Bernadine Returns to Her Roots | Neal's Home Page | ASSTR Home Page
CAUTION: This story is not politically correct. It includes the humiliation and degradation of willing and maybe not so willing black women. The "n" word is used liberally.
by Neal
The fall school semester was fast approaching, but Bernadine was confident that her credentials and experience would get her a job at her old high school. She dressed in one of her expensive professional outfits she used to wear to meetings with the city superintendent of schools when she was principal of a large metropolitan high school.
"I should be back this afternoon," she told Ebony and Taneesha over breakfast. "I just have to run over to the high school and see about getting signed up to teach."
"Won't it be weird teaching again after being the principal?" asked Ebony.
"It's a sacrifice I have to make," Bernadine replied. "Things aren't going to be so comfortable for us as they were in the city. We all are going to have to make sacrifices."
"You think we'll be in any of your classes?" Taneesha wanted to know.
"We'll see," her mother answered.
Bernadine finished her coffee and headed out to the car. Driving down the road in a Volvo with out of state license plates made her feel even more out of place. The idea of returning to her old alma mater and facing Principal Chalmers had her filled with dread.
It was late in her senior year when "the incident" happened. She'd already been accepted to the state university on a scholarship. She'd felt relieved knowing she didn't have much more time left to spend in the small town of white rednecks and country negroes.
* * *
Bernadine had just finished showering and dressing after gym class. She picked up her book bag and started for the locker room door when she heard a voice call out to her.
"Not so fast, Cook!" called the girl's phys ed teacher.
Brenda Butcher was a fit looking middle aged woman with short brunette hair. She was still dressed in gray sweat pants and sweat shirt with a whistle around her neck she wore for class. She did not look happy.
"What is it, Miss Butcher?" the colored girl said with surprise.
"You know what!" the white lady responded. "Let's have it. Cheryl saw you take it. I don't know how you expected to get away with it."
"I don't know what you talkin' 'bout, ma'am," said Bernadine. "I didn't take nothin'."
Bernadine could see Cheryl Thomas, the pretty blonde girl who was head cheerleader as well as George Walker's girlfriend, standing next to the coach, smirking.
"I saw you take my locket, Dina," accused Cheryl. "Everybody knows niggers'll steal anything."
"I didn't steal nothin' from you, bitch!" Bernadine said angrily. "Who'd want yo' piece o' shit locket anyways?"
"That's about enough of that kind of talk, Cook!" ordered Coach Butcher. "I won't have that kind of language directed at another student! Now hand it over and we'll just pretend it didn't happen."
"I ain't got it 'cause I didn't take it," insisted Bernadine.
"Alright, if that's how you want it," said the coach. "Hand over the bag and I'll look for myself."
Bernadine held the book bag out and Coach Butcher snatched it from her hand. At first she pawed through it, but finding nothing, dumped its contents onto the locker room floor. Books and pens scatter on the wet tile.
"See?" Bernadine said, her eyes smoldering with rage. "I didn't take shit."
The locker room door opened up and Principal Chalmers walked in. The tall middle aged man was starting to gray at the temples. He wore the same dark blue suit he wore every day. He also was no stranger to the girl's locker room and availed himself of every opportunity to walk in.
"What's all the commotion?" he demanded to know.
"That nigger stole my locket!" cried Cheryl.
"It's not in her book bag," the coach admitted.
"I didn't steal anything," Bernadine said as she picked up her things and replaced them into her bag.
"Check her pockets," the principal instructed. "Pat her down if you have to."
Coach Butcher stepped up to Bernadine and started patting the colored teen down. The white woman smiled as she did it, clearly enjoying herself. Rumor had it that the coach was a lesbian. Coach Butch is what the students called her behind her back.
The rest of the girls had gathered around to watch their classmate's humiliation. The coaches hands roamed over the black girl's body, paying special attention to her breasts and ass rather than her pockets. Bernadine's face burned with shame as she was the delight in the white student's eyes. The other black girls slowly drifted away and left for their next classes.
"Nothing," announced Coach Butcher.
"I swear she took it!" objected Cheryl. "You can't let that nigger bitch get away with it! She's got it on her somewheres!"
"Now, Cheryl," said the principal calmly. "Nobody's gettin' away with nothin'."
Principal Chalmers turned to Bernadine.
"Better hand it over, Cook," he warned her. "I'll have you strip searched if need be."
"You can't do that to me!" cried Bernadine. "I didn't take nothin'! She's a liar if'n she says I did!"
"Alright, that's it," stated the principal. "Get your clothes off, Cook. Hand them over to Coach Butcher. Either that or I'll get the sheriff down here to do it. Take your pick."
"You kin call the damn sheriff!" Bernadine shouted defiantly.
The colored girl was furious at this development. No way would she submit to being stripped of her clothing and dignity to satisfy some bimbo who made up stories about her.
"No problem," Principal Chalmers said shortly. "Remember the Evans girl? The fat one. Tyesha? She spent the weekend in jail when she wouldn't let me search her for cigarettes. And this is stealin' so it's a whole lot worse. You want that? I'll call him, but you ain't gonna like it!"
The black teenager remembered the incident with Tyesha. The poor girl had hidden a pack of cigarettes down her pants when she was caught smoking by a teacher. She wouldn't give them up and the sheriff was called. Bernadine couldn't believe that she ended up spending the weekend locked up, but it was true.
Bernadine glared at the principal, but realized she had no choice but to comply. She unbuttoned her blouse and gave it to the coach who checked it before dropping it on the floor. The black girl took off her skirt, which the coach checked thoroughly before dropping it, too.
"Nothing yet, Mister Chalmers," said Coach Butcher.
"Bet it's in her underpants!" exclaimed Cheryl, wrinkling her nose. "Niggers'll do anything!"
"Keep goin', Cook," ordered Principal Chalmers. "You ain't got nothin' we ain't already seen. This is how you wanted it. I gave you the chance to come clean already. Take off the bra."
Bernadine blushed and unclasped her bra. She worked it off her shoulders and handed it to the coach, covering her breasts with her arm. The white woman shook it and dropped it on top of the colored teenagers other clothing.
"Nope," announced the coach.
"Told you it was in her underpants!" grinned Cheryl.
"Let's have them," commanded the principal.
The black teenager pulled her panties down and handed them to the older white woman. Her breasts hung freely while she was bent over and the principal took a long look at them. The white girls looking on all pointed and giggled at Bernadine's humiliation. Cheryl looked positively triumphant. Principal Chalmers was clearly aroused. Even Coach Butcher looked a little flushed.
The coach shook the negro girl's panties out. No locket was forthcoming. The undergarment quickly joined the rest of the teenager's clothes on the floor.
"Ewww!" cried Cheryl. "She's got it up inside her! Ewww!"
The white girls all laughed and made disgusted noises. Principal Chalmers put his hands on his hips and scowled. Coach Butcher looked to him for further direction. Bernadine's anger grew.
"Coach, go ahead and check her vagina," said the principal. "I don't think she'd get it up her ass. Open your legs, Cook."
Bernadine stood with her legs apart and looked at the floor while the coach poked a finger into the young negress's pussy. Brenda pushed her finger in deeply and moved it around.
"Nothin' here, Mister Chalmers," Coach Butcher told him.
"Are you sure you saw her take it, Cheryl?" asked the principal gently.
"You callin' me a liar?" the blonde girl challenged him. "I'm tellin' you that nigger took it! I don't know what she did with it."
"Well, we can't find it, so there's nothin' more we can do," Principal Chalmers told her.
Bernadine couldn't believe she'd been strip searched like a criminal and in front of the whole gym class as well as the principal at the same time her accuser was being treated with kindness and respect. She was livid as she gathered her clothes up from where Coach Butcher had piled them. Her blouse had big wet spots on it from the locker room floor.
The teenaged negro girl dressed under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, picked up her book bag, and stormed out. She left the building and walked all the way home even though there were still two class periods left in the day.
How dare they treat her that way, she thought as she fumed, walking along the side of the road to the railroad crossing. She'd never been in trouble in school and always got excellent grades. Yet on the word of snotty white girl she'd been publicly debased without a second thought.
And a week or two after "the incident" Bernadine had spotted the locket back around Cheryl's delicate white neck, safe and sound. Well, it wouldn't be long before she was out of this town and she'd never look back.
* * *
Bernadine pulled into the high school's parking lot. She was surprised by how little the single story brick building had changed in the decades she'd been away. Just the sight of it caused her to shudder involuntarily.
The principal's office was in the same place, just inside the front door. Bernadine walked up to the counter and a petite blonde, no older than twenty, looked her up and down with icy blue eyes. It amazed the older negro just how much this young white woman looked like Cheryl, her old nemesis.
"May I help you?" said the blonde in an unhelpful tone of voice.
"I'd like to see Principal Chalmers," replied Bernadine, her irritation with the younger woman's attitude undisguised.
"He's busy," the blonde stated. "You'll have to wait."
Bernadine watched as the woman turned her back and returned to her desk. Looking around she saw there was nowhere to sit other than the bench used by students waiting to be seen by the principal. She waited for a few minutes before finally sitting down on it.
About fifteen minutes later the principal's office door opened. The blonde looked up and watched as a tall negro school girl step out into the outer office. She couldn't have been older than eighteen. The white woman then looked back at Bernadine with a definite smirk on her face. Puzzled, the older negress checked the girl out.
Upon close inspection she could see that the girl's makeup was smeared on her face. Her straightened black hair was messy with a few strands matted down onto her forehead which was shiny with perspiration. The girl's face was flushed and she quickly looked away from Bernadine when their eyes met for a split second. Clearly, the girl was embarrassed to be seen in such condition.
Bernadine was shocked to notice drops of a thick cloudy liquid on the girl's chin and wet spots on her white blouse. The blouse had obviously been buttoned hastily since the buttons were in the wrong holes and wasn't tucked into her wool skirt properly. The girl's full breasts jiggled with each step she took. It was also quite obvious she was braless. The older woman felt shame for the girl as the situation became apparent. Principal Chalmers hadn't changed at all over the years.
"Principal Chalmers is ready for you now," grinned the white girl.
Bernadine shot the white woman a look of disgust as she rose and walked to the open door to the principal's office. Principal Armand Chalmers was seated behind his desk and looked up at the black woman. His hair was whiter and his face more wrinkled, but other than that, he was the same man she remembered from all those years ago.
"Yes?" he asked.
"I'm Bernadine Johnson," she introduced herself. "I used to be a student here."
"Johnson?" the principal repeated, studying Bernadine's face. "No, not Johnson. You're Cook. Bernadine Cook. I remember you."
"Yes, Cook is my maiden name," she acknowledged. "You may remember I went off to the university after graduation. I became a teacher and later a principal. I've just moved back into town and decided I'd like to get back into teaching again."
"Well, well," mused Principal Chalmers. "I never thought I'd see you again! I heard you went off to state on some kind of affirmative action scholarship thing. Principal, eh? How about that..."
"My scholarship was for my grades!" objected Bernadine. "Affirmative action had nothing to do with it! And I graduated from the university summa cum laude!"
"All right, all right..." the principal put up his hands. "Whatever you say, girl. Anyways, we're pretty well set for teachers. Ain't no place for you on the faculty."
"No place for me?" Bernadine was incredulous. "I've won awards for my work. I have excellent references. But, I do understand that the school year is about to start. However, I'm willing to sub for a semester."
"You are?" Principal Chalmers raised an eyebrow. "Well... I may be able to slide you onto the sub list. Or maybe find you a job in the office here. Near me."
"An office job?" the black woman sighed. "I suppose I could do that if necessary..."
"It ain't necessary, girl," the principal replied. "It'd be a favor. One I'd expect to collect on later, if you know what I mean."
The white haired man leered at her from his desk. Bernadine blushed as she realized what he was saying. He had the same look on his face now that he had then when he'd had her strip searched by Coach Butcher way back when.
"A favor!" Bernadine was flabbergasted. "I don't need no damn favors from you!"
"Calm down, Cook," said the principal. "It's just an expression. I wouldn't mind havin' a fine looking negress such as yourself around here. All I ask is for you to be friendly like and let an old man enjoy a few pleasures of the flesh. It ain't like I'm askin' for anything you ain't done before... How else would a girl like you get to be principal of anything?"
"How dare you!" exclaimed the black woman as she turned to leave. "I don't have to take that. I am a qualified teacher. More qualified than any teacher you have here. I am not a whore."
Bernadine quickly walked out of the office and out of the school building. When she got to her car, her hands were shaking as she tried to put the key into the ignition. How could that old man talk to her that way? How dare he assume she got her position any way other than her own merits! Nothing had changed here in a quarter century. She started the car finally and headed down the road, still fuming under her breath.
Gradually she cooled off on the way home and started assessing her situation. She had to find work to support herself and her daughters. Teaching was her profession, but she wasn't going to get in through the principal's office. There had to be another way. There just had to be.
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