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.
