Black Man One Ch 11

The young black stud's eyes looked so serious as he stepped inside the small workout center. His stern glare of dominance caused my eyes to fall to the blue matted floor at his bare feet. I was instantly humbled by him. Seconds later, I then felt my beautiful wife's sudden and quiet presence as she followed in behind the black man and stepped inside.

"Hey, boy. Ya' ready?" the black man asked.

"Y-Yeah. I-I-I guess s-so." I quivered.

I stood there noticeably shaking and afraid to look back up into the black man's eyes. Even at my noticeably taller height I felt weak and cowardly standing before the young black stud. He simply stood there in that arrogant flimsy little tiger-print nylon bikini putting on a pair of fingerless leather speed gloves to begin his workout. Suddenly, my wife began to speak.

"Honey, guess what?" Julie began, ignoring my timid appearance.

I merely glanced in my wife's direction but felt compelled to keep my eyes towards the ground as she continued speaking.

"Trey finally picked out a building for the workout center." she said.

"Trey says it's going to be an exclusive woman's workout center." she continued.

"Trey says it's going to be so much better and different than anything else around here." she added.

"Trey said I am his number one assistant now, too." my wife said, excitedly.

"Trey also says I will learn so much helping him with his new business." Julie said.

"Oh, and Trey says all the other wives are going to be able to be assistants and gold members at the same time." she continued.

"Trey can't wait to get his new center started as soon as possible." she added.

The look on the young black stud's face was demoralizing for me as my pretty blonde wife continued fawning all over him. Her words of enthusiasm over his plans wewre defeating. He stood there with an almost sheepish grin upon his stern and chiseled face as Julie went on and on.

"Yeah. Trey talked to all of us today." she informed.

"Trey spoke to the other husbands earlier today, too." she continued.

"Trey says all the other wives told him their husbands are gonna chip in and invest too!" Julie announced.

"Isn't that right, Trey?" Julie asked him.

The bold and dominant black man's face was firm, yet pleased.

"Yea, that's right!" he replied.

"Trey said that it's really important to make it and even better place right from the start." Julie continued.

"Trey says he wants it to be the best place yet." she added.

"Trey says that first impressions are lasting impressions." she said.

"So, Trey says that today is really officially my first day as his assistant." Julie advised.

"Trey wants to meet later to go over the layout. That's what Trey says." she informed.

"Trey says we have so much to do now with the design layouts of all the rooms." she added.

"Trey's new business is going to be so exciting." Julie said.

"Trey also said he's meeting with the other husbands again tonight about the investment." my wife gleemed.

"Right after his workout. Trey said that too." she mentioned.

I almost couldn't believe my ears. Demoralized, I brought my timid eyes back up to the young black stud's stern face. He was sneering even more and delighted by the excitement in my wife's voice. Her gloating and verbal fawning over the young stud was absolutely defeating to hear. It would be for any white husband.

Tra'mon patted his fists together in those leather speed gloves with such cockiness.

I was already shocked by the manner my beautiful blonde wife seemed to be falling all over the black man. She was now telling me that she was his number one assistant and he had seemingly convinced all the other white wives to assist in getting his center ready as well.

Furthermore, somehow he had convinced all the other husbands to invest in his new business venture.

I wondered if the other white husbands even knew that their pretty wives would be actually working with this young black stud now, and that they had become gold members before the workout center even opened.

At the time, I was curious as to why I had not seen any of the other husbands yet. I wondered where they could have been during this so-called meeting by the pool. That is when Tra'mon answered my silent question.

"Yeah. Dem' white boys are taking care of getting dat' investment ready now. We're gonna meet again in a little while to settle things up." He said.

His overwhelming confidence and arrogance were rocketing through the stratosphere as I stood there meekly. Confused, I began to think about how he had gotten to the other 12 white husbands who didn't seem so interested in any new investments at all. I pondered the thought that they were just as intimidated of him as I was, which I knew they were. But, I questioned if this was the main reason for their compliance.

I felt even more humbled as my wife, Julie, began to speak to Tra'mon.

"Can I get anything else for you before I go, Trey?" she asked him.

"Well, maybe a nice fruit plate if dat' ain't no trouble girl." the black stud answered, sarcastically.

"Oh my god, no! No trouble at all, Trey! None whatsoever, Trey." Julie suddenly gasped.

"What kind of fruit do you like, Trey?" she asked.

The young black stud put his powerful fingers to his chin, slowly contemplating his thoughts as I stood there watching in amazement. It was almost as if he was stalling on purpose.

"Well, I usually likes me some papaya, lotsa different melons, strawberries and blueberries too." he said.

Unbelievably, Julie began writing this down on the back of her pamphlet like some sort of secretary or waitress. She didn't even think about asking her own white husband, either.

"Oh-Okay, Trey. I'll get this for you right away, Trey. I'll just change quickly and run out to the market for these things, okay Trey?." she said in a rushed tone of voice.

"I could have your fruit plate made just the way you like it by the time you finish with your workout, Trey." she fawned.

"If that's okay with you, Trey?" my blonde wife asked.

"That'll be fine, gurl." the black man answered, pausing.

"As long as dat' don't take too long." he added.

"Oh, no Sir. It won't take long at all, Trey. No, not at all Trey. I should be back in no time, Trey." Julie answered like some sort of subservient and lovestruck school girl.

I watched as my beautiful young wife frantically scurried out the door in her bikini and sandals. The black stud kept his eyes on her the entire time as she ran out of our view.

"Now, dat's what I call an ass." the black man said, referring to my blonde wife.

He then turned back to me.

Again, I stood there meekly as the 5'9" tall muscular black stud approached me. He looked into my eyes with a glare that made me even more nervous than before.

"How'd a fine piece of ass like dat' end up with a big white pussy like you anyway, boy?" he asked, grinning.

"I-I-I don't kn-know, Sir." I timidly replied.

The young stud had an evil smile on his face as he reached slightly upwards to "tap" my face in the most arrogant manner possible. He must have tapped it eight or nine times before he spoke again.

"Don't want dat' ass kicked anymore, do ya' boy?" he asked.

"N-N-No, Sir ... I-I don't. Pl-please?" I groveled.

The young black stud just laughed.

"Dat' little lady of yours asked me take it easy on ya' from now on." He told me.

"She don't want me beating that ass anymore." he continued. "But, dat' don't mean shit. I told her that's my decision." he concluded.

"Pl-Please?" I groveled, once again.

"Then, just hold that big bag steady whilst I work it and keep dat' pussy mouth of yours shut! She don't need to know shut. Got dat?" He ordered, referring to the heavy body-sized bag to his left.

"O-O-Okay. Yes, S-Sir." I whispered.

My nervousness continued to increase as I walked over to the "heavy bag" and waited for the black man to begin his workout. I was a little more than shocked that he still wanted to work out in just his smallish bikini speedoes suit. But, I was thankful that he did not want to spar with me anymore.

I truly felt relieved that he was letting me "off the hook" in some sort of way, but I remained frightened by the neverending thought that he would change his mind.

Tra'mon began hitting the heavy bag lightly as I held it steady. As he picked up the pace, I could feel the young black stud's powerful fists driving into the bag. The force, alone, caused me to "wince" in discomfort and my own weak body was being pushed back with every strike.

His punches to the bag grew more furious as he warmed up and got into the workout even harder. Flurries of punches to the heavy boxing bag that I was holding onto for dear life sent me reeling. I stumbled and fell to the blue mats on the floor several times.

"Let's go. Git' up and hold that thing steady, boy." He yelled.

"What? You sum' kinda pussy?" He asked loudly.

"Hold dat' thing still, boy!" He ordered.

"Y-Yes, Sir. Okay." I replied, meekly as I picked myself off the floor again, and again.

The athletic young black man would not relent.

He pounded and pulverized that heavy boxing bag with tremendous force, pausing only to rudely spit onto the matted floor every minute or so. It was curious how many times he was spitting onto floor during this particular workout. His dark, muscular body was far more drenched and soaked with heavy sweat than ever before, and it flew off his chiseled body and onto the mats with every punch to the bag he took.

Cowardly, I tried in desperation to hold onto the practice bag so he wouldn't become angry. He seemed to be disturbed by how I was falling over to the floor all the time. And, I did once again.

I could not stay on my own two feet.

For twenty-five minutes, the masculine black stud drove his fists into the bag during this intense workout. His power and strength could be felt with each blow, and after that last flurry of strikes to the body bag I fell over another time.

I now layed on my right side and on the blue matted floor looking upwards to the black man. The right side of my face was flat against the padded mat. I was breathing heavy from the struggles I had holding onto his workout bag, and it felt almost as if he was hitting my own body through this oversized boxing bag. In reality, he was.

Tra'mon now stood above me looking down at my exhausted and stunned eyes with a stern and determined look upon his youthful face. His dark, muscular and powerful body was absolutely drenched in an unbelievable sweat. His sweat dripped from the flimsy tiger-print nylon spandex bikini speedoes-styled underwear he wore, and it cascaded to the mats on the floor drop by drop.

The young black stud casually removed the fingerless leather gloves from his hands before tossing them down into my face rudely. They struck my face and fell off to the side.

"You're gonna have to learn to do better than that, boy." he ripped, spitting to the floor for about the 30th time.

This time, the black stud's saliva landed just a few inches before my reddened face.

"Got dat'?" he yelled.

"Y-Yes, S-Sir." I muttered, exhausted and afraid.

Embarrassingly, the young black man then walked right up to my laying position behind the heavy practice bag. I remained nervous with the right side of my face still on the mat and trying to control my heavy breathing. Meanly, he seemed to purposely step right into his own large saliva puddle with his right foot, which was already dirty from the pool area and the workout center floor.

His foot was inches before my face on the mat and I didn't know what to expect next.

That is when he lifted his dirty right foot covered with his spit and sweat, and he placed it onto my left cheek. He pressed it onto the left side of my face firmly.

"Ow." I whispered, feeling the pressure.

The young black stud held his strong bare foot on the side of my face for a few long moments before finally "wiping" it onto my cheek like he was using my face as a doormat.

"Git' the rest of this shit wiped off the floor before I gets more upset, boy." He commanded.

"Y-Yes, S-Sir. Okay." I replied in a faint, obedient whisper.

From my laying position with my face on the mat, I watched as the black stud walked slowly and confidently through the multitude of small puddles of his own sweat and saliva, and then to the grill styled wooden bench nearest to the glass doors. He grabbed a small white towel along the way and began wiping the sweat from his dark muscular torso.

Defeatedly, I picked myself off the floor and grabbed a handful of smaller white towels from the rack mounted on the wall. I bent down to my hands and knees and began cleaning the black man's sweat and saliva from the floor, drying the floor diligently as I was told to.

I was terrified of this strong and masculine black stud and my humiliation was, seemingly, at it's peak.

My face could not have been more red and the intimidation I felt was like no other I had experienced before. Because of my fear, I was barely aware of anything else except finishing this demoralizing and degrading task of cleaning.

Just as I finished wiping the floor clean of the young black man's sweat, I heard him "snapping" his fingers at me. I looked up and saw him gesturing.

"Bring those towels over here, boy." He ordered.

Humiliated, I timidly walked over to Tra'mon sitting on the bench. I now stood about 5 feet in front of him. I was shaking all over as I held one of the clean towels out for him to take. But, he did not accept it. Rudely, he put one of his dirty bare feet straight out and pointed to it.

"Get this shit off my dogs too, boy!" He demanded, referring to the dirt, spit and sweat on the bottoms of his feet.

My shoulders slumped and I was petrified by his command. I couldn't believe how arrogant this black stud was being to me, and I nearly fell over in humiliation. I couldn't comprehend how he would expect me to do something so degrading like this. Yet, he knew I was a "weak white wimp" and he became firmer with his stern words as I stood there stalling.

"Looks like we're gonna have a problem, huh boy?" he asked sternly.

"P-P-Please, Sir?" I begged, trying to avoid the inevitable situation as I began to cry.

Tra'mon grinned, a determined and rough smile tracing his lips. My quivering and my embarrassment seemed to amuse him to some extent, yet his serious eyes terrified me even more.

"Are we gonna have this problem, white boy?" he asked, his voice toughening.

Intimidated, I began shaking my head.

"N-No, S-Sir. I-I don't w-want to have a p-problem." I stuttered.

He looked at me impatiently.

In shame, I bent down to one knee and began to wipe the black man's saliva, sweat and dirt from his bare feet. His evil grin was far too intimidating for me to contest, and I certainly knew that I didn't want to get beaten up again. He was far to masculine for me to go against, and despite my total humiliation I did as he told me to.

"Dat's what I thought, white boy. That's what you white pussies are good for. Y'all good to clean up a niggas' sweat." He said, loudly.

"And, that's exactly what you're gonna do from now on, boy. Gots that?" He ripped.

"It's the way dis' shit is." He threatened.

"Y-Yes, S-Sir." I quivered.

It was traumatic for me. The young black stud had made me clean his bare feet of his own sweat and saliva. Then, he stood up and pointed to the wooden bench for me to wipe the leftover sweat off the bench left by his sweated bikini-covered asscheeks. I did so in complete and total humiliation.

"Good boy!" He yelled.

It couldn't have been more than 30 seconds later when my blonde wife, Julie, arrived with the fruit plate. It was neatly cut up into slices and covered in celophane. Julie had a look of shock and awe on her face as she stepped in quietly.

"Are y-you guys finished with the w-workout already, Trey?" she asked, seemingly affected.

I had not seen Julie at all during the entire humiliation I was experiencing. For all I knew, she had run off to the store to buy and prepare a fruit plate for Tra'mon and just got back. I would not know until weeks later that my young, blonde wife had witnessed the entire demoralizing scene.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, Julie had stood there peering around the corner and caught the last minute of the black stud's workout. She had seen me holding the heavy bag as he pounded away. She had witnessed me falling to the floor and laying there as the black man placed his bare foot onto the side of my face.

She saw me wiping the stud's sweat and spit off the floor like some sort of towel boy. And, she had seen me wiping the black ruffian's bare feet clean before cleaning off the bench of his sweated bikini asscheeks.

Julie didn't say a word about it.

She pretended to just arrive when it was over. Seeing her taller but much weaker and wimpier white husband emasculated at the feet of a young black stud like Tra'mon must have been embarrassing for her. Humiliatingly, I will have to admit that there must have been other feelings for her as well. The obvious manner in which she treated this black man was different now.

As the black stud thanked her for the fruit plate, he took it from her hands. Julie looked over towards me for a moment and then drew her eyes downward, in embarrassment of me. It was at that time I felt the "smear" of the black man's dirty foot on the left side of my face. I wondered if she had noticed that, too, but I was afraid of wiping the side of my face with one of the smaller towels in my hands.

"You did a good job, little lady." Tra'mon said as he slurped down a slice of papaya.

"Um, oh thank you Trey." she answered.

Julie's eyes rose up to look at me again. Her look made my eyes fall to the floor, in utter disgrace and shame.

"Are you guys finished then?" she asked.

"Yeah, we're all done. Just a few things to talk 'bout and then meet wit' the others." the black stud announced.

"Why don't you get your pretty lil' self showered and ready, and we'll meet up later to go over some things." Tra'mon directed, insisting that she leave.

"Um, well okay Trey. Sure, Trey. I-I will do that, Trey. I-I just don't want you guys fighting anymore, okay Trey?" she stated.

"Aw, gurl. We ain't doin' no such thing. Just a friendly lil' workout is all. Ain't that right, boy?" he announced, looking right into my eyes.

"Y-Yeah." I whispered, nodding in agreement and humiliated that he had just referred to me as "boy" in the presence of my own wife.

"Well, okay then I guess. I'll go then and see you later, Trey." Julie answered, suspiciously.

My pretty wife turned and walked out of the workout room. My reddened face had to be obvious to her, yet I was still unaware of what she had seen before I noticed her arrival.

It was a defeating feeling to know that this young black stud was so bossy and dominant to me in Julie's presence, and he was apparently attracted to her as well. In my mind, I wondered how I could possibly compete against such a masculine black stud like Tra'mon. In reality, I knew that could not. My worst fears over the years were becoming reality, once again.

That night, the young black man kept me there in the workout center during the times he had scheduled to meet with the other 12 white husbands. I was still curious about this.

Again, he informed me that he had already met with each one of them earlier in the day, and that they now had a clearer understanding and respect for his new business venture. His words continued to confuse me at the time.

Tra'mon then began texting the white husbands one by one, and one by one they arrived from their condo apartments within a few minutes of his text.