweeping her long hair to the side as he pulled it away. The former sun-streaked room was now dark as if he'd set the sun with the power of his grind. Though her eyes were uncovered, she closed them, fatigued, as he pulled at her smooth restraints. Her husband caught her lifeless limbs, kissing at her wrists and knuckles as he untied her gently.

Rick was a puppeteer. He'd directed the show. Every movement was his design but the entire scene was brought to life only by his beautiful wife… now she laid wrecked in his arms. He pulled her strings and then left her collapsed like a wooden marionette.

They laid there in silence for a moment until Rick spoke up from his spot in the crook of her neck, "You okay?"

The question seemed insufficient no matter what angle Michonne came at it. She just sighed through a chuckle and splayed her fingers across his scalp, giving him a satisfied moan instead of an answer.

"Did I keep my promise to take care'a you?"

She threw her leg over his body and affirmed, "Thoroughly ruined."