Bernice By Kemosabe

Spellbound, I stopped and stared at Bernice. We’d had no contact since high school, yet I knew beyond a doubt it was her. She still had the same walk, that fearless plunging through space oblivious of any thing or any body.

A slender young man half her age walked at her side, straining to keep up. They laughed and Bernice poked and shoved him intermittently, squeezed the back of his neck, and generally womanhandled him to his obvious delight.

Drawn behind, I followed them into a bookstore, where they stopped and browsed some magazines on display. The young man leaned over and said something to her, pointed to something in the magazine, and she slammed him with her shoulder. A sharp stab of pain and lust struck my groin. She used to smash me the same way.

Suddenly, Bernice’s piercing blue green eyes found mine and recognized me. Keeping eye contact, she smiled and shook the young man by the neck again, as if displaying him as her trophy.

I gulped as they walked past where I stood with an open book in my hand. Her eyes fired with majesty and power continued to lock on mine as she smirked. They said I still own you, Jason. I trembled with fear and excitement, hoping she would so much as crook her finger, and allow me to follow.

She didn’t. She breezed past me out the door without speaking.

*

Bernice knelt beside me in the dirt. “Why are you crying, Jason?”

“Pug Sleper beat me up,” I said between sobs, ashamed to have her find me like this, but my face and body hurt and I couldn’t help myself.

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t give him my lunch money.”

“Oh, Jason.” She took me in her arms, and caressed my hair. I cried into her shoulder, dripping tears on her white blouse.

From that day, she looked for me and took me as her charge. She protected me before, during, and after high school from Pug and any of the other rougher boys.

While she shielded me from harm, her dazzling beauty and vibrant personality consumed me. She instilled spark and energy into my bleak and miserable life. I lived frail and afraid until she became my protectress.

She took me to the ground straddling me with ease. “How do you like this, Jason? I own you, and can do anything I want with you.” She  twisted my arm back with force.

“Ah,” I moaned in pain. “Please, Bernice?”

“Please what?”

“Please don’t hurt me?”

She crunched her crouch into mine. Her vulva latched onto my stiffened sex. Flashes of delight raped my mind. “But I like it, Jason. You want to gratify my lusts, don’t you?” She increased pressure in both places.

“Oh, yes. Yes, Bernice. I’ll do anything you say.”

“Say that I own you.”

“You own me.”

“Say that I rule.”

“You rule.”

“Say that you’re my slut.”

“Oh, I’m your slut.”

She never hurt me, not really. I mean it hurt, but not bad. Her strength demonstrated a symbolic gesture to her physical superiority. I learned to accept it, and then, as her strength devoured my weakness and made me unafraid to relish it.

With her guiding light, day after day, I saw and felt things never before imagined. From the day she blessed me with her brand, I felt sheltered with the relief of not having to worry over making any decisions, or taking any action that might compromise me. I took everything to her for her sublime direction.

We ran naked in the woods. She tackled me to the ground, putting her knee in the middle of my back and pulling back both my arms until I groaned. Her body radiated the thrill of physical supremacy. I delighted in being the object of her pleasure. She turned me over, smothered me with her womanhood and demanded my ministrations. In time, she mounted me and rode me into sweet oblivion.

The last time I saw Bernice was the day I left for college. My parents arranged for me to attend Georgia Southern near Savannah. The agony of leaving Bernice tormented me for weeks. I couldn’t leave. I had found paradise with her and didn’t think I could live without her. I didn’t want to go, but to challenge my parents? Unthinkable.

When I told her, I expected her to oppose it. She didn’t. She said, “Good, I’m tired of you anyway.” Her eyes looked amused as they often did and I prayed she kidded.

The last day, after mind blowing sex, I told her, “I can’t leave you, Bernice. You know I love you. I worship you. You’re the greatest thing to ever come into my life.”

She slapped me so hard I saw stars. “God damn it, Jason, didn’t I tell you I’m tired of you. You’ll get your ass down to that college or I’ll beat you up so bad, it’ll make your sessions with Pug Sleper look like patty-cake. You’ve never felt my fist, and believe me, I hit hard.” She hit me on my head and it hurt. “And the next time I see you, little boy, I’ll do it again and again until you’re out of my life.”

*

I left the drugstore reminiscing, yearning for those days, envying the young man who had taken my place. On the street from nowhere a leather thong encircled my neck and I was pulled into Bernice’s face. Her eyes danced savage and wild. “Did you think I was through with you, slut?”

Stunned, I couldn’t reply.

“Didn’t you think I could see you drooling over there, prying into our relationship. You’ll pay for that. And look at this ridiculous erection.”

She slammed her knee hard into my groin doubling me over with pain.

“His hands, Jaster.”

The young man pried my hands away from my groin and proceeded to tie them behind my back with another thong.

He danced away, his eyes blazed with the same wildness. People walked by, curious, but unconcerned.

Bernice led me with her strap to an old beat up Plymouth and threw me face down onto the back seat floorboard. She sat with her feet on my back and head as Jaster drove off.

We stopped at a decrepit house in a rundown neighborhood where she dragged me inside into a back bedroom. “I’ve grown, Jason, and now you’ll find out how.” She motioned to Jaster and he stripped me naked as she leered with a sick ghoulish grin. To my shame, my member jutted harder than I could ever remember it.

“I see you haven’t forgotten our sessions, little boy.” She swiped viciously at it with her strap, and I howled in anguish. Jaster tied me to a post and Bernice lashed my back and buttocks with a whip bringing howls of anguish, while Jaster danced and masturbated at my misery.

They tied my hands and feet face down on a bed. She produced a strap on and mounted me, viciously penetrating with a wild howl only the devil could make. She pumped into me until I thought I’d pass out from the pain. When she finished, Jaster mounted me and took his vicious little pleasure.

It was after two AM before I staggered home. The twins were in bed, but my wife, Angy, waited up in anguish. I’d tried to think up something to tell her, but could only stammer out the truth. She listened in horror, and then toward the end I caught a small flame dancing in her eyes.

*

KEMOSABE writes bold fempower/erotic/crime/thrillers boiled hard.

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