Chapter 7: Lemondrops

A little word before we begin. I want to add a few content warnings. This chapter is loaded with degradation and masochism. No, I am not an authority on BDSM but I have done my fair share of research. Which, I strongly encourage. Yes, books can be used as learning tools, but you will not find that here! Do not take anything I write to be law, it is fiction. And while yes, this is a fabricated world I cooked up, I want to say, I take consent seriously and in this case, without exception. BDSM isn’t about getting off on beating people. It’s not abuse, and it isn’t dark. It is meant to be something profoundly intimate between consenting adults. This lifestyle is about trust and communication. So, if the CWs didn’t scare you away, then by all means, read on. If by chance it’s not your thing, please skip this chapter. I will not take it personally.

Buck

Buck entered the house barefoot and smelled food. He gave thanks to the wife and found his plate in the microwave. Before stabbing start, he read the note she’d slapped on the fridge.
Meet you in the barn.
“Well shit, it’s my lucky day.” With his priorities set in stone, Buck wolfed down meatloaf, home fries, sage sausage, and cabbage. He chased every bite with a swig of honey beer and swallowed two slices of pistachio butter cake. “Imma need my strength.”
Full as a tick and feeling much like himself again, Buck crept into the early morning warmth and made certain to set the alarm. He wouldn’t be coming back. Still barefoot and indecent, he jogged across green pastures and headed for the barn. Buck waved at the sheep, hopped over micro goats, and nodded at James, the stubborn mountain goat.
James was a crotchety old fucker and loved to kick folks in the nuts. Why Hank put up with his shit was a mystery.
“What ya looking at, James?! Huh? Jealous?” He bleated and charged. “Get on with the bull!”
Buck sprinted for the rustic barn door and shimmied inside. He hooped in victory and slammed the barrier shut.
“Whew. What an asshole.”
“Go wash up and make it snappy.”
He grinned on the turn around and spied his lovely bride. Their barn wasn’t for animals or the sheep, but it was away from the house and out of earshot. It also provide them with enough room to play. They’d flipped the space twenty years back, turning it into a loft some called a dungeon.
Buck and Nieema knew what a dungeon felt like, smelled like, and had personal trauma tied to the cursed place. They would never call their love nest such a thing.
Buck eyed the regal woman who posed as any tyrannical queen might. She was impatient on her throne made of core timber and rattling steel. Nieema’s frigid stare promised overtime.
“You lucky I need some TLC.” Buck glared until he reached the bathroom. “Five minutes.”
“Three!”
He smiled and started the shower. Steam pillowed as Buck scrubbed rich soil, moss, and groundwater from his skin. He picked dirt from his claws and washed thorns from his hair. Sweet notes of the land never abandoned him, but he did his best. Not everybody enjoyed the smell of nature.
“Whatchu got for me, beloved?”
A man about his business and confident in his step, Buck exited the washroom, booty naked, and excited as ever. Like a good boy, he waited for instruction.
“Come sit,” Nieema said, patting the throne she’d vacated. “Let me nourish my love.”
Buck sighed and settled into the hard, pockmarked chair.
The punishment chair.
“I got your text.”
Pleasure sparked in his veins as hot droplets pelted his shoulders. Buck relaxed the moment Nieema touched him. Her deft fingers and strong grip loosened knots and kinks. Closing his eyes, he surrendered. It’d been a long night and he deserved this. While Nieema kneaded, she purred.
The familiar melody lulled and soothed. He’d grown to need it over the years. A song to usher him into heightened states of being. Nieema added pressure and caressed his throat, coating it in oil.
“I won’t let them take you from me,” she rasped. “If they even dare, I’ll pick them off, one by one. I swear it, on my soul. And those of our children. I will turn this valley red and sully the rivers with their viscera.”
Buck laughed at her dramatic ass.
“Ain’t I special?”
“You most certainly are. And everyone will know just how much if they cross me.”
Nieema nibbled on his ear, his jaw, and his clavicle. She kissed his nape and raked her nails over his scalp.
“Look at me,” Nieema demanded, circling around to face him.
Buck knew better than to disobey his queen. And matching her intense scarlet stare made him shiver. Dressed in her favorite gown from times past she was dignified elegance.
A choke collar, corset, and chandelier earrings. Maroon velvet, supple leather, and silk ruffles.
It’d be hell to remove but he’d rip that god damn bodice from her back when allowed.
Nieema lifted her sharp chin and sneered. He’d already told her what was on the menu this morning. His dick jumped and thighs spread in anticipation. Buck gripped armrests and squirmed. Her scent alone tempted a weak old man. She was soaked below the waist, and they both knew it.
“Pathetic,” Nieema chided, fishing for a treat between her breasts. Heavy and soft, they undulated as she dug. “Eyes front, Buckley! You vile worm!”
Buck whimpered and bit his bottom lip as she pulled the goods free. A cobalt glass glinted beneath humming overheads.
Nieema plopped down, her dress ballooning. She growled and popped the top as Buck rolled his hips, inviting the woman to stroke him. She scoffed and poured a potent mixture into her palm.
The blend of oils, dusts, and herbs scented the air. Allspice and rich, it pooled in her hand. Buck hissed the moment she clasped his bobbing length. He’d tried not to focus on it, delaying it was best for both parties.
Nieema’s tugging grip warmed. Buck moaned, watching her work him with lazy pulls. She was smart, keeping the head tucked away. Buck appreciated her skill and motion.
“I bet you want me to choke on it don’t you?” Nieema asked.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?!”
“Your majesty.”
“Too bad. You haven’t been good enough for that.”
She smirked, sliding from tip, to base, to balls. Nieema cupped them. She slathered slowly, massaged, and crushed.
Buck yelped and opened his legs wider. Pleasure and pain popped off, ricocheting from toes to crown.
His eyes rolled and asshole clenched. He went for his nipples and Nieema smacked his hand.
“You bet not! What a disgusting, disrespectful cunt you are!” He grunted as she added another hand and pressed two fingers against his taint. “How dare you try to touch yourself. I did not grant permission.”
“I’m sorry, your majesty.”
“All you want is a nut, you ain’t really sorry.” Nieema laughed, releasing his balls. “Yet.”
Buck panted as she snatched ropes and tightened knots. On his wrists, ankles, around his shaft, and his throat.
The oil soaked into his skin and forbade an orgasm. It halted the inevitable. Ever so close, lodged in his pelvis and stuck, he dropped into a realm of perpetual ecstasy.
The only cure was for Nieema to feed from him. She’d suck the magical substance from his blood and it’d be her turn for about an hour. It had the opposite effect on her, however, and thank gods.
“I want to hear you say it,” Nieema commanded. “Say, ‘I’m a vile wretch who deserves punishment’.”
“I—I—“ The promise of an orgasm wrenched his sac and evaporated within seconds. “I’m—“
She slapped his thigh with the cane, causing endorphines to flood his system, only to be smothered. Buck writhed in his favorite chair and peered into his wifes seeking eye. Nieema Struck Buck again, and he belted a curse.
“I’m a vile wretch who deserves punishment!”
“Sickening how you blither and bow at my feet.”
Nieema flicked his nipple and ventured across the barn. He watched her rifle through drawers and groaned as another almost orgasm rocked his brain loose.
“Ya Majesty, please. Gimme somethin’ anytin’. A kiss a—“
“Hell nah!”
He tried to arch and failed. The magic was working up into his ass now and dear gods he moaned her name.
“Pig!” Nieema belted, whacking him with the cane yet again. The pleasurable streak of pain sent a heat flare to his core. Buck gasped, eyes darting to the back of his head. Sweat beaded on his skin as Nieema pinched his nipples with her needle-like claws.
Buck barked a cuss. “Yes, your majesty! Gods! Pleaaaase.”
“You look quite sad and small doing all this begging.” She yanked each nipple until they split. Hot blood dripped and streamed down his belly.
“Shiiiiiit, I—“
Nieema added clamps to the bleeding nubs and licked him clean. Buck lost all sense of self. The pinch and throb worked quick, calling a would-be release to the surface. He shouted and yanked at the restraints when it scurried away.
“God damn, gooood damn.”
“Foul mouth gets you nothin’. Piece of shit peasant.”
“Unnghhh…”
Degradation, humiliation, and masochism was his balm. Buck had lived for many, many years with folks tiptoeing around him. He didn’t sit on a throne or attend balls, but he was born from gold and crowns. To the public, he was more than just a construction worker, a handyman, a gardener, a stable boy, or a dishwasher. He’d never asked nothing from nobody but they acted as if he’d hung the stars.
Folks never said nothing bad about Buck and treated him like tissue paper. He was surrounded by yes men who had the same holes in their shoes as he did.
Something about pain and humiliation set him straight. His dark sided nature begged for it.
Nieema was the first woman to accept such vulnerability, and as she smacked him with the cane, he fell in love with her for the thousandth time. There was no one he trusted more than the lady who insulted him.
Blow after blow, Buck shivered and shouted for more. Nieema often made him beg for ten welts. He relished in her control and attention.
She inched down to her knees and bit the inside of his thigh, never drawing blood. She wouldn’t drink, only tease. Nieema degraded Buck and scratched his chest. He loved the fuck out of her and growled the moment her fangs penetrated his slick flesh. He moaned at the feel of lips and screamed his obedience.
Sweat cascaded and gathered in his thick thatch of forest green curls, settling under his ass.
When the room grew too chilly and his nuts hiked for the tenth or fifteenth time, Buck roared.
“Lemondrops! Motha fuckin lemon…drops!”
He laughed and sniveled as Nieema dropped the cane. She hurried off and returned bearing gifts. Buck sat there as the wife kissed his forehead and removed clamps with a gentle hand.
“Awww, look at my man.”
“Yeah, you fucked me up.”
Nieema giggled, massaging his nipples. She added a numbing cream and kissed the scratches on his neck. Her aftercare was top-notch and above reproach. She dried him and untied knots. The lack of rope and pain did nothing to douse his need for her.
Nieema was careful with his hardened shaft. She uncoiled the length of hemp and nylon slowly. He grunted at the freedom and the desire to come.
“You smell like you want somethin’ nice,” Buck said.
“I don’t know what that could be, Mr. Sunside.”
She lifted that heavy skirting and straddled him. with Nieema perched on her knees, warmth and fuzz grazed his dick. She rocked, and Buck dipped under and then between. He clutched himself and tugged, revealing his weeping tip.
His damp head kissed her lips.
Buck shifted and winched under her strength. Nieema sunk fangs into his throat and sucked. She pulled at his vein and with it, lust. Undiluted and untamed a fire of desire blossomed in his soul. With zero finesse, he punched hips upward and impaled his wife.
Her muffled scream was glorious, and so were her tight walls. She clothed and bathed. Nieema’s body fit around him like a fine-tailored suit. He had girth more than length and she was often sore, but god damn he took care of her aches afterward.
Buck wrapped arms around her soft, pliant form and rutted.
Nieema detached from his neck and cussed his name. She was soaked through. Her luxurious honey coated his nuts and created a mess. Their connection was obscene. A symphony of quick claps and leaking waters.
“Buuuuuck,” Nieema cried as she clung to his shoulders. “You—damn—ugh!”
“I know it,” Buck panted. “You right there. Let it go for me, baby. Gimme what I come for!”
He dug her out and wasn’t to keep a lady waiting. He shifted and arched.
Nieema belted his name again and scored his shoulders. Pleasure coursed through him in waves and battered his senses.
Blood, vanilla, and moss entered his lungs with each sawing breath.
She cast a spell on him and clenched. Buried to the hilt and pummeling her, he was eager.
Nieema erupted, but Buck continued onward as she gushed. He fucked her raw. Growling and yanking on her perfect braids. Buck snapped her head to the side and kissed the supple curve of her breast.
“Agaiiin, Buck, I’m bouta—fuck me babyyy! Yes!”
His control vanished with the taste of her skin. She was decadent and pure. Gentle yet deadly.
Grace and power.
Her pussy convulsed, snatching Buck by his soul and sac. They howled like starving beasts in the night and came as one.
Buck collapsed in his chair while Nieema trembled against his chest. He covered her damp forehead with kisses and rubbed her back. She laughed, which in turn made him cackle.
“I like the pathetic worm bit,” Buck said, holding tight and pulling out.
He could and would sleep inside of her. They’d done it on more than one—two—ten occasions.
“I wanted to get creative.”
“That you did, baby. I loved it.”
She sighed and wiggled. “This dress is so goddamn bothersome. You know what? I dusted it off and thought it’d be nice, you know? Why in the hell did we ever wear this shit?”
“I think you look fine as wine. Mm!”
Nieema sat upright and tweaked a brow. “How are you gon’ get me outta this thing? I got about five layers and my habits keeping your from these luscious tiddies.”
Buck went at the velvet and leather like they’d pissed in his grits. He tore the fucker loose and her marvelous breasts jiggled, thanks to Nieema’s crackling laughter.
“Now, if I wanted to ruin it, I woulda done so. You old fool!”
“I need these tiddies free.”
Buck held a generous breast in both hands and latched onto her nipple. His wife shouted, and he stood, heading straight for the bed upstairs.