Bringing in day 4 is the linguistically talented FikFreak who is going to tie you up and pin you down with her potent smut and delicious descriptive storytelling.

Please be sure to check out her other works on her FF page.

-We're The Ones Who Write

Bound

"Rick can you please hand me the manila folder from my briefcase? It's the one labeled Governor."

"Hm?"

"I need the manila folder in my bag, can you hand it to me please, honey?"

"Ok. Hold on." With my eyes still on the television I reach over to her side of the bed and grab her briefcase. Absentmindedly, not even looking in the bag, I begin to rifle through, waiting on my fingers to come across the stiff feeling of a folder. Instead, my hand brushes across a box, laid on top of a stack of a few folders. Drawing my attention away from the movie I'm watching, I instantly lift the package.

It's a medium sized, dark orange, rectangular shaped box, with the word 'Hermes' on the top in black letters. At first this doesn't strike me as odd in the least. My wife likes to shop, and she likes expensive things. In fact, I'm sure I've seen a bag or two from this store before. But, what does immediately draw my rapt attention is the card held to the box with an intricately tied black ribbon. I would never invade my wife's privacy by opening a card that was not addressed to me, or at least to both of us, but the card is not in an envelope. It's just there. In straight, masculine, handwriting the following is scrawled across the card:

'Some beautiful things for a beautiful woman. With love, Philip.'

Reading over the brief few words over and over again, I can feel myself growing angrier with each pass. Every time my eyes, clouded over, seeing red, rest on each word, my temperature increases another degree. Until now, my fist in a tight ball, my jaw clenched, I don't even notice that Michonne is standing next to where I'm sitting on the bed, my back against the pillows on the headboard.

"Rick, what happened to you handing me the file I asked for?"

"What the fuck is this, Michonne?"

"Oh, that's nothing. Philip had that delivered to me at the office. A thank you gift for working so hard on his campaign for re-election. I haven't even opened it yet."

"Why does this card say with love?" I grind out between gritted teeth, the words nearly dying underneath the growl of my angry tone. Philip. The fucking Governor of Georgia. I hate this guy. I hate that Michonne works for him. After being his lawyer for years when he was a private citizen running the most successful real estate development company in the state, he brought her along with him a few years ago when he first decided to run for governor. I've always suspected that he had a thing for her, but she swears that he doesn't. Whatever. "The fuck is this, Michonne?"

"Rick? I don't know why he put with love, you know he's dramatic."

"Dramatic? This man is buying my wife expensive gifts, writing her a card that says 'with love', and the most you can come up with is that he's dramatic?" I yell. I don't mean to, and I'm not upset with her, I'm pissed as fuck at him. Never with her. But the way she's acting like this is nothing, some insignificant thing, definitely has my blood running hot.

This isn't the first time that he has done something like this. Giving her gifts. Making little remarks. The gifts have never been this expensive though. Tickets to a play he knew she wanted to see. A bouquet of flowers on her birthday. A few lingering hugs. Compliments on her beauty. I've brushed them off before because I don't blame him for being attracted to Michonne. How could he not? She's intelligent and beautiful, with a body meant for sin. I understand his predicament. But, she's my wife, and quite frankly after nearly five years of this shit, enough is enough.

"I'll give it back to him if you want, Rick. I literally didn't give it a second thought when it arrived, but if it makes you upset I'll give it back, and tell him it was inappropriate."

"Open it." I demand, thrusting the box towards to her.

"What?" Disbelief on her face, Michonne frowns at me in confusion. "Rick, I'm not going to open it. I told you, I'm going to give it back to him. No big deal." Taking the box from my outstretched hand, she tosses it over to the chair near the closet as though it was trash. "See? No big deal, sweetheart."

"I don't like him giving you things. He already pays you a ridiculous salary, and you know he has a crush on you. I don't like it." I huff, anger welling in the pit of my belly. "Open it so I can see what he thinks you like."

Following my orders Michonne retrieves the box from the chair and removes the ribbon and the top from the box. Inside, hidden underneath thin orange, tissue, stamped with the same word as on the box, is a silk scarf. On it is a wild print of foliage and forestry, split on one triangled corner in red, the other in pink.

Instantly recognizing the print, but not even bothering to reach into the box to retrieve it, Michonne mutters, more to herself than to me, "The Les legendes de l'Arbre Coloriage scarf. I can't believe this." "This familiar to you?"

"Yeah. We were at a lunch meeting with the mayor and his wife. She had on this scarf. I told her I liked it, that it was pretty. I certainly didn't expect for Philip to buy it for me. It's a $400 scarf." Placing the top back on the box, Michonne shakes her head as though in disbelief of her boss's nerve. Turning her sorrowful eyes on me, she offers a sincere apology. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wasn't thinking when this was delivered. It simply didn't register with me that he would do something like this. It came to my office, and I immediately just tossed it into my bag. If I had been thinking I would have called him immediately and sent it back to him. Do you forgive me?" She asks, a slight tilt to her head.

"Maybe."

"What can I do to help you to forgive me, Mr. Grimes?" Lifting her satiny nightgown over her head, Michonne daintily lifts her leg to climb atop me, and straddles my lap. With her fingers caressing my chest, and her pretty lips in a pout, I'm quickly forgetting all about the fucking Governor and his bullshit gift.

"I can think of a few things." I grin, flipping my wife on to her back.

A month later…

"You let me violate you

You let me desecrate you

You let me penetrate you

You let me complicate you…"

Nine Inch Nails blasts through the speakers in the basement, setting the sexy tone for our next dalliance into something a little kinkier, with its industrial rock sound, and techno, avant-garde beats. The low end kick of the 808 drum punctuates the thump of my heart in my chest as I walk down the steps into the basement, and catch a glimpse of my wife perched easily on her knees. Spine ramrod straight, constricted into a tightly cinched curve at her waist by the heavily boned corset, her dainty feet tucked underneath the soft fatness of her ass.

I circle her, glancing down at her across the straight slope of my nose, and attempt to control my labored breathing before it gives away just how excited I actually am to see my wife like this. Submissively poised to receive me. Silent. Almost completely still.

Under the low, dimmed lighting of our basement, her sable skin is still a wonder, smooth and creamy, flawless. I can smell the light scent of coconut oil and jasmine, and as though they have a life of their own, my fingers extend to tickle against her elegant shoulders, her collarbone. Michonne blinks, but her features never betray her. She does not smile. She does not speak. Instead, she proudly stretches her swanlike neck even straighter, juts her proud chin a little higher. Asserting her own inch of control over her body's reaction to my touch. I wonder how long she thinks she will be able to do that? Perhaps she doesn't realize it, but this minor bit of defiance teases me, baits my urges, calling them out to respond in dominance.

Taking a drink of my scotch, bringing the tumbler to my lips, I pause for a moment to appreciate her attention to detail, and to allow my eyes to freely roam her sexy form. Michonne has definitely done her homework on this particular kink and has mastered the allure of the juxtaposition of the structured binding of the corset with its heavy leather buckles that clasp across her back, a restrictive binding of her tiny waist. Against the fluidity of her measured breathing, as it rhythmically heaves her bountiful breasts, soft and freely hanging over the corset. Her thighs and ass are plump, rounded. Her lips are brushed with my favorite lipstick, a fire red, slightly parted to help her control her own breathing. Her own excitement. She knows I love this color on her, how it brings to mind the wicked way she can use those lips, that mouth. Her dreads are pulled high into a tight topknot, seemingly elongating the vertical lines of her body. Dear God. Michonne is the perfect picture of strict, erotic decadence, even as her eyes are submissively lowered to where her hands are clasped in her lap. I'm aroused and intrigued.

Continuing with our seven-day exploration into kink, tonight we are going to try bondage, a particular predilection that I'm not expecting to enjoy as much as some of the others, simply because I like the sensation of my wife's fingers in my hair. Her expressing herself and furthering our connection with the way she moves. The way she gives as well as she gets, enticing me with the random coasting of her hands on my body, impishly coaxing and awaking my senses.

We've used my handcuffs before, and that was enjoyable. Watching her writhe her lusciously curved body across our sheets, but unable to move freely because of the closure of the cuffs keeping her wrists secured to the bed posts. It was an unexpected treat. It was different, but enjoyable. What I did not like was the red indentations the cuffs left on her wrists, marring the perfection of her velvety skin. For that reason alone, I almost flatly denied this request. But, Michonne wants to take it a step further, to follow through with this challenging dare levied against us by Maggie and Glenn. My wife is a true competitor, and would never turn down a challenge. So, whatever she wants, she usually gets. Therefore here I am, preparing to take our kink to the next level. But, I have a slight twist in mind. No ropes. No cuffs.

Setting my glass on the bar, I stand in front of her and proceed with our night.

"You may speak."

"Do you like what you see, sir?"

"Mmhm. I do." I answer in a firm voice, keeping the excited wobble of my tone that threatens to betray me and give away my excitement. Not that the outline of my cock, jutting in a telling manner through the material of my dark slacks, wouldn't already show her how eager I am taste her. To defile her. No matter, I have to maintain my own semblance of control in order to guide her through this exploration of the naughtier side of ourselves.

Lifting her eyes to mine for the first time since I entered the room, she nearly steals my breath as the dark pools of her dark captivating eyes sweep upwards, and rest momentarily on my thick cock. A slight, whispery gasp emits from her lips, and I almost reach for her. Almost. I want to give her my dick right now, bury myself inside of her heat. But not yet. I cannot become undone just from the sounds of her desire, or the flirtatious flutter of her eyes. Not yet. But then, her perusal of me continues and she finally settles her dusky gaze on my own, and the vacillation between my own surrender and hers becomes an even harder line to tow. Fuck. I have to wonder, who is submitting to who?

"Sir, may I?" Michonne asks, with a gesturing tilt of her chin towards my shirt and pants.

"You may." I breathe out, eager to feel her hands on me.

With her slender fingers moving quickly, Michonne releases each button on my starched white shirt. I immediately remove it once its undone, and toss it carelessly to the floor. It feels good for my heated body to be free of the confines of the stifling garment.

"Now remove my cock."

"Yes, sir."

Delicate fingers lower to the zipper of my black slacks, and begin to unbuckle my belt. Steady, focused on her task, Michonne takes her time. After lowering my zipper her hand slides slowly into my pants, and upon realizing that I'm not wearing underwear, a tiny smile curves the corner of her lips. I've been waiting for this moment all day. At work it was the only thing I could think about. As I was getting dressed this morning, I purposely did not wear underwear, in anticipation of the naughty evening that awaited me.

Removing my turgid length from my slacks, Michonne licks her lips at the sight of me. She loves to give head. Her lips and mouth are magic. She's a master at it, and it's easily one of my favorite things about her.

Inching my hand out towards her, I glide my own fingers up her neck, my thumb brushing whisper soft over the apple of her cheek. Rising my hand higher, I reach her severely knotted bun, and begin to carefully remove the pins. Watching her hair tumble, a mass of brown locs, scattered in disarray across her shoulders just the way I like, I smile. Perfection.

Wrapping her palm around the length of me, Michonne glides her small hand up and down with a paced tugging and twisting motion. My cock bobs near her lips. Hard and thick, the blunt tip is reddened, and already dripping with a tiny pearlescent drop of pre-cum, just for her.

"May I?" Raising her eyes to mine again, Michonne greedily licks her lips, but I don't want her to. Not just yet.

"Wait." Reaching into my pocket I pull out a red scarf. It's the expensive scarf that her boss, Philip, gave to her last month. She gave him the gift back the day after he gave it to her, and I discovered them, but then, not taking no thank you for an answer, they were delivered back to the house instead of her office. Instead of Michonne getting the delivery, I was home and received them, and decided if that son of a bitch wasn't going to accept the silk scarf back, then I was going to put it to good use.

Michonne's eyes grow wide at the sight of it, obviously recognizing it as her boss's gift. But she doesn't speak. She doesn't question. Like a good girl, she waits to see what I'm going to do. Nudging her hand away from my cock, I kneel in front of her and take a tight hold of her wrists in one of my hands. "Hold them together, and don't move." I command. As she's keeping them snug together, just like I told her to, I wrap the scarf around them. Looping the softly spun silk around her thin wrists a few times, I bind them in a secure knot, tugging on it to ensure it will hold against her squirming. Again, a thought crosses my mind. Opposites. Running the pads of my fingers over the stiffly strained pull of the scarf, I'm intrigued by how its beauty, so luxurious and delicate, is being used to secure and bind, to restrict my beloved.

Giving her bound wrists one final tug, I stand back up. I proudly look down at my wife, so beautiful, alluring in the way she's obediently kneeling in front of her man. Waiting for me to deliver gratification to her. Fisting my cock in my hand, I give it a few pumps, readying it for her as I bruisingly rub the head across her red lips, smearing the lipstick across her lips and my dick. Michonne releases a tortured groan, and it instantly stiffens me even more.

"You want my cock in your mouth don't you?"

"Yes, sir." She mutters against the head of my dick, still resting against her plush lips. The vibration of her throaty response sends a tingle through me, and I realize that I can't wait any longer as the flames of gluttonous indulgence threaten to consume me.

"Open."

Obediently Michonne relaxes her jaw and opens her mouth. Wide, wider, her mouth is stretched just big enough into O shape to accept my heft and girth. The initial glide of my cock against her tongue, with the slight nip of her teeth grazing the stalk, sends a shiver up my spine. My hands rest on both sides of her head, combing my fingers through her thick, cottony hair, as I attempt to simply hold on to a semblance of clarity, even as I guide her head back and forth. It's a difficult task. My wife's mouth is drenching my cock, her saliva bathing the length with each suctioning pull, and dripping from the corners to fall in fat drops atop her breasts. And she's enjoying it. Vibrations from her satisfied hums tickle the sensitive nerve endings in my dick.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck…"

"Mmmm…"

"You're so good at swallowing my dick. Look at you, babe. Shit!" Dropping my head back, I close my eyes, and simply savor the feel of her licking, sucking, swallowing as much of my dick as she can take. And god help me, she can almost take all of me, which causes me to push into her mouth a little bit more, wanting to feel the sensation of her throat opening and closing over the head of my dick. We settle into a rhythm, a groove, when I catch the sound of Michonne softly gagging. Not wanting to hurt her, I pull back a bit, but she won't let me retreat. No. My naughty wife wraps her lips around her teeth and adds more pressure to my swollen length, trapping me in her wet mouth.

"Fuck! Michonne…" Hissing, I can't take anymore. The clinch of her lips, the pressure added to the slick abrasion of her tongue circling my cock, is more than exquisite. It's bordering on the sweetest twinge of something nearly painful, and if I let her keep going, I'm going to explode before I get the chance to explore her other holes. I can't let that happen.

Bringing my head back down to face her, I'm panting, my breaths staggering, leaving me in a hurried rush to find a speck of cool. I need just enough to actually pull my dick from her mouth.

Michonne must be able to sense my predicament, because she opens her lovely eyes and raises them to me, then slows her mouth's movements. Instead of the whirling twist of her tongue, and the steady bob of her head, she's just giving me a slight in and out, with a last minute pull that leaves her lips puckered over the tip, that eventually falls from her mouth with a sloppy plop. Glancing down, I widen my eyes when I notice that she left telling streaks of red lipstick circling close to the base of my dick, and the sight of it ignites a visceral fire in my belly.

Probably recognizing the vibrant fire banked in my eyes, Michonne licks her lips. Maybe it's an attempt to remove the saliva that has gathered around her lips, and drips from her chin. More than likely it's a taunt, a tease from my wife.

Removing my right hand from her hair, I cup it over her cheek and use my thumb to rub gently over her wet lips and chin. "Gotdamn…" I utter, completely enthralled by this beautiful vixen. Frozen for just a moment, I can sense my brain coming back on line, and I lift Michonne from the floor. Holding my wife close to me, smashing our bodies together until I can feel the heat of her breasts pressed to my chest, I wrap my arm around her waist, one of my hands on her ass, the other over the plump mound of her breast, and I kiss her. A full on kiss. One that sends my senses back into the stratosphere as I explore her mouth with my tongue, sweeping and tangling with hers. Whimpering into my mouth, she's spurring me on, jutting her ass out and pressing her silky skin closer to mine.

Standing in front of a bar stool, I spin us around and turn my beloved to face the chair. Without the use of her hands, I help Michonne perch herself onto the soft cushion of the seat, and situate her arms around the back of the stool as though she is hugging it. She's so beautiful like this, positioned in this fetching position just for me, almost fully trussed for my exploration. Tugging on the knot around her wrists, I find that I get a jolt of arousal at seeing her like this. It's unexpected, but enthralling that in this way, I own her pleasure. I am wholly responsible for giving my lady exactly what she needs to soar, to fly, to fall apart and melt around me.

"Is the binding too tight on your wrists?"

"No, sir." Subtly shaking her head back and forth, a tiny satisfied smirk captures her lips.

"Good."

Rounding her, I step up behind Michonne to admire the plumpness of her ass and pussy, hanging over the edge of the stool's cushion. Falling to my knees behind her, I grab a handful of each ass cheek, and drag them apart, witnessing a thick drizzle of cum easing from her womanhood. I lean in and accept her offering into my mouth. Tasting the tangy honey on my tongue is like a shock to my system, and instantly I want, I need more. Inching my tongue out to explore the silk of her folds, I slink my arching tongue from the depths of her canal, to her swollen clit. Swiping, licking, lapping against her jewel, I am falling deeper and deeper under her spell, lulled into a decadent frenzy by the intoxicating taste and scent of my wife's fat pussy. Her lips are full, soft and hairless against my mouth, and as I push my face further into her, swaddled by the thickness of her ass, I realize that I could quit my job and pleasure my wife all day, and I still could never get enough of her.

Whimpering and moaning, but still not speaking without permission, Michonne is jerking, swaying lightly, shoving her mound and ass further down on my face. Dragging my greedy mouth backwards to snatch a few hasty breaths, I focus my attention on laving and licking her ass, concentrating on the hole. I need her nice and wet. Soaking wet. Drenched. With my nose and lips pressed firmly between her cheeks I accomplish my goal, then set back on my heels a moment to admire my work.

Sucking in a tight breath, I admit to myself that I'm a lucky man. Michonne is more woman than I deserve, but I could never, would never let her go. How could I? Regardless of the fact that she's intelligent, and beautiful, she incites in me the raunchiest fantasies, all of which she fulfills. As I'm sitting here, rubbing one palm worshipfully over her ass, and drizzling the sticky thickness of her candy from one hole to the other, my eyes catch the bright red and pink of the scarf that binds her wrists behind the back of the stool. And it's like I'm a bull seeing red, as I'm reminded where the scarf came from.

Gritting my teeth, I rise from my crouch, and press my cock between the cleft of her ass. Whispering against the shell of her ear, I ask, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm gonna fuck you so good, he's gonna smell me on you the next time you see him. Do you hear me?" Biting down on the fleshy drop of her ear, I push my middle and ring finger into her pussy. She's sopping now, instantly drowning my fingers with the flushing rush of her juices, that I use to lubricate her ass.

"Yes, sir."

"You're my life, Michonne. I belong to you. You know that?"

"Yes, sir."

"I want you to feel good. Every inch of you. I'm the man to give you all of the gifts and happiness you need. Me."

"Yes, sir."

"Push that ass out some more." Smacking my hand against her ass, a jolt rushes to my dick at the sound of a surprised squeal dripping from Michonne's lips. "Don't accept anything else from him. You understand?" Punctuating each of my punishing words with more smacks, I can feel the heat from her sweat glistened skin on my palm.

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl."

Withdrawing my fingers from inside of my lady, I lick her sweetness from my fingers, then offer them to her. "Look how wet you are, sweetheart. Taste how delicious you are."

Turning her head to the side, still not making eye contact with me, she licks her tongue out and laves herself from my fingers, then releases a satisfied moan into the air.

Licking her lips like a happy kitty, as though she has sampled the sweetest cream, Michonne turns away from me again, pushing her ass out even further. She's going to be the death of me. I'm sure of it.

Firmly grabbing my cock in my hand, I'm preparing myself for her, easing the painful throb of my needy erection. Dipping the head between her folds is almost more than I can stand. How is it that despite the fact that I have had the pleasure of my wife numerous times, every time still feels like the first? Inching inside of her, is a magnificent thrill unlike anything else in life. Michonne is so warm, and tight, inviting. Pushing against her ass, shoving further, her pussy welcomes me home, sucking me down into the depths of her. Bottoming out, the velvety comfort of her almost causes me to instantly erupt, and creates a tremble in my thighs.

I take a hold of my lady's tiny waist and circle my hips a bit, stirring up the wetness of her pussy. In and out, back and forth, thrusting and pumping I'm finding my rhythm, and pacing myself to be able to go the distance tonight. Our breaths somehow sync together, and the sounds of us, our skin kissing wetly against each other, adds to the new song, 'Criminal' by Fiona Apple, filtering through the speakers.

"I've been a bad, bad girl

I've been careless with a delicate man

And it's a sad, sad world

When a girl will break a boy just because she can…"

"Ahhh…" Michonne breathes out over and over again, a whispered huff of air passing over her lips. Soft, breasts freely sway in time with my thrusts, as I can feel her muscles in her back tightening as though she's ready to come from the pounding of my dick, abrading her walls. I don't want her to come yet. Not yet.

Pulling out of her, the sound hinting at just how gooey and slick she is, I lean into her, my back molded to hers. "Not yet. I will tell you when you can come."

"Ye- yes, sir." She answers, a plaintive whine lifting her tone in complaint.

Reaching around her, I stop to reward her obedience, and pluck her turgid nipple between my fingers. Tweaking, lightly pinching and rolling the blackberry peak between my fingers, I can feel her pressing backwards into me, whimpering and enjoying the sting.

"Uhhh…"

Releasing her, I reach on to the bar and grab the little jar of lubricant, and instantly I wonder if given how wet she already is, if it's even still needed. Deciding that I don't want to chance hurting my sweetheart past the pleasurable stretch she's about to experience, I squeeze my eyes shut to settle the rough cadence of my heart pounding against my chest. I crush the bottle and a dollop of the lubricant drops into my hand and onto her hole. I steady myself behind her, with my cock in my hand. Ready.

"Push out some, relax, baby. Let me in." Kissing the side of her face to help her loosen up, Michonne follows my guidance, and calms her muscles. Slack but composed, she's soft and warm, as my left arm cradles her to my chest. I use my right hand to circle the knot of her ass, and position my dick as I push.

"Ahhh…"

Harder, harder…

"Relax, baby. Fuck you're so gotdamn tight. That ass is delicious, Michonne." I blow out, my breath caressing the side of her face. Suffocating pressure is circling my dick, and I'm getting dizzy. It's the sweetest bit of just the slightest hint of pain, submerged under the most erotic and carnal of pleasures.

"Uh, uh, uh…" Michonne begins to pant with each of my plundering thrusts, finding her own gratifying inspiration awakened with the newly introduced sensation. "Ri-Ri…"

"Yes, baby, hm? That feel good to you?"

"Yes, si-si…" Rubbing her wrists together as though she's trying to free herself, Michonne's movements catch my attention. I pause for a moment, momentarily wanting to release her so that I can feel the seductive whisk of her delicate fingers in my beard, my hair. Or wildly scratching and clawing at my back.

"Is the binding too tight?"

Shaking her head quickly, she dismisses my concern, and licks her tongue out in offering, hungry for my kiss. Sucking on her tongue, feeling it lapping at my lips and tongue, just heightens the sexy coupling between my lovely wife and I.

"Heaven help me for the way I am

Save me from these evil deeds before I get them done

I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand

But I keep living this day like the next will never come…"

"You are taking this dick so good, baby. You feel amazing, Michonne."

"Rick…" she hisses over my lips, and begins to move her ass in a winding motion. My head is heavy, the pleasure is immense. Tilting away from her mouth, I latch on to her beautiful neck and lace kisses there, never stopping the measured pistoning of my hips as I claim Michonne's ass. Clasping my hand around her throat, I apply the softest pressure, just a taste. Just enough to give her that little bit extra she needs.

"Oh god, oh god… I'm gonna-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…"

We're both so close. I can feel it. The rumbling climb of our shared climax. The clinching of her ass, already so snug and constricting. The way she's bumping the cushion of her ass back into me, then grinding down into my pelvis, as though she's challenging me to fuck her harder, deeper. Maintaining the pressure to her throat, I lower my other hand to where we are joined, and bathe my fingers in the stickiness, then insert two into her pussy. With my thumb massaging her clit, my cock in her ass, and my fingers working her pussy, the sensations are too much for my beloved to handle, and the tightness of her clamping down is doing me in. I need her to come now before I explode.

"Come on, baby... Come on my dick!"

"Ooooh… Rick… Oh god!" With her head toppled forward over the back of the stool, her long hair a shielding blanket for her slacked features, my lady is coming completely undone. Moaning, groaning, her desperate cries of exhausted satisfaction are echoing into the lyrics of the song still playing.

"What I need is a good defense

'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal

And I need to be redeemed

To the one I've sinned against

Because he's all I ever knew of love…"

"Chonne, baby, fuck!" I holler, my last few pumps into her gifting me with the most thrillingly carnal sensation of completion. Hair dipping over my sweaty forehead and into my eyes, the only thing left is a subtle jerk of my hips into her, dripping the last of my cum. Growling at the zinging buzz of the spastic twitch of my cock as I pull out of her, I rest my head on her shoulder and watch as my essence leaks in pearly ropes from her hole. Fuck!

Removing my fingers from her, relieving the tantalizing pressure for us both, I'm gasping and sucking down every breath I can to gather my wits about me. I need to check on my beloved, and ensure that she's ok, that I wasn't too rough with her.

"Baby, Chonne, you ok?" I ask, still slightly hypnotized by her sinful form and poise.

"Ye- yes, sir. Yeah."

"You sure?"

"As good as I can get, Rick. That was…"

"Amazing, sweetheart. Absolutely amazing." Peppering her face with kisses, my own way of showing her how thankful I am for the blessing of her glorious body and affection, I move to release the binding silk scarf from her wrists.

"Yeah… my wrists are a little sore. But in a good way." Shaking her hands out, clenching her fists to work the circulation back into her fingers, Michonne is grinning at me, but for some reason I can barely look at her. "Hey, Rick? It's ok, baby. I liked it. A lot."

"A lot?"

"A lot."

"Not too rough?"

"Nope. Not at all. But of course, I'll never be able to look at that scarf without thinking of tonight."

"Good. You should wear it the next time you have a meeting with Philip, and think of me." I wink, and head towards the bathroom to turn on the shower for us, wondering at how easily we've taken to the wicked eroticism of this kinky challenge.