Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 08

Embarrassingly, I washed the dirty toe prints from my face with a wash rag using slow and weak strokes. It was a humiliating task as it took an extra effort to remove the caked on mud from the teenager's toes that had dried so hard on my face.

Minutes later, I started to enter the shower when I noticed the water was already could. I couldn't believe it got so cold, and so fast? Usually, the hot water lasted a good 25 minutes before getting colder! It had only been 2 minutes since I turned it on.

That is when I realized that Alexis Barron's shower had to be at least 25 minutes, maybe even longer, and she had left me with no hot water at all. I grew tense and embarrassed as I thought about not takiing a shower at all.

Still, I felt dirty and sweaty enough that I needed to. I then showered quickly and walked out of the bathroom with a towel around my body, and one over my dampened hair. I was shivering from the ice cold water left for me to get clean.

My clothes were no where to be found in my bedroom so I had to walk down the hall of the second floor and to another bedroom to get something to wear. I looked around for my clothes that had been in my bedroom before, but I could not locate them. None of them. Finally, I spotted a few of my older things laying on the reading chair of my spare bedroom.

When I emerged in an older pair of white yoga slacks and a matching top I finally began walking downstairs to the livingroom where Alexis Barron was seated.

I grew more nervous with each and every step I took as I walked down the carpeted stairwell. Tentatively, I minced my way into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator to cool my drying throat. Then, I looked out towards the livingroom.

The 18-year-old black woman was sitting back, comfortably, on the larger sofa. Her size 5 bare feet were propped up onto a pillow, which was positioned at the corner of the glass coffee table before her. A lap top computer rested upon her lap and a myriad of papers and folders, including the large bound PNL report, were set onto the cushions on each side of her. There was a bluetooth phone mechanism over her right ear and she was smoking a cigarette as she conversed with a caller.

Nervously, I stepped towards her. It was clear that she was speaking to someone on her hands free microphone but she looked up towards me when I drew nearer. That is when she tossed that blue and yellow tube of lotion up to me. Clumsily, I dropped it and quickly picked it up from the floor before standing back up.

She didn't even say a word.

The young black woman simply snapped her fingers twice and then arrogantly pointed to her bare feet. I looked at her feet and back to her again. Her small feet remained positioned on the table before her and crossed at the ankles. The soft, maroon pillow seemed to gently cradle them.

Alexis never did break the flow of her phone conversation as I stood there and looked down to the large tube of lotion in my hands. The label read "For Her" by the company called Dr. Scholl's, and it appeared to be a special lotion or cream for an overnight application.

It was so humiliating to be directed in this obviously stoic manner, and by this beautiful black teenager. It felt demeaning to have someone "snap" their fingers and gesture a command without saying a word. My face blushed a deep red tone, and my hands were trembling as I timidly moved closer to Alexis Barron's size 5 feet. Defeatedly, I bent down to both of my knees to sit on the backs of my legs before the dominant black girl.

The brazilian hard wood floors provided no comfort to me in this lowly position. Delicately, I began applying the lotion to the young black woman's dainty bare feet. I applied just a dab of lotion to both feet and gently massaged them into her deep mocha toned toes and heels, and then the curves and balls of her feet. After a few minutes, I simply stopped. Unthinkingly, I thought that I had completed my task. But, this was not the case. Alexis was quick to remind of that.

"What are doing?" she asked, sternly.

My face grew flush, in fear of the unknowing. Her sharp words cut into me like a knife would cut through a stick of butter.

"More lotion. Massage them. Do it right. Damn!" the black girl scolded.

Suddenly, she was looking directly into my eyes and I felt so weak that my body went limp. She had placed her caller on hold and seemed genuinely irritated by my lack of effort.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am. I-I'm s-sorry." I stuttered, nervously.

I applied more lotion to the 18-year-old's tiny bare feet and began massaging them more diligently. Alexis continued her call and tapped away on her lap top computer as I subserviently tended to her young feet.

My embarrassment had to be apparent. I was terrified to stop the massage and hear her anger again, so I continued to massage her feet. I kept applying more and more lotion every few minutes and continued on.

Eventually, my hands were growing tired from the long and drawn out massage. It had to be nearly 45 minutes of constant massaging by now. And, that is when I heard Alexis tell her caller to hold.

"Hang on, girl. I got another call." she said to her caller.

The young black woman flipped the switch on her blue tooth and took the incoming call.

"Great! See ya' in a few." she said.

Alexis looked down towards me, and what I now realize was my sniveling postion at her feet.

"That was the restaurant. I ordered some shrimp fried rice for us to share, from P.F. Changs." she said.

"They're coming up the driveway now. Go get the front door." she directed.

"Yes, Ma'am. O-Okay." I answered, in a whisper.

Degraded, I scurried into the kitchen to wipe my hands from the lotion and then grabbed my purse. I felt rushed as the door bell quickly rang while I was digging for the money in the wallet of my purse. Alexis simply sat back talking to her caller as I answered the door and then paid for the meal.

Exasperated, I walked the order of shrimp fried rice back into the livingroom where the young black woman remained. She acted as if she was some sort of Egyptian Princess sitting upon a throne as I dutifully handed her the order.

At this time, I had no idea what to expect. I had no idea what Alexis wanted me to do, or what I should even say. I just stood there watching her rustle through the brown paper bag of her chinese food. She kept her eyes to her computer screen and continued her conversation with the caller and ignored me for the time being.

It had to be five minutes before the 18-year-old black woman finally looked back up to me. I was nervous and trembling as her beautiful, stern-looking face began to stare me down. She gave me a disapproving look and then paused for a moment.

"I put some wine on the racks in the cupboard while you were traveling." she said.

"Get me some!" she ordered.

"Yes, Ma'am." I replied, whispered.

Yes, I did have a large wine rack in the house but only two bottles of wine were left on it from almost 2 years ago. They belonged to my late husband since I would rarely drink any alcohol, myself. And, as I made my way towards the walk-in pantry which offset the kitchen I came to the realization that her description of the cupboard meant my pantry.

I also began thinking that this young black woman was not even of legal drinking age. Somehow, this thought had just occurred to me and the added thought of how someone so young and innocent-looking was bossing me around like this truly heightened my shame and humiliation.

When I opened the door to the large pantry I was faced with a fully-stocked wine rack of red wines. I gasped as I noticed more than 20 bottles of wine filling the rack. Another 3 full cases were set on the floor and stacked on top of the other. I reached for one of the bottles and read the label.

"Caymus Vineyards, 2007." the label read.

Reading the label reminded me that this was the exact same red wine that Alexis Barron had ordered at the Le'Tour restaurant. When I turned the bottle over and noticed the $75.00 price tag on the bottom I nearly swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Oh my God!" I thought. "There has to be at least 50 bottles of this expensive wine in here." I mumbled under my breath.

Shamefully, I walked back into the kitchen and opened the bottle. I struggled to pry it open as I had never opened a bottle of wine in my entire life. My hands were shaking as I filled the crystal wine glass two-thirds full and I carried it, along with the bottle, back into the livingroom where Alexis waited.

When I handed the young, black woman the glass she took it without even a glance towards me. She wasn't acknowledging me and was already eating the shrimp fried rice from the restaurant container. Suddenly, I realized that this was the only container of food that Alexis had ordered. I was a little hungry, myself, but I was afraid to ask if some of that food was for me. In reality, I almost knew that it wasn't and I remained standing there, confused, and not knowing what to do. That is when she looked back up to me. Once again, she pointed down towards her tiny size 5 bare feet resting on the marron pillow.

"Well, keep going." she ordered.

Her brief eye contact with me lasted a mere second. and my face flushed as red as it did earlier. Yet, I was sure that the 18-year-old black woman never noticed. As I returned to my subservient position on the floor at her bare feet, I began massaging them with the lotion again. Meekly, I glanced upwards to her.

Alexis Barron was sitting there and gracefully eating her meal, sipping her expensive wine and talking on the phone. Her lap top continued to be her primary visual focus.

I realize just how pathetic I might have looked at this time as I dutifully massaged the teenager's feet with lotion while she gorged herself on a meal. Somehow, I managed to work through the stinging in my hands and continued to rub her feet and toes for the next 40 minutes. This entire time, the young black woman ignored me completely.

Finally, she looked around the side of her small computer and handed me the remaining portion of the rice.

"Here. You'll like this cus' it's my fav. There's plenty left." she said, almost tossing the squared plastic container of shrimp fried rice to my hands.

She followed this up by tossing me a plastic fork covered in a celophane wrapper, then returned her attention back to the computer screen.

I was getting hungrier and I took it from her young hands. For some reason, I blurted out a soft "thank you" before placing it upon the glass coffee table at her feet.

I began eating the leftovers with the plastic fork as I remained sitting on the floor like I was some sort of pet to her. Though embarrassed by the coldness of the leftover rice, I finished it of quickly and then looked back up towards Alexis Barron.

She was simply holding her empty wine glass straight out waiting for me to refill it. She never uttered a single syllable as I served more of the red wine in shame. That is when Alexis handed me the partially full ashtray she had been using. For one brief moment I paused, then defeatedly I took it from her grip and emptied it out in the kitchen trash.

Degraded, I returned to the livingroom and handed the now cleaner ashtray back to Alexis. She simply set it off to her left side on the sofa and she finished her call. It had been an extremely long phone call and she removed the blue tooth ear piece from her ear and cast it off onto the far side of the glass coffee table.

"Time to go over some things." she said.

"Keep massaging, you're not finished." she directed.

I was in disbelief. I had already spent nearly two hours massaging the young woman's feet with lotion. My hands here tired and I was weary from the long day of shopping. It was just past 8 o'clock by now.

Deep down, I believe the utter humiliation I was feeling on this day was exhausting me as well. I felt subdued. This was all so foreign, but the way she intimidated me kept me on a such a severe edge that I constantly worried about her anger.

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I whimpered, in a conquered tone of voice.

Defeatedly, I bent to my knees before the 18-year-old black girl's feet. Once again, I began applying more lotion and massaging her young toes for what felt like the twentieth time. She began to talk about the company, my company, and the PNL report as I remained in this subservient position.

The next hours were almost a blur to me. Young Alexis continued to shoot out all kinds of numbers and marketing strategies, continuing to talk and direct her way through nearly every item on the large profit and loss report. She was almost like a machine as she ripped through every accounting mistake and poor business decision I had made during the past 2 years.

Occasionally, she would add a condescending word into the mix, like "idiotic" and "stupid." I could hardly comprehend what the young black woman was referring to. I was fatigued to the point of tears and nearly falling over to the side on the floor. Somehow, I was able to keep my hands on her soft, young feet to massage them just as she had commanded.

The only little breaks I would receive from massaging her size 5 feet with lotion would be to refill her crystal glass with expensive wine, and to clean out her dirty ashtray every once in awhile. The degradation I was feeling was so immense that I was actually begining to "zone" out, my mind wandering, uncontrollably. It was all becoming a terrible blur and my eye lids grew heavier and heavier as the hours passed.

Barely awake, I continued kneeling at her black feet when young Alexis Barron removed her right foot from my now loose grip. With total arrogance, she stretched her leg out and up before my face. She curled and pointed her small toes like a ballerina would and harshly "tapped" the right side of my face with her toes.

"Hey! Did you get that?" she asked, tapping my beaten cheek a second time.

"Huh?" she asked louder, tapping it a third time, and then a fourth.

"Huh?" she ripped.

My eyes opened only a fraction wider as the young, black woman continued to speak. She then placed her soft, lotion-covered bare foot flush onto my face. Amusingly, she "scrunched" her moist toes right over my nose and began playfully and cockily swiping them across my face like some sort of amused child. This rude action caused me to only begin to come out of my sleepy state.

"Hey! I asked if you were awake." she said, almost laughing.

Her words finally became clearer to me.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am. Yes, M-Ma'am." I whispered as meekly as possible, barely opening my eyes.

Only then did Alexis remove her foot from my tired and weary face. I could hardly stay awake as I looked over towards the kitchen clock to see that it was already 1:30 a.m.

By then, I was so drained that it didn't even affect me. My hands were pulsating from the nearly 7 hours of constant massging of her young feet, and I just wanted to lay down somewhere and go to sleep.

The young black woman had just spent the entire night drinking nearly a full bottle of red wine, reviewing files and reports, and comtemplating strategies to effectively attack the marketplace. Yet, it was all inconceiveable to me.

I grew more incoherent with each passing hour.

It felt as if I was merely there to massage her small, bare feet as she made decision after decision about my company. She insulted and berated nearly every business decision that I had made before her arrival. She completely dominated the entire so-called discussion and I felt humiliated but afraid to respond to her using any words.

It was apparent that young Alexis Barron was becoming tipsy from the strong, expensive red wine. Yet, in my nearly incoherent state and extreme fatigue I wasn't quite sure. I just knelt there sitting on the backs of my legs ready to tip over to either side as my hands remained on her feet.

Sensing the night was over for me, the young black woman shifted her lap top off to the side, along with her ash tray and some reports. She placed both of her feet on the hardwood floor and gracefully spread her legs a little wider. I simply knelt there with half-shut eyes with no ability to comprehend what was happening. I was vaguely aware of the image of her sitting there at the edge of the sofa in her panties and tee shirt.

That is when Alexis Barron smoothly reached over and gently grabbed the top of my blonde hair with her right fist. She pulled my weakened head closer into her, and this took my limp body along with it. Without hesitation, she simply put my face to the very center of her panty-covered crotch and began rubbing my face on it.

In this fatigued state, I was nothing more than putty in her young hands. The deep, opaque hot pink fabric of her flimsy little panties were the only thing between my face and the black girl's neatlt-trimmed pussy. She continued to literally "massage" herself by using my weary face, gently and methodically, as her hand gripped my hair with greater force.

She continued this action back and forth, up and down, and side to side like this for what turned out to be an interminable amount of time.

Her moistness increased as she began picking up the pace and holding my face pressed against her silky mound. The young, black woman began to push back her pelvic region to my face harder and harder now. She began to roughly grind my face into her pantied pussy with a more brutal force I could hardly believe. This sudden brutality awakened me for a moment as she finally brought herself to an intense orgasm. I was desparately gasping for a single and solitary breath of air during this time.

This 18-year-old black woman had just used my face to grind herself to an orgasm in such a rough, selfish and greedy manner. She degraded me and seemed to be taking advantage of my incoherent state of mind, yet she continued holding onto the top of my head by it's long, blonde strands. Her small, mocha-toned fingers now twisted and tangled themselves deeper within my blonde roots to get a firmer grip.

I breathed heavily now, wondering why she wasn't letting go of my hair. Embarassed, I felt like an oversized raggedy ann doll unable to resist. And, that is when the young black woman stood up, still firmly holding onto my hair, and pulled my head down to the seat cushion of the sofa where she had been sitting.

My head was now straight up towards the ceiling, and I continued to breathe heavily in humiliation as I watched the white ceiling fan above me. Suddenly, and without notice, I saw the deep hot pink panty-clad ass of the teenaged black woman looming into my sight. It was just inches above my exhausted and already pussy-drenched face. She seemed to pause for only seconds as she positioned her tight, petite and well-rounded ass cheeks inches above my face. Then, abruptly she set her panty-covered ass right down upon my face.

My weakened body innately tried to resist, but I was unable to fight her. The 4'11" tall, 95 lb. black girl was literally only about one third my size, yet she seemed 3 times stronger than I was. With a fierceness I had never felt before, or have experienced since, Alexis grinded her perfectly-shaped pink pantied ass cheeks on my face with fierce determination. She was relentless as she furiously rubbed and grinded her well-muscled ass cheeks in my face for the next 10 minutes. Selfishly, she came to an explosive orgasm and completely drenched my face with her warm juices.

I merely layed there subdued, beaten and exhausted as she finally let go of my hair from her firm grip. Still, she sat on my face in those opaque flimsy panties and continued what she called her "after grind," slowly smearing and wriggling her tiny ass cheeks over my face with such total arrogance. It was her after grind that lasted another 15 minutes before she eventually stopped and stepped away, now satisfied by her use of my face.