Black Alexis Dominates White Ch 12

I did not know the exact time when I had fallen asleep on the floor of my living room that Sunday night, only that I had. I was awakened by the soft tapping sound of young Alexis Barron on her lap top computer, and the distinct smell of what seemed like sweet cloves filling the air.

The unusual and foreign scent confused me as I opened my eyes and became temporarily unaware of my surroundings. As I layed upon the left side of my weakened body with the cold, hardwood floor touching my skin, I finally realized where I was. Curiously, my head and neck were propped up by one of the small cushioned pillows from the sofa love seat across the room. A small, soft baby-sized blanket was covering my body from the shoulders to my waist. The slightly dampened terry cloth towel from my shower the night before layed on the floor at my feet.

Embarrassingly, I realized the tiny zebra-print nylon bikini panties the black teenager had worn yesterday were still inside my mouth. They remained where she had so rudely put them the night before. The crotch of these little panties were still tucked inside my mouth as the rest of the silky panty delicately billowed out past my sore and swollen lips.

In an utterly defeated manner, I simply removed the black woman's well worn little panties from my mouth. Gently, I set them onto the floor before me. The taste of young Alexis' pussy filled my entire mouth in the most embarrassing way.

I remained laying on my side feeling thoroughly beaten up. A stinging feeling on my nose, lips and chin began to surface. The intense humiliation hovered over me like a swarm of locusts covering their prey.

The thought of this black girl's apparent compassion in providing a pillow and blanket for me that night changed. Her compassion was overshadowed by the coarse reality of her making me sleep with her soiled nylon panties inside my mouth for several hours into the night.

Looking upwards from my sideways laying position on the floor I could see young Alexis sitting on the sofa before me.

She was sitting straight up at the very edge of the sofa with her legs crossed one over the other. Her small, streamlined back was curved and tightened to a near perfect posture. She was typing with one hand and holding an all black cigarette in her right hand with her elbow resting upon the firmness of her young thigh.

I would soon realize that scent of sweet cloves was actually a "clove" cigarette, a new brand which she suddenly and mysteriously decided upon. The sudden change in brands intrigued me at the time.

The 18-year-old black woman appeared focused upon her task as I pulled my head and body to an upright position. Quietly and timidly, and in my half asleep state, I remained sitting on the floor looking towards her. She was so amazingly beautiful, yet she had such a commanding presence that I felt humbled and intimidated.

I noticed the clock on the wall. It was only 5:45 a.m., and it appeared that Alexis had already been awake for quite some time. By her appearance, I reasoned she had to be.

Alexis Barron was already showered and her makeup had been flawlessly applied. Her lips were absolutely slathered in a deep coat of her favorite shade of lipstick, which is the creamy L'Oreal Drumbeat Red shade number 310. Her long, dark african hair was shiny, straightened and pulled into a smooth perfectly slicked back ponytail. A shiny bronze colored hair tie kept it in place.

The young black woman was not fully dressed, though. She sat on the edge of the sofa in merely a white bra and panty set, barelegged, and wearing the most curious fluffy pink bunny slippers on her tiny size 5 bare feet.

The simple contrast of this young, stern, and seemingly all-business type black girl in those playful and childlike slippers bewildered me. Despite this adolescent flare, I remained humbled by her presence. The way I always felt so outclassed and defeated around her embarrassed me.

Although I was quite sure Alexis was aware that I had finally awakened, she was ignoring me for the moment.

I must have sat there on the floor offset to her right for close to three minutes before she finally spoke.

"You didn't come up to bed like I told you to last night." Alexis said, non chalantly and without as much as a glance towards me.

Her tone elevated the tense feeling I had. My heart began to pump unpleasantly fast. Although I could only detect a slight dissatisfaction in her words, I was quite sure she was somewhat angered by the fact that I had fallen asleep on the floor last night. I was just beginning to learn the things that disturbed the young black woman, and I was desperately hoping that this was not one of them.

I remained sitting on the floor in silence, unsure of how I should respond to her comment. The 2 minute silence kept me on edge as she continued staring at her computer screen with what seemed like little interest in my presence.

Suddenly, she stopped typing and looked dead into my eyes. Her abrupt and decisive glare literally caused goose bumps to surface on my arms.

"Did you?" she asked, rather sternly.

There was another uncomfortable silence as my eyes met hers. I was only able to make eye contact with the young black woman for a fraction of one second before my eyes fell to the floor, in shame.

"Did you?" Alexis repeated louder, and more firmly.

Her question scared me. Her admonitory tone made me quiver in humiliation. My heart raced even faster and I knew that I had to answer now.

"Na-Na-N-No, Ma'am." I answered faintly and fearful, my eyes to the floor.

The young, black woman continued staring at me for what seemed like minutes. In actuality, it was only a moment. Yet, I could feel her eyes almost disciplining me as I hopelessly tried to calm my inner nerves.

"Remind me to slap you for that later." she said, authoritatively.

"For now, I still have work to do and I need some coffee." she snapped.

Young Alexis looked back to her computer screen and dashed out the half burnt black clove cigarette in the ashtray to her left.

"R-R-Remind you?" I asked, mumbling under my obviously intimidated breath.

The young black woman simply turned back to me once again. She had this look on her pretty face almost as if to say, "are you really that much of an idiot?" her expression seemed to say. The feeling in the room made me shiver before her.

"Uh-Coffee I said!" she snarled, ignoring my careless remark.

Timidly, I stood up gathering the articles of clothing and the pillow from the floor. Shyly, I covered my naked body with the used bath towel from last night's shower.

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am. Okay." I replied in a whisper.

Defeatedly, I headed for the kitchen and began preparing a cup of coffee for Alexis. The same Africa Kitamu brand was her preference. My face felt tender from the brutal grinding of her pantied pussy on it from the night before. It was already tender to the touch.

From a distance, I stared at young Alexis Barron in awe. The black girl was so young, ravishing and confident. Her mere presence in my home was enough to make me fall to my knees, in shame.

"Why am I letting all this happen?" I thought to myself.

Her beauty, intelligence and authoritative presence intimidated me. It was then that I concluded that she was actually making this happen more than I was letting it. Many thoughts of why she was doing this stirred inside me as I defeatedly stood in the kitchen in silence.

I grew even more worried thinking about the days' events set before me. It was Monday morning now, and I suddenly recognized this would be the first day back at the office.

The perfectly poised young black woman appeared so determined and in such complete control of everything in her life. Her image of uncontested authority from my humble position in the kitchen caused my palms to sweat, and my mouth to dry. My entire body seemed to feel weaker with every passing moment around her.

It is hard to describe. It seemed as if her inner strength and power was slowly and methodically draining every ounce of energy from me, drip by drip, and one drip at a time.

As the single cup brewer finished it's job, I placed the cup onto a saucer and added the single teaspoon of cream she had always demanded. This simple task, alone, made me feel almost "controlled" and "trained," like I was some sort of puppet. I stared at the dark coffee turning into a crisp mocha brown color, longingly and lost in thought.

My hands literally trembled as I carried the coffee from the kitchen to the livingroom, where the young and domineering black lesbian was sitting.

I bent down low to one knee before the sofa to serve her, both of my hands on the cup and saucer. I remained in this humbling and subservient position praying that young Alexis would just take it from my hands.

But, she never did.

The chronic delay in her response to my presence was truly demeaning.

I felt asinine in this position as the black teenager continued studying the items on her computer screen. Not once did she acknowledge my presence as she sporadically tapped a few keys while reading her work. The minutes were going by so slowly.

With unbelievable arrogance, Alexis then coolly reached over with one hand and grasped the cup from the saucer with her fingers. Delicately, she took a single and very small sip of the strong African coffee before setting the cup back to it's resting place on the saucer in my hands.

Still, she did not look in my direction. Not even once. Her stoic expression seemed more concerned by the words on the screen than the cup of coffee. With the exception of me on my knee holding her coffee, my presence was absolutely meaningless to her.

Being in this servile position on one knee holding the cup and saucer before such a young black woman caused my face to blush. Several minutes went by and my hands began to tremble even more. I found it increasingly difficult to steady the cup of hot coffee on the plate as I silently pleaded on my mind for her to take it.

For reasons I only understand now, I was afraid to get up or do anything else that would disturb her work.

The faint "rattling" sound of coffee cup against the procelein saucer quickened, and after a brief period of time it caught the young woman's attention. She looked towards me and finally acknowledged my feeble presence.

She let me cower in this awful position for several more seconds before she decided to speak.

"Will you put that shit on the table before you spill it already." she ordered.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I answered, obediently.

My embarrassment couldn't have been more obvious to her as I placed the hot cup and saucer onto the glass coffee table. I was petrified that my failure to hold the cup still interupted her train of thought.

My eyes then met hers.

"I've finished the little speech you're going to be giving today." she said.

"Sp-speech?" I questioned, nervously.

Her beautifully curved and streamlined eyebrows bent downward with a disapproving expression.

"Well, it's not really a speech. Not exactly. You see, it's more like an announcement." She began.

"I mean, you're certainly going to announce my new position to the staff, and your new role in this company, aren't you?" she asked, not expecting a response.

"It's what we discussed." she directed.

The realization of what was happening had always been there. I suppose I already knew this. Yet, somehow hearing the young black woman's words now made it feel much more real. I felt humbled and defeated by all that had happened up to this point, especially since my return from Oslo last Friday. Now, in just a couple of hours I was being told to formally announce it to my entire staff.

"Go get yourself ready." Alexis ordered.

I'll have this printed out for you by then." she directed.

Degraded, I picked myself up from off the floor and headed upstairs to shower and change. My legs felt like heavy logs of lumber as I labored to walk. My shoulders slumped in defeat while my mind continued struggling to grasp the full weight of what was about to happen today.

Pitifully, I turned back only once as I made it to the top of the stairwell. I looked over my left shoulder and down into the livingroom from above. The petite black woman was grinning in what appeared to be a childlike and sinister manner as she read her own words from the lap top. She appeared satisfied by her own work and almost amused.

My eyes fell to the floor as I turned and headed for my bedroom.

Reluctantly, I set the outfit chosen by young Alexis onto the bed. I studied it for a moment and felt ashamed as shower warmed. The crisp, white linen blouse was so low cut. The white bra was incredibly padded and uplifting. The white skirt was shorter than anything else I had ever worn in my entire life, with the exception of yesterday. The white leather pumps were 5 inches high with a wide ankle strap that would be difficult to wear for any length of time.

A pair of white chiffon panties, a red leather belt and taupe pantyhose completed the outfit.

As the shower ran, I put on my shower cap and peered into the slightly foggy mirror. The steam had all but covered my reflection by now and I wiped a streak across the mirror with my trembling hand to see myself.

What I saw startled me.

My nose and chin were deeply reddened and nearly chapped, which was caused by the intense grinding of the young black woman's panty-covered pussy on my face last night. My already full lips now looked almost fuck-swollen, out of proportion. My lips looked like I had received a collagen treatment, or like I had been just beaten up in some kind of cat fight.

My own image humiliated me.

Gently, I placed three fingers to my noticeably red, bulbus nose and felt it. It was a little more sensitive to the touch than I had imagined. The faint stinging caused my body to flinch in pain.

"Oww! Oh my G-G-Gawd." I thought.

"Please let my makeup cover all this." I prayed, in silence.

I must have stared at my own image of defeat in the steamed mirror for minutes. The small black woman had been so rough and aggressive as she selfishly used my face to please her last night.

The demoralizing feeling seemed endless. My throat felt dry and coarse when I finally turned away from the mirror. I no longer wanted to look at myself and see my malleated face as I slowly stepped into the shower.

Washing myself felt like a chore this time. I labored through it as quickly as I was able, and I felt hurried to ready myself. I patted myself dry and walked into the bedroom to change, staring at the outfit chosen for me to wear and I disgarded the wet towel.

Browbeaten and overcome with a fear that my sluggishness would upset her, I quickly dressed.

I felt ridiculous standing there in this unusually sexy and youthful business attire. It was certainly not typical in the business world.

Again, it was classy and moderately professional in many ways. Still, the shortness of the skirt and the height of the heels made me feel uncomfortable and more exposed. The combination of the excessively padded bra and the low cut blouse made my already full D-cup breasts "jut" out, embarrassingly. My natural cleavage had been enhanced in a most blatant manner.

My appearance was no more than a couple of notches up from one of a well-dressed, manicured blonde bimbo trying to look classier than she really was.

This is how I felt.

I struggled to control my balance in the 5 inch high heels as I minced my way over to the chest of drawers in my bedroom. In these restrictive heels, my natural stride was more than cut in half. Like yesterday, it felt like I had to take baby steps to stay on my feet.

With my statuesque 6' tall plus frame now at 6'6" tall in these ankle-strapped pumps I had to hunch over to see myself in the mirror. The sun was beginning to rise and it peeked through the upstairs bedroom window as I repeatedly combed through my tangled hair. After several strokes I pulled it back into a neat ponytail and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

My hands quivered as I began to pat my face with the powedered makeup I typically used. My nose and chin stung with every attempt to conceal the redness of my face.

I had never before worn more than a very light coat of makeup. I had been blessed with a nice complexion and never required much more than a light brushing. But, today was different.

Today, my usual lighter coat of makeup was not working. It was not fully covering my reddened nose and chin, and began to grow frantic and desperate as I continued looking at myself. I remember contemplating how I might need a thicker liquid base makeup to conceal my beaten face.

It was then that I heard young Alexis' voice.

"Don't worry about the clown nose. That will go away in no time." she said, rather sarcastically.

My hands literally fell to the top of the chest of drawers before me. Her sudden presence and stern, youthful voice sent me into a near panic. She startled me as I gazed into the mirror to see the image of the young black woman standing behind me.

She had her arms crossed and holding a sheet of paper in one hand. She remained dressed in merely her panties and bra, and those pink fluffy bunny-decorated slippers.

"Don't overdue it with that makeup either." she snapped.

"I don't want you looking like some kinda cheap white whore." she said.

My cheeks blushed as I continued looking in the mirror at Alexis standing behind me. I had hardly applied any makeup at all, yet I stood there frozen in silence as I stopped applying it to my face. I was speechless and timidly waited for her to say something. I waited without a single clue of what was to come next.

"We should go over the announcement you're going to make before I get dressed." she said, turning and walking to the other side of the room.

"Um, O-Okay." I answered, nervously, as I peeked over my left shoulder towards her.

I watched as the black teenager walked to the other side of the room and took a seat on the only chair. This chair was an old victorian styled chair left to me by my parents before they moved back to Norway years ago.

Tentatively, I stepped towards the young woman sitting with her legs crossed as she perused the paper she had just printed out. I stood before her with the same anxiety that I had felt at Oaktown Mall this past weekend, and at Sarah's specialty shop yesterday afternoon.

"Go fetch my coffee from the livingroom, will you." she said, in a demanding tone.

My heart began racing.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am. Okay." I quivered.

Humbly, I minced my way down the carpeted stairwell and into the livingroom in the restrictive high heels. I felt so clumsy as I went to fetch the young woman's cup of coffee. Anxiously, I carried it back up to the bedroom trying to keep my balance and striving to keep the "clinking" sound of the cup and saucer rubbbing together to a minimum.

My efforts were futile.

As I served the coffee to Alexis Barron, she took a very small sip. Immediately, her beautiful face soured in an overly-exaggerated way.

"Ugh. It's cold." she scowled.

"Warm that up a little." she ordered, handing the three quarters full cup back to me.

I paused for just a moment, then conceded.

"Y-Yes, Alexis. O-Okay." I responded.

Subdued, I took the cup of cold coffee from her hand and headed downstairs to the kitchen to warm it up as I was told. I used the microwave to remove the chill from her coffee. For a second time, I minced my way back up the carpeted stairs in the five inch heels that were so difficult to manage.

The gentle rattling sound of the porcelein plate against the cup was now more apparent.

Obediently, I served the coffee to the young black woman a second time.