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Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 01

By: TallBlondeGretchen



My life has changed in the past three years. It has been turned upside down and inside out in the most unbelieveable, unimagineable and dramatic fashion. I could never have envisioned such a change could ever occur, not to someone like me. But, it was changed. And, it was changed by an extremely beautiful, dominant, young black lesbian woman named Alexis. 

To the outside world, I was a woman who seemingly had it all. I was blessed with above average looks, a financially secure husband, a nice home in the suburbs and an apparent career as the President of my very own company. 

At this particular time in my life I don't think anyone in the world could have had a different perception of me. Yet, this image that I presented was not who I was inside. It was also a far cry from what I have become since the day that I met Alexis Barron. 

I was born and raised in a small town just outside Oslo, Norway. The country of Norway is a relatively quiet and peaceful country that is almost hidden away from the rest of the world.

My father worked as an engineer for a large automobile manufacturer, and my mother as a hotel manager. 

My two sisters and I were raised in an upper to middle-class environment, and we were sent to some of the best schools in the country. I was the youngest of the three and began learning the english language at an early age. 

I was a diligent and moderately successful student. My grades were on the higher end of an unchallenging curriculum. 

By the time I had reached my 14th birthday, my family decided to move to America, and we eventually settled into a comfortable life in the pacific northwest. 

My two older sisters were 18 and 20 then, and they began attending college in the midwest almost immediately. I was placed into a very private and exclusive prep school for young women. 

With the exception of one asian girl for only one of those years, this all-female prep school was exclusively white. There were never any black, asian or hispanic girls in the entire school of about 400 students. 

The coursework at Saint Gertrude's was relatively easy. It resembled one of those finishing schools of the early 20th century that one might see in an old black and white movie. The daily curriculum was geared towards teaching us young women the proper manners and appropriate social etiquette of the upper class world. Most of the young women attending this school would eventually end up as the wife of a wealthy husband, and not much more than that. 

Academically, I did quite well. I excelled in all my studies and felt comfortable in this quiet and unassuming environment. With the exception of my above average height, I never did stand out from most of the other girls.

At the start of high school, I had already reached my present height of 6'1" tall. My figure was a trim, yet voluptuous 36-26-37, and I already possessed a full "D" cup. Perhaps, I was about ten pounds lighter than the trim 141 pounds which I carry now.  

My personality was always a huge contradiction to my physical appearance. Many would have viewed me as this stautuesque, young blonde woman with a pretty face and a mature figure, and one who might have had an outside chance of becoming a runway model someday. 

I wasn't that person. 

I was actually quite shy, timid and introverted. Most of the time I just hid behind these conservative dark-rimmed glasses, a result of a strict upbringing by a father who kept us protected from the all the terrors of the outside world. Despite my appearance, I felt clumsier and socially inadequate. 

I wasn't nearly as confident or dominant as someone with my size, shape and looks usually is. Simply put, I wasn't this imperial Norwegian goddess many thought I should have been. 

There were very few girls at Saint Gertrude's that were different. They were a little more assertive and popular than the rest of us, and they intimidated me. 

From a distance, I secretly admired how these types of women could be so self-assured and in control of themselves. I marveled at the way their beauty and their natural social skills seemed to give them the ability to make so many friends. It was like they had some sort of secret power over the others. And, I was fascinated by them. 

It didn't seem like a sexual attraction. Not during this period of time. The qualities they possessed were simply the qualities that I admired and felt humbled by. 

Like most young women back then, I still had my dreams and fantasies of meeting an attractive and successful man, then becoming his wife. It was the stability and security I sought, and needed. But, at the time I was vaguely aware of it. 

After graduating from this private high school, I went on to finish my bachelor's degree and swiftly moved through graduate school. I completed my Master's degree in less than two years. 

During my academic career, I continued to have very little interaction with the other students. Mostly, I kept to myself and did not socialize with any of the groups or "clicks" of the schools I attended. There were a few dates that I was coaxed into taking, and this would be the only social life that I can claim. None of them would amount to anything. Mainly, I just focused on my studies and my family life. 

My parents were certainly quite proud of me when I finally graduated. 

But, I was really more confused than anything else. I was about to turn 25, and I was quite uncertain about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. 

After taking several months off, I took a job as an office administrator. My very first job was with an firm my father referred me to. Basically, he set me up with a nice job because he knew someone at a norwegian-owned company. I would spend the next five years of my life slowly and methodically crawling up the corporate ladder of the business world. 

This was a rather shallow existence for me, to say the least. 

My career in the world of international advertising was not all peaches and cream. My roles were less than exciting, as they were always in more secluded "behind the scenes" roles. My professional duties were simplistic, despite the impressive titles that I was given. And, it soom became obvious that my good looks and heritage were playing a much greater role to my advancement than my actual skills were. 

I was not very aggressive or authoritative during my short-lived business career, although I became proficient from the administrative side. But, it would be nothing more than that. Never could one say that I was able to make any of the tougher decisions in business, or that I had the ability to make a business operate in a profitable way.

It was about this time when my feelings of ineptitude began. I was about to become 30 years old and I was beginning to have second thoughts about a business career. My thoughts of moving back to Oslo grew stronger since my family had just made that same decision a few weeks earlier. They were already set to move back to Norway when they invited me to a nice dinner one evening. 

That is the night I met Jeff. 

Jeff was an older gentleman of 50. We met at a small restaurant just outside Tacoma. I was there with my parents to have dinner when he suddenly approached me as I made my way to the ladies room. When my parents witnessed this brief verbal exchange from our table across the room, they began to drill me about him. 

Moments later, they were asking him to join us and I wasn't excited about this at all.

My parents never made any secret about the fact they have always wanted me to find a nice man. To them, I was already too old to be a single woman in America and they seemed desperate to find me a husband to settle down with before they moved back to Norway. It was embarrassing for me. 

Much to my surprise, Jeff turned out to be a really nice man. He was a tall man that owned a small, but very sucessful buiness in the perfume industry. He was an educated man who had a lot going for him at the time.

Jeff had a beautiful home in the suburbs, which was a short drive from the most elite part of the city from where he ran his business. He liked automobiles and I suppose that he felt some sort of connection to my father and his career in the automobile industry. They talked about automobiles from the first hour, and into the night. 

Jeff had a modest collection of 6 older cars that he described as "vintage." Back then, I thought that just meant having a bunch of old, rusted out cars. He said they were worth a lot of money, but it really wasn't something that I found interesting, or cared too much about. 

Nevertheless, we began dating right away and within just a few months he proposed. I was about to turn 31. 

Obviously, my parents were ecstatic about this new venture. They even made a special trip in from Oslo for a celebration dinner with Jeff's family. They tossed my glasses into a chest of drawers and purchased a pair of contact lenses for me. It was just one of their less than subtle ways to prepare me for my future husband and marriage. In their minds, they weren't going to let this one get away. 

We married only a few short months later in that same year. 

My new husband was a gentle man. He was a bit shy and never overbearing, yet somehow he had such great ability in the business world. He really knew how to make things work within his own business. 

His office was fairly small with a staff of only 8 administrative and clerical women. His company made a very good amount of money. 

Money was never the reason that I liked Jeff. It was a very nice thing to have. We were financially well off but not in any extreme or vulgar sort of way. We were moderately rich but not wealthy. 

Jeff's modest 5-bedroom home was valued at a little more than 700,000 dollars back in the year 2000, which was about a year after we married. His business brought us a moderate 200,000 dollar annual profit after his personal 250,000 dollar salary as the President of his company. Most of that, he would put back into his business. 

To me, it was still a lot of money. It was more money than I had ever known before. The security it provided was nice and we had a comfortable life. Despite my uneasy feelings, I knew that I didn't have to worry about money. 

When Jeff made me the vice-president of his small company, I was taken by surprise. I never expected to be in this type of role in my previous years in business. It happened shortly after we married. 

My husband gave me a 125,000 dollar salary and a fancy title. But, he made no secret about the fact that he didn't want me doing the nine to five grind everyday. Rather, he preferred that I be the primary homemaker and come into the office "to help out with things" only when they needed me. 

This was no more than once or twice a week, at the very most. 

It was easy to see that this decision didn't sit well with the other 8 women working for my husband at the time. They were not in leadership roles. They were in administrative positions. To them, I was merely a "trophy" wife who was benefitting from my marriage to a successful man. 

The other women were all older than I was. They were in their mid to late 40's, and they had been with Jeff for many years. It was my husband who really ran the business and made all the decisions. My occasional appearance in the office seemed to be more for "show" than anything else. All that I was asked to do was a little filing and accounting, and occasionally answering phone calls to set up appointments. These brief appearances were merely a way to justify my less than deserving high salary. 

As Jeff's wife, my life became rather uneventful.

My life was quiet, pleasant and comfortable. I didn't have to work much, and I had this large home with a beautiful in-ground pool set onto a stone deck. I could spend much of my time relaxing if I wanted to. 

Most of my time away from his business was spent shopping for expensive clothes and designer high heeled shoes, or planning our next dinner for the night. Yes, despite my 6'1" tall frame, my husband preferred me in 4 inch heels. Over time, I grew accustomed to wearing them and it was beginning to feel natural to be so tall. 

The only real work that I was doing around the house was cleaning and paying a few bills. I never liked having someone else cleaning my own home, so I took tremendous pride in doing so. 

But, in the years of our marriage it never occurred to me that I was losing most of the few business skills I had acquired before meeting Jeff. 

Then, after only 9 years of marriage tragedy struck. Jeff passed away at the age of 59, and I was quite saddened by this. 

Now, I was 40. And, I would be on my own for the very first time in a long time. 

By then, my parents had already settled back in Norway and I didn't have many friends at all. My sisters were now married and living out east. I suddenly found myself in a situation where I didn't know exactly what I was going to do. My late husband left me the business, the home and everything else, with the exception of two of his six vintage cars. 

He left those to his nephews. 

I still had my personal car, a BMW. I also had the pending insurance money and the house was already paid for. But, things weren't as secure as they seemed.

When I began going over all the financial obligations with our attorney, I began to realize that there were still many expenses that needed to be taken care of. 

The house had very high taxes to pay each year and the insurance on the 4 remaining vintage cars I now owned were quite high. The lease on the office building was almost like paying a mortgage. The insurance money was being held up for what they called "cause," and it was being investigated. 

To make matters more difficult, the business was beginning to fail. It was not making as much as it did in the previous years. It was only enough to make a small profit after all the expenses, salaries and taxes were paid. This included my 125,000 salary, of course, and there wasn't much more left after all the monthly bills were paid. 

Looking back, I could have sold everything and lived for a few years on the little money I would earn. But, what would I do then? 

"What could I do after all the money ran out?" I thought. 

Eventually, I came to the realization that I actually needed to work for my salary just to keep up with all the bills. So, I did. And, it was challenging form the start. 

Three of the 8 employees I was left with had quit their jobs within just a few months. Others were threatening to go onto different jobs. The 3 employees that left were, perhaps, the best and most knowledgeable women in the entire company. 

The other five women who remained were reluctant, yet stayed on. They were very passive and meek secretarial type women who were now in their mid to late 40's, or early 50's. They were more like I was, educated and very good at the administrative parts of the job, but they would never be managers, decision makers or leaders. 

One minor thing that did go well was that I was able to sell 3 of the 4 remaining vintage automobiles that my late husband had left me. Those sold so fast I couldn't believe it. 

I put away the 95,000 dollars earned from them. The one car I was unable to sell was a 1963 lipstick red convertible Corvette that my late husband had stashed away under some covers in the private garage out back. 

Back then, I was very scared and unsure about most everything I was doing. Yet, I made the conscious decision to at least try to salvage the business and create a new life for myself.

That first year after Jeff's passing things didn't go well. I tried everything. But, I was failing in a big way. 

The business was beginning to lose more money now and the 5 women still employed were beginning to sense that the end was near. I could see the concern on their faces every morning when I walked in. 

All of them had very comfortable salaries and I'm sure they knew it. I don't think they could have possibly done much better anywhere else, despite their education. I believe their ages and being so late into their careers had something to do with their decision to stay. 

For one moment, I thought about cutting their salaries. I would cut mine too. But, I seriously did not have the heart or strength to lower their salaries. Eventually, I just took a little less for myself. 

As things continued to go downhill faster I tried my very best to keep most of the financial failures of our business a secret from the others. I didn't understand the financial books too well, anyway. I simply didn't know what many of the items on this big report meant. 

But, I could see that sales were down and we weren't getting any new business coming in. 

It was just me and these 5 older white women in their 40's and 50's trying to do our best to keep things afloat. 

They began to rely on me. 

Perhaps, we were all just hoping for things to turn around. 

"Maybe they would?" I thought. 

"Maybe the reason we were getting less business was the poor market?" I reasoned. 

I know now that we really didn't know what we were doing. The business just kept losing money. 

I also knew that I had to do something else. I thought that maybe I could hire someone who had more experience to help me out in the areas I was failing, which was practically every area. 

But, I had absolutely no experience hiring people. I had never done that before. It had always been my late husband's job to bring in new employees. 

Still, I tried. 

After placing an ad in the newspaper, I hired another two white women in their mid 40's. They seemed much more qualified than I was and they both had very sweet personalities. I thought they would fit in nicely with the rest of the staff. 

Their resumes seemed professional, but as it turned out they were more like executive secretaries than business managers. After just a few short months, I realized they were just like the rest of us. They weren't close to being managers or leaders, either. 

Now, there were 8 of us - myself and the other 7 forty-plus year old white women who were in the latter part of our careers, struggling to run a small business. We all worked on drumming up more business and calling our existing customers to find out why sales were dropping off so dramatically. Perhaps, we were all trying to prompt them into increasing purchases. 

This seemed like the right way to do things. 

We kept pushing and pushing the existing product lines my husband had worked so hard to develop. 

But, that wasn't working. 

We didn't even think about new product development. It didn't even cross our minds back then. 

As things began to spiral even further out of control, we went from barely making a profit in my first full year as President to losing over 300,000 dollars in the second year.

The insurance policy was still unresolved, and continued being contested by the insurance company, as well as my late husband's sister. It had been nearly two years and it was costing me a great deal of money for attorneys. 

Eventually, I took out a bank loan from a good friend of my late husbands, who was a loan officer at one of our banks. 

I had to do this just to make up for the losses. 

I think that he knew that I was a huge risk. But, I also knew that he was very attracted to me. 

Stupidly, I agreed to a lunch date with him although he was a married man. I knew what I was about to do was wrong, but we really needed the money. I also knew that he was taking a fair amount of pity on me and all my failures.

I was sure that he wouldn't have said yes to a loan if I didn't agree to meet with him.

I walked out of the bank that day feeling like such a whore. Ultimately, I couldn't go through with it and I never met him like I had promised to. 


Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 01



With the loan money, I began to think that maybe I could try again and find the right person to help manage the business. 

I certainly did not have the courage to fire anyone. 

Rather, I thought that maybe one of the 30 applicants I had interviewed from the previous year were still available and could help. It was a desperate move on my part considering the extremely unsuccessful hires I had that previous year. 

I went about contacting many of them anyway. 

None of them wanted the job at the salary I could offer, or could afford to pay them by then. Others had gone onto different positions and were already settled and happy. 

I kept thinking about ways to recover. 

For what seemed like the one hundreth time, I thought that this would be the end of it all. I would end up just cutting my losses and then move on. 

I convinced myself that if I couldn't make the business work by the end of that year, I would just give up and simply close the business. I would sell my house in an even worse market and move back to Oslo with my family. 

"Perhaps, this would be best?" I thought. 

I wondered if I could take a break from it all for about a year and live off the sale of the house minus all my debts. But, at this particular time my debts were beginning to outweigh any money I could have made. 

I remember thinking that I had made so many poor decisions in nearly two years. I felt that I was not really cut out for the business world. My efforts had not made things better, only worse. And, the harder I tried the worse things seemed to get.

In another desperate attempt, I even increased the salaries of my 7 white female employees by ten percent. I had hoped this would spur them on to do better.

But, that was another strategy that didn't work. 

That is when Alexis Barron walked into our office. 

Alexis was a very small and very petite african-american woman who was had just barely turned 18. 

She was an astonishingly attractive young black woman with a model-like face and an incredible bikini model's figure that makes every woman around her look and feel less attractive. 

Her frame was unusually petite, yet ample and shapely with a trim waist and moderately large breasts for her small size. 

Alexis is 4'11" tall and 95 lbs. with a 32c-21-33 figure. 

One can easily see that her body was so obviously well-toned and femininely-athletic. I would later discover that this came from her many years in gymnastics, ballet, cheerleading and modern dance. Her body seemed so strong and powerful for her petite size. Yet, it was exceptionally feminine. Her complexion was one of those absolutely flawless ones that ever woman dreams of. 

Alexis Barron's medium to mocha brown skin tone captured her african-american and brazilian ancestry.

When I first saw her, it truly felt like I was looking at Halle Berry's younger and slightly-darker teenaged sister.

Words can hardly describe her beauty. 

Alexis was, and is, a truly a stunning young woman. Her youthful appearance made her look as if she was much younger than her real age. 

Now, she was standing there at the front desk of our lobby asking to see me. 

My receptionist, Meghan, had called me to the front that day. 

When I finally emerged from my office in the back I saw her standing there. I was more than a bit confused by her presence. 

She seemed quite irritated by the fact that I had to make her wait for the 5 minutes that it took for me to finish my call and walk out to the front lobby. 

In her hand, she was holding the same newspaper ad that I had placed the year before. 

She asked if we were still looking for ambitious and driven people, as the ad stated. She extended her hand towards me and handed me a half-crumpled piece of paper.

Confused, I took the newspaper clipping from her hand and looked it over.

The ad clearly stated that I was looking for experience in the industry as well as "ambitious and driven" individuals. But, for some reason I did not mention that. 

"This ad was from almost a year ago." I said.

"What made you come in for an interview today?" I asked pleasantly, in one of my softest whispers. 

Her incredibly-beautiful face was already very stern and she seemed to become even more disturbed by that question. 

I could not understand why.

At 6'1" tall, and in my 4 inch designer heels, I quite literally "towered" above this much smaller 4' 11" tall black woman. 

Yet, for some reason I still felt intimidated.

Although she seemed so petite and fragile, and she was considerably smaller and younger than I was, she exuded such confidence. I was freezing up around her. 

Alexis had these very serious and captivating, yet piercing eyes that looked directly into mine. 

I just looked back at her meekly as she began to speak again. 

"I called. I was told by the receptionist a year ago that I was too young for the job." She stated. 

Timidly, I asked this very young-looking black woman what her age was now. She paused for a moment, then she finally told me.

"I'm 18." she said. 

"Well, okay then." I stammered. 

My eyes looked back down to the old advertisement that I had placed the year before as I contemplated what my next move would be. 

There was a short and uncomfortable pause. 

"I will remind you that asking my age is considered a form discrimination." Alexis boldly stated. 

"Reminded me?" I thought to myself. 

"I really had no clue about things like that. None, whatsoever!" I continued thinking.

I looked back down into this young, black woman's eyes once again. For a moment, I was unsure of what to say or do. It was as if she was swallowing my entire self-esteem, or what little of it I possessed. 

"W-Well, we don't discriminate around here." I said, softly and in passing.

"I would hope not." Alexis abruptly returned. 

I glanced down to Meghan, the receptionist, who remained sitting there at the front desk. My eyes briefly met hers and I'm sure she could tell that I was beginning to feel worried and concerned. 

Meghan simply looked back down to the papers on her desk.

Once again, I looked back to the young black woman, who remained standing before me. She seemed even more impatient now. 

"Pl-Please accept my apology for that." I quietly said. 

I found myself stuttering. 

Alexis was smartly-dressed. She wore a very short, but professional black skirt with a crisp, white blouse. She wore coffee-brown stockings or pantyhose that matched her skin tone, and the 4 inch black stilletto pumps she adorned matched her tight, black linen skirt. 

Although I did not know what to do next in this type of situation, I began thinking about what my late husband would do. 

Then, I remembered something he once told me about referrals. He used the term "courtesy interview" and made a reference to always "honoring an interview." 

Back then, I remembered asking him what that meant. He described it as giving a person a quick interview with no intention of hiring them. 

For some reason, that was the first thing that actually entered my mind. 

I was quite nervous. 

I graciously asked Alexis Barron to come into my office so we could talk. To me, this was going to be one of those "courtesy interviews" that I was suddenly remembering. 

At the time, I knew that I couldn't afford another clerical salary with the way things were going. 

I needed a manager. 

But, I decided to run through the steps of the interview anyway and then hold out for a more experienced person. 

As I escorted the young black woman through the front office lobby and back to where my office, I could feel many eyes curiously upon us. I could even see the other seven older white women looking over their shoulders towards us. 

From a distance, I am sure they were wondering why I would even waste my time on interviewing such a young, black woman in the first place, especially one with no experience and one that I had no intention of hiring.

"Afterall, this was an all-white office. Wasn't it?" I'm sure they thought. 

Trying to be this figure of authority had already become so overwhelming for me. Everyone looking to me for answers that I didn't have was putting a lot of pressure on me. I think that I cared more about their opinions than I should have. 

I invited Alexis into my office and she took a seat at my side desk chair. This was the chair that I used for talking to my employees and going over reports. It was just off to the back left corner of my desk closest to my own chair. 

Alexis handed me her resume as we sat down. I quickly looked it over and thought to myself that it was quite impressive. 

Alexis Barron had just turned 18, yet she had already completed 2 years of college! She had exceptionally good grades and was involved in two outside junior professional organizations. 

Both organizations were ethnically-oriented organizations - The Young Black Businesswomen of America Organization and The Future Black Female Leaders Organization. 

Her resume revealed that she was a Committee member with both of these organizations. 

As Alexis sat in this little chair off to the left side of my desk, I was still thinking of ways to move through the interview quickly. I continued to peruse her resume and began feeling even more intimdated and even outclassed. 

She was amazingly bright with a near perfect grade point average, and in some of the most difficult business courses I ever knew. 

Her extracurricular activities included gymnastics, ballet, modern dance, cheerleading and a myriad of other business-related groups. 

I began thinking about how I had barely squeaked by with a 2.6 GPA in much easier coursework, yet I was still able to earn degrees in areas that were not nearly as impressive. 

I also didn't have any activities outside of school, either. 

Meekly, I apologized to Alexis again. 

I was apologizing to her for not being taken seriously on the phone a year ago. I didn't know why I found myself apologizing to this much younger black woman so many times that day. 

I could easily see that look of impatience beginning to resurface on her beautiful face. It was the same look she had shown in the front lobby. It was a look of impatience and obvious discontent. 

It was as if she knew that I was stalling, again. I had this feeling that made me start to rush right through the interview. I began asking her simple, mindless and general questions about her future and the courses she enjoyed taking in school. 

Admittedly, they were mindless questions. I had not put a lot of effort into thinking about what I should say to her, or what to ask. 

That is when Alexis sternly interupted.

"Listen. Are these really the questions you need to know?" she began. 

She paused as her voice grew a level firmer. 

"If you have no intention of hiring me and saving your failing business then just say so!" She said. 

"I don't have time for this bullshit." She snapped. 

Nervously, I apologized to her. 

I'm sure my face was red from embarrassment as I finally confessed to her that my business wasn't doing very well. 

I told Alexis that I was still considering closing it by the end of the year, which was now less than seven months away. I explained that I didn't think there would be a future here at the company for someone like her, or anyone else for that matter. 

There was a very long, uncomfortable silence right after I defeatedly confessed my failures.

My eyes were down on my desk and I finally glanced up so see the the younger black girl's mind running through what seemed to be a wide range of scenerios. 

I remained as quiet as a lamb as my cheeks felt flushed. My face felt like it was getting more and more red by the second. 

"Listen!" she began. 

"I really don't care about what you think might happen. I need a job and I need one now!" she said. 

Honestly, her confidence and boldness intimidated me. 

"I'm smart. I don't accept failure and I am good at whatever it is I choose to do." she continued. 

He tone was one of supreme confidence. 

I became speechless as she seemed to be studying me a little closer. 

Alexis continued to speak as I simply sat there motionless and quiet. 

She went on to tell me that she would not be able to continue her education without a job. She stated that because she was black and very young there weren't as many opportunities out there for her.

Then, her attitude changed. 

Unbelieveably, she began to tell me that the biggest problem I had with my business was that it was "too white." 

I was startled by this sudden change in her voice. 

She said that a black woman, like her, would make all the difference in the world. 

I just listened, astonished and nearly insulted by what I was hearing, then I spoke.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I-I don't think race has anything to do with ..." I began to say.

Alexis interupted.

"We'll see." she said. 

Alexis went on to tell me that if I truly felt my business was going to fail then I had nothing to lose. She said it wouldn't matter. She then told me that I had an attitude of defeat and needed to make a change. 

After listening, I felt as if I should ask another question. 

"So, do you feel you would be an asset to this company then?" I asked. 

I admit my response was a rather mindless and robotic one. 

My dumb question appeared to insult her. She did not honor my question with an answer at all.

She paused, then began speaking again. 

"Like I said, whatever I choose to do I will succeed." she stated. 

The young black woman's tone remained firm. 

My mind became a blur. She seemed so confident. She was so bold. Her assertiveness was very overwhelming and even intimidating, but it was also very convincing. 

It was the manner in which she spoke that completely and totally mesmorised me. I don't know why. It just did. 

As I thought about it I was still thinking that there was no way I can hire this much younger black woman. I just couldn't afford her. But, I also did not have the backbone to stand up to her and tell her that. 

There was no way I could at that moment. 

Somehow, I just blurted out another mindless response. 

I asked Alexis if she could take 400 dollars a week as a salary and then we could go from there.

Deep down, I knew that all 7 other women in my office were making salaries of somewhere between 52,000 and 55,000 dollars annually.

Still, I offered the insulting salary to her. I did not know where this offer came from and I was almost confused by what I had just done. 

Perhaps, I thought this young woman would take less money to start because that was all I had. Maybe, it was all that I was willing to lose at the time, on top of all my other losses?

I'm really not sure what I was thinking. 

The stern face of this beautiful girl was making me feel much more uncomfortable as she thought about the weak and insulting offer I made to her. 

She scowled a bit. Then, she accepted. 

I was actually shocked by her acceptance. 

Looking back, I now believe that Alexis knew exactly what she was doing. She must have known that I was unconsciously putting out such an insulting offer to dissuade her. Maybe, unconsciously I knew it would be an offer that she would never accept, or one that she would instantly refuse. 

But, maybe she also knew that it was an offer that I would be unprepared to take back. 

Nevertheless, Alexis Barron accepted the offer. 

It was a Thursday around mid day during this interview and I told her that she could start the following Monday, if she wanted to. 

Again, I was shocked by her response.

"Tomorrow!" she snapped. 

"Wh-what?" I timidly asked.

"I said tomorrow." she repeated. 

I looked at her confused. 

I listened as she explained that there was no time to waste if things were going to change around here. Her increasingly abrupt tone gave me chills, and an uncomfortable feeling of nervousness that I can hardly describe. 

She went on to tell me more about my poor attitude. She almost berated me on the reasons why this business was failing, and would ultimately fail if things didn't change. 

She told me that being proactive is the only solution for this company. And, only a black woman could make this happen for us.

I had no words. 

It was as if I was being scolded by her - scolded for my failures and for being white. I kept wondering if her purpose was to insult me because she obviously was doing just that. 

Timidly, I simply absorbed the advice from her and just nodded. 

She was probably right, although I felt embarrassed by being 40 at the time and listening to the advice of an 18 year old black woman. 

"Well, okay." I finally stuttered meekly.

I simply gave in. 

The teenaged african-american woman looked directly into my eyes for what felt like an eternity. Her stare lasted a few extra seconds longer than I felt comfortable with. Then, without further hesitation, she stood up and turned on her heels with the precision of a ballerina, and walked right out of my office.

She never once looked back. 

I watched from my office window as Alexis Barron strutted right past everyone before heading out into the main office area, and through the front door. 

She didn't say a single word. Nor, did she look at anyone else in the office. She boldly and smoothly walked past them without any concern.

I didn't know if what I had just done was a huge mistake, or not. Not then. Perhaps, I was desperate?

Maybe I was just too afraid to say no to someone like her. 

Whichever reason it was, I would soon discover that this was just a mere glimpse of how my life would soon change. 

That next day was a Friday. 

I arrived at 8:15 that morning, which was a little later than my usual 8 o'clock start time. I had overslept and wasn't exactly in a rush to get to the office that day. I suppose that I still felt more than a bit nervous about my failing business, and my motivation continued to be in it's usual free fall status. 

As I walked through the front door of my office I could see the befuddled looks on the faces of my older, all-white female staff. I spoke my usual morning greetings, but they were all very quiet and peering towards my office from the corners of their eyes. 

Alexis was already there. 

She was sitting in the same chair off to the side of my desk where I had interviewed her just the day before. She sat there with her right leg crossed and hanging over her left one, dangling one of her 4 inched stilletto black pumps from the very tips of her stockinged toes. Her right leg swung slowly, freely and gracefully as if she were waiting for a train. 

Oddly enough, she was wearing exactly the same outfit that she wore from yesterday's interview. 

As I entered my office, the teenaged black woman looked at her watch and asked me if I was running late. 

"Well, yes. Yes I am." I said. 

"How did you know?" I asked, inquisitively. 

She didn't smile or speak lightly. 

"I asked." She said, simply. 

"Oh, Okay." I replied. 

I had never been questioned about my time in or out of the office before. I had always put in my 40 hours a week. 

"Afterall, it was my business. Wasn't it?" I thought. 

I felt a wave of disrespect from that very first day, and in that very first moment of her very first day working for me. 

It startled me. 

Nevertheless, I tried ignoring her mildly rude comment and escorted Alexis to one of the desk cubicles in the middle of the open office area. 

The office consisted of 3 glass door offices in my one-story building. I was the only person using one of the private officed. It was, by far, the largest of the three and the one my late husband once vacated - The Company President's office. 




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 01



The rest of the staff sat in the general office area, which was a wide open area bordered off by cubicles without any walls. 

I showed Alexis to her small desk and cubicle area. 

"Damn! Why is it so dead and quiet in here?" she firmly asked. 

She was right. 

But, I was a little more than taken back by the boldness of her comments as I attempted to explain. 

My response was an excuse, and a lame one at that.

"Well, everyone is going over their lists of customers and planning their calls for the day. They're going to make calls to bring in new sales, and they're getting things together before they start their calls. That's what we've been doing and ..." I kept explaining. 

"Is it?!" she interupted, again. 

"Well, I don't hear any phones ringing. Just a dead zone with a bunch of old stiffs sitting around and all that boring ass music coming from the ceiling." Alexis ripped. 

I tried to ignore her now blatantly rude comments and concentrate more on getting her started.

It was obvious the others overheard her comments. 

Alexis was provided with a long list of our customers, both current customers and the old customers we had lost business to in the past few years. I explained to her that we have all been calling our former customers first and then checking on our current customer's recent order volume. I explained that we have been trying to get more sales because that's what we needed to do. 

Then, I introduced her to the rest of the staff during a qick group meeting. I made an announcement in front of everyone. But, they did not welcome her in the way they would have normally welcomed any other new employee. 

I showed Alexis how to use her new computer and showed her where to find the powerpoint presentation that would help explain everything about our product line of perfumes. 

I instructed her to learn them. 

We only had 6 named brands of bottled perfume at the time. Years ago, they had sold so well but recently sales had dropped several hundred percent. 

When Meghan called me over to take an incoming call, I cut my introduction short and began to excuse myself. 

Alexis stopped me before I could take my second step away from her. 

"One question." she started.

I turned and hesitated. 

"Y-Yes?" I asked.

She flipped through the first few pages of the large, 40-page list of customers that I handed her. Her gorgeous face now resembled one of a pirate's scowl. 

"How long have you been doing this?" She asked.

"Oh my god. Forever. About 2 years." I answered.

"Why?" I asked. 

I was standing there in anguish, knowing that I still had that call waiting for me. Yet, Alexis wasn't in any big hurry to respond.

I felt like I needed to say something. 

"Why?" I asked, again. 

After another 10 second pause she answered. 

"Nothing. Never mind." she replied in an off-toned voice of near disgust. 

I simply did not know how to handle her attitude at the time. For whatever reason, I tried to pretend to be something that I was not. I tried to be firm. 

"Well. That's what I hired you for so just do it. Thank you!" I said. 

It was the firmest tone I had ever used in my life. It was a tone that I had never heard from my own lips, and I surprised myself by it. 

But, then I turned and cowardly walked away, retreating to my office to take the call from what I was hoping would be a prospective sale. 

That call turned out to be a bill collector and it lasted a mere 3 minutes. 

Still, I stayed in my office cowering over this brief but overwhelming encounter that I just had with my new employee, Alexis Barron.

I was never good at confrontations. 

This may seem like a minor verbal exchange for most, but for me it was quite intimidating. I hid in my office making calls and looking over the multitude of bills the entire day, and avoiding her. 

Near the end of Alexis' very first day, just 10 minutes before closing, Ginny tapped on the glass door to my office and I waved her in. 

"Miss Burroughs? Gretchen?" she started. 

"Yes, Ginny? What is it?" I asked.

She had this very concerned look on her face and seemed distraught over something. 

Ginny was one of the seven women working for me before Alexis' arrival, which made us a company of eight. She had been with the company for 13 years, ever since she came to work for my late husband. 

Ginny was a divorced white woman who was 56 years of age, and still quite attractive. She had kept her 5'10" 140 lb. frame in rather good shape over the years, and her slightly greying hair was partially hidden by an inexpensive blonde dye. 

As Ginny stood before my desk I could easily see that she was becoming reluctant to say what was on her mind. 

She seemed almost scared. 

Her personality had always been very timid and shy, and I understood these feelings, but she had never really hid her feelings from me like this before. 

"Ginny? What is it? Tell me!" I asked. 

Ginny grew more nervous and she took a deep breath as she began to speak. 

"Well, I don't want to get into any trouble ..." she started.

I became frustrated.

"Ginny, please?! Tell me already. You're not going to be in any trouble from me. You know that." I said. 

The 56 year old woman began to whisper.

"No. I'm not worried about that that kind of trouble, Ms. Burroughs." she softly said. 

I wasn't sure exactly why she was so worried then, but my curiosity and concern were the only things on my mind. I just wanted to know what she had to say.

"Ginny, please?" I prompted, again. 

"Well, the others voted for me to talk to you. They're all complaining about ..." she said, then stopped. 

"What others?" I asked.

"Complaining about what?" I inquired.

Now, I was even more concerned about what this complaint could be. 

Ginny continued. 

"The others. I mean, all of us. Well, all of us except Alexis, the new girl." she confessed. 

Ginny went on to explain that my new hire, Alexis Barron, wasn't doing what she was told to do. She explained that the younger black woman wasn't really doing anything at all.

"What do you mean, Ginny? She had to be doing something. What has she been doing all day then?" I asked. 

Ginny stopped talking for a moment. 

"For Christ's sake, it almost 5 now. Why didn't anybody come to me sooner?" I said a little louder, yet controlled whisper. 

Ginny finally continued. 

She told me that Alexis did not make one single call to a customer all day. Rather, she sat at her desk with her feet propped up and was talking on the phone with her friends. 

She added that she had taken a lunch and did not sign in or out, and she had been gone for almost 3 hours. Furthermore, she didn't even watch the presentation of our product line, which was what she was supposed to do. 

Ginny told me that Alexis used the computer to check her personal email on the internet every half hour. 

I was beginning to get upset. 

Ginny began to cry and I tried to comfort her.

"Listen, Ginny. Just go home. It's only a few minutes before 5 o'clock now and it's a Friday. There's not much more you can do today. I'll take care of this right away, okay?" I told her.

"O-okay, Ms. Burroughs." Ginny sobbed. 

I thanked Ginny for summoning up the courage that it took to come to me and to tell me what was going on in my office. Then, as she headed out of my office, I asked her to tell Alexis that I will be out to talk to her in a few minutes, and to please wait for me.

"Yes, okay Ms. Burroughs. I will." Ginny answered. 

I watched Ginny walk swiftly from my office and then bend over to say something to Alexis. She then suddenly grabbed her purse from her own desk and nearly ran out the door. 

I was so upset. 

On the inside, I really wanted to give this younger black woman a piece of my mind. I didn't like the way she was upsetting the others, and on her first day of work too?!

"How dare she?" I asked myself. 

Just hearing that she essentially ignored what I had told her to do was enough to make me upset. 

But, I was also afraid to confront her. 

I had no idea how I was going to approach this black teenager to discuss these allegations. Yet, I also knew that it was my responsibility as the owner and the President of this company to do so.

I took a few deep breaths and stalled for a few minutes longer before I made my way over to her desk. 

But, she wasn't there! 

Nobody in the office was! 

I looked at my watch and it was exactly 5 o'clock. Usually, there would be a little lingering after five and the fact that I thought Ginny had specifically told Alexis to wait for me made me wonder. 

That infuriated me, but I also thought I would have to make sure that Ginny actually told Alexis to wait for me, like I instructed her to do. 

I looked up Ginny's number on my cell phone and called her. 

"Ginny? This is Gretchen. I didn't see Alexis out there by her desk. Did you see her?" I asked. 

"Yes. Yes, I did." she said.

"Did you tell her to wait for me, Ginny?" I asked. 

Ginny seemed extremely nervous talking to me. 

"Yes. Yes, I did tell her Ms. Burroughs. I told her right away. Just as you asked me to." she answered. 

My face was feeling so flush by now.

"Ginny. What did she say when you told her to wait for me." I asked, inquisitively. 

There was a longer, almost deafening silence between our cell phones. I had thought I lost the signal for a moment. 

"Ginny?" I asked again. 

"Tell me now. What did Alexis say?" I probed. 

She finally spoke.

"Ms. Burroughs, she just said one word ... She said ... whatever." Ginny answered.

I could not believe what I was hearing. 

I excused Ginny from the call and drove home so upset that I could hardly stay on the road.

All night I planned over and over again, in my mind, how I was going to approach this young black girl. 

I planned what I was going to say to her. 

After much deliberation I decided that I was just going to fire her and be done with it.

But, the next day was Saturday and we never worked Saturdays. Not ever. 

Usually, I would sleep in until around 10 on the weekends and then get some things done around the house.

But, then I was awakened by a call on my cell at precisely 8 o'clock in the morning! 

It was a number that came up as "unknown caller." 

When I answered it, I heard this firm voice. 

"Where the hell is everyone? It's 8!" the voice snarled. 

"Who is this? Alexis, is that you?" I asked in my half-asleep state. 

"Yes it is!" she said. 

I sat up onto the edge of my bed and was just beginning to remember how rudely she had ignored my request to speak to her yesterday. 

I heard her voice again. 

"Don't tell me that y'all don't work on Saturdays." she said in a condescending voice. 

I was still barely awake and already getting upset. 

"No. We are closed on the weekends, Alexis." I began. 

"But, I wanted to talk to you anyway. Why did you leave yesterday? I-I ... " I continued, my voice now stuttering and cracking. 

But, that is when this teenaged black woman interupted. 

"Not on the phone!" she said. 

That is when she abruptly "clicked" her cell phone off. 

I couldn't believe how this teenager had just hung up on me in such a rude way?! 

Since her call came up as unknown, I couldn't even call her back. 

I became so frustrated that I went all the way into my office on that Saturday to get her number from the resume she had left me. I was so determined to call her back just to give her a piece of my mind. 

But, it turned out to be a disconnected number. 

This entire event was making me more than upset now. I was more upset than I had ever been in my entire life. I convinced myself that I was going to march right in there that next Monday morning and let her go. She had been so rude and mean to me that I could hardly even believe it. 

These feelings of aggravation lasted the remainder of the weekend. They were growing stronger with every passing hour. The way that I was being so disrespected like this was a feeling that made me want to do something drastic. 

When I woke up on Monday morning these feelings were still there. 

But, these feelings began to fade as I drew nearer to the office. I suddenly grew nervous and concerned. I began to fear any type of confrontation. I didn't have any desire to make a scene, especially in the presence of my entire staff. 

I couldn't explain how I was feeling. 

I knew, deep inside, that this was just an excuse that I was making so I wouldn't have to confront this very intimidating younger black woman. 

When I finally arrived I simply scurried off to my office like the coward I was, and I avoided the entire situation altogether. 

I was not proud of my actions.

I think the 7 white women of my staff were all surprised that young Alexis was still there that following Monday morning. I wasn't sure what they were thinking, but the looks on their faces seemed to be ones of true disappointment. 

I tried reasoning with myself that maybe this would give me a little more time to figure things out. I wasn't sure what I should say to her and I simply didn't have any courage or backbone to approach. 

Not at this time. 

My actions were those of a cowardly, insecure and timid leader. They were not the actions of a company owner and President. 

It was becoming terribly embarrassing for me. 

Things went on just like that during Alexis' entire first full week of her employment.

Each day, she would arrive at 8 o'clock and grab her coffee, then sit there with her feet up on her desk. She would talk on the company phone while texting on her personal cell. 

She never once talked to any of our customers and she had the internet up on her computer, conveniently turned to her email screen for the entire day. 

Furthermore, Alexis was taking lunches anywhere from 2 to 3 hours everyday. Not once did she sign in or out as she was instructed to do.

Alexis did not speak to the others and, in return, they never spoke to her. She seemed to be in her own little world sitting out there and doing whatever she wanted to do. 

It just seemed like this small black woman was somehow rubbing all this in my face. 

There were times when Alexis would strut around the office on her 4 inched black heels as if she owned the place. She would be talking to what seemed like girlfriends on her cell phone for hours at a time.

By the end of the day on Thursday, every one of the 7 white women of my staff had approached me at one time or another that afternoon. 

All of them complained about Alexis and were there to ask me what I was going to do about her. 

They all complained about how "lazy" Alexis was, and how she was wasting so much time doing nothing. 

They complained about her talking with her friends on the phone and on the internet, and in chat rooms. 

They all complained how "rude" she was being to them and all the "mean" things she was saying about us, and about our company. 

These were words the others overheard as she talked to her friends on the phone. 

They even made mention that Alexis always wore the exact same outfit every single day, and that her feet always smelled funny when she kicked off her shoes into the corner of her cubicle. 

My entire staff complained that she always had her feet up on her desk like she was some sort of executive. 

I didn't know how to answer them, except that I would be taking care of it very soon. 

One of the women who approached me was Beth, a 48 year old woman, who was the only one of my employees to come see me twice. 

Beth was the one who made the specific allegations of Alexis saying "mean" things about us.

Beth was an attractive, slightly heavy set divorced woman of 5'9" and just under 200 lbs. She was, perhaps, the one who seemed most distraught over Alexis' recent employment with our company.

She seemed to become even more withdrawn since the young, black woman began working for us in just this short period of time of a week. 

Like the others, Beth really didn't want to tell me too much. It seemed as if Alexis had been so disruptive and had caused so much fear in them. Although they all felt compelled to mention things to me, none of them wanted to fully elaborate on the things they were complaining about. 

I had to nearly beat it out of Beth to find out exactly what all these "mean things" were, which Alexis was saying on the phone. 

Beth finally conceded.

"Well, she said things about you too, Ms. Burroughs." Beth said, softly. 

I was irritated but also quite nervous. I wasn't really sure if I wanted to hear all this, or not. 

"Like what?" I asked.

"Well, she said things like you were a complete idiot ... and that you were a pathetic excuse for a boss ... things like that." Beth nervously confessed. 

"Sh-She said what?" I asked. "What else?" 

My mind was already racing.

"She told her friend that we were all just a bunch of dumb white bitches, and things like that." Beth described. 

I told Beth to go back to her desk now. 

I thanked her for telling me and then I told her that I would try and talk to Alexis today.

There were so many feelings running through my mind by then. I was so upset, maybe even mad. But, I was also quite nervous and afraid because I didn't know how I was going to handle this. 

I had planned on speaking to Alexis that Thursday. I really wanted to. 

I wanted to ask her about all these allegations that I was hearing, but I wanted to ask her without letting her know who was telling me about them. 

In a small office like ours I knew that would be a difficult task. 

But, I could not summon enough courage to talk to her that Thursday. Rather, I just stayed in my office the last few hours of the day and wasted any and all opportunity that I had to speak with Alexis Barron. 

I decided that I would have to speak to her the next day, on Friday, and I would do this at the end of the day when she would come into my office for her weekly check. 

Again, I wasn't proud of how I was handling all of this. But, I thought this could be the perfect time to finally do it. 

Being a timid boss was embarrassing enough, but to allow a teenager to get away with all that she was doing was far beyond what anyone else would tolerate. 

When Friday arrived, I finished my routine of cutting the checks in my office. At the end of the day, and like every other Friday, my employees would come into my office to get their checks. We would exchange pleasantries before the weekend and I would hand them their pay checks for the two week pay period. 

As I was cutting the check for Alexis Barron, I thought about paying her for just the one day she worked last week and this week's earnings would be paid in two weeks. 

Typically, this is what I would have done. 

But, against my better judgement, I made out a check for Alexis for the full two weeks. 

I did this only because I knew that I was going to let her go. I figured this would soften the blow of her termination a little. I also did not want her coming back in another 2 weeks for her last paycheck. 

As always, my employees came in for their checks starting around 5 minutes before 5 p.m. 

But, this pay period was different from all the others.

One by one, my white female employees came in and I handed them their paychecks. None of them would make eye contact with me. 

Not one of them. 

They all held their eyes downward, looking at the floor, and they all seemed so sad. 

Perhaps, they were still saddened that Alexis Barron was still there? 

It was almost as if they were disappointed that I had not spoken to this insolent new employee, and that she had not been terminated by now. Perhaps, they were even humiliated by the fact their cowardly boss had not taken any appropriate action against her. 




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 01



Despite the many complaints that I received about her, I was not willing to confront her.

After all seven white women finely left my office, the only remaining check on my desk was Alexis Barron's. 

I took a deep breath and kept thinking that this will all be over soon - that things will be different by Monday. Alexis Barron will be fired and my staff would be proud of me. They would be proud of the fact that I took action because she would be gone.

It was 5:10. Then, it 5:15 p.m. 

I was still sitting at my desk and waiting for Alexis to come in and get her check. I couldn't believe she hadn't by then. 

It was already far past five. 

She had been running out of the office exactly at 5 o'clock in the one week she had been employed with us. This wasn't making much sense. I thought it was a bit odd that she was the last one to come in and get her check. 

But, I was still mulling over how I was going to handle this termination situation. In my mind, I ran through the many possible scenerios several times. 

Then, just as I was about to get up from my desk and take a look around the office, Alexis emerged. 

She seemed to come out of nowhere, walking swiftly towards my desk and carrying a large black bag over her left shoulder.

I had her check in my hand. 

"Alexis? I thought we could talk now." I said, trying to be pleasant. 

She quickly approached as I sat at my desk nervously. 

"Not now! I have things to do!" she scorned. 

The black teenager then grabbed her check, literally snatching it from my loose grip. She turned on her heels and briskly started to walk away. Her sudden movement upset me. 

Impulsively, I yelled out.

"Alexis! I said I wanted to talk to you!" I screamed. 

That seemed to stop Alexis dead in her tracks. 

She stopped, abruptly. But, she didn't turn around right away. It was almost as if she was thinking about what she was going to do next. I couldn't see her face yet so I wasn't sure what to expect as she kept her back to me for a full 15 seconds.

Those fifteen seconds seemed like an eternity. 

Then, the 18 year old black woman turned around. The look on her beautiful face was one that I will never forget. 

She seemed to be angry, yet at the same time she appeared to be curiously amused. 

An almost "how dare you" look traced her flawless face. 

She then walked back to me slowly, almost as if she was walking in slow motion, yet with a purpose.

I sat there frozen in a near panic as she came closer and closer to me. 

I felt that maybe I shouldn't have yelled at her like that. I didn't mean to. It was just a reaction that I didn't have the opportunity to think all the way through.

But, that didn't seem to matter to Alexis. 

Alexis stepped right up to the side corner of my chair and, with one smooth and calculating motion, she brought her right hand to my face and squeezed my face tightly. Very tightly. 

I was absolutely terrified. 

She squeezed my facial cheeks so firmly that I couldn't even move my lips to utter a single word. Then, she brought her face ridiculously close to mine. 

"Did you hear me say that I had things to do?!" she asked, in a loud and condescending way. 

I could not answer. I just looked at her. 

I was so scared at that point that I don't think I could have said anything anyway. 

The young black woman held my face firmly as she began speaking again. 

"Yes. You did hear me, didn't you?" she asked, mockingly. 

She then gripped my face even tighter, using the firm hold of her right hand to move my head up and down like some sort of puppet. 

"Yes. Yes, Alexis. I did hear you." she mocked, creating a nod for me by making my head move up and down. 

She made my head nod at least three more times.

It was like she was treating me like a raggedy ann doll and speaking "for" me as she held onto my face and lips.

My eyes caught hers, again. 

I could tell by her glare that she was serious and almost enjoying this now. 

She finally let go of my face in the most abrupt way and stared straight into my eyes, pausing for another few seconds. 

She didn't say another word. 

She simply strutted right out of my office in the most commanding way possible. 

I honestly could not believe what had just happened. 

I was completely taken off guard by this beautiful young black woman. My face was in pain from her squeezing it so hard, and she was obviously showing such anger and fury towards me. 

I was deeply humiliated.

Alexis' eyes really intimidated me. I can't remember a time when I was more petrified up to this point in my life. 

As she left the building I kept wondering if what I did was wrong. I questioned if I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. And, my fear of this young, black woman was now growing. 

End, chapter one. 



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 02



My entire weekend was spent thinking about the attractive, young black teenaged woman. I had never met anyone quite like her. 

Many thoughts ran through my mind, but the one thought I was having the most was how I would go about terminating her employment.

I was frightened by the aggression she had exhibited towards me, and I was terribly unhappy about how the rest of my staff was behaving. 

If the seven white women working for me at the time were telling the truth, then Alexis Barron was taking advantage of this situation. 

If my staff was accurate in their descriptions of the events, then she was simply not doing her job. She was also making the others feel quite uncomfortable around her. 

But, when Monday came I did nothing. 

As a matter of fact, I did nothing for that entire week, or the next week after that. I could see the young black woman coming into our office and doing nothing more than making a lot of personal phone calls, or checking her emails. 

Alexis continued taking longer lunches and ignoring everyone, including me. 

There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about firing Alexis. I knew that I had to. But, I was still afraid to do anything about it.

Perhaps, I was still nervous about the way she yelled at me, and held my face so roughly two weeks before. I just knew that I wasn't ready to confront her about that either. Not yet. 

After three full weeks, Alexis had done nothing more than collect a few checks. At least, this is how it seemed. 

Her presence was causing what can best be described as a morale problem in the office. The other 7 white women in the company were noticeably withdrawn, and they stopped coming to me with any other complaints about Alexis. 

Then, as that next week began I received a call from my family in Norway. My grandmother wasn't doing very well. She had been quite ill this past year, and now it seemed as if she was beginning to take a turn for the worse. 

I knew that I needed to go back there to be with my family during this time. But, I was still very worried about my failing business.

I decided to book a flight to Oslo and stop by the office before heading to the airport. I needed to explain my sudden departure to my staff and, perhaps, finally tie up those loose ends that had been bothering me since Alexis began working for us. 

Yes, in my mind I had decided that this would be it. Finally, I would have that little talk with Alexis Barron and then terminate her. I would put Beth in charge during my absence and hope for the best, and then I would spend time with my family.

I packed my bags and arrived at my office just past 10 o'clock in the morning. My international flight had a 3 p.m. departure, and I didn't have much time to spend there. I was feeling a bit rushed that day. 

My first stop was at Alexis' desk. 

"I need to speak to you right away." I said. 

Her nylon-stockinged feet were propped up onto the corner of her cubicle desk and crossed at the ankles. Lazily, she sat there and looked up towards me. 

"About what?" she asked. 

"Please, Alexis. I don't have time for this. Please. I have to leave the country." I said. 

I walked away and went back to my office to collect a few things, like phone numbers and a few reports to read on my flight. I was sitting at my desk and straightening out a few things out when Alexis finally walked into my office, five minutes later. 

As I was gathering my things and thinking about how quick this termination had to be, the black teenager approached and simply placed a large manila envelope on the desktop before me. 

"What's this?" I asked.

"Just open it." Alexis directed. 

I looked towards Alexis as she boldly and arrogantly took a seat on the very edge of my desk. I didn't know what to expect. 

When I opened the envelope, I was astonished!

In the envelope, there was a check for 150,000 dollars made out to our company and a signed contract for a monthly purchase of the same amount!

"Oh, my god! Alexis?" I stammered. 

"How did you?..." I questioned. 

She didn't care to answer. Nor, did she care to explain any of the details. 

"Don't worry about it." She answered. 

"It needs your signature to make it official. Just sign it." she directed, handing me a pen. 

I had very little time. I quickly began looking over the long contract and reading the fine print, but I was doing so half-heartedly. 

"What's all this?" I asked, referring to parts of the contract near the end. 

"Basically, it just says that I am the sales rep on this deal. That's all." Alexis said. 

"Well, yes. Of course you are, Alexis." I returned.

"I can't believe you were able to bring in such a sale, and so quickly. I'm really proud of ..." I said. 

Alexis interupted. 

"Don't! I don't need any of that condescending shit from you!" she firmly said. 

"You better get going or you're gonna miss your flight." she continued. 

I think that I was just so pleased we actually brought in a new sale, and from a new customer too, that I could hardly think of what to do next? 

"Yes, you're right. I do have to leave. But, there's so much to do now. I mean ... we have to call the manufacturers and the lab for new testing and ..." I began explaining to Alexis, excitedly.

"Don't worry about all that now." Alexis said.

"I'll have that all taken care of." she added. 

As I gathered my things and was getting ready to have a brief meeting with the rest of my staff before I left, I kept thinking that this one sale could actually save my company.

"I'll have Beth help you getting the rest of this deal done." I told Alexis. 

"That's fine." she answered. 

"Just go." she said. 

We walked out of my office and I called for the others to gather around. I announced that I had to leave for awhile and tend to family matters outside the country. But, I also told them about the new sale that Alexis brought in. I showed them the check and asked them to help to get all the particulars completed while I was gone. 

"Beth, you're in charge until I return." I announced. 

"Yes, Ms. Burroughs. Sure, okay." she replied. 

I left the office feeling better than when I had arrived. Of course, I was excited about my company finally getting a sale. We had all worked so hard, and now it was this young black woman that had accomplished more in less than a month than the rest of us had accomplished in the past two years?!

"How can I fire her now?" I asked myself. 

As I was on the plane, I continued thinking about this new found business. Yet, my elation seemed to stop when I began remembering the reason I wanted to speak to Alexis in the first place. 

I was also thinking about how this black teenager had been been so disruptive to the others. I thought about how she had been disrespecting me, and how she had physically touched my face in the same manner that a big bully would. 

Only, she wasn't very big at all. Alexis was, quite literally, less than half my size and less than half my age. 

It was all extremely humiliating for me. 

I wondered if getting a sale, as she did, made her exempt from all her rude comments and actions? 

"I can't just let her get away with that, can I?" I asked myself over and over again. 

My time in Oslo was filled with worry. 

First, it was for my grandmother. But, she was doing so much better a few days after I arrived. My worries were more focused upon my business now. My concerns were growing. 

After the third day, I made a call to the office to see how things were going. Meghan answered the phone. And, I couldn't believe the noise I was hearing in the background?! 

Suddenly, there seemed to be a business-like energy in background of the office. I heard a lot of phone calls coming in and others speaking. From my phone across the ocean, it sounded almost crowded there.

"Meghan? What's going on over there?" I asked.

Meghan seemed quite rushed. She said there were a number of calls holding for Miss Barron, and that she didn't have time to talk.

"M-Miss Barron?" I asked. "Who's that?" I initially questioned. 

I suppose that I wasn't really thinking about it like that, not at the time. 

"I'm sorry, Gretchen. I really need to go." Meghan pouted.

And, then she hung up the phone. 

I was quite taken back by what I had just heard. I didn't know what to think about any of this anymore. 

Honestly, I wasn't even sure what was going on? 

On one hand, I felt this was going to be a good thing and help save my company. Of course, this would save all our jobs for awhile. On the other hand, I couldn't just let this young woman treat us in the manner she was. 

"How could I?" I asked myself. 

During the next six days, my calls to the office were met with the same results. Nobody would stay on the phone with me for more than a minute. I was placed on hold almost immediately and everyone in the office that I tried contacting was rushed to get off the phone.

I left messages to call me back, but not one of my calls were returned. Not even the calls that I left to my staff's personal cell phones after business hours. And, when I called Alexis' desk all I got was a recorded message. 

"You have reached the offices of Miss Alexis Barron. Please state your business and leave a message at the beep." the recorded voicemail stated. 

"What was all this?" I asked myself, again. 

I must have left a dozen messages for Alexis and none of them were returned. 

After 10 days is Oslo, I thought it would be best to get back to my business. It was 4 days before I had planned to return. Besides, my grandmother was doing fine now and I desperately needed to find out how things were going with our new account. 

My flight arrived at 11:20 a.m. on a Friday. By the time I got through customs and made it to my office building it was past 3 o'clock in the afternoon. 

As I walked in, I was completely shocked by the changes in the office and to my staff. 

The first thing I noticed was that the light music coming from the ceiling speakers had changed. It was now a soft, but upbeat R&B sound rather than the plain light instrumentals of the past. And, everyone seemed hard at work taking calls and working on reports from their computers. 

Everyone was dressed the same.

They were dressed professionally, yet with a more youthful appearance now. 

All of these older white women had low cut white blouses that revealed their cleavage. They each wore a black linen skirt and what appeared to be 5 inch tall high heeled pumps, which were white in color with an ankle strap. And, they were all wearing a red colored cat's collar around their necks. 

Even more shocking for me was the fact they all wore heavier makeup than they ever had before, with a robust red color of lipstick and heavier eye liner. 

The change in their appearance, alone, was quite startling to see. 

They were all so busy that they didn't even say hello to me. They simply motioned a weak greeting to me with their hands and kept their eyes down, and focused upon their tasks. 

I began walking in, tentatively. 

"Where's Beth? Where's Alexis and Ginny?" I asked Meghan at the front desk.

"Why is everyone dressed this way?" I asked. 

Meghan merely pointed back towards my office.

I almost couldn't believe what I was witnessing? Everyone was actually working and had something to do! And, they were all dressed like they were going to a nighclub. 

My mind was racing. 

I couldn't believe the change in the office environment and I felt, partly, that this was quite refreshing.

But, as I began walking through the exterior office and drew nearer to my office in the back, the mood suddenly felt a little different. 

It appeared that my staff was afraid to look up at me. For some reason, they all seemed to be locked into their work and reluctant to put their phones down to greet me. 

They certanly weren't smiling. Nor, did they appear to be in the happiest of moods. It was such an odd and curious feeling now.

The answer for this would come when I finally reached my the door of my personal office.

I was astounded by what I witnessed as I stepped through the glass doors of my office. 

There, sitting at my desk was Alexis Barron, the young black woman. To her side, was Ginny. 

She was on the phone and actually smoking a cigarette right there in my office! 

Her nylon-stockinged feet were off to the side of her chair and resting upon a small, pillowed footstool. Unbelieveably, it was Ginny sitting an almost kneeling position on the backs of her legs, and she was massaging the black teenager's nylon stockinged feet!?

I almost had to rub my eyes to see if what I was looking at was true. There, sitting on her knees, was this 56 year old white woman obediently massaging the feet of this young black woman! 

Alexis was nonchalantly speaking on the phone.

She was so casual and callous about her actions as Ginny subserviently attended to her size 5 feet. She saw me and motioned for me to come in a little further, and then to sit down.

But, I couldn't. I was just standing there in complete awe. 

While still on her call, she cupped the receiver of the phone, and called out for Beth.

"Beth, get in here." she snapped. 

Moments later, Beth was standing there before her desk. Her eyes were lowered and looking downward to the floor. She never once brought them up, not even to acknowledge my presence. 

"Yes, Ma'am?" Beth asked.

"My shoes?" Alexis asked. 

Beth immediately answered. 

"Yes, Ma'am. They're almost finished. I'll return with them right away, Miss Barron." Beth answered.

I watched as the 48 year old Beth quickly turned and meekly left my office, returning only moments later and holding Alexis Barron's 4 inch high black leather pumps in her hands.

The young black woman motioned to the statuesque brunette woman to place her heels onto the desk before her. Alexis then continued her conversation as she casually inspected the cleaning that Beth was obviously instructed to complete. 

"That's all. You're dismissed. Send Tiffany in on your way out." Alexis ordered.

Ginny remained at the young black woman's stockinged feet, diligently massaging them while her head stayed down. 

I still had not seen her face up to this point. 

I just stood there quietly. The feeling that I had was surreal, almost as if I were in some sort of bad dream. I was quite nervous as I watched Alexis finally end her call. She took another drag of her long, thin cigarette and finally looked directly towards me. 

"You're back early, huh?" she asked in a condescending way. 

I didn't know what to say. I watched as she gently pulled her right foot from the weak grip of the older white woman beneath her.

"Stop." she instructed her. 

Ginny simply placed her hands to her sides and remained in that kneeling position, her head tilted downward and never moving an inch.

Alexis then brought her right foot, clad in those nylons, straight up to Ginny's face. Then, she placed it flush onto it to move Ginny's face to a tilt slightly upwards. 

Alexis literally cupped Ginny's nose with the darker brown reinforcement of her stockinged toes, and she began to casually and arrogantly wriggle them over Ginny's pretty face. 

She continued this action as if she were actually using the much older white woman's face to massage her silk-covered toes. 

"We have a lot to talk about." Alexis said. 

My face must have been about 20 shades of red by now. 

"We do?" I asked, cautiously. 

Alexis lit another pulled another cigarette out but didn't light it. She simply held it between her fingers. 

She turned to poor Ginny and finally removed her nyloned foot from her face. She tapped her chin with her toes and directed her to put her shoes back on. 

"Yes, Miss Barron." Ginny answered. 

Ginny complied. 

I watched in amazement as the 56 year old woman obediently placed the black leather pumps onto the young black woman's feet. 

"Would there be anything else, Miss Barron?" Ginny asked.

"Light my cigarette." Alexis ordered. 

"Yes, Ma'am." Ginny replied, as she lit the black woman's cigarette.

"Will there be anything else, Miss Barron?" Ginny asked, once again. 

"No. Leave us." Alexis demanded. 

"Yes, Ma'am." Ginny replied. 

As Ginny kept her eyes lowered, she quietly left my office. 

Seconds later, Tiffany entered. 

"Bring me the latest PNL Report." Alexis commanded. 

Tiffany was so red in the face and seemed terrified. 

"M-Miss Barron? It's almost ready. I-I can bring it to you in a few m-minutes, Miss Barron. Would that be alright with you, Miss Barron?" she timidly asked. 

"I said now! Finish it now and bring it to me." Alexis demanded. 

"Yes, Ma'am. Right away, Ma'am. I'll bring it in to you right away, Miss Barron." Tiffany replied.

Tiffany left my office flustered. 

She scurried off like an obedient little egyptian servant to bring Alexis what she was told to bring.

My feelings of emptiness were growing. My nervousness was already there but my shock and awestruck face had to be obvious. 

In my mind, I could not fathom what was going on here in my company since I had left just 10 days ago. 

Ten minutes later, Tiffany arrived with a thick report that was bound in a blue cover. 

"Put it on my desk, Tiffany." Alexis commanded. "And, leave my office door open a few inches." She finished. 

"Yes, Ma'am." the 44 year old Tiffany replied. 

I was wondering where this was going. 

But, honestly my mind was in a complete fog. I remained standing there in total silence, unsure of what I should do. 

All I knew was that I was becoming more nervous.

Alexis finally stood up on her heels and began approaching me. 

I tensed up as she began making her way towards me. 

"There was some pretty fucked up shit going on around here, before I got here, wasn't there?" she said. 

She began drawing nearer and nearer until she stood right before me. 

At 4'11" tall and 95 lbs., compared to my 6'1" tall and 141 lb. frame, Alexis' beautiful face was just about on the same level as my breasts and she had to actually look up to me. 

I was "towering" above her, yet I was trembling and absolutely petrified. 

"Wh-What do you mean?" I asked, naively. 

I just stood there looking downward to her pretty face, which became stern and knowing. Her perfectly-trimmed eyebrows were bent in anger and her eyes were filled with an almost evil look. 

Without hesitation, the young black woman boldly reached up to me with her right hand and harshly slapped me right across the left side of my face. 

The sound of that slap had to ring throughout the entire office. It was that hard. 

"Oh my god!" I screamed, bringing my hand to my face to comfort the sting. 

"Why did you do that, Alexis?" I asked. 

Alexis simply slapped the other side of my face with her other hand. 

"Because I can." she snapped. 

"Put your arms down!" she demanded. 

I didn't know what else to do. All that I knew at the time was fear. I just did what she told me to do as I waited for an explanation. 

The small black woman began circling me as I continued standing there in the middle of my own office, motionless. She was circling me slowly as she began speaking. 

Her tone of voice was blatantly admonishing as she continued to scold me over and over again. She scolded me for my stupidity in running my own business. She even made allegations of "some illegal accounting activities" and "fraudalent" things, too. 

Seriously, I had no idea what she was talking about. Not really. I would never do such a thing on purpose. 

I attempted to explain to young Alexis that I would have never considered doing anything illegal. But, when I tried to explain she just slapped the left side of my face a second time, and she then yelled.




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 02



"Shut up." she snapped. "You're lucky that I don't call the newspapers." 

I thought that being quiet for now would be the best thing to do. I kept wondering if I was in some sort of trouble with the I.R.S., or anyone else. I just didn't know. 

My reddened face was stinging from her fierce slaps. It occurred to me that I may have made some accounting mistakes during these past 2 years. I really had no idea if I had, or not?

Alexis then began to speak, once again. 

"You see that PNL report on my desk?" she asked. 

"P-P and what?" I answered. 

She laughed, evilly. 

"It figures. Typical dumb, white bitch." she said, under her breath. 

She suddenly became more serious. 

"We're going to go over that, line by line, item by item, and we're not going to stop until I go through every step of these past 2 years." she directed.

I was more puzzled.

"W-Well, sure Alexis. Okay. I guess we can go over it on Monday?" I said.

My comment infuriated her.

The black teen slapped my face again. It was the loudest and harshest slap yet.

I stood there and began to cry. 

"Please. Please don't hit me anymore, Alexis. Please? I don't know what I did wrong." I groveled.

Part of me was just trying to pacify her, since she brought in the only account we had in two years. The other part of me was just plain terrified. 

The young black woman seemed thoroughly amused by my pleading and begging. 

Her stern, yet gorgeous face was making me feel so incompetent and incomplete. It was as if she knew everything about my failures and was holding something over me?

"Tonight." she snapped. 

"We'll be going over these reports starting tonight." she ordered. 

I didn't know what else to say. 

At the time, I just wanted to run out of my office and never be seen again. But, I was anchored there by my fear. 

I continued standing there as Alexis poked her head out of my office and called for Beth. It was just past 4 in the afternoon this Friday as Beth scurried in. 

"Beth, tell the others to close out their tasks and come in for their checks. We're finished for the week." Alexis ordered. 

"Yes, Miss Barron." Beth replied, humbled and saddened from the humiliation she felt.

At this time, I did know that my staff of seven white women had been working 12 hour days the entire week, including the previous Saturday. They all seemed drained and intimidated. 

Within a few moments, all 7 of the older white women stood in line outside of my office. All with their heads downwards looking to the floor and dressed in their new outfits, which seemed more like a dress code or a uniform now. 

They each stepped in with their eyes unable to look upward. 

One by one, I watched as they approached my desk where Alexis Barron now sat. She began handing out their payroll checks, in the same manner that I used to. 

"Thank you, Miss Barron. Will there be anything else?" they each asked, one by one, as they accepted their checks from Alexis. 

The response from Alexis to all of them was the same - all but one woman.

That last woman was Cindy. 

"Make me a fresh pot of coffee and bring me a cup. It's going to be a long night." she ordered. 

"Yes, Ma'am. Right away." Cindy answered. 

Alexis stepped out of my office. Seconds later, she was rolling in one of the other desk chairs from the outside office. They were very large, comfortable chairs with high cushioned backs. This chair was not as prestigious as my desk chair was, but very close. 

Alexis simply rolled one of those chairs to the side of my desk chair, behind my desk, then locked it into a stationary position next to her chair. 

"Sit." she simply ordered. 

I looked at the younger black woman in a confused manner. 

"I said sit!" she repeated. 

Tentatively, I walked over to the oversized desk chair and sat down. Alexis was still standing and pacing around the office while waiting for Cindy to return. 

I sat there, in anguish, and just waited. My reddened face still burned from her harsh slaps. I didn't know what to expect but the thought of calling the police entered my mind. 

Minutes later, Cindy walked in with a cup of coffee for Alexis. Delicately, she placed it upon my desk as if it were now Alexis Barron's desk. She also placed a carafe of the remaining coffee off to the side.

"Will that be all, Miss Barron?" Cindy asked. 

"No." Alexis answered. 

"Pick up the dry cleaning at Finch's Dry Cleaning Service, on Eighth Street, it's under my name." Alexis ordered. 

"Bring it to her house Saturday morning and leave it on the hook outside the front door." she directed, referring to me. 

"M-My house?" I thought. "Why there?" 

I didn't know why she would say something like that. I thought maybe she was being sarcastic, or trying to scare me even more? 

I had no idea. 

"Yes, Ma'am." Cindy answered, as she departed for the night. 

This left Alexis Barron and I alone now. 

I was shaking so much that I could hardly stand it. I was so afraid of what was about to come next. A good part of me was thinking that she had found something that I did that was illegal. 

"What was it that I did wrong?" I asked myself. 

"What could it possibly be?" I wondered. 

"Was this some sort of threat, or a test?" I pondered. 

Nevertheless, this 18 year old black woman was completely humiliating me and I kept trying to think of ways to get away from her. 

End, chapter two. 



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 03



Being left alone in my own office with the commanding, young black teenager was terrifying enough. She seemed so determined to get to the bottom of my failing business, and it was becoming even more intimidating for me. 

In a million years, I would have never guessed that I would be placed into this type of a situation. Nor, would I have guessed that someone, like Alexis, would be taking over my staff in the manner she had been.

Alexis was just 18 years old, and here she was bossing around and directing seven older white women in their 40's and 50's. It seemed as if she had done this so easily, too, and in less than a months' time. 

Now, she was directing her attention towards me. 

I am quite sure that she could tell I was trembling with nervousness as she walked around my office. Casually, she began looking over the items on my book shelf. For me, it was a very tense moment. I couldn't figure out why I was so intimdated by such a young woman. 

I sat there, simply clutching the arms of the large cushioned chair that Alexis had already anchored into place. It was right beside hers. 

The young, black woman circled around my office in the most non-chalant of ways as she began to speak.

"You have questions for me, don't you?" she asked. 

I was nervous and afraid to ask anything that might set her off again. Yet, somehow my curiosity and concern got the best of me. I needed to ask the questions that were running through my mind since the moment I walked in. 

"Y-Yes, I do." I said softly and nervously. 

I was beginning to get my voice back. I was frightened, yet I was also getting angry by the way she had been treating all of us. The things she was doing were completely incomprehensible to me at the time. 

"What have you been doing?" I asked.

"Why are you being so mean?" I questioned.

"What did you do to Ginny, Beth, Tiffany, Cindy and the rest of my staff?" I asked, in a rather worried and unthinking tone. 

Alexis simply strolled up to my side. Her close presence made me regret the tone I just used. Without hestitation, the young black woman grabbed the back of my long, blonde hair and arrogantly pulled my head back to her. She did this until my face was almost straight up and facing the ceiling. 

She brought her beautiful face close to mine and began carressing the side of my cheek with one of her long, red fingernails. 

"I told you." she began. "I told you that you needed a black woman in this office." she said. 

The fear on my face had to be obvious. The petite black woman touched my face as if she was touching a pet. Suddenly, she squeezed the cheeks of my face firmly.

"It's called black dominance." she said. 

"It means that a dumb white bitch, like you, will always submit to a black woman, like me." she explained.

Her tone of voice was more arrogant and commanding as she released my face from her firm grip and walked over to her seat behind my desk.

She propped her heeled feet up onto my desk, and crossed them at the ankles with her right foot over the left. They were set just off to the left side of my chair now, a mere six inches away. 

"As far as the others go ... well, let's just say that I made them understand." she said.

The expression on this 18 year old woman's beautiful face was cocky, arrogant and all-knowing. It was the look of a cat who had just swallowed a canary. 

"W-What do you want from me?" I asked, now more concerned.

Alexis Barron sat back comfortably into what was once my desk chair. She pulled the large blue binder from the desk and plopped it right upon her lap. 

"We're going to go over your company portfolio and profit and loss reports line by line." she said. 

"I am going to show you how much of an incompetent, dumb white bitch you are." she rudely said.

"But, we're also going to talk about the new contract for the business I brought in." she added. 

She began flipping through the first pages of the PNL report as I sat there, in complete shock and awe. I was scared and embarrassed as she began to belittle me. The manner in which scolded me about the way I ran my business over the past two years was absolutely demoralizing.

Alexis was suddenly all business. 

The young, black beauty chastised me for not watching the financials closely. She told me that my fixed costs were too high and that I had spent excessively on marketing strategies that were, what she said were "pathetic" and "idiotic."

She began going over the loan I had taken out for the business. Then, she began discussing the product lines and bottle designs of the perfumes.

Then, she discussed the salaries and how I never had been overpaying low talent white women who were more like secretaries than business coordinators. 

For the next several hours, Alexis went over every detail of my company's profit and loss reports, line by line, and in the most excruciating detail.

The young black woman even pointed out that I had reported revenue to the IRS that were illegal. 

My face was a crimson red from the total embarrassment that I felt. I was already tired from my long trip and now, after nearly 5 hours of being criticized for my imcompetent leadership, I began to grow weary.

I truly felt as if I was going to pass out from the humiliation. But, I did not know at that moment that this humiliation was just the beginning. 

I had sat there listening to my new black employee for almost 5 hours. It was shocking how this teenaged woman was able to discover all the flaws in our business and marketing plans, and in such a short period of time. 

In less than a month, Alexis Barron was able to point out all of my mistakes. She was able to secure control over a staff of older white women and get them working for her. 

She was able to bring in new clients and open discussions with former clients. It wasn't just the newest account that I knew about from the time I left for Oslo ten days ago. There were also 4 other new clients, and her contact with a half dozen customeres that stopped purchasing from us 2 years ago were now talking to her about new business. 

It was shocking to me. 

The young black woman even pointed out all the mistakes I had made with my personal finances. 

She made me feel so incompetent that I could hardly move. I sat there motionless and amazed by her focus and businesslike mind. It was demoralizingly obvious that she completely and totally outclassed me in every way. 

Yet, this was still just the beginning of her discussions with me. She wasn't even close to being finished scolding and humiliating me. 

Alexis told me we will now discuss the changes she had made while I was gone, and the future business plans she had developed.

"A-Alexis, please?" I pouted.

"Please. This is all too much. I am so tired. This is so embarrassing and I don't want to continue this." I said.

"I-I was thinking that I just want to shut the business down." I explained. 

The 18 year old black woman looked back into my eyes, an amused but determined look began to trace her full lips. 

"Sit back!" she ordered. 

"I said sit back and don't move." she repeated the order. 

Her angry tone frightened me. Timidly, I sat back into my chair and looked at the stern face of Alexis Barron. She moved her large executive desk chair to within inches of mine and scooted up to the very edge of her seat. 

Once again, she took her right hand and put it to my frightened face. She squeezed my cheeks a little more gently this time. 

"Do you agree that you have been incompetent while running this business?" she asked. 

"Y-Yes, Alexis." I replied, defeatedly. 

"Do you agree that you have made many mistakes that the IRS would thoroughly enjoy hearing about?" she asked. 

Her gorgeous face drew even nearer. 

"Y-Yes, I-I guess so." I answered nervously.

"Do you admit that your offer to me was an insult to me, and to all black women?" she asked.

Her tone became angrier. 

"Yes, Alexis. I-I do admit that ... and, I'm terribly sorry for that but I ..." I apologized.

She interupted my apology with another lighter slap across my face. 

"That's right. You should apologize." she ripped.

There was a long pause as she looked deeper into my eyes. 

Then, she continued as she realized that I wasn't about to fight back. 

"Do you admit that I am smarter than you?" she asked. 

"Yes, Alexis. I do." I whispered. 

My face was already stinging and I didn't want another slap from the younger black woman, but she was right. I couldn't deny that. 

"Do you agree that I'm a better leader, a stronger woman than you, and a far superior business woman than you are?" she drilled. 

Her attitude was so dominant. Her words cut into me like razorblades. 

"Y-Yes. Yes, Alexis I do agree." I answered. 

My eyes were drawn to the floor. I was so humiliated and embarrassed that my throat was beginning to close up as she continued holding onto my face with her right hand. 

Alexis tilted my face upwards until my eyes met hers, once again.

"Look at me!" she commanded.

"Keep your eyes up to mine." she ordered.

I opened my half-shut eyes to look at her beautiful and stern face. 

"Do you think that I'm more beautiful than you are?" she asked. 

"Y-Yes, I do Alexis." I admitted, in a faint and defeated whisper.

She continued to make me look right into her captivating eyes. 

"So, I am prettier than you. I am smarter. I am a stronger woman and a far better leader than you, aren't I?" she asked. 

My throat was dry. I could hardly utter a syllable. Yet, somehow I was able to a response.

"Yes." I answered in my softest whisper yet. 

Alexis Barron simply smiled. An almost evil grin began tracing her magnificent lips. 

It was as if she was trying to humiliate and intimidate me by making me to admit everything she was saying. When I finally did, she appeared content with my defeat and released my face from her gentle, yet firm grip.

Yes, I truly felt defeated. 

I felt scared and threatened. My reddened face from my embarrassment and the slaps from the black teenaged woman had to be obvious to her. 

At this time, my thoughts of getting up and running away from her simply faded. I was unable to summon up enough courage to leave the chair she had put me in as I sat there wondering what could possibly come next.

The young black woman then leaned back into her own chair and scooted it forward, again. She reached down to her right and locked the rolling chair in place so it wouldn't move. The seat of her chair was now pressed against the seat of my chair, leaving no room whatsoever for her legs.

You couldn't have put a sheet of paper between the seats of our chairs now. Her legs had returned to the desk top, and her heeled feet remained relaxed and just off to my left arm.

I sat there and watched nervously as Alexis pulled out a manila folder and opened it. She lit a cigarette for herself, then scooted her backside sitting position to almost the edge of her seat, literally leaning way back and down into the chair to lounge comfortably.

I didn't know what to expect next. 

All that I felt was shame and humiliation by the fact that this young black woman was treating me this way. She was so confident and in control of herself. She handled herself with such poise, and in the most aggressive way that I had ever seen before. 

The confidence of a woman so young and beautiful was completely overwhelming to me. She was so petite and small, barely 4'11" tall and 95 lbs., yet she exhibited such incredible boldness and arrogance for someone her age. Her intelligence, alone, made me feel inferior to her. 

It was like I could never be on the same level as she was, and I knew it. 

Alexis Barron knew it too. 

The young, black woman had sensed my weakness from the very moment we met. Now, she knew I was feeling beaten and defeated. She knew that I could no longer fight her. 

Quietly, I sat still watching Alexis leaning far back into her chair with her feet up on the desk to my left. She acted as if she was some sort of imperial egyptian black goddess about to lay down the law to one of her weak servants. 

I was completely awed by the manner in which she presented herself. 

With complete and utter cockiness, arrogance and rudeness, Alexis kicked off her black pumps and boldly placed her left stockinged foot right upon the upper most part of the left side of my chest, just below my shoulder. Her left heel essentially rested below the edge of my collarbone and I could already smell the deep, pungeant scent of her stockinged foot. 

The younger black woman proceded to swing her right foot over and crossed it over her left, which was now crossed at the ankles. This placed her right nylon-covered foot literally flush into my worried face. She cockily "fanned" her well-worn stockinged toes an inch before my face. Then, with true arrogance, she "cupped" the toes of her right foot directly over my nose while she settled into her large chair. 

It was such an unbelievably arrogant thing to do to me.

The stockings Alexis Barron was wearing that day were so well worn, as if she had purposely worn them for days on end. They were a coffee-tone brown shade and had these unusually enormous darker reinforcements right across the toes of them. Her pantyhosed feet were reminiscent of the stockings many women wore in the late 1950's.

I simply could not believe the arrogance of this black teenager.

My fear and humiliation kept me anchored there with little more than a meager gasp as the young black woman firmly pressed her nyloned toes to my face. 

My arms remained down on the arms of my own chair, submissively. I just didn't know what to think or do at the time as the teenager continued degading me. 

The firmness of Alexis' nylon-stockinged foot eased up as she looked directly into my eyes, her size 5 foot remaining in full contact with my face at all times. I'm sure that the view of me from her perspective amused her as she could only see my eyes peering over the very tips of the stockinged toes of her right foot. 

She barely smiled in an uncaring way before she began to speak again. 

"Is there a problem?" she asked, meanly and sarcastically. 

I wasn't sure how to respond. I simply nodded a "no" out of complete fear.

Alexis had a noticeably evil smile. 

"Good. Then, we shall continue." she said. 

Cockily, she started wriggling and wiggling her silky and pungeant toes on my face while she perused the items in her folder. 

"I made some changes." she told me. 

And, there were so many changes! 

The first thing Alexis changed was the design of the perfume bottles. These designs and names were ones we had been selling for years. 

She added a miniature red kitten's collar to each of the bottles, which she told me would be the new symbol for my company. She flashed a few drawings to me from her sitting position. 

There had to be 15 drawings, all with different bottle designs that had a miniature red leather kitten's collar around the necks of the bottles. 

They were impressive designs. 

"That's one of the reasons why everyone was wearing a red cat's collar around their necks when you walked in." she said. "And, they will continue to." she added. 

"Essentially, it's our new moniker." she explained.

The drawings she made were so different from the old-fashioned styles my late husband had designed many years before. I could hardly believe the changes.

Sitting there and listening to the young Alexis was demeaning. She casually and nonchalantly "writhed" and "smeared" the reinforced toes of her nyloned foot over my face an nose without a care in the world. 

She was almost ignoring me and any opinion I might have as she looked over the remaining items in the folder.

"I also changed the names of the perfumes and most of the marketing strategies." she said.

Alexis went on to explain that the 6 existing perfumes would be changed by adding another component of pheromone. They will have more progressive and youthful names, and they would be marketed exclusively to african-american women and other women of color.

I almost could not believe my ears?!

One thing that I never envisioned was that a perfume could be actually designed for a specific race of people.

"How is that possible?" I asked myself.

Alexis looked at me and saw that look of disbelief in my eyes. 

"You don't approve?" she asked. 

With the young black woman's stockinged foot practically planted in my face, it was impossible to say a word. 

"Well, I have these contracts that tell me otherwise." she said, holding up a group of papers. 

Alexis continued to explain. 

Not only had she acquired a new customer for 150,000 dollars of business each month, but she also had 4 additional new smaller customers combining for that same amount. In addition, she had spoken to a half dozen of our former customers about the idea and they were all interested. 

"Some of your old customers want to see my presentations in a few weeks, which I will have ready." Alexis explained. 

It was shocking. I had been trying with those former customers for two full years!? Now, Alexis had scheduled meetings with them to review the new product lines later that month.

And, Alexis had already set up the development for 9 additional perfumes!

"Product development for the new perfumes will begin next week. It will take a few months but I already have the names and bottle designs." she continued. 

"Oh, and that first contract you signed. Remember that?" she asked me. 

My face was red and I felt nearly suffocated by the strong and demoralizing scent of her nylon stockinged foot, which was arrogantly planted over my nose and face. I simply nodded a "yes" and had this look of confusion in my eyes.

"Well ..." she began, "... and, I'm sure you won't mind since I deserve it ... but, I made sure that contract compensated me the way it should." she told me. 

"W-What do you m'mean, Alexis?" I asked, my voice muffled by her size 5 foot on my face. 

The young black woman simply turned to the last page of that contract, then turned it to face me, bringing it closer to me by extending her arm. Alexis didn't move her sitting position to show it to me. 

It was now a mere few feet before my eyes but I could still read it clearly. 

The last paragraph was now highlighted in a bright yellow color, making it easier to read. It wasn't that way when I hurriedly signed it before my trip to Oslo. As I read it, I was astounded and humiliated by the fact that I had missed that important paragraph. 

There, right where the salesperson's commission was written into the contract was Alexis Barron's name and the commission she had written in.

Unbelieveably, where the standard commission for a sales rep was typically 1 percent, it was written in to show as "Alexis Barron, 11 percent."

"Oh my god?" I uttered under my breath. "Alexis, we can't afford that." I said in desperation. 

She stopped my words instantly by pressing the ball of her right nylon-covered foot over my lips. 

"Yes, we can!" she shouted. 

"I made many other changes too." she snapped.

The amount this young, black woman was claiming for her commission was staggering. This 11 percent would give her a 16,500 dollar salary each month, or a 198,000 dollar annual salary!

"B-But, the others Alexis ... I-I c-can't ..." I pleaded. 

Once again, Alexis Barron interupted me. 

"It's already done." she said, authoritatively. 

"The others' salaries have already been adjusted, as has yours. They have all signed compensatory agreements for the next two years, and you will be doing the same." she told me. 

I was absolutely motified. 

There was no chance this could have happened. She didn't have the authority to do any of the things she was doing, and had done. There was no chance that I was going to let this young black woman get away with this!




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 03



I started to get up from my seat and yelled at her that I was going to call the police.

In a blink of an eye, Alexis literally shoved me back down to my seat by using the force of her right foot to my face. 

"Shut up and sit down!" she commanded. 

She then slapped the side of my face with her stockinged toes. 

"You'll listen." she directed. "Is that understood?" she asked.

Again, I was terribly frightened. This fear was much stronger than any bit of anger I was feeling at the time. I looked back at Alexis and her eyes were now more serious than I had ever seen them before. 

Defeatedly, I nodded a "yes" to her. 

"I suppose that I need to keep explaining to an idiot, like you, that there are several mistakes the IRS would see as cheating rather than mistakes." she threatened. 

I still didn't know what Alexis was referring to. Still, she continued.

"Not only would they see them as violations, I would be so happy to tell them all about it, too." she warned.

"You'll be fined and probably even go to jail." she said.

"I'd make sure you lost your big home, your business, your car ... and everything." she threatened. 

I was stunned.

"Oh my god. This black woman is blackmailing me!" I thought. 

My emotions were mixed. Here was this young black woman brilliantly securing all this new business and changing things in my company for the good. But, on the other hand she was demoralizing me, and legally stealing from me, and now blackmailing me if I didn't comply to her demands. 

I didn't know what to do. I certainly didn't want to go to jail, that's for sure. And, I needed the business to continue just to survive! 

Timidly, I gave in. 

My eyes lowered and the shame I felt was overwhelming. Alexis Barron had outsmarted me and taken advantage of my weakness and fear of her. My body went limp, defeatedly. Alexis just smiled. 

"Do you wish to call the police now?" she asked, sarcastically. 

"Huh?" she repeated, as she "squirmed" her nyloned toes over my nose. 

There was a long pause. 

"N-No." I whispered. 

The young black woman planted her silken toes over my face with greater force and such glee. 

"No, what?" she asked. 

I just looked into her serious eyes and tried to understand what she was asking of me now. It was difficult to breathe with her strong smelling nyloned toes over my nose like that. 

"No, Ma'am!" she snapped, directing me in the manner of how to address her.

Defeatedly, I gave in once again.

"No, M-Ma'am." I answered. 

Alexis Barron smiled. It was a thoroughly sinister and all-knowing smile, which showed her obvious delight in my conquest.

"Now, I will continue." she said, pleasantly and sarcastically.

end. chapter three.



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 04



It was nearly midnight.

At this point, I had been sitting in this chair besides the young black woman for hours. Alexis Barron's size 5 nylon stockinged feet remained propped up onto my upper chest, crossed at the ankles, and with such arrogance. Her silk covered toes remained in contact with my nose at all times. Her arrogance was inconceivable to me and, partly out of my fear of her, I had no willingness or backbone to resist.

The 18 year old black woman was so beautiful. It was difficult for me to comprehend how someone so young, petite and beautiful could have such boldness and business saavy. She continued discussing the numbers of my business and her "plan" to bring the company back to profitability. She refused to removed her nylon covered feet from its' resting place upon my upper chest. 

Occasaionally, Alexis would switch the position of her feet from being crossed over at the ankles from her right foot to her left foot, but the foot crossed over on top of the other was always the one that was, quite literally, in my face.

Alexis discussed the salaries. 

The 7 older white female staff, who once carried the title of "Business Coordinators" with an annual salary of 52,000 to 55,000 dollars, had changed. Now, they were all "Clerical Assistants" with an annual salary of 37,500 dollars. 

It was unfathomable to think how this young, beautiful black girl had the entire all white female office staff intimidated, and how she had them agreeing to such a dramatic cut in pay. All this while hers had been increased to such a high level. In my mind, I wondered if they even knew anything about Alexis Barron's sinister and nearly forged commission agreement.

It will be hard for anyone to comprehend that Alexis Barron was contining to make her 400 dollar a week salary plus the 11 percent monthly commission from that first contract. This put her combined salary at an unimagineable 218,800 dollars annually. But, that is exactly what it was now.

I sat there quietly, timidly and in awe as I listened to Alexis Barron's new plan. Her stockinged toes continued to "wriggle" and "smear" across my reddened face and nose in the most obtrusive, yet nonchalant way. She was coolly unconcerned about my suffering and degradation. 

"Do you agree that people should be compensated by their ability and accomplishments?" she asked, rather sarcastically.

"Y-Yes, Alexis. Yes, M-Ma'am." I answered.

"And, would you agree that you have absolutely no ability at all?" she asked. 

The young, black woman looked straight into my eyes and waited for an answer. She was extremely cool, calm and patient as I sat there speechless and thinking about her latest and most demoralizing comment. Alexis reached over to her desk top and pulled out another long, thin Virginia Slims cigarette. Patiently, she lit it and returned her eyes to me as she blew a long, smooth stream of smoke from her polished red lips. 

"Yes, Ma'am." I answered quietly. 

Alexis went on to tell me that my responsibility as the owner should be just that, as an owner, and nothing more. She explained that my role as President of my own company was a complete and utter disgrace. She also stated that it was a complete waste of time and effort, and that my incompetence and futility in trying to run things was actually hurting the potential of this company.

"It's obvious." she stated. "But, that doesn't mean you can not be useful." she concluded. 

There was nothing she had just told me that wasn't the truth. I knew it. 

I knew that she was right about my failures, and I felt embarrassed by someone so young stating what I had always known. Deep down, I knew that Alexis Barron was accurate in her assessment of me. Yet, it was the manner in which she stated the obvious that made this event so much more humiliating for me. 

Still, I wasn't exactly clear of what she appeared to be suggesting. Aside from stepping down from my role of actually running the company, there was something else she had in mind.

Alexis Barron made me admit to her that she was the one responsible for saving the future of my company. She also made me admit that, without her, this company was heading for financial ruin. She even made me admit that only a black woman would be able to sustain and then grow this company in the most successful way. Hesitantly, I admitted to all the comments she set before me.  

Then, she came right to the point.

Alexis Barron firmly suggested that she become the company's "Acting President" while I take, what she described, an "alternate role." She explained this would give her the credibility with both current and future customers, as well as the buying power with other entities she had been strategizing with since I was gone. 

The young black woman's face was beautiful, yet stern. Her eyes were serious and intimidating. She knew that she was responsible for acquiring over 300,000 dollars in gross sales monthly. She knew that she was responsible for all our new business, and now she wanted the title to go along with her accomplishments. I didn't know how to take these comments, nor did I know how to react to such a sudden change.

"How would my staff react to all this even if I agreed to this change?" I thought.

"Would they just quit and leave me to fend for myself?" I asked myself.

"Would I have to start interviewing for more clerical assistants?" I wondered.

"How could I possibly handle the utter degradation of this change?" I questioned.

I didn't expect Alexis to already have an employment contract written out for herself. But, there it was. Now, she was holding it in her right hand. 

Alexis had the contract placed onto a white lacquered clipboard. She simply handed it to me as I remained in this sitting position, her nyloned toes rudely cupped around my nose. I took the clipboard from her grasp and began to read through it. The short, five page contract was intimidating to read through as she flipped open her cell phone to make a call.

It was uncomfortable sitting in this position and trying to read through the contract with the 18 year old black girl's nylon stockinged foot literally "planted" in my face, like it was. Alexis was simply relaxed, her legs stretched out and her feet resting upon me in the most casual and arrogant of ways while she began talking to the caller. 

"Hey, girl! What's up?" she began.

Those are the only words I heard for awhile. I was completely tuned out to her conversation as I began reading deeper into the employment contract. The contract was rather standard, giving Alexis Barron the title of Acting President with the authority to make all business and personnel decisions. I would remain the owner, approving any financial transaction above 250,000 dollars, and taking an "alternate role" as her assistant with an annual salary of 37,501 dollars, which was merely one dollar more than the clerical assistants.

As I read through the particulars of the contract, I didn't see anything unusual about it with the exception of the salary changes. Yet, I was deeply demoralized to see that she was suggesting my role as her "assistant" with such a low annual salary. 

"How would I pay all my bills?" I asked myself.

I wondered how could I possibly agree to this? I felt so pressured and intimidated by this young woman that I couldn't even begin to explain my own feelings at the time. Inside, though, it was as if I was removing a tremendous weight off my shoulders, too. I certainly needed that. On the other hand, how could I even employ such a dominant and arrogant young woman to make these important business decisions for my company?

"She was barely 18 years old!" I thought.

But, there was something very different about Alexis Barron. She truly humbled me. Her business accomplishments had been absolutely incredible up to this point, and she was quite determined to succeed. Her youthful beauty and appearance were a complete contradiction to her fierce and unrelenting business style. 

When I finished reading through the contract and saw the blank signature lines at the bottom of the last page, I simply set the clipboard down onto the carpeted floor to my right side. 

I was exhausted and demoralized, and I looked towards the young black woman, who was ignoring me. She continued to speak casually to her friend on the other end of the cell phone she held. 

The nylon covered toes of her left foot were now actively swirling and twirling about my face and nose as if she were uncaringly itching and massaging them on some sort of inanimate object. The scent of her well worn nyloned feet were almost overbearing, yet intoxicating to the point that my mind was beginning to wander. I began feeling so dizzy and incoherent, and that is when I unconsciously fell into sleep.

It had to be shortly past midnight when I drifted off with Alexis' stockinged feet set upon me, and using my flustered face as some type of massage tool. It was demoralizing. My exhaustion from the long trip and the humiliation that I was feeling was overwhelming to the point that I could no longer stay awake. I was passed out in this leaned back sitting position until the time that I was finally awakened, hours later.

It was even more demoralizing to wake up "at" the young black woman's feet in this position. I was awakened by the tapping of young Alexis' nylon covered toes across my cheek. 

"You finally awake?" she asked, sternly.

"Huh?" she added, tapping a second and third time.

My eyes opened to see Alexis in a half awakened state, herself. Her right foot pressed over my nose in a childishly arrogant manner. Apparently, she had spent quite awhile talking to her friend on the phone before falling asleep, herself.

The entire time, her feet remained authoritatively propped up onto me. Her half shut eyes gleamed, knowingly, and she stretched her legs further out for her early morning stretch, adding to the pressure of her foot on my face. 

I just sat there with the realization that all I had been through yesterday was not a bad dream. It was really happening. As Alexis Barron's eyes grew more alert, she removed her feet from my upper chest and tossed her black stilletto pumps to my lap. 

"Put those on for me. We should go." she directed. 

Haplessly, I did as I was ordered. I glanced over to the clock on my office wall to see that it was 8:20 a.m. I had been asleep for almost 8 hours and my mind was still foggy as I placed the size 5 heels upon Alexis Barron's feet. I didn't have the faintest idea of where we were going at the time. I only knew that I was feeling so defeated that I wanted to get home quickly and pass out, again. 

For a moment, it was as if I was finally being released from an uncomfortable prison of humiliation. The young black woman directed me to grab the contract, folders and binders. Then, she handed me her purse. 

"We still have more to go through later." she said. 

I simply nodded, defeatedly.

The 18 year old black woman directed me to my car in the parking lot. It was Saturday morning, and the sun was quite bright. Alexis stopped for a moment to grab a pair of Gucci sunglasses from her purse, which I carried. She placed them onto her beautiful face as we reached my parked BMW. It was then that I was made aware that Alexis did not have a car of her own. She made mention of this fact as she complimented the appearance of my metallic blue automobile.

When I sat down in my car and turned on the ignition, my thoughts were that I would be taking Alexis to her place. However, this was not the case. 

"Where am I driving you to, Miss?" I asked. 

She smiled, amused. "Your place, of course. We still have a lot to talk about I told you. And, I'm still tired and a little hungry." she said. 

My eyes must have widened to the size of streetlights. I felt a nervousness come over me like I had never felt before. It seemed as if this was becoming more than just business, and I had no clue how to react to it. 

Now, this young black woman was inviting herself into my personal life and my personal space. It was an overwhelming feeling that was foreign to me, and although I felt nervous and scared, I found it impossible to contest her.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I replied, cautiously. 

The entire drive to my home was an uncomfortable one. I remained nervous as the young black woman remained quiet, ignoring me and returning several text messages on her phone. I found it nearly impossible to concentrate on the road. 

Finally, we arrived 40 minutes later. It was just past 9:00 a.m. when I pulled into my circular driveway and drove up to the walkway of the front door. 

I could see Alexis' dry cleaning hanging from the high planter hooks to the sides of the front door to my house. As instructed, one of the other older white women had picked up her clothes and delivered them here. We walked to the front door, my arms filled with the binder, folders and Alexis' purse while she walked hands free towards the house. Her confidence was apparent. 

"Grab those, will you?" she ordered, referring to the dozen articles of dry cleaning on hangers.

I did as I was told and struggled to hold onto everything as I opened my front door. It took me a couple attempts to key the door as the young, petite black woman stood there patiently. And, when I slowly pushed the large chestnut front door open I noticed 3 boxes sitting there in the foyer with the initials A.B. on them. 

These boxes belonged to Alex Barron.

Confused, I looked at the 18 year old black woman. My facial expression must have been blatantly obvious as I wondered what they were doing there. She simply strutted into my home like she owned it. 

"Don't worry. I'm only staying for a short while until I find a new place." she said. 

"The place I was in is a real dump." she said. 

"Besides, I took some of the money and paid for all your taxes and bills upfront for the year." she added. 

I didn't know how to respond. 

The arrogance of this young woman was tremendously intimidating to me. I watched in amazement as Alexis kicked off her shoes and made her way to the largest sofa in my living room. She sat there and began removing her black skirt and coffee-tone pantyhose stockings. The young, black woman then removed her white blouse and tossed it onto the arm of the sofa with the rest of her outfit.

"This is a nice place 'ya got here." she said, standing.

I was still in the foyer setting down all the items I had just carried in, and placing her dry cleaning onto the door handle of the outer most closet as young Alexis began to slowly circel the living room. 

My eyes were amazed by her beauty and my throat was tightened by the incredible confidence this young black woman exhibited. She seemed to exude such power and inner strength, and I was even more in awe of her now. 

Alexis Barron now strutted around my home barefoot in merely a white nyloned bra and a matching pair of the flimsiest nylon bikini panties I had ever seen. They were the skimpiest non-thong styled panties that one could imagine. 

Truly, she was acting as if she owned my place. "I'm a little hungry. You do cook, don't you?" she asked, rather sarcastically. 

Still taken back by her overwhelming boldness, I hesitated. 

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am, I do." I stuttered. "B-But, I've been gone and I don't have anything fresh in the ..." I attempted to explain. 

The 18 year old black girl interrupted.

"Don't worry about that! I had Beth restock the frige while you were away. I hope you don't mind?" she said, facetiously. 

My mind wandered for a moment. I was curious and confused how Alexis had gotten into my home and done all this during the 10 days I was away. Then, I remembered that I had always left Beth an extra key to my house in case there was an emergency. The thought of how she must have gotten to Beth weakened me. I just stood there, worried and motionless.

"Please, Alexis. P-Please?" I pleaded. 

The petite, 4'11" tall and 95 lb. black teenager had this look of supreme and child like dominance on her young looking face. Her eyes seem to lighten up after hearing me plead like that, then she began walking towards me. 

Even in my 4 inch heels and being 6'1" inches tall, I could hardly believe how nervous and frightened I was as Alexis approached. She had her hands on her pantied hips, cockily, as she began to circle me. I stood there, timidly, as she continued to walk around me before she finally stopped in front of me. Casually, she reached up to me and put her right hand to my cheeks gently and firmly squeezing them. 

"Please what?!" she asked. 

I could not respond. My fear of gettng another slap across my face from her kept me quiet. I was afraid to answer. Alexis Barron then released my face from her soft grip. She turned and began to slowly and methodically walk away from me. 

She took only a few steps away and her back remained facing me. From behind, the 18 year old black woman was equally as beautiful. But, it was the boldness and supreme and uncaring confidence she exuded that intimidated me the most. Even the manner in which she wore her small, white nylon panties seem to have an effect on me. 

They were the smallest and tiniest full-cut back panties I had ever seen, and in the flimsiest white nylon material one could describe. They were a slight shade above a brazilian cut, and the young woman wore them extremely low on her hips, low enough to barely show the top of her petite, amazingly curved butt crack. 

The flimsy material of her bikini panty seemed to almost swirl around her perfect, tear drop shaped ass cheeks in a blatantly careless manner. These little white panties were so flimsy that they carelessly slipped further down her hips and cheeks, centimeter by centimeter, with every bold and arrogant step she took. The wispy material billowed out ever so slightly frm between her femininely muscled cheeks. 

"I would think that you'd be more appreciative of my efforts." Alexis stated.

"Y-Yes. Yes, Alexis I am. I really am." I quivered. 

The young black woman continued strutting around my living room as I stood there, intimidated and frightened beyond imagination. Yet, I was also beginning to feel something else. I was beginning to get sexually aroused, too. 

These feelings embarrassed me. 

I would have never imagined feeling this way with another woman. And, now I was engulfed in feelings that were a combination of humiliation and excitement.

I think Alexis Barron always knew this. 

By the time she had taken a dozen short and confident strides around my living room, with her back towards me at all times, she stopped and turned back to me. 

"I know that you like me, bitch." she said. 

"Wh-What?" I replied, embarrassed and in denial. 

Alexis Barron smiled, almost evilly.

"I am everything that you have always admired. And, I am everything that you have always dreamed of, aren't I?" she asked. 

I paused. 

"Isn't that right, bitch?" she asked, a sinister look now tracing her flawless face. 

I was standing there, my knees weakened by her comments, and my face began to turn red. 

"W-What do you m-mean?" I asked, acting surprised. 

"I d-don't." I denied. 

The 18 year old's beautiful and stern face looked right through me as if I were made of rice paper. My embarrassment had to be so transparent to this young, black woman. I was caught between my admiration and attraction to her and the humiliation that I felt. These were feelings that she was causing. 

"Come here!" she demanded, simply. 

My knees were almost buckled in place. They felt heavier than they had ever felt before. Yet, somehow I managed to begin to step towards her in the slowest and most tentative way. She was about 30 feet away from me and it occurred to me that this young woman was actually making me come to her, and doing so purposely. 




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 04



It took longer to walk to her than it should have. When I finally arrived, I felt almost faint.

As I stood before this sunstantially smaller black woman, she barely smiled. I felt completely under her control. It was humiliating to feel such fear as she looked right into my eyes. And, when she began reaching up towards my face again, I literally flinched, expecting another slap.

But, Alexis did not slap my face this time. She simply put her hand to the gold and diamond pendant necklace on my neck and studied it closely. Then, she ripped it from my neckline. 

"Very nice." she said, looking at the diamond pendant even closer. 

I was trembling as I looked downward into the young, petite woman's serious eyes. 

"I want you to kneel now." she said with authority. 

"W-What do you mean, Kn-Kneel?" I questioned. 

Her right hand went to my shoulder and she gently pushed down on it until she guided me into a kneeling position before her. On my knees before her, I was now about the same height as the tiny black woman, perhaps an inch or two taller. Still, I felt helpless before her as she placed both of her mocha toned hands to the sides of my blushing face. 

"Do you know what the most humiliating thing for a white woman is?" she asked, sarcastically. 

Almost petrified, I nodded a "no" with my face being held by both of her young hands.

The dominant black girl went on to explain that the most humiliating thing for any white woman would be to kiss the ass of a black woman and admit her inferiority to them. 

Her words shocked me.

"And, that is exactly what you're going to do now, my white bitch." she snapped. 

My natural instinct was to resist, and I half-heartedly tried to break free of the grip Alexis had on my face. She casually put her hands to my long blonde hair and gripped it firmly. She grabbed my hair so fiercely that it caused tremendous pain. I immediately relented as she controlled the movement of my head as if I were a rag doll. 

"Don't even!" she ripped.

I conceded. Alexis removed one of her hands from my hair and now controlled my head with only one of her hands. It gripped my blonde hair like a vice grip as her fingers were purposely entangled within my long locks. Then, she turned her backside to me until her small, yet voluptuous ass cheeks, clad in that tiny white nylon panty, were facing me. 

"Look at it!" she ordered. 

My face was now within two inches of her panty covered ass cheeks as she held my head and face in place. It was a helpless feeling that overcame me at the time, and I was humiliated by the fact that she was actually making me "look" at her backside from this position for what seemed like an eternity. The beautiful, black teenaged woman made me stare at her backside for about two minutes, from two inches away.

And, that is when she forceably pulled my face into her ass cheeks.

Alexis buried my face into her panty clad ass with such arrogance. The flimsy white nylon material of the flimsy little panties was the only thing preventing my nose and mouth from being deep within her. What started out as her making me kiss her backside was becoming a thousand times more aggressive, and the young black woman was now grinding my face with her asscheeks. 

It continued on and on, and on as I struggled to breathe. 

The 18 year old black girl used my face to grind herself to a first orgasm, which took a full 10 minutes. Then, she pulled me by my hair over to the small area rug nearest to the kitchen before positioning me onto my back. She mounted my face with her backside, her face towards my breasts. I was petrified. 

Alexis' remounting of my face was rough, her petite and well muscled cheeks still clad in the wispy white nylon material of those little panties. She began grinding, once again. At first, slowly and methodically. Then, more firmly until she had reached a rhythym she felt most comfortable with. Her grinding seemed to increase slowly and steadily as I gasped for my next breath of air.

The black woman was relentless in her pursuit of a second orgasm. And, after another fifteen minutes her orgasm exploded onto my face. Her white panties were drenched from the fierce and brutal grinding of her pussy and ass on my face. I layed there, motionless and exhausted, my face now beet red and flustered from the fierce grinding action and the humiliation I felt. My chest was pounding and my breathing was now at it's heaviest. 

This 18 year old black girl had just used my face to grind herself to two orgasms. 

The utter humiliation was unbearable, yet I felt turned on at the same time. My pussy was wet and I had never been so wet in my entire life. This sensation embarrassed me to no end. For whatever reason, I could not explain how I felt back then. 

But, the young black woman did not remove her pantied asscheeks from my face. Not yet. 

Alexis Barron remained mounted upon my face after her two orgasms for the most extended period of time yet. 

I would later learn that she called this her "after grind." which were slow and subtle, yet firm movements of her ass and pussy almost flush onto my face. This added further humiliation. It also seemed to please her to feel the pressure of her already fulfilled pussy on my face. 

Her "after grind" lasted at least 30 minutes, and it was the most degrading part of the whole physical control she had over me. 

When the black teenaged woman finally removed her ass cheeks from my beaten red face, she stood up and turned. She grabbed a fistful of my blonde hair and pulled me back up to my feet. Not once did she comment on her orgasms, or the ecstasy she felt using my face for her selfish pleasure. 

She simply spoke to me as if I were some sort of sexual tool for her. 

"Now, kiss my ass and tell me that black women are superior." she ordered, removing her wet panties.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I whispered. 

Defeatedly, I bent back down to my hands and knees, and then directly behind her. I placed a kiss to her ebony ass cheeks and did as I was told.

"B-Black women are superior." I said. 

She smiled, more evilly now, and seemed convinced that she had secured total control over me.

"Now, git' your white ass over there and bring me that contract, the one on the clipboard." she ordered. 

"Y-Yes. Yes, Ma'am." I whispered. I stood up from my kneeling position and made my over to the foyer where I had set the clipboard onto one of her 3 boxes. When I had it in my hands, I turned to see the black girl sitting back on the sofa. Her fully nude body relaxed back into the cushioned seat as she propped one leg onto the glass coffee table to her left. She casualy spread her legs wider, exposing her dripping pussy open, then lit a cigarette. 

"Crawl to me with it." she ordered. "Hold it in your mouth and crawl to me." she continued.

I obeyed. I got down on all fours and, in the most humiliating fashion, I crawled across the floor to her holding the contract in my mouth. 

When I reached Alexis by the sofa, she took the clipboard and contract from my mouth and perused it for a moment. Them she handed it back to me with a pen a put her bare foot to my face.

"Sign it," she said, gripping my nose with her bare toes. "Sign it with my foot on your face!" she demanded. 

In defeat, I did as the young black woman ordered. I signed the contract accepting her as the new Acting President of my own company. 

Alexis Barron looked over my signature with satisfaction as I continued kneeling there before her on all fours. "Now, it just needs my signature." she said. 

"Scoot closer and put your head down, bitch." she ordered.

Again, I obeyed. 

The beautiful 18 year old black girl simply placed the clipboard on top of my head, using it as a table. She took her time looking at that last page one moe time before signing it herself. 

"Good. Now, we got that out of the way. I'm hungry. Make me some fucking eggs already." Alexis demanded. 

"Yes, Ma'am." I answered, softly and in shock.

Beaten and degraded, yet curiously turned on by her authoritative actions, I made my way to the kitchen and began preparing her breakfast. 

Humiliated and defeated, I felt as if I were in a trance. It was difficult for me to grasp all that had happened since last night. Yet, I knew this would be just the beginning of the next step for me. 

end, chapter 4.



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 05



As I prepared breakfast for the 18-year-old black woman, a feeling of helplessness enveloped me. My face felt as if it had been beaten up by her fierce grinding of it, and her scent seemed to pervade my most acute senses. Degraded and humbled, I simply completed my task and served the sausage and eggs breakfast to Alexis Barron, who remained sitting on the largest sofa in my livingroom.

Alexis consumed only half of the the plate of food in a dainty manner, then washed it down with a small glass of apple juice that she had requested. It took merely minutes to satisfy her appetite and then she handed me the disgarded portion on the plate.  

As I began cleaning the plate in the kitchen, I watched the young black woman stretch her lean and trim torso, her arms were moving above her head with a faint satisying moan. 

"That was good. I can use a little cat nap now." she said. 

"I'm sure you're a little tired too, bitch." she added. 

I placed the dirty dish and glass into the empty sink and grew more nervous as I watched Alexis finally stand up and begin walking towards me. She had me on edge and I didn't know what to expect next. My hands remained down at my sides in a timid fashion and submissive position as she now stood before me.

The young black woman gently touched my face, once again. It was like she was examining my defeated and humiliated face with greater interest. 

"Yes, you do look tired." she observed. 

"Come on, let's go." she ordered, reaching up and now grabbing my left ear lobe in the most subtle and arrogant way one can imagine.

Alexis softly pinched my ear lobe with the thumb and index finger of her right hand with just enough pressure to guide me. She began slowly pulling me along by my ear towards the carpeted stairwell. I was humiliated by this sudden unexpected and malicious action. 

At 6'1" tall, and still in my 4 inch high heels, I had to bend over, uncomfortably, as the smaller 4'11" tall black teenager literally "led me by the ear" through my very own house. She seemed to take her sweet time in doing so. It was almost as if she was purposely absorbing the moment while adding to my intense humiliation. She took no less than three minutes to walk me from the kitchen to the stairwell, and then to my bedroom upstairs. When she gently pulled me inside my room and finally let go of my ear, I was able to stand up straight. This is when I noticed the changes to my room. 

I was in disbelief. 

The young black woman had made so many changes to my bedroom. She added a vast array of african-american colors and artwork. The comforter on my king size bed was a multi-colored stripe design with african symbols on it. The paintings on the walls, both big and small, were also african designs and mostly classy images of young black women.

There were 8 small to mid sized porcelain sculptures and statuettes set around the room strategically, and carved in an ebony stone. They were pure silhouettes of african femininity. 

My jaw must have dropped to some degree because Alexis Barron just smiled and gleemed at her work. She was pleased by the look of utter disbelief that appeared upon my face. The young black woman had changed my entire bedroom to her own preferences and style. I was degradingly shocked by her bold and brash attitude, which contunued to intimidate me to no end. 

Curiously, the extremely large king sized bed only had pillows at the headboard on the left side as we faced it. The right side of the headboard had no pillows positioned there at all. A single, wayward head pillow sat at the foot of the bed, on that same left side. A a very long and narrow body pillow was positioned on a complete slanted angle from the corner of the upper right side to the lower left side, covering the length of more than three fourths of the bed. 

For a moment, it did not occur to me that young Alexis had set up my own bed in a position where I would be resting my head on the pillow at her feet. When she said, "that's your side" and pointed to the right side of the bed it became blatantly apparent what her intentions and directions were. She had made a statement of authority that I would be sleeping "at" her feet. 

This realization nearly caused me to collapse from the embarrassment and degradation I was feeling. I believe that I was more awed by her cockiness than anything else. 

"Lay down." she ordered, softly. 

After a moment's pause, I defeatedly put my taller body in a position on the bed and placed my head on the pillow at the foot of the bed on Alexis Barron's side. I stretched my long legs outward to the upper corner of the right hand side of it. The long and narrow body pillow set on that extreme angle seemed to guide me into this position. I was weakened by the boldness and pure arrogance of this beautiful and powerful black woman. I felt helpless by her allure.

Moments later, Alexis had layed down on her right side and positioned her bare feet to my face. The toes of her right foot were pressed directly against my tightened lips and the instep on her left foot was planted onto the side of my neck as I faced her from beneath. She closed her eyes and fell asleep fast with her feet in my face. I felt completely anchored there by this young woman's firm and authoritative actions. She humbled me in a way that I still find difficult to fully and accurately describe, in words.

I found it difficult to fall back to sleep in the beginning. The young black girls' bare feet were soft and smooth, but her toes literally "pinned" my head, neck and face in place. It was nearly an hour before I simply passed out from the humiliation and fatigue I was feeling at that moment. The manner in which this very young woman was treating me was truly degrading. The absolute control she had over me was something that I would have never imagined, or ever asked for. It was as if I was just there and being "molded" or "trained" to her specifications. And, I was being forced to submit to it. 

We didn't sleep very long. The little catnap Alexis described was less than two hours long, yet it felt more like 5 minutes to me. I was awakened by the shadow and presence of this small, black woman hovering over me on the bed as I now layed on my back, facing upwards. Her knees were on either side of my shoulders and her butt cheeks just above my chest when I finally began coming out of my sleep state. 

There were no words. She didn't say a thing as she grabbed the top of my head by my blonde hair and forced her trimmed pussy onto my face. The movement was so sudden to me. The young black woman simply began grinding herself to pleasure, using my already reddened face as a tool for her to reach another quick orgasm. Defeatedly, I layed there motionless and without any protest. My fear and humiliation overwhelmed me as she came onto my face within merely a few minutes. 

Satisfied, Alexis Barron got up and tossed my head to the side as if I were some sort of rag doll. She began walking towards the master bathroom as she finally spoke. 

"You're gonna have to learn to eat pussy better than that, white girl." she said. 

At the time, I didn't know what else to say about her rude comment. She had to know that I had never done this before and that I was not a lesbian.

"Didn't she?" I asked myself. 

Those were my first thoughts and the first words came from my lips, unexpectedly. 

"Alexis, I am not a lesbian." I said, softly. 

The 18-year-old black woman merely smiled. "You will be." she returned, an obviously cocky and all-knowing expression tracing her beautiful face. 

"Get yourself ready fast and fetch me a cup of coffee. I bought some the other day. Then, I feel like doing a little shopping." she ordered. 

Alexis casually strolled nude into the master bathroom that was attached to my bedroom, then shut the door. I was sitting on the edge of the bed holding my roughly used face, confused and dazed beyond explanation. That is when I heard the sound of the shower head turning on. 

My initial thoughts were not to make her angry. At the time, she knew I had heard her directives and I quickly scurried to the other upstairs bathroom. Nervously, I showered as fast as I possibly could and applied a healthy amount of spray-on conditioner to my damp hair, combing through it with a feeling of desparation. 

The main guest bedroom of my 5 bedroom home was where I kept several of my spare summer dresses, undergarments and shoes. I opened the closet and threw on a white summer dress with a yellow colored beltline, which was accentuated by a discreet bright yellow and red floral pattern over the right shoulder. I chose tan flat sandals because I thought we would be walking a lot that day while we shopped. Then, I literally scurried out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen to prepare the coffee that Alexis had ordered. 

I was confused by my feelings of anxiety and fear of trying not to upset the young, black woman. I heard her still contuning to "primp" in the other room and almost felt relieved that I had readied myself before she did, which was as she directed me to do. 

In the kitchen, I looked for the coffee Alexis had mentioned purchasing earlier that week, and I finally noticed it. The single cup packs of "Africa Kitamu" blend from Starbucks lay resting alongside the cookie jars near my refrigerator. They were designed for the single cup coffee brewing machine that I owned, but rarely used.

Just as I finished brewing the cup of African Blend coffee for Alexis Barron, I heard her coming down the stairs. I hurriedly placed the cup onto it's appropriate small plate and walked into the livingroom to see her standing there. 

The young black woman was dressed very casually and youthfully, yet classy and sexy at the same time. 

She wore a pair of tight, bronze-colored capri length leggings made of a shiny nylon and spandex blend of material. Gold toned sandals adorned her perfectly-shaped size 5 bare feet. Her longer dark hair was pulled straight back and tied neatly into a pony tail, held in place by a matching gold toned hair ribbon. Her black hair was shiny and perfectly healthy looking. 

The blouse she chose was a bright white shade that was tied into a knot just below her large 32c cup breasts, which completely exposed her exquisitely trimmed and mocha toned midriff. Her navel was pierced with an obvious gold and diamond pin, which matched the half dozen expensive gold bracelets that accented both of her small wrists. Her nails were long and freshly painted in the same bronze shade of polish that matched her toes and outfit. And, her lips were slathered in a matching lighter bronze shade of lipstick.

She looked at me as I stood there by the kitchen holding the cup of coffee and dish with both hands. 

"I take exactly one teaspoon of cream in my coffee." she directed. 

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

My face felt flushed when I answered her. My timid feeling around her embarrassed me as I returned to the kitchen to add the single teaspoon of cream to her coffee. Then, I returned to the livingroom to serve her. 

The 18-year-old black woman was sitting at the edge of the sofa with an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips. Her legs were crossed one over the other as both of her feet touched the brazilian redwood floor. She was casually rummaging through her purse as I bent to one knee to place her coffee onto the glass table just off to her left. 

"Stay put." she directed, nonchalantly. 

I essentially froze in place as I looked at her stern and beautiful face from my position on one knee. Seconds later, she pulled out a miniature ceramic ashtray in a bronze and gold color and set it onto the glass table beside her coffee. Then, she pulled out a small lighter and smoothly handed it to me while placing her purse on the floor to the left of her. 

She looked at me with serious eyes and the unspoken command to light the long, thin cigarette. After a moment's pause I simply complied. Her eyes met mine, once again, as she blew that first puff of smoke from her cigarette in my direction. It seemed rather rude of her to do so and it nearly made me cough.

The young black woman took a sip of her coffee and then looked back towards me. She was still sitting on the very edge of the sofa with her firm and toned legs crossed, her left leg over right. She held her cigarette gracefully between two fingers and rested the elbow of her left arm onto her left knee with one smooth movement. Then, she leaned over and began studying my face with an added curiosity and amusement. 

"I will need some new things." she said. 

"A young black woman in my new position of authority needs to dress a certain way, don't ya' think?" she added. 

The realization of Alexis Barron's new position as Acting President of my company made me feel weak. Her sudden reminder caused my face to blush, uncontrollably. This seemed to please her as a faint smile traced her bronzed and polished full lips. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I whispered. 

Alexis took another sip of her coffee before taking another drag of her Virgina Slims cigarette. I felt insecure and uneasy with the silence as she continued to look me over. Suddenly, she changed the subject. 

"You're not going to wear those shoes, are you?" she asked, saracatically. 

I didn't know how to respond. I just knelt there on one knee and speechless for a moment. The black woman directed me to return upstairs to my bedroom and change my shoes to the 4 inched white summer sandals with the corked heel, which I owned. She made mention that she had noticed them in my closet while she was getting ready.

"I want you looking as tall as possible." she said in a childishly amused tone of voice. 

"Yes, M-Ma'am. O-Okay." I replied, quielty. 

This directive of hers truly confused me at the time. I was completely and totally bewildered by her statement to want me as tall as possible. I couldn't understand the reasons why the young-looking black woman would want this because I was already substantially taller than her. At a clumsier 6'1" tall compared to her petite 4'11" tall frame, I was already a full 14 inches taller than Alexis Barron. Now, she was telling me to wear 4 inch summer sandals to accentuate my height? 

It didn't make any sense to me at the time. One would think that she would want me to be closer to her in size and, perhaps, wear flats while she wore heels? But, she was directing me to do the complete opposite.  

Despite my confusion, I just did as Alexis directed. I changed into the heeled summer sandals that matched my summer dress before swiftly returning to the livingroom. 

Alexis was now standing there, distracted by the text messages on her cell phone as I stood still watching her. She didn't even look back at me to approve or disapprove of my appearance. 

"Okay, let's go. Grab my purse over there." she directed, as she headed for the front door.

As I grabbed my purse and then her purse, I realized that the young black woman was standing in the foyer at the front door still checking the messages on her phone. It didn't really occur to me then that she was actually waiting for me to open the door for her. But, I did open the door to let her out and then locked it shut behind us as we stepped outside. 

When I got to my car, I swiftly tossed our purses into the back seat and then sat myself down in the driver's seat. I nervously started my car. I turned on the air conditioning and locked my seatbelt into place, preparing for the long drive to the mall on the other side of town. That is when I suddenly realized that Alexis had not yet entered the car. 

Confused, I looked over to see the 18-year-old black woman standing outside in front of the passenger side door of my BMW. Her arms were crossed and she had a almost disappointed look on her pretty face as she continued reading through her text messages.  

I unlocked my seat belt and stepped out with one foot on the driveay and looked towards her from across the roof of my car. 

"Is s-something wrong, A-Alexis?" I asked, nervously. 

I couldn't see her eyes because she was wearing the pair of darker Gucci sunglasses she owned. Still, I could feel her staring right at me. It was just before noon and the weather was already quite hot. It was getting uncomfortable and the sun was almost shining directly in her face. 

"My door!" she snapped.

For a just a moment my thought was only that there could be something wrong with the door, or that it wasn't unlocked. That thought didn't last long. 

I really didn't know any better then. I simply walked around the car and arrived to the passenger side door and then looked at it. I looked back to Alexis, and back to the door once again. That is when it finally occurred to me that she was merely waiting for me to open the door for her.

My throat tightened. A feeling of complete humiliation came over me as I conceded and reached for the door, wating for her to enter my car. She entered slowly, almost cocklily, and I finally closed the door behind her. It was embarrassing to be treated in such a manner, like I was some sort of servant to her. But, I certainly felt that upsetting her would not be a good thing for me to do at this time. I felt completely under her control. 

When I got back into my car and reset my seatbelt to get ready for the drive, the young black woman spoke.

"Look at me." she ordered. 

I was afraid to do so. In fact, I was almost terrified as I turned my head towards her. Alexis now had her sunglasses resting at the tip of her nose, exposing her serious eyes. She gracefully reached over and put her left hand to me, gently holding my face in place as she looked deeper into my eyes. 

"Listen!" she started. 

"You should know that I don't reach! I don't reach for things. I don't reach for doors and I don't reach for anything. I just don't reach!" she said. 

"I also don't carry. I don't like carrying things either." she explained. 

I just looked back into her serious and beautiful eyes with the fear of a child being scolded.

"Is that understood?" she asked.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am. I-I'm sorry." I apologized. 

The small black woman smiled. 

"Good." she said. "Let's go now." she commanded. 

Quietly, I began driving. Without too much consideration, I was headed to the mall on the other side of town, about 15 miles away. I didn't really give this a great deal of thought, but I believe subconsciously I was trying to stay away from the richer area where I had been living for so long. As I was about to enter the expressway a few miles from home, the young black woman looked up from her cell phone and finally spoke. 

"Where are you going?" she asked, sternly. 

"Uhm, I-I'm going to the m-mall Alexis." I answered, trying to respond pleasantly.

Her beautiful face scowled as she gazed the landscape and our surroundings. 

"No. Turn around. We're going to that whitebread mall of yours." she ordered. 

I knew the mall this black teenaged woman was referring to. It was Oaktown Mall. 

Oaktown Mall was not your typical mall. It was an extremely exclusive and trendy, upper class outdoor mall set into ritzy and pleasant surroundings. It was generally 99.99% white with a myriad of upscale shops, water fountains and outdoor cafes. It was hardly a place where one would see a young black women shopping.

I didn't know exactly what to say. But, I turned the car around and headed for the upscale mall that Alexis Barron had decided upon. 

We arrived no more than 10 minutes later.

It was a Saturday afternoon and not too far past noon. The upscale Oaktown Mall was at it's peak and quite crowded, and this made it quite challenging to find a parking spot close to the entrance of the outdoor mall. I must have circled around three times before preparing for a fourth trip around when Alexis made me stop the car. 




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 05



"Stop! Let me out here!" she shouted. 

As I stopped the car I realized that we were right at the tuscany stone arched entrance of Oaktown Mall. The young black woman sat there and waited, looking straight ahead as I stupidly looked at her confused. 

"Well, let me out already!" she snapped. 

Immediately, my face grew flush. I opened the driver's side door and literally scurried around the back of my car to hold the door open for Alexis Barron, finally letting her out. 

"Hand me one of those cigarettes and my lighter from my purse. I'll wait here." she demanded.

"Yes, Ma'am." I replied. 

I felt even more embarrassed. The black girl was obviously frustrated by my inability to grab a parking spot close enough to the entrance. It was humiliatingly obvious that she was directing me to find a spot on my own so she didn't have to walk too far in this heat. Yet, I just did as I was told and handed her a single cigarette and the lighter before getting back into my car. 

I circled around the entire parking lot and had to settle for a spot that was a great distance away. I rushed to grab the last spot available and hurriedly grabbed both of our purses from the back seat. 

The walk from my car to the entrance was nearly 300 yards. As I continued to draw nearer and nearer to the entrance I could see Alexis Barron standing there and smoking her cigarette, waiting impatiently. My entire body felt weakened by her arrogance as I finally arrived and she casually looked up to me. 

"It's about time." she said, rudely. 

I had no words. The young black woman simply turned and began walking through the entrance of this elite outdoor mall. I merely followed behind as if I were nothing more than her lackey. 

This was a mall that I had been to so many times during my marriage, but seldom since then. The money just wasn't there with all my failures in the business for 2 years. Many, if not most of the wives of wealthy husbands in the area frequented Oaktown Mall with their country club friends. It just wasn't the type of mall you would see any teenagers hanging around, and certainly never any that were of african american decent. Mainly, it was rich older white women or blonde trophy wives that shopped here. 

But, today was different. 

Alexis Barron boldly and confidently strutted throught the various courtyards and manicured walkways of the mall, gazing through the windows of the most exclusive shops. Pathetically, I tagged along behind her clutching my purse and holding hers over my left shoulder. She was absolutely taking her time window shopping and seemed in no rush to make any decisions. 

Her perfectly-shaped, petite buttcheeks in those spandex leggings seemed to jut outwards with such complete arrogance as she walked. Her short strides and backside wiggling was so blatantly exaggerated that I felt embarrassed by her cockiness. She seemed to be purposely making me change my usually longer stride. 

The 18-year-old black woman strolled around almost in slow motion, passing by at least 15 stores in that first hour, and doing nothing more than studying the items through the windows. The anxiety I was feeling at the time was overwhelming as I tried to ignore the over the shoulder type stares we were receiving. 

Finally, Alexis decided on a store and approached it. Once again, she stood before the glass door with arrogance and waited for me to open it. 

Humbly, I did just that. 

This first shop was a shoe store where young Alexis chose a single pair or 4 inched black business pumps. Her choice seemed easy. Embarrassingly, at the counter she simply turned to me. 

"You got the corporate credit card, right?" she asked.

My face blushed read. 

"Yes, M-Ma'am." I answered, and pulled it from my purse. 

The older white woman shop clerk had a look of amazement on her face as I addressed the black teenager in this manner, yet she also seemed genuinely embarrassed for me. It was hard to look at her for any length of time and I kept my eyes downward.

The $250.00 shoes were moderately priced, but beautiful. Once paid for, young Alexis simply turned on her sandaled heels and begin to walk away, ignoring the crisp paper bag left on the counter. I grabbed the bag and began to follow behind, unintentionally taking one last glance at the older white woman store clerk's face. 

It was a look that I shall never forget. Yet, as I would soon discover, it would be just the beginning of the numerous similar looks that I would eventually get this day. 

end. chapter 5.



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 06



This surreal day of shopping continued. Up to this point in my life, it would turn out to be one of the most humiliating days in public for me. It was unlike anything I could have expected, or could have imagined happening to me. 

As young Alexis Barron continued her day of selfish shopping at Oaktown Mall, my feelings of humiliation continued to grow. These feelings seemed to grow with each and every passing moment of the day. I wondered if the 18-year-old black woman really knew just how truly defeated I felt as I was toting her things around, and following behind her like some sort of servant. 

Alexis Barron began entering the stores and small specialty shops with greater frequency. In each case, she would make me hold the door open for her as we entered. Then, once again when we departed. For the next 2 and a half hours, we entered 15 of the shops and stores of this upscale outdoor mall. In each and every shop that we entered Alexis would chose only one item, which ranged from shoes, blouses, lingerie and stockings to sexier business attire. She also entered a bath and body shop to purchase a few other more personal grooming items. 

By mid afternoon, I was beginning to feel overwhelmed by carrying her purse and the now 16 bags from her little shopping spree. The arrogant manner in which this teenaged black woman strolled and strutted around the snobby Oaktown Mall was truly humbling to me. She acted as if she owned the place and I was there merely to cater to her needs. 

During this time, Alexis remained quiet and hardly spoke to me at all. Her attitude seemed to grow more bold and cocky with every purchase she required me to make for her. She exuded such confidence and authority for a woman so young, and for one of such small stature. It was this unreal confidence she possessed that was making me feel weaker and weaker all the time. She humbled me and seemed to be drawing me further into her unimagineable inner strength and power. 

Young Alexis was truly uncaring and absolutely unconcerned about me and my feelings of degradation. She seemed to gain more strength and boldness with every step she took. In turn, I continued to become weaker. It was almost as if my pitiful existence didn't matter to her in the least. To the 18-year-old black woman, I was merely this older and much taller white woman "lackey" who was there to merely open doors for her, carry her things and then pay for whatever she desired to possess. I was so deeply humiliated and intimidated by her, and becoming nearly humiliated to the point of tears. 

The length of time Alexis was spending at Oaktown Mall had me on edge. I was almost sure that many of the older white women present at Oaktown Mall on this day had seen me shopping there in the past. I began to grow more conscious of their confused looks of despair and all those discreet, yet obvious stares as I wlaked behind Alexis. They seemed to be looks of confusion and embarrassment for me. The appearance of how she was treating me had to be thoroughly degrading for them to witness in such a public forum. 

It seemed as if the multitude of rich, older white suburban housewives of wealthy husbands who casually strolled about this outdoor mall had never seen anything that resembling this before. Many of them even stopped and stared in disbelief, seemingly amazed by the sight of a much older white woman carrying a plethora of bags as a young black woman walked ahead of her, hands free, and with such slow, bold and arrogant strides. 

The young black woman was walking slower and slower all the time, seemingly to draw more attention to herself. Her petite ass cheeks in those bronze-colored spandex leggings were "jutting" out so profusely and arrogantly as she walked. Her exaggerated short strides and swinging hips were equally as arrogant. She made me change my much longer strides so often by stopping and going, and then stopping again. Her attitude was one that was saying to the world "look at my perfection and the control I have over this dumb white bitch." 

It was at that time when the petite black woman noticed a large water fountain set before her, no more than 50 feet away. It was a fountain embedded into the middle of a larger concrete circle. 

"That looks nice." she commented, as she began to stroll towards it. 

This fountain was level to the concrete pavement we had been walking upon all day and had several metal drains to exit the excess water. In the center was a greek-styled stone sculpture of greek woman. The statue of a goddess was centered perfectly. It was there for appearance but also for shoppers to cool themselves off in, if they so desired. 

I had seen this fountain so many times before, but I had never seen anyone actually use it for it's intended purpose. It was a piece of art and the general snobby crowd that shopped at Oaktown always seemed far too aristocratic to use it. 

But, young Alexis headed right towards it. 

She bent over to remove the gold and bronze leather sandals from her size 5 feet and then simply handed them to me. I had to grab them with only two of my fingers since I held our purses and so many other bags. I watched as she slowly entered the wet concrete circle of this meticulously decorated stone water fountain. I marveled at her boldness. 

Out of the corner of my eyes I could feel several sets of eyes upon her, and then upon me. The uppity white women wondering how this arrogant young black girl could be so unbridled and arrogant to do such a thing in such a place like Oaktown. Yet, Alexis Barron could care less. She cooled off her bare feet in the waters of this fountain for more than 5 minutes before she finally turned back to me and spoke. I stood there, in anguish, waiting for the next command. 

"Alright. Let's go." she ordered. 

Unbelievably, the 18-year-old black woman ignored her sandals and walked right past me. She began walking towards another row of small shops in that section of the mall. She was now walking barefoot and didn't seem to bothered by the warm brick walk way beneath her feet. I simply scurried behind her, still carrying everything. She also didn't seem bothered by the manner in which her perfectly-shaped size 5 bare feet were getting dirtier with every step she took. 

Boldly, Alexis approached a high-end cosmetics store and waited for me to catch up to her. Her arms were crossed for a moment. Once again, I frantically scurried to get ahead of her to hold the heavier glass and metal door open so she could enter. I struggled to do so with all the items I carried as she finally entered the classy shop in the slowest manner humanly possible. Astonishingly, she entered this store in her now filthy dirty bare feet. 

I suppose that I was more than amazed by the black teenaged woman entering a shop of this caliber with no shoes on. It had always been forbidden to enter any store barefoot, especially one in such an upscale mall like Oaktown. Yet, young Alexis did so without regret or any concern whatsoever. She strolled in so boldly and arrogantly. I was convinced that the 4 white store clerks would mention something to her. Surely, they would ask her to either leave the store or put her shoes back on. 

Surprisingly, they did not. 

For a moment, I thought that maybe they didn't notice she wasn't wearing any shoes. Then, I relaized that it had to be so obvious to them since I was the one carrying her gold, flat leather sandals in plain view for all to see. I wondered if, perhaps, they felt just as intimidated by her as I was feeling at the time. Alexis Barron had that effect on white women. They always seemed intimidated by the youthful beauty and unimagineable confidence of this younger black woman. Still, it was all very surreal to me. 

Alexis Barron lingered in this upscale cosmetics shop for an interminable amount of time. She must've walked up and down the small aisles and around the entire mid-sized store more than 20 times. Again, she was walking in slow motion, touching and smelling many of the lipsticks and other items while I followed behind, struggling with the bags. After more than 30 minutes, she finally made a purchase and handed me yet another bag. She never said one word and walked out of that store in an even slower and more arrogant manner as I held the door open for her. The 4 white older women store clerks and 3 other shoppers watched in silent amazement. 

Alexis entered two more stores in this smaller row of shops. Both were next to the cosmetics store she had spent so much time at. She made small purchases in them as well. I was feeling more and more overwhelmed by carrying all these bags. They were not very heavy but the sheer number of bags had grown into a noticeable clutter as I carried them. They were becoming more difficult to manage. I felt even more defeated by the thought that she had spent nearly $3,300.00 so far this day. When she seemed satisfied by her purchases, Alexis simply began walking away from this particular corner of the mall as I continued following behind in humiliation. 

We walked only about 200 feet when Alexis suddenly stopped at one of those large mall directory maps. She began to peruse it. 

"All this shopping is making me a little hungry." she said, almost speaking to herself. 

I stood there very quietly. 

Alexis spotted a small outdoor cafe on the map which was about 80 yards away. She pointed to it on the directory with the sharp bronzed nail of her index finger and contemplated her next move.

"Yes, there! We'll go there." she directed. 

The teenaged black woman slowly strutted in the direction of the Le' Tour Cafe as I continued tagging along behind. I had been to this upscale cafe many times before and I was worried about eating there today. 

Alexis didn't take the manicured brick path layed out before us. Rather, she took a straight line towards her chosen destination as a short cut. We had to pass over three grassy noles and dirt covered areas, which were more like small hills to me. With the load of shopping bags I was carrying, and the 4 inched sandals I was told to wear, I began to struggle even more. My calf muscles were already sore from all the walking this day. Then, as we approached that third and final small hill area with the cafe in sight, the cell phone in her purse began to ring. She turned back to me. 

"Hand me that." she directed. 

With all the bags I was carrying I was struggling to get into a position to access her purse. By the fourth ring she grew frustrated by my futile attempts to get to her purse and she approached me. She roughly moved my arm to the side and unzipped her purse as it remained over my shoulder. A look of disgust appeared on her beautiful face as she grabbed her own cell phone and viewed the number calling her. 

"Wait right here." she ordered, answering her caller. 

As the young black woman took her call she turned and walked away from me and right up to the small tree on the dirt and grass-covered embankment. I remained standing there in the sun no more than 30 feet away. I stood there silently. 

This slightly hilled area had a small tree in the center, which had a perfectly-cut circle of what looked like fresh dirt placed around it's base. Alexis Barron entered this shaded area and positioned her back against the trunk of this tree as she continued her call. 

It was the most uncomfortable 20 minutes for me standing there and holding all these items with the afternoon sun beating upon me so hard. I could feel the perspiration beginning to bead down my face and neck, and my long blonde hair began to frizzle further out of control. I watched as the 18-year-old black woman casually continued talking on her cell phone in a carefree manner. She playfully manipulated the dirt around the small tree with her bare feet and toes as if she were a child playing with her feet in the sand. Occassionally, she would lift one of her bare feet to the tree and scratch the soles of them against the bark before returning them to the much cooler dirt. 

I was filled with anxiety and growing more uncomfortable all the time. Her 20 minute conversation felt even longer as she selfishly remained in the shaded area of this tree, leaving me to bake uncomfortably in the afternoon sun. When she finally finished her call she held onto her cell phone and continued walking towards the cafe at a considerably faster pace. She didn't even acknowledge me at the time and I had to scurry even faster in a futile attempt to catch up to her. 

I felt so embarrassed when I finally arrived behind her as she now stood at the arched outdoor entrance of The Le' Tour Cafe. The hostess had already greeted Alexis a few moments beforehand. My reddened and perspired face must have looked a wreck to her. My rattled hair and heavier breathing, and the myriad of packages I was carrying, had to make this hostess wonder why I was so out of sorts. She glanced into my eyes almost wondering if I was with the young, beautiful black woman. 

"Do you wish to be seated now, Miss?" she asked her, pleasantly.

Alexis Barron looked past the mid 30's white hostess and began to scan the establishment. The inside of the restaurant was fairly busy, nearly two-thirds populated by people sitting at their pristiine square wooden tables. The outdoor area was barely fenced in by a 3 foot high well-designed iron border. This area had 8 smaller cafe styled square tables with 4 matching rot iron cushioned chairs for each setting. Large canvassed cloth table umbrellas shaded each of these sitting areas. 

Only three of the eight tables in this outside area of the cafe were taken. Three pairs of older white women in their 40's or 50's were present and they appeared to be just as upscale as most of the other shoppers that frequented Oaktown Mall. 

"We'll take that table at the end." Alexis said, pointing to the outside cafe area.

"Yes, Miss. Right this way." the hostess returned. 

She led Alexis and I to the table at the far end of the outside cafe, which was only a short three tables down from the nearest pair of white women already present. I simply followed behind, still struggling to catch my breath and manuevering the many bags I carried around the other tables and chairs. I kept my eyes downward to avoid any eye contact with the hostess and the other seemingly rich white women we passed along the way. 

We were finally seated and I placed some of the shopping bags on the other seats. The rest of them I had to place in the corner, on the concrete ground of this end area. I felt emotionally exhausted already, but I was almost relieved that I was finally getting a chance to sit down. 

"What can I get for you two ladies for starters?" the hostess asked. 

Alexis immediately spoke up. "I'll take a glass of red wine, a 2007 Caymus if you have it, and a bottle of Evian water." she said. 

The hostess wrote down young Alexis' order and turned towards me. But, before I could utter a single syllable the young black woman ordered for me. 

"She'll have an Evian water as well with a glass of ice." She said. With my eyes still downward, I gently nodded in agreement. 

"Yes, Miss. Well, I'll have the waitress bring those right over with some menus. Your waitress today will be Terry." the hostess finished, then suddenly departed. 

At this time, the 18-year-old black woman positioned her seat away from the table, sideways and to the side of it until her seat now faced mine. 

"Come closer." Alexis ordered. "Bring your chair in towards mine." she finished. 

I wasn't sure at that particular moment the reasoning for this, but I simply complied and moved in closer and closer into this already tight area, inch by inch, until Alexis told me to stop. 

"That's good. Stop there." she directed. 

Finally, I sat back into my cushioned chair and relaxed for a moment as I noticed the black tennager rummaging through her purse, which had been set onto the ground alongside some of the other shopping bags. I was relieved by the small amount of shade I was permitted from the canvas table umbrella, yet I was still incredibly embarrassed and nervous about being around the beautiful black woman in a place I had eaten so many times before. 

Timidly, I watched as she pulled out her cigarettes and a lighter from her purse before turning to me. 

"Sit back." she said. "Relax already." she directed. 

I simply sat back but felt so unbelievably on edge just being there with this young, black woman. She was being so bossy and intimidating to me, yet I couldn't protest. Here we were at a ritzy outside cafe in the same upscale mall I had frequented for years, and it now felt as if there were more eyes upon us.

With total and complete arrogance, the young black woman shifted her sitting position, scooted her seat closer and rudely stretched her legs out towards me. Arrogantly, she propped her bare and dirty feet upon me, her left foot onto the left side of my outer armpit just off to the side of my collar bone. Then, she swung her right foot over and around, placing it over the top of her left, crossing it at the ankles in the same arrogant manner she had done in my office the night before. Humiliatingly, this now put the bottom sole of her right foot literally 3 inches right before my face and on the same level as my nose. 

My face must have turned twenty shades of red as I could feel my own embarrassment engulf me. My face was still drenched from perspiring so much during the long walk and standing in the sun during her call. Her bare feet were absolutely filthy dirty from walking around barefooted through the outdoor mall in the past hour. They were so much dirtier on both the tops and bottoms of her feet now from playing with the dirt in the middle of that tree area. I can hardly describe how degraded I felt as she made me look at the bottom of her right foot in such a rude manner. Yet, I was nervous and completely intimidated by how she was acting around me. She was treating me with utter disrespect. I could not move. 

I felt frozen in humiliation and the intimidation I was overcome with by her blatant arrogance, boldness and confidence. 

Timidly, I just at there in humiliation as the beautiful 18-year-old black girl boldly used me to rest her tired and dirty bare feet upon. 

Alexis Barron seemed pleased as she flipped her cell phone open again and began dialing a number. She lit a cigarette and took a drag of it as she waited for the party she was calling to answer.

She looked back at me and stretched her legs out even more, tensing her calf muscles and rudely fanning her bare toes a couple of inches right before my face. She seemed to be tensing her leg muscles as if she had just finished a workout. 

"Just sit still and stay quiet, ya' hear?" she said to me, looking directly into the eyes with an authoritative stare. 

I felt so ashamed by the lack of backbone I had. There wasn't an ounce of resistence in me and this was mostly out of complete intimidation and fear, and nothing more. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I whispered, stuttering nervously.

I couldn't imagine what anybody passing by who happened to notice would be thinking. For me, I was demoralized beyond comprehension sitting at the feet of this incredibly gorgeous and dominant black teenager. Her dirty right foot, crossed over the left at the ankles, merely inches before my face as she sat back on her cell phone imperiously. I heard her begin to speak to the person she was attempting to contact. 

"Are my cards ready? she asked the caller. 

"Good. Have them delivered to the address I gave you first thing Monday morning." she directed, as she flipped her cell phone shut. 

Young Alexis Barron then returned her eyes to me. I sat there quietly and intimidated as she took another drag of her cigarette and studied me closer, almost in amusement. Her eyes staring right through me as mine remained slightly downward. Her look swallowed every bit of my self-esteem. 




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 06



With one swift and calloused movement, she moved her right foot to the left side of my face and then firmly pressed it against my sweat-drenched cheek. She kept it there pressed with incredible firmness, her toes and the ball of her right foot now planted onto the side of my face with authority. That is when the waitress arrived. 

"Hi, I'm Terry, your waitress. Here are your drinks and ..." she began saying before she could grasp what she was witnessing. 

Her words were stopped dead in their tracks by the blatantly obvious sight on the young black woman's foot pressed onto the side of my face.

Terry was a 37-year-old white woman who stood about 5'6" tall. She had blonde hair and an absolutely beautiful and busty figure. She was the epitome of the southern-belle type, demure and well maintained. Her slight southern accent seemed disrupted by what she was seeing and her pretty pale face was immediately turned into a deep, crimson red while her bright eyes widened in shock.

"Is there something wrong?" Alexis asked. 

Terry was speechless for a moment before finally remembering that she was there in a position as our waitress. Alexis' dirt-covered right foot remained so firmly pressed to my left cheek and she was not easing up with it, despite the presence of the waitress. Actually, she seemed to press her toes to my cheek harder now. 

"N-No, M-Miss." Terry stammered. 

The southern-belle waitress looked at me in awe, then turned back towards the young black woman before glancing back to me again. My face felt as if was turning as red as hers was, as she began to hand the menu to Alexis. 

Alexis stopped her.

"I don't need a menu. I know what I want. Bring us a fruit plate to share." Alexis ordered. 

The 37-year-old blonde waitress seemed panicked now. It was easy to tell that she was nearly speechless, and she felt uncomfortable and awed by the way the black teenager was treating me. 

"Y-Yes, Miss. Okay, Miss. Right away, M-Miss." Terry stuttered. 

As the southern-belle waitress left quickly to fill Alexis Barron's order, the young black woman kept her right foot almost flush onto the side of my face. She pressed even more firmly as she took one last drag of her cigarette and tossed it to the ground beside her chair. Finally, she removed her right foot from the side of my face and a breif, yet evil-like smile traced her lips. This look confused me as her face then became more stern and convincing. 

Without hesitation, Alexis then placed her right foot onto my right shoulder in the same manner, crossed her left bare foot over it at the ankles. Firmly, she now began pressing her left foot onto the right side of my face. Her dirty left foot firmly planted onto the side of my face with even more authority than the other side. I could feel the pressure of her toes and the ball of her left foot pushing harder and harder as I sat there in unbelieveable shame. She continued on like this for at least another 5 minutes before finally releasing her left foot from my perspiring cheek. Immediately following this, she put her left foot to my forehead and pressed it so hard before pushing off on it ever so slightly, shoving my face away in such an arrogant gesture. She seemed amused by my lack of resistence and returned her feet to the original position she had them when we firt sat down. 

I had no idea why the 18-year-old black woman was pressing my face with her feet at the time. She was treating me as if I was some sort of oversized raggedy ann doll, like she had done before. I was embarrassed and defeated. My humiliation prevented me from looking around to see if anyone had noticed any of the absolutely dominating exchange. I was afraid to know. 

With Alexis' legs propped up onto my upper chest, I sat there in defeat. Her right foot crossed over the left foot at the ankles and the sole and toes of her filthy dirty right foot were an inch before my face now. She seemed impatient as she waited for her fruit plate to arrive, and she lit another cigarette. 

The young black woman sat back even more comfortably, stretching her legs out with such authority. Her impatience was more apparent now. She seemed genuinely bored waiting for her order and began to arrogantly manipulate her dirt-coated toes onto my face, cupping my nose with them like a curved claw before swiping them back and forth over and over again. Playfully, yet arrogantly she began to tap and smear the tops and bottoms of her bare, dirty toes right onto my face, lips and chin. She avoided my cheeks completely and leaned back smoking ber cigarette as she started right through me. 

It was this bold and uncalculating youthful arrogance that intimidated me to no end. The beautiful, black teenager casually and non chalantly put her feet in my face. She was relentless and I remained in awe of her, and in fear of upsetting her further. 

Finally, the waitress arrived with the fruit plate and two cloth napkins. 

Terry nearly dropped the order when she returned. I believe that she was in such shock that she could hardly believe what she was witnessing, and she almost fell over herself. I did not understand her reaction at the time. I only knew that she seemed embarrassed for me. 

"Y-Your order, Miss." Terry whispered, as she set the order onto the table to the left side of Alexis. 

"Thank you, Terry. Here take this." Alexis said, handing her the half-used cigarette she had started. 

"Yes, M-Miss." Terry replied, taking the lit cigarette and holding it with her two fingers. 

"And, get that other one off the ground too." Alexis ordered, referring to the cigarette butt she had displaced earlier. 

"Yes, Miss. O-Okay." Terry answered, bending to one knee to pick up the young black woman's trash. 

The 37-year-old southern-belle waitress quickly departed. She was genuinely flustered by the presence and the boldness of Alexis Barron. She seemed as embarrassed as I was. 

I was embarrassed for her, in return. 

Alexis moved the plate of fruit to her sitting position, placing the white cloth napkin onto her lap before setting it down. She made no effort to removed her bare foot from it's postion before my face. Rather, she made sure that the toes of her right foot remained on my nose at all times while she ate. The young black woman picked through the plate filled with slices of kiwi fruit, strawberries, mangos and various melons. She used her fork, but when she tried the green melon slice by placing it into her mouth, her face turned sour. She removed the partially chewed green melon from her mouth with her thin fingers. 

"Yuck. This one's too tart." she said out loud. 

"I don't like it." she said, in disgust. 

It looked as if the young black woman was ready to disgard the sour green melon slice as she looked around for a place to toss it away. Then, she turned and looked right at me.

"Here. Try this." she said, leaning over with her feet now on the ground and placing it to my lips. 

She began tracing my lips with the half-chewed green melon slice before putting it into my mouth. I resisted for just a moment but she then pushed it into my mouth with greater force. 

"Just eat it." she directed, holding my chin with her now sticky thumb and fingers. 

I began chewing it as Alexis returned to her sittng position, now crossing her left foot over the right at the ankles, and leaving her left bare foot pressed flush onto my face. 

Tentatively, I chewed the sour melon slice as the 18-year-old black woman sat back relaxing and continued picking through the rest of the fruit on her plate. She continued smearing her dirty toes over my nose, lips and chin that was now a little sticky from the fruit. She did so with such arrogance as she ignored me and concentrated on her plate of food. For the next 10 minutes I felt so defeated and humiliated by this exaggerated gesture of providing me with one slice of disgarded fruit. It would be the only nourishment I would receive. 

Alexis Barron then digarded the remainder of the fruit plate, setting it onto the table to her left. She sipped her glass of Caymus and switched her feet back to right over left, still crossed at the ankles and directly in my face. I noticed the young woman peering towards the waitress' station, which was barely positioned on the inside of the Le' Tour Cafe. She seemed intrigued by what she was observing at that moment, and I had no idea what had captured her attention. 

Suddenly, I saw her waving someone over with her index finger. Her beautiful face was stern and obviously disturbed by what she had just seen. I sat there silently and confused, and in total humiliation as the young black woman waited for that person to come to her. 

That person was our waitress, Terry.

"Yes, M-Miss? Did you need something, Miss?" she asked Alexis in a soft, demure tone of voice.

Alexis paused for a moment and looked into the older, white waitress' eyes. 

"Is something bothering you?" she asked her. 

Terry's face turned beet red. She was startled by being confronted by the young black woman.

"N-No, Miss. I-I ..." The flustered waitress tried to answer, timidly. 

Alexis made the southern-belle waitress stand there in complete aguish for a moment as she looked her over. That moment seemed to last forever, and I could see that she was writhing in her own skin. Astonishingly, the young black woman grabbed her lighter from the table top and dropped it to the ground to the right side of her chair. The sound of her lighter hitting the concrete was very noticeable. 

"Get that for me, will you?" she ordered.

Terry stood there for a few seconds and I could see her face turn flush. 

"Yes, M-Miss. O-Okay." she answered, bending down to her right knee to fetch the fallen lighter. 

The tall, blonde 37-year-old handed the lighter to Alexis Barron and returned to her standing position before us. She seemed genuinely embarrassed. 

The 18-year-old black woman then repeated the discreet and humiliating scene. She purposely dropped her lighter to the concrete ground again, her feet remaining propped up and in my face with such unimagineable arrogance. 

"Get that for me again." she directed. 

The brief two second pause was deafening as I watched the older white woman comply. 

"Y-Yes, Miss. Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." she replied, bending to one knee again to pick up the purposely dropped lighter. Once again, she handed it back to the young black woman and stood up. 

Alexis Barron's face was as serious as the sea before a storm. She studied Terry's reaction and her noticeably embarrassed pretty face. The hesitation was longer this time, perhaps a minute as the blonde waitress stood there with now weakened knees. 

With the petite black girl's feet in my face like they were, I could only see over the ends of her dirty toes. I watched in amazement as Alexis dropped her lighter to the ground, on purpose, for the third time. 

"Again." she ordered. 

For the third time, the older blonde waitress bent to one knee to gather the wayward lighter and handed it to the black woman. But, this time Alexis did not take it from her grip. She simply put a long, thin white cigarette to her polished lips and stared into Terry's eyes. She seem to give an unspoken command to the southern-belle to light it for her. 

With humiliation, I watched as the white woman lit the cigarette for Alexis Barron. She remained on one knee on the concrete ground and continued to hold the black girl's lighter and Alexis exhaled that first drag from her cigarette. 

Alexis stared right into her eyes and seemed to be ignoring my existence at the time. She then began speaking to Terry.

end. chapter six. 



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 07



The 18-year-old black girl seemed to be intrigued, yet amused by the 37-year-old southern-belle who remained on one knee before her. It was apparent that she had noticed Terry looking over towards us from the waitress' station for several minutes earlier. In some sort of strange way it seemed as if Alexis Barron was testing her. 

"How long have you been a waitress?" Alexis asked.

Terry's cheeks were a scarlett red as she looked into the eyes of the young woman that she felt curiously intimidated by. One could tell that she was struggling to speak as Alexis questioned her position at the Le' Tour Cafe.

"J-Just 7 months, Miss." the blonde woman answered. 

The older southern-belle appeared insulted by the young black woman's condescending question. Alexis Barron took another drag of her cigarette and paused for a longer period of time. 

"Well, you're a good waitress." Alexis stated. 

"Th-Thank you, Miss." Terry replied nervously.

After another decisively long pause, the beautiful black teenager continued the questioning of the older blonde woman waitress. 

"Why so short of the time?" she asked her. "You're like 40, aren't you?" she added. 

The inside insult of the white waitress seemed to make her face grow flush. She explained that she was still in her mid to late 30's. She told the younger Alexis that she had lost her job almost a year ago. She also told the young black woman that she had been an assistant manager for a medical research corporation for 11 years before her position was eliminated. 

"Are you married, white girl?" Alexis Barron asked her.

"No, M-Miss." Terry replied, humbly.

Alexis dashed her cigarette out and continued studying the older white woman who remained on one knee before her chair at the cafe. Not once did she look back towards me suffering at the bottoms of her dirty bare feet. Yet, her feet were so arrogantly active as she almost "smeared" the bottoms and the tops of her toes across my lips, chin and nose. I sat there and remained embarrassed and afraid to move an inch.

The 18-year-old black woman began to explain to Terry that she may be able to provide an office position for her in the near future if, in fact, she met her criteria and expectations. I could not tell if the mid 30's blonde woman was pleased to hear this, or if she felt humiliated. 

"O-Okay, Miss." she simply answered. 

"Write your phone number on the receipt when we leave and I'll see what I can do. For now, bring me two fresh napkins." Alexis ordered. 

"Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss." Terry answered as she finally stood up and walked away. 

A few moments later, the older white waitress returned with two of the large white cloth napkins then handed them to Alexis Barron. She then turned on her heels and left, not once making eye contact with me.

Curiously, I sat there and watched the black teenager unfolding and then refolding the white cloth napkins. She did so slowly and methodically. She then placed her sunglasses back on and looked towards me. Rudely, she tossed one of the napkins onto my lap. 

"My feet are a little too dirty to put my sandals back on. Come over here to where that waitress was and wipe 'em for me." Alexis ordered, pointing to the concrete ground to her side.

I almost could not believe my ears. I hesitated and my eyes grew larger, like a deer in the headlights on a dark country road. I couldn't even feel my body at this point as she stared directly into my eyes with a serious and commanding attitude. It was like she wanted to further humiliate me right there and she wasn't taking no for an answer. 

"B-But, Alexis ... p-please?" I murmured, almost pleading for her to change her mind. 

I felt so intimidated by her request. I couldn't imagine feeling so degraded by the though of what she was demanding of me now. The petite black woman had been bullying me around all day. Now, she was insisting that I clean her bare feet in the outdoor part of a chic restaurant. 

The 18-year-old black woman grew angrier by my hesitation and futile pleading. 

"Now!" she ordered, removing her dirt-covered feet from it's resting position on my upper chest.

I was so nervous and intiidated by this young black woman, just as I have been since the moment I met her. I didn't know what I was thinking at that particular moment except that I didn't want to anger her, or to create a worse scene than what she had already created. I simply nodded, in agreement. Then, I took the cloth napkin in my hands and moved to the concrete ground to the right side of Alexis Barron. Pathetically, I went to one knee and looked up towards her beautiful face. I wondered what I was to do next. I truly felt demoralized. 

Alexis Barron added further humiliation by placing one of her bare feet onto my left shoulder before bending forward. She unscrewed the cap of the small bottle of Evian water she had then gently poured some of it onto one of her dirty feet. Thoroughly embarrassed, I began to wash the dirty foot of the black teenaged woman right there in the Le'Tour Cafe, using one of the cloth napkins. She added further instruction during this humbling and degarding act. 

"Make sure you get all the dirt off. In between my toes, too." she ordered. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I answered, my face feelin flush. 

The smaller black woman seemed pleased by my compliance. The utter degradation I was feeling was surreal. It took nearly 10 minutes to clean the dirt from her right foot as she now leaned back in a more authoritative position, lighting another cigarette. She ordered me to dry her foot with the other cleaner white cloth napkin before repeating the humiliating duty with her other foot.

I couldn't even begin to comprehend what any of the other older white women who might have noticed would be thinking. To them, seeing me being made to kneel before a black woman and washing her bare feet clean in a public place had to shock them. It took close to 20 minutes to finish washing and drying Alexis Barron's bare feet. 

"My sandals now." she ordered. 

My hands were trembling as I placed the young black woman's sandals back onto her size 5 feet. I struggled to fasten the small gold buckles around her delicate ankles. When finished, Alexis was ready to leave the cafe. She stood up and motioned for our waitress, Terry, to bring over the check. 

When she arrived, Alexis took the check and handed it to me. 

"Tip her well, bitch." she ordered. 

I just nodded a simple "yes" and paid in cash because I was so anxious and desparate to leave the restaurant. I gave Terry a $10.00 tip before grabbing all the bags and our purses then rushed towards the exit of the Le'Tour Cafe. The 18-year-old black woman was already so far ahead of me and walking towards another store in a more determined fashion. 

With bags in hand, I had to literally scurry to catch up to her. Alexis wanted to stop in another two stores before we departed. And, she did. 

These two last stores we stopped into seemed to have a different feeling for me. The older white store clerks stared much more than any of the other stores we had been in that day. I could not understand the reason for this, at the time. But, the looks I received from both the shop clerks and the other customers were so blatantly humiliating. It was almost as if they all stopped dead in their tracks and dropped their own shopping bags to watch us. They stared at me in a much more blatant and curious way than ever before. And, I could feel they were genuinely humiliated for me.

The last two stores added another 2 shopping bags to my load, and the black woman took at least 20 minutes in each of these stores. Casually, she headed for the arched mall entrance nearest to the parking lot as I followed behind, subserviently. 

The 15 minute walk was exhausting for me since the small, black teenager took so much time to get there. She continued to walk in such an exaggerated slow motion as numerous of other shoppers passed us by from both directions. Many, if not all of them seemed to look at us in a way that I shall never forget. Again, at this time, I still did not know the reason for these much different and noticeable stares. 

When Alexis Barron arrived at the stone arched entrance of the outdoor mall, she stopped. 

"Go fetch the car." she ordered. 

Defeatedly, I began to head towards the parking lot and to my parked BMW nearly 300 yards away as the black woman waited at the entrance. I was still carrying the numerous shopping bags and our purses as I began my long trip. I was walking slowly since I was so tired and exhausted from this long day when I heard Alexis Barron shout towards me when I was only 25 yards away. 

"Faster, idiot!" she yelled. 

Upon hearing her loud and noticeable voice, I looked back towards the young black woman standing there with her hands on her hips. I could see several others reacting to her shouting and gazing in amazement of her. I picked up my pace and rushed towards my car and unloaded the many bags into the trunk and back seat. I was feeling so rushed and flustered at this particular moment that I simply started my car and turned on the air, never looking in the mirrors at all. I felt so panicked to get back to Alexis Barron before she grew angrier by the time it took to retrieve her. 

When I arrived, I hesitated for a moment as Alexis stood there with her arms crossed. For a moment I had forgotten to get out and open the passenger car door for her, but then suddenly realized my mistake. I scurried back around to get the door for her while noticing at least 8 other older white women shoppers standing there watching us in awe. 

I could not make eye contact with them. I was so ashamed and humiliated by the control Alexis had over me already. The looks on the shopper's faces were one of astonishment as the bold and unimagineably arrogant black teenager made a complete fool of me.  

As I entered the driver's seat of my car I began to shift the gear to drive when Alexis stopped me. 

"Wait." she ordered. 

I shifted back into a parked position and loked over to her. 

"Where's my purse?" she asked. 

At the time, I was unsure and looked at Alexis Barron confused. Immediately, I got out of the car when I realized that I had left her purse in the trunk of my car, dumping it there with many of the other shopping bags. I "popped" the trunk open and quickly got out, going around to the back to fetch the black woman's purse. I handed it to her and she literally snatched it from my weak grip in a rather annoying manner. I simply sat there for a moment as she began rummaging through her purse. That is when I finally looked at my face in the rear view mirror. 

I was astonished and demoralized beyond words at what I had finally realized and noticed. It was unfathomable. 

As little Alexis ignored me and continued to search through her small purse, I sat back for just a moment and waited. The cool air from the air conditioning of my car began to provide a small measure of relief, and I unthinkingly glanced into the rear view mirror. That is when I noticed a very full and obvious dirt print of Alexis Barron's toes and foot on my open forehead. In shock, I grabbed the mirror with my right hand and manuevered it into a position to look closer. 

My forehead had an extremely dark brown almost full foot print of the black woman's toes and the ball of her foot pressed onto it. Furthermore, both of my pale cheeks had the same imprint of dark, dried up muddy toes and the ball of her feet on them. They were all so degradingly obvious that I nearly fainted from the humiliation of how this young woman was making me walk around the mall. My nose, chin and lips were also smeared with a bold and blatant amount of dirt from her bare feet, but the toe and partial foot prints were the most degrading of all. 

It crossed my mind that this was the reason for all those unusual and more obvious looks of awe from the other shoppers. Now, I knew the reason. 

I felt so defeated. There I was, walking around the mall with a dirty nose and chin, and the dried up mud from the black woman's toes imprinted on my cheeks and forehead like some sort of tattoo of shame. I grew almost dizzy by the shame I was feeling as I turned to Alexis Barron. 

She did not comment on my look of awe. Rather, she seemed disturbed by not being able to find what she was looking for. 

"Where's the receipt from the cafe?" she asked. 

I had thought that Alexis grabbed the receipt with our waitress' phone number on it as I paid the bill, but this was not the case.

"I-I don't know, M-Ma'am." I answered.

"Well, go back and fucking get it!" Alexis scowled. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry. I'll go and ..." I began to answer as I grabbed a tissue from the arm rest compartment of my car. I began to bring the tissue to my face to wipe off the dirty toes prints from my face when the young black woman literally grabbed my wrist to stop me. 

"Now!" she ordered. 

She took the tissue from my hand and I exited the car to return to the Le'Tour cafe to get the receipt and phone number from the southern-belle waitress. 

Ashamed, I walked hurriedly through the outdoor mall to get back to the cafe. My face was still dirty with the dried up mud from her toes and feet imprinted all over my forehead and cheeks. It took me nearly 10 minutes to get back there.

When I approached our waitress Terry, she was startled to see me. Embarrassingly, I told her that I had lost the receipt. I could not look at her for more than a second as I felt so demoralized. But, I could tell she was flustered and nervous about printing another receipt and adding her phone number to the bottom. Her writing had visibly shook as she did so.

I didn't even return a "thank you." I merely grabbed the receipt and rushed off back to my car where Alexis Barron waited. Once again, walking past virtually dozens of other shoppers trying to hide my face from their view. I felt so ashamed but I was so scared that if I had wiped my face clean from the dirty toe prints, Alexis would have become angry. My thoughts were so mixed at this time. I wondered how I could even allow such a thing to be happening to me. I didn't know. All I knew was that the 18-year-old black woman intimidated me like no other person had. I didn't want her to slap me again, and I certainly was afraid of another confrontation with her. 

By the time I returned to the car where Alexis sat cooling herself in the air conditioning, I was even more exhausted. I entered my car and immediately handed her the receipt. She did not return a word as I shifted my car into the drive mode and began the trip home. 

Not once did I think about anyone else ever seeing my dirty imprinted face, but in retrospect I am sure they did. We finally arrived back at my home 10 minutes later and I felt almost relieved that we were no longer in public.

The end of this most demoralizing day in public was finally and mercifully over. But, the end of this Saturday was not. 



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 08



Alexis Barron now sat in the passenger's seat of my BMW just outside my house. It was close to 6 o'clock by now and we had just spent the past five and a half hours shopping for her selfish needs. 

The entire time I felt demoralized to the point of tears. The utter humiliation that I was feeling from this unfathomable experience could hardly be described. Many will find this experience at Oaktown Mall difficult to believe. I'm quite sure they will never be able to understand just how ruthless this young black woman was as she so casually and discreetly humiliated me. But, it was real and I sat there for just a moment trying to gather my thoights and comprehend what had just happened. 

I was truly scared and intimidated by Alexis Barron. I was also quite embarrassed by my own inability to stand up to this much younger black woman. 

The 4'11" tall, 95 lb. black woman was just 18-years-old, yet her youthful beauty and natural dominant nature conveyed such an undeniable aura of inner strength. She seemed to convey this message to all those she would encounter. Despite her dimunitive size, Alexis was one of the most beautiful and perfectly-proportioned women that I had ever met, or anyone else could ever imagine. Her beauty can be described, by many, as "off the charts" and she used this gift to attract or lure anyone she desired to engage. 

It was more than her physical beauty that weakened me. Her 32c-21-33 figure was, indeed, perfect for her small size. But, Alexis Barron was also embarrassingly intelligent for her young age and horrifyingly wise above her years. Her mere presence and piercing lighter brown eyes unquestionably overwhelmed me. 

Above all, I was beginning to learn just how discreetly and boldly sadistic this young woman could be. My feelings of ineptitude and intense intimidation had never been so high before. These feelings I was experiencing at the time were even beginning to frighten me. 

I began thinking that it had to be obvious to the young black woman that I had no "fight" left in me at all. None, whatsoever. She had to know by now that I felt totally defeated by her. There wasn't an ounce of resistence left in my body as I conceded to her unreasonable demands. 

Perhaps, she had known this all along? Or, at least since that very first day we met at my office when I pathetically "caved in" to her stern words and her firm almost obnoxious attitude. 

Yes, it is true that I had always found Alexis to be quite attractive. It's hard to imagine that anyone on this planet could think otherwise. Her physical beauty was on such a high level that it would make any woman feel less attractive than they really were. But, it was her qualities of confidence, self-assuredness and natural dominance which she so proudly possessed that truly humbled me. I was starting to notice that she humbled others as well. 

These were the same qualities in a woman that I had always admired, from afar. During my entire scholastic career I almost envied women like her. They were qualities that were simply admired but never physical. Now, they seemed to be a thousand times magnified and on an entirely different level. I truly had never been actually confronted by a woman like Alexis Barron before, and this feeling continued to confuse me. 

Exiting the car, I walked around to the passenger's side door and then opened it. I stood there holding onto the door and waited for the young black woman to emerge. But, Alexis Barron remained sitting. She was completely ignoring me while she stared down at her cell phone to review the new text messages that had just "chirped" her phone. She didn't seem to be the least bit concerned about making me stand there in the driveway of my own home as I continued holding the car door. 

This long wait was excruciating to me. 

Not once did she ever acknowledge my presence as a full five minutes went by. I felt even more embarrassed and my mind began to wander as I looked over the top of my car and out into the distance towards the driveway entrance. This was about 90 feet away. I was simply waiting and watching the light flow of traffic go by and I felt nervous and humiliated by my new role. 

The neighboring homes and the road weren't very close, but they were still close enough for anyone to notice me if they cared to look in this direction. This kept me on edge as I continued waiting for young Alexis to step out of my car. My face felt warmer by the added embarrassment she seemed to be causing. I could now feel the thicker dried up dirty and muddy toe prints from her feet on my cheeks beginning to set in. They now felt like some sort of facial mask I once used to clean my pores. 

Mercifully, the young black woman finally stepped out of my car and began walking towards the front door. Not once did Alexis remove her eyes from her cell phone as she continued to act as if I didn't exist. For some unknown reason, I was still holding the car door open. I don't know why. I was awed by her arrogance as I watched her step up to the front door and stop. She simply stood there at the entrance of my home with all her attention focused on that little phone.

I closed the car door and dutifully ran to open the front door to let the black girl inside. She stepped inside, gracefully, then finally turned to me as if I were merely a second thought. 

"Go get my things. Bring them inside." Alexis ordered, waving the back of her right hand in the most condescending way imagineable. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I whimpered, embarrassed.

As I walked back out to my car to fetch all those bags from Alexis Barron's day of shopping, I began thinking more about what was happening. Thoughts of how I got myself into such an embarrassing situation like this had consumed me. Things were happening so fast that I hardly had time to contemplate my own options. I was scared and I felt that I had been caught off-guard by the 18-year-old black woman since that day she came into my life. 

"Maybe I could just walk away from this whole situation." I began thinking as I stood there before the opened trunk of my car. 

But, that is when the sound of her firm and extremely youthful sounding voice rang through the air. Her words snapped me back into consciousness and pierced right through me. 

"Where are you?" she screeched, yelling from inside the house.

Nervously, I gathered all the bags from the trunk. Frantically, I grabbed the remaining bags and our purses from the back seat and then ran inside. I was incredibly intimidated by the young black woman's more serious tone of voice, which seemed displeased by the amount of time I was taking.

The black teenaged woman stood at the counter of my kitchen, her elbows resting upon it and still manipulating her cell phone. 

I now stood in the livingroom just past the foyer with the numerous shopping bags in hand. I was quiet and more bewildered about what to do next as young Alexis finally looked up from her cell phone, and then towards me. 

"We still have a lot of things to go over with the PNL Report." she said, dryly.

I simply stood there in silence looking in her direction.

"First, I need a shower. After you put all my new things away, and all my old things from the boxes, you do the same!" Alexis ordered.

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I answered, barely making eye contact with her. 

The 18-year-old black woman simply kicked off her gold sandals across the living room in a wayward direction. Both sandals ended up in very different parts of the large room as she turned and finally began walking up the carpeted stairwell towards the shower.

Embarrassed, I dropped all the bags I was holding and chased after her sandals, setting them on the shoe rack just outside the foyer. I had to make 4 trips up and down those stairs leading up to the bedrooms to retrieve the shopping bags and the boxes Alexis Barron had delivered to my home. 

I could hear the young black woman showering as I set her large boxes and the new bags down at the foot of my king sized bed. The spandex leggings, blouse and panties she had worn during our shopping trip were spewn about the floor, rudely and carelessly. Defeatedly, I just gathered them up and placed them into the small wicker hamper just outside the master bathroom.

This was all so embarrassing for me. I stood there for a moment and looked down at the two large boxes marked "AB" and the myriad of bags from her day of shopping. 

"Where was I going to put all her things?" I asked myself. 

"Why did I agree to let her stay here?" I thought.

As I opened the boxes and began pulling the piles of Alexis Barron's neatly folded clothes out from them, I began settng them onto the bed. There were several short skirts, a few pairs of size zero jeans and a plethora of both casual and dressier blouses. There were many small, very feminine cut-off-at-the-navel styled tee shirts and casual body-hugging short-shorts. Petite sized yoga pants, leggings, ankle-high socks and 3 packages of coffee-toned stockings that were unopened would empty the first large box.

I could hear Alexis continuing to shower as I opened the second box of her clothes. My feelings of humiliation continued to envelope me as I began removing the articles of clothing from that next large cardboard box.

There were more yoga pants, jeans and spandex leggings in a variety of colors, several two-piece bikinis in bright solid colors, and only two pairs of heels and sandals. There was also a fairly-large black leather bag of personal grooming items. But, what curiously caught my attention the most were two things. 

The first was the obnoxiously large amount of panties and bras folded neatly near the bottom. Mostly panties. There had to be at least 250 pairs of the skimpiest little nylon, nylon-lycra and nylon-chiffon panties in there?! They were mainly solid colors and none of them were thong-styled ones, yet they all had to be the tiniest and flimsiest full-cut panties available without actually being a thong. The vast array of panties she possessed was startling!

The second item that was curious to me was a large zip loc bag that held about a half dozen pairs of nylon stockings and pantyhose. They were all curled up inside this bag and apparently worn before. They were simply marked "worn" in a black marker.

As I emptied the last box onto the top of the bed I heard the shower stop running. I grew more tense as I tried to decide where I was going to put all her things. My bedroom had a large oak wood chest of drawers with a mirror mounted on top, but only one of them. My large walk-in closet with a smaller set of drawers inside wasn't enough room to hang many more things besides my own. I knew that it would be difficult to find any extra space at all. I only used the closet in one of the other bedrooms for a few spare outfits. 

I heard the young black woman continuing to "primp" in the bathroom and could sense that she was about to come out. Deep down, I suppose that I was feeling more nervous about not getting her things put away in a timely manner. Thoughts of her being angered by this began to stir around in my mind. 

Worriedly, I grabbed one of the many piles of Alexis Barron's panties in my arms and bent to one knee to access the bottom drawer of the oak set of drawers. I am sure that I had moe than 40 pairs in the crook of my arm when I opened it and noticed that it was completely empty!

"What?" I thought to myself. 

I began opening all the other 8 drawers that had been filled with my clothes. Unbelieveably, they had all been emptied. 

"Where are all my things?" I asked myself, quietly. 

My face felt warm from embarrassment as the 18-year-old black woman finally emerged from the master bathroom. 

Alexis stepped right out in the most non chalant manner. She was completely nude and patting the underside of her neck dry with a small, white bath towel. A shower cap adorned her head. Her body was embarrassingly perfect for such a small woman, and her deep mocha brown skin glistened in the glow of the sunset coming through the windows of my bedroom. She was also holding what looked like a blue and yellow tube of lotion in her left hand.

I merely gazed upon her for just a moment before lowering my eyes, embarrassed by her bold nudeness and superior beauty. I almost felt as if I was not allowed to look upon her. Yet, the one and only brief glance I did take was permanently ingrained in my mind. 

Her pussy mound was exquisitely trimmed as she glanced towards me as if I were nothing more than a mere peasant. She hardly paid me any attention at all and seemed only mildly curious as to what I was doing. I was still on one knee and continued holding a small pile of her panties in my arm before the opened bottom drawer. The young black woman simply disgarded me with her eyes and casually walked over to the bed when she noticed her things spread neatly upon it. 

I was frozen there in a near panic for a moment as I watched in complete awe as Alexis began "sifting" through one of the larger piles of her panties, which layed upon the bed. She seemed to be looking for a certain pair and began to arrogantly toss the unwanted ones over her shoulder and carelessly about the room in the most thoughtless and uncaring manner. Most of them ended up on the floor and she had to go through at least 50 pairs before finally making a decision on which ones to wear.

She decided on a pair of deeper hot pink and opaque colored bikini panties with thinner sides that were made from an ultra flimsy nylon and chiffon blend of material. She stepped into them, effortlessly, and began rummaging through the many tee shirts laying next to the several piles of panties. Again, she rudely began disgarding the unchosen ones about the room, flipping them over her shoulder and off to her side without a care in the world. When she finally made her selection, she held it up high before her in the most arrogant way one can imagine. She gazed upon it for what seemed like an extended period of time. 

I was in absolute awe as I remained to one knee before the chest of drawers, only seven or eight feet behind her. I was barely looking up to her from this position as she seemed to be contemplating her choice of shirt, and this delay is what caused me to look up to it. 

The one she decided upon truly embarrassed me. 

The shirt she chose was the exact same hot pink color as her flimsy bikini panties, but the cut-off above the navel styled short-sleeved tee shirt was all cotton and boldly displayed the words "Black Power" right across the chest in a thick, dark print. The "O" in the word "power" carried the crossed symbol for feminism and there was a smaller clenched black fist inside of a circle just beneath the letters. 

I felt as if there was a lump beginning to form in my throat as I watched the black girl disgard her shower cap and toss it onto the floor. At the same time, she was still holding that large tube of lotion as she slipped the shirt over her head and positioned it over her full bare breasts. She cupped her supple breasts to add additional comfort to them.

Once again, I lowered my eyes as quickly as possible as she made a sudden turn towards me. 

I remained on one knee before the opened bottom drawer still clutching a group of her panties when she began stepping towards the large, oak chest of drawers. She was about to look at herself in the mirror anchored atop the chest when the young black woman abruptly shoved the bottom drawer shut with her right foot. The loud slamming sound of the oak drawer being shut startled me. I wasn't expecting that at all since I was just about to place that first pile of her panties inside. 

Selfishly and barbarously, Alexis positioned herself closer in towards the chest with the top cut mirror. It was like she didn't have a care in the world about my presence there. 

Imprudently, Alexis now stood no more than a few inches from my one kneed position at the bottom drawer. My face turned red with the realization that her ass cheeks in those flimsy, opaque hot pink panties were now on the same level as my face and just off to the side. My side view of the young black woman's upper right thigh so close to me was truly degrading as I looked at the thin sides of those panties. 

I could hear her placing that tube of lotion onto the top of the chest, and I could see from my peripheral vision that she was now resetting her hair. She had a hair tie clenched in her teeth as she manipulated her hair into a tighter ponytail style with both of her hands. Her hips and backside were wiggling back and forth in the most wildly and childlike manner, almost blatantly as she tied her silky hair back. 

Alexis seemed to be taking her time as stared at her own perfection in the mirror. I actually fell to both knees now and sat on the backs of my legs, almost mortified by her attitude. It was thoroughly embarrassing. It was at that time when she gracefully brought her right hand to a downward position and daintily placed her index finger and thumb to the bottom part of her bikini panties that barely covered her right side ass cheek. In an arrogant and bratty manner, she pulled on the backside bottoms of her flimsy panties and gently stretched them outwards in the most gentle, yet exaggerated manner before letting it go and "snapping" them back into place. She did this obnoxiously rude gesture literally no more than two inches before my face.

I was further mortified when the 18-year-old black girl then turned to her left side to view herself in the mirror. This left her panty-clad ass cheeks in those little panties directly before my dirt-covered face. She began maneuvering her firm young breasts in that cut off tee shirt while she examined her reflection. She remained in this position with her backside practically in my face for more than a minute before she finally grabbed the tube of lotion and began walking away.

"I'll be downstairs." she said, simply. 

The brash and arrogant gesture of her putting her backside so close to my face had to be obvious to the young black woman. 

"How could she not know this?" I asked myself.

I was flustered and could not move for a moment before I realized that I had to get her things put away and then take a shower. Nervously, I scurried around the room getting Alexis Barron's clothes put away. I filled the chest of drawers and put the rest of her new clothes and shoes into the closet, still unaware of what she had done with all my things.

At that particular moment I was thinking that maybe this young black woman had put my things in another room. Still, I felt rushed to complete my task and I would look for them later. 

Twenty minutes later, I stepped into the master bath to see the young black woman's used wet towels spewn onto the floor in a wildly careless fashion. The floor was soaking wet from her feet and it appeared that she didn't care at all about using the bath mat. Upset, I got down to my hands and knees to clean up her mess. It was both humiliating and defeating to do so. 

Finally, I was ready to take my own shower and I turned on the water. Like always, I was letting it run for a minute to get it a little warmer. And, that is when I looked at myself in the mirror. It was the first time I would look at myself since we had been in the car at the mall.

My face was still covered with the dirt from the black teenager's bare feet earlier that day. There were the most blatant and obvious dried up muddy imprints of Alexis' toes and the balls of her feet conceivable. The heavy dirty foot prints were on both of my cheeks, as well as one on my forehead. Even more demoralizing, my nose, lips and chin were slathered with the dirt from the obtrusive and rude smearing of my face with her toes during our visit to the Le'Tour Cafe.

I was terribly demeaned as I stared at my own refelection in the bathroom mirror.




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. 




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 08



I was breathing heavier now and remained in the same position, looking up. Two minutes later, the teenaged black woman grabbed my hair, once again. This time, she pulled me all the way up to my feet by my now rattled blonde hair. 

"C'mon, let's go. Time to get some sleep." she said.

Defeatedly, I just nodded a "yes" as the petite woman began pulling me along by my hair towards the stairwell. My 6'1" tall frame was hunched over, uncomfortably, as Alexis lead me along by it all the way up the stairs, trhough the hallway, and into my bedroom. She literally tossed me by my hair onto the bed, in the same position as the night before. My head and face lay right at the foot of the bed on the side she used to sleep, my long legs stretched out to the other side of the head board away from her. 

Catching my breath and still unimaginably fatigued, I layed there and felt the young black woman slip into bed. She had turned the lights out and placed her soft, lotioned feet to my face, moving them about until she found the right comfort spot for them. She simply left them there. Her sleeping position onto her right side with her bare size 5 feet gently positioned onto my face and neck was demeaning to me. However, I was too drained and exhausted to even think about it, or about what had just happened. I fell into a deep and ultra demoralizing sleep almost immediately. 

end. chapter 08.



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 09



Despite my severe fatigue and the culmination of degradation and absolute mortification I was feeling when I passed out, I hardly slept well.

It had to be past 2 in the morning when the young, teenaged black woman dragged me to the bedroom by my hair. Now, I was awakened by the sound of Alexis Barron relieving herself in the master bathroom. The bathroom door was half opened and the bright light was shining in my face from my laying position at the foot of the bed. 

I looked over to the digital clock illuminating from night stand at Alexis' side of the bed. It read 5:38 a.m. 

As I heard the sound of a flushing toilet and peered towards the lit bathroom, I grew more tense. Quickly, I moved from my laying position and "sccoted" further down to another position closer to the end of the bed. Without much thought, my instinct seemed to be to move my face further away, and out of reach from the shorter black woman's bare feet as she slept. It had been an embarrassing position to be in from the start and, perhaps, I was thinking that she would not notice. 

As the bathroom light "clicked" off and I felt Alexis coming back into the bedroom, I grew frightened. Nervously, I shut my eyes and pretended to be fast asleep. With my eyes closed and my head now resting further away from the reach of the black teenager's feet, I feigned sleep. My heart was racing, and I was hoping and praying that she would never notice my position had changed in the middle of the night. 

But, she did. 

Even in her half-asleep state the young black woman was keenly aware of my presence. With the utmost arrogance, she casually and non chalantly grabbed my blonde hair by the top of my head and literally pulled me closer to her and back into place. She held my hair with her fist as she felt around with her little feet in the darkness of the room until her both of them were literally "planted" so firmly onto my cheeks and chin. 

Now content, she let go of my hair and began going back to sleep without a word ever being spoken. 

This boorish and abusive action was abundantly humiliating for me. The petite 18-year-old woman did not even know that I was awake, yet she had the insolence and pomposity to use my 40-year-old face in such a disrespectful manner. It caused my feelings of defeat to increase as I struggled to get back to sleep. 

Twenty five minutes later I began to see the sun starting to rise from the window on the east side of my bedroom. In utter degradation I continued to lay there, motionless, as the young black woman stirred around in her sleep. 

Her tiny, smooth feet were so active during this time, and they poked and prodded and smeared across my embarrassed face in a wildly irritated manner. It was clear that she was sleeping, yet restless and uneasy. Her firm, young toes manipulated the position of my face and head in such an exaggerated fashion. At one point, she even "gripped" both sides of my face with her bare toes to turn my head to another position, still laying on her right side and seemingly unconscious. My struggles to breathe and get comfortable were of no concern to her. Timidly, I just layed there hoping her restlessness would soon stop. After another fifteen minutes, it did.

Finally, she settled into a position on her trimmed belly with the top of her left toes resting directly over my eyes. The tops of her right toes now spread across my dried lips. The tops of her young feet firmly pressed down with one last motion as they embarrassingly anchored my head into place. 

Humiliated and beaten, my fatigue soon got the best of me and I finally fell back asleep, myself.

It was 10:30 a.m. when I was awakened by the slight pressure of Alexis Barron's right bare sole across my partially-opened mouth. As I opened my eyes and gained consciousness, I realized that she had turned over onto her back and was masturbating herself with her fingers. It was shocking to me. 

Her left sole was across my neck and the toes of her right foot were rubbing back and forth across my lips in a rhythmic fashion. Her young body motions as she masturbated caused her leg to rock back and forth and her foot to move across my lips in an abrupt and intrusive manner. Humbly, I layed still. The sudden awareness of what this black girl was doing embarrassed me to no end. She was bringing herself to climax as she layed on her back massaging the crotch of her opaque pink panties.

It was all so surreal to me. Her dominance over me appeared to be the motivation she needed to bring herself to an orgasm as she continued to swipe her bare toes across my now swelling lips. 

Within ten minutes, Alexis Barron climaxed.

Selfishly, she had brought herself to a morning orgasm as I lay beneath her. My arms were down to my sides, submissively, and my face looking up to the ceiling. The feelings of defeat consumed me as I listened to the young black woman begin to catch her breath. 

Moments later, she gracefully pulled both legs upwards by the knees almost to her chest and removed her soaked hot pink colored panties. She then got up from the bed and headed for the bathroom, rudely and daintilly placing the used panties right upon my face. I was thoroughly and utterly disgraced as her soaking wet pink panties rested upon my face, nose and lips. She was so arrogant and malicious to do this, yet she did so in the most casual and non chalant way anyone can imagine. 

Incredibly degraded, I just layed there unable to move. My arms were weakened by a combination of immense demoralization and the nearly 7 hours of massaging her feet from the night before. My vision was almost fully blocked by the black woman's soaking wet pink nylon panties. I was only able to see a sliver of sunlight coming through window of my bedroom. 

The intense, pungeant aroma of her extremely worn panties pervaded my senses as they so crudely layed upon my face. The strong scent humbled me. Even more defeating was the fact that the juices from her dripping wet panties began to "trickle" down both sides of my face, and down to my lips. The sweet taste embarrassed me, yet it felt and tasted like some sort of witches potion that was concocted to control me. 

For nearly 15 minutes, I simply layed there in utter humiliation as I listened to the distant sounds of the streaming water from the shower. I was unable to move. 

Alexis was cleaning herself off in the shower and the time seemed to pass by quickly as my mind wandered in and out of it's mild sleep state. 

When I opened my eyes again I could see and feel her flimsy little panties on my face. I was not sure how much time had passed, but the sound of the shower had stopped and I heard the "creaking" of the bathroom door opening. 

I would swear that I heard a soft "giggle" coming from the lips of the beautiful, black teenager as she stood in the doorway. Seemingly, she was amused by the sight of an older white woman laying on the bed, face up, with a pair of her used panties resting upon her face. Although I wasn't quite sure that this sound was the cause of her amusement, I reasoned that it could not have been for any other purpose. 

Brazenly, Alexis Barron stepped up to the bed to view what she might have seen as her conquest of a much older and substantially taller white woman. She was nude with a full, white bath towel resting around her neck and covering her young, supple breasts. That is when she leaned over me and delicately removed the worn panties from my face. 

My eyes finally met hers. They were filled with such childlike amusement that I can hardly describe them. With unimagineable arrogance, the 18-year-old black girl partially opened my mouth by its' chin and began rubbing the crotch of her used panties onto my tongue. 

"Mmmm. Black pussy tastes good, huh white girl?" she asked. 

The action lasted merely a second, but my eyes grew wide and obviously mortified beyond explanation. She laughed and tossed her little panties off to the side, and onto the floor. 

"Come on, get yourself ready. We have a little more shopping to do." Alexis ordered.

Humiliated beyond belief, I gathered my senses and scurried off to the bathroom and closed the door. I was nearly in tears by now, embarrassed and degraded by how this younger black woman was treating me. 

"This couldn't be happening." I told myself. 

"It just couldn't be." I reasoned. 

But, it was happening. 

The realization set in and I began to run the shower as I stepped around the used and sloppily-placed towels on the floor, which Alexis Barron had left behind. Once again, I had to shower quickly since the amount of hot water she left behind was scarce. 

Frantically, I finished and I had to put on the same older white yoga suit from years past. I was still afraid to ask the young black woman what she did with my other clothes. Although I knew that I would eventually have to ask, I found it difficult to summon up enough courage to do so. Confrontations have always intimidated me, but to confront this 18-year-old black woman magnified my fear a thousand times over. 

Tentatively, I minced my way down the stairs and saw Alexis sitting on the same part of the sofa from the night before. The moment she noticed me, she spoke. 

"You remember how I like my coffee, right?" she asked. 

I thought about it for a moment, then answered. "Yes, Ma'am." I replied, timidly. 

"Good." she said, as she "waved me off" with the back of her right hand to fetch it in the most demeaning mannerism. 

Alexis Barron was already dressed. Today, a Sunday, she chose a pair of very thin and tight white nylon-spandex leggings. They were a capri length style and matched the half-cut white blouse she wore perfectly. She added a thicker black cloth belt to accentuate this outfit. A pair of white leather ballerina flats and a few african-styled bracelets and necklaces completed her ensemble for the day.

The young black woman remained sitting and playing with her cell phone as she manipulated the television set controls. She seemed engaged with a business-related program as I meekly stepped into the kitchen. 

Many thoughts crossed my mind while I prepared the 18-year-old's cup of african blend coffee. The most devastating to me was the manner in which she had physically used me the night before, and then again this morning. I was quiet and withdrawn, and I found it increasingly difficult to look into her piercing, dominating eyes. 

After I added the single teaspooon of cream to her cup of freshly-brewed coffee, I served it to her before the sofa. There was no acknowledgement of me serving her. I merely stood there and watched the young black woman sitting there, sipping her coffee and watching the news. And, after only 10 minutes, she disgarded the half full cup onto the glass table and turned to me.

"Let's go. I don't want to take all day. I still wanna lay out a little before the days' over." she announced. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I replied. 

Just as the day before, I held the door open for Alexis as she exited my house. As she walked towards my car in the driveway I noticed her outfit from behind. Astonishingly, the ultra thin nylon-spandex material of her white leggings revealed a pair of obnoxiously obvious zebra-print panties underneath. 

The image of them was so clear and they were covering her petite and femininely well-muscled ass cheeks. The full detail of the black and white stripes of her flimsy little zebra-stripe patterned nylon panties could not have been so apparent. They stood out, flagrantly. 

It was almost as if she had worn them on purpose and with total arrogance.

In my mind, I questioned her style for only a minute. Knowing Alexis Barron's attitude, I came to the conclusion she had chosen this image to draw attention to her tiny, perfectly-shaped ass. It humiliated me as I watched the young woman saunter to the passenger's side door of my car, where she waited for me to arrive. 

As she entered my car and I walked around to let myself in, I saw her manipulating the GPS system. She plugged in an address and ordered me to drive.

"Drive." she said, her one word command echoing in my ears. 

Nervously, I made my way through the Sunday traffic and entered the expressway. Wherever we were going I could see that it was 43 miles away, and in a suburb that I have never been to. It was about half way through the journey when Alexis finally began to speak. 

"Aren't you going to ask me what I did with your clothes?" she asked. 

Apprehensively, I nodded a "no" as my voice began to tremble. 

"N-N-No, Ma'am." I stuttered.

The black teenager simply laughed at my nervousness and fear. 

"Well, I threw them out. They were ugly and stupid, and I will be picking out some new things for you today. Got that?" she snarled. 

My face felt like it was turning a beet red. Here was this teenager telling me how I had to dress. It was all too embarrassing for me, yet I managed to nod in agreement and respond to her callous directive. 

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

It was at about this time that I was exiting the expressway. The neighborhoods we passed were all middle-class and I looked around to a very culturally diverse suburb mixed with all races. The homes were far less expensive than my own home and many of them appeared unkept. 

The GPS directed me to the edge of a downtown area, and to a six corner setting a mile from the expressway. The area could be described as more of a "yuppie" area, and it was quite populated by middle and lower middle class people. A myriad of restaurants aligned the block where Alexis Barron instructed me to park. And, I did. 

We began walking down the cracked sidewalks of the street to a destination still unknown to me. The young, black woman proudly walked a full 2 strides ahead of me, wiggling her supple ass cheeks in those tight a flimsy white leggings. Her ass in those zebra print panties was grotesquely obvious to anyone who dared to look, and she walked slowly and with determination as we reached a small shop at the end of the street. 

The sign on the shop read "Sarah's Botique" in sharp, red lettering and a lesbian symbol alongside it. As I peered through the glass window in front of the shop, I noticed several mannequins dressed in variety of esoteric outfits. These outfits were skirts of leather and some type of vinyl I had never seen before. There were also a few mannequins dressed in leather collars and bracelets. That is when I realized that this shop was actually a lesbian S and M type of place!

My knees felt like they were about to collapse as the 18-year-old black girl lead me inside. I was shaking nervously because I was so embarrassed by the unknown. Surprisingly, the shop was much larger on the inside than it appeared from out front. It was also meticulously-detailed with glass shelves and marble stands. I would have to admit that this shop was very classy, yet it felt so private and strangely discreet. 

There were only 4 other women in the shop as we walked through the shop and I "tagged" along behind Alexis as if I were her lackey. I desparately tried to hide my face in shame.

These women were all white women in their 30's, I would guess, and they were perusing the shop when we walked in. They looked over for just a second, then looked away.

Alexis Barron strolled in like she had been there before. Timidly, I stood behind her and watched as she began looking through a few of the chrome-laminated racks of clothes near the front counter. That is when an older white woman in her 60's emerged from a red velvet curtain from the back of the exquisite shop. 

It was Sarah, I reasoned.

Sarah was about 65 years old with greying hair and pretty blue eyes. She was in decent shape for a larger boned woman, standing 5'8" tall on, perhaps, a 160 lb. frame. She carried her size well and dressed as if she were about to go out to a japanese cocktail party. Her red, silk dress was adorned with asian-styled flowers that ran from the top to the bottom of the knee length dress. It also covered her neck. Black heeled sandals about 4 inches high and silk stockings completed the older, white woman's outfit. 

"Greetings, Miss Alexis. Another one?" the older woman asked. 

The 18-year-old black woman just turned and smiled.

"Oh, hi Sarah. Yes, this is another one from my office. But, this one is special. She's my assistant, Gretchen. The one I told you about." she answered. 

My cheeks had to become ten shades of red when I heard the young black woman referring to me in such a condescending manner. Thoughts that she had taken all the other white assistants from my company to this specialty shop as I was in Norway began running through my head. I reasoned that this was why they all had been wearing the same outfits when I returned. 

It was Alexis Barron's "encouragement" to adapt what she would eventually refer to as a "uniform." 

Humiliated, I just stood there in shame as the older white woman looked me over. I was speechless and scared to be in this shop, and being directed by such a young woman. 

"Right this way, Miss Alexis." Sarah said, cordially escorting the both of to a posh sitting area at the other end of the store. 

I was embarrassed as we had to walk past the other shoppers in the store. Their glances towards us seemed curious and ones that appeared to pity me. 

This sitting area was sectioned off into half hexagon shape with several full length mirrors on every side. It had only one very large, cushioned red chair with a high back and a marble stand to the side. The chair could almost be described as a mock throne and the sign above the small dressing room read "staging area." 

Alexis Barron headed right for it and then sat down ofn a red velvet chair. She looked over to me and noticed the look of fear on my timid, blushing face and pulled out one of her cigarettes. 

"Don't look so worried. You're gonna love the clothes here." she said. 

The older white Sarah immediately approached Alexis and bent to one knee, lighting her cigarette. 

"Will you be having champagne again, Miss Alexis?" Sarah asked. 

"Yes, Sarah. I think I will. The same as the last time." she directed. 

"Yes, Ma'am. Right away." the older white woman answered, standing up and retreating to another part of the store. 

Feelings of total ineptitude overcame me. I had always shopped for myself and imagined that I had good style. It made me feel demoralized to be standing in the back of this esoteric clothing shop and having this young, black woman selecting outfits for me to wear. 

But, this is exactly what was happening. 

When the mid 60's white woman returned, she poured a glass of champagne and handed it to the 18-year-old black woman. She set the remainder of the bottle on the marble stand, in ice, to her left. 

"Your order came in today as well, Miss Alexis." she said.

"Thank you, Sarah. Just in time." Alexis returned. 

The older white woman then approached me and began taking my measurements. Alexis casually sat there and watched. Her imperious attitude as she sipped on a glass of champagne and smoked a long, thin cigarette kept me on edge. Even more embarrassing was when Sarah gently removed my clothes and placed them off to the side. She left me standing there in the back of this shop almost nude, wearing just my white panties and bra before she exited and walked off to the back room. 

Ashamed, I stood there covering myself with my long arms as much as I could. I must've stood there for more than 5 minutes with my eyes down to the carpeted floor beneath my feet. I could feel the young black woman's presence, and the way she was looking at my half-naked body. 

Sarah returned with almost the same outfit as the other 7 white women in my office had been wearing since the day I returned. The exception was that the skirt was a pure white linen one rather than the black skirts my staff was wearing. I trembled as the older woman slipped the small white skirt under my feet and up my long legs, wiggling it into place around my full hips.




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 09



This white skirt was very expensive and classy, but it was far too short for me - shorter than anything I have ever worn in my life! I simply couldn't believe the smallness of it as I tugged on the ends of the skirt to pull it down further. 

But, the well-made linen wouldn't give an inch.

"It's beautiful." the older woman stated, reaching over to grab one of the pure white cotton blouses from a hanger and swept it over my shoulders. 

Quickly, I moved into the blouse and buttoned it. I was desparate to cover myself and red-faced from the embarrassment I was feeling. Sarah then placed a wide leather belt in a deep, lipstick red color around my waist before grabbing a thinner red cat's collar and placing it around my neck. She fastened the tiny buckle of it with her delicate fingers and then walked towards the back room, once again. 

Standing there in this classy, yet extraordinarily risque outfit made me blush. I was looking into the mirrors and realized just how ridiculous I looked for woman who had just turned 40. 

"She wants me to wear this?" I asked myself, quietly. 

That is when Sarah reemerged holding a shoe box. She pulled out the same pair of heels that I noticed in my entire staff just two days before. They were classic white leather pumps, but ones with a very thick and wide ankle strap that would bind them into place. They also had a full 5 inch heel, which was higher than I had ever worn before. The older white woman slipped them over my feet and buckled them into place as I "teetered" upon them trying to catch my balance. 

I was looking down at them and wondering just how I would be able to walk in such obnoxiously-high heeled shoes when Sarah immediately stuck a tube of lipstick to my lips. She began smearing a fire-engine red creamy lipstick, applying it smoothly and effortlessly. She then stepped away.

Now, I stood there in the full outfit and about to fall over when I noticed the young black woman exited her seat and walking towards me holding a glass of champagne and an unlit cigarette. I waas frozen there in a near panic as she drew closer and finally stood before me.

Gracefully, the small black woman reached upwards towards my face with the hand holding the unlit cigarette between two fingers. She touched the right side of my cheek with her other fingers, then squeezed both of my cheeks together until my red-painted lips puckered. 

"Maybe. It's important that I can still reach her face when I feel like it." Alexis said cockily, speaking to the older white shop clerk. 

She spoke to Sarah like I wasn't even in the same room.

It was devastating and humiliating. At 6'1" tall in my bare feet, the 5 inched heels now made me 6'6" tall, and had me literally towering above the 4'11" tall young black woman. The top of her head was barely at the bottoms of my breasts. She had to look almost straight up to me as she stood closer to me, continuing to hold my face in such a rude and bullyish manner. 

She touched my face as if I were some sort of pet. Despite this, I was thoroughly intimidated by the incredibly petite black woman. I trembled. My nervousness caused my eyes to water as the beautiful black teenager's fingers finally released my face.

Alexis Barron then began to circle me, slowly walking around me and studying my outfit in great detail. Arrogantly, she took the 100's length unlit cigarette that she was holding and then held it up against my skirt, by the crotch region. 

Humiliatingly, she used the length of this cigarette to measure the length of insanely short skirt, which she had just chosen for me to wear. 

My mind could not comprehend the deviant and arrogant act and how the skirt I was now wearing was a mere cigarette length below my mound. It was more than demoralizing for me, yet I stood there quietly and submissively. 

"Perfect!" she said.

"I'll take 6 of them for her. Also 6 pairs of white yoga slacks, 6 pairs of pink yoga slacks, heels and those 3 inch high house slippers over there." she ordered, pointing to another shelf. 

"Yes, Miss Alexis." Sarah answered. 

But, the young black woman was not yet finished perusing the store. I stood there, in anguish, as she began walking about this shop and making decision after decision on the clothes that she was purchasing for me!

"We'll take three of those, four of those, two of those, nine of those too." she directed, pointing to a myriad of other casual pants suits, blouses, pajamas and other items. 

In all, the young black woman mad to pick out at least 20 different items. 

"Yes, Miss Alexis. Thank you." Sarah responded.

I was in such shock standing there that my mouth seemed to grow dry. The young black woman was so decisive on the many items that she was purchasing on my behalf. I could not utter a sound. I dared not to. 

"Where are my things now, Sarah?" she sternly asked the older white woman. 

"Yes, Miss Alexis. I'll get them right away, Miss Alexis." she replied, frantically as she ran off to the back room again.

Sarah emerged with at least 20 plastic shopping bags that were for Alexis Barron! I could not tell exactly what was inside these bags, but it appeared that at least 5 of them were boxed up shoes inside. The look on Alexis' face was one of devilish satisfaction. Her look intimidated me even more.

"We'll take those with us, Sarah. Have her things delivered to the address I gave you." she ordered.

"Yes, of course, Miss Alexis." Sarah answered. 

Defeatedly, I just stood there in the same embarrassing outfit and awed by the strange fact that this older white woman had just placed all 20 of these bags directly into my hands. It confused me because I was just about to get ready to remove this outfit and put my old clothes back on. 

But, Alexis Barron had other plans. 

end. chapter 09.



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 10



I remained standing and holding a plethora of shopping bags in the ridiculously small outfit young Alexis had chosen for me. I "teetered" in those 5 inched high heels and could feel my face turning as red as it had ever felt before. Meekly, I just stood there haplessly. I was overcome by humiliation and the manner in which this young, black teenaged woman continued to control me. I simply watched Alexis standing with Sarah at the front counter no more than 25 feet away. 

They were speaking to each other rather quietly and I remained worried and confused. Desparately, I tried to strain my ears to listen to what they could be discussing, yet I was unable to hear. 

My humiliation was intensified as I looked over and noticed the myriad of items sitting on one of the small, white sofas off to my right. These were the items that young Alexis had just decided on purchasing for me. I had never even tried them on at this point, nor was I able to look at them very closely. 

Nobody had actually chosen clothes for me to wear since my earliest teens. Despite my statuesque body and older age, I felt like a small child again. 

It seemed as if the older white woman store owner and the young black girl were discussing the final charges for these items. Sarah was tallying up Alexis' things and then the items chosen for me when she finally tore a receipt from a large note pad. She handed it to Alexis Barron who reviewed it and then smiled. At this time, the young black woman motioned me over to the counter with her index finger. 

Timidly and obediently, I minced my way towards the counter where they stood. Despite my long legs I could only manage small "baby steps" in those extremely high heeled pumps. The wide leather strap which buckled around my ankles made them much more uncomfortable and restricted my movement. 

My eyes remained downward to the floor from the absolute embarrassment I was feeling as I finally reached the front counter, then stopped. There, I stood in utter shame as the young black woman handed me the large white paper receipt.

"Use the corporate card. It's a business expense." Alexis ordered, looking dead into my eyes before turning away.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I answered, meekly, looking at her serious face in fear. I was nervous as I took the receipt from her firm grip. 

Hesitantly, I looked down to the itemized receipt in my hands. My worst fears were realized and my eyes nearly teared when I began reading it. The numerous items for myself were mostly basic items, like yoga pants and excercise suits. The dresses, skirts and blouses were the most expensive items on the list, yet reasonably priced. The heels that seemed so expensive were actually only one hundred dollars a pair. 

In all, the items under the section marked "Gretchen" totaled $2,184.00. The next section marked "Miss Alexis" came to a total of $7,709.00, and each item was listed in order by price.

My eyes did not widen like one might think they would as I looked down at the nearly $10,000.00 bill. I was humbled, nervous and felt truly defeated by seeing the total cost of these items that she had purchased for me compared to the ones she had purchased for herself. 

In all, the 18-year-old black woman had purchased 43 articles of clothing for me and just 26 for herself. Yet, the cost of her items were nearly four times higher.

My knees felt weaker with the realization that Alexis Barron had chosen the most expensive things for herself and the less expensive articles of clothing for me. 

The thought that Alexis had just spent almost $3,500.00 on herself at Oaktown mall the day before ran through my mind. I felt degraded by the young woman's obvious and blatant greed. Still, I timidly handed my corporate credit card to Sarah to complete the transaction. 

"Okay, then. Let's go!" Alexis commanded. 

For a moment I just stopped and paused. My face turned a deeper crimson as I looked down at the outfit I was wearing. Once again, I realized how ridiculous I must have looked. I was scared and embarrassed by my appearance in these younger women's clothes. Yes, the all-white fine linen outfit was quite classy and sexy in many ways. Yet, the skirt was far too short for a woman of my age, and the heels far too high. The low cleavage of the white blouse was a little more revealing than I was accustomed to, and the red kitten's collar that matched my wide red leather belt felt restrictive around my neck. 

The entire outfit looked more like it belonged on a woman in her 20's heading out to a night club instead of the 40-year-old business woman that I felt I was. 

"How can I possibly be seen in public like this?" I thought to myself.

The young black woman had already started towards the front door when she turned and suddenly realized my apprehension. I remained standing still, frozen in a near panic unable to move. I looked towards Alexis for just a moment then dropped my eyes to the floor, in total shame. 

At this time, I expected the 18-year-old black woman to yell something back to me and angrily repeat her command. But, she did not. 

The unexpected silence was deafening for me. I did know what to do next and grew frightened by the unknown. My fear of her potential anger caused me to tremble a little, and uncontrollably.

As my eyes remained to the floor I could barely see her coming towards me from my peripheral vision. She was slow and deliberent in her movement as she cockily and arrogantly strolled towards me. My trembling increased when she finally stopped and stood before me looking up. 

In these humiliating and restrictive 5 inch heels, my 6'1" tall frame had risen to 6'6" tall, and I quite literally "towered" high above the tiny 4'11" tall young black woman, who wore ballet flats. Yet, our tremendous size difference combined with the pure intimidation I was feeling only demoralized me even more. In turn, this fact seemed to please Alexis Barron. In some ways, it almost appeared to amuse her to have complete control of a white woman more than twice her age and more than twice her own size. She simply looked up towards me with what appeared to be a sinister type grin.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, her face growing more serious. 

Trembling, I avoided eye contact with the dominant 18-year-old black woman and meekly turned my head off to the side. I was unable to speak as I looked down at the floor to my right side feeling nervous and ashamed. The mere three second pause felt like minutes to me as I continued to literally "cower" in shame above her. 

Alexis Barron simply reached upwards and grabbed my face with her tiny, yet firm left hand. She squeezed my facial cheeks with just enough pressure to steer my head back to her and downwards into her serious eyes. Her bronze polished finger nails added to the discomfort on either side of my already reddened face as I continued trying to avoid her intimidating and beautiful eyes. 

"Look at me!" she snarled.

Sensing her seriousness and displeasure I slowly opened my eyes to see the young black woman's beautiful face looking almost straight up into my defeated eyes. My hands weakened and caused me to drop most of the shopping bags I was holding onto. Timidly, I quivered before her. 

"I asked you a question. Is there a problem?" she repeated, adding to the firmness of her grip to my flustered face.

"N-No, M-Ma'am." I whimpered, now more petrified by her absolute tone.

I didn't have the nerve or backbone to stand up to this young black woman. I was unable to explain to her that I was feeling ashamed and embarrassed to be dressed in such a manner, and that her choice of outfits for me to wear was inappropriate and demoralizing. Quite honestly, I do not think that Alexis Barron even cared.

The black teenager continued holding onto my face and looking up to me as I stood before her. Her stern eyes remained in contact with mine and I felt like looking away, again. I was terribly frightened.

"Well, you let me know if there is a problem then. Understood?" she ordered. 

I simply nodded a "yes" in total silence. 

The 18-year-old black woman grew impatient by my lack of a verbal response. She squeezed my cheeks with a firmer grip and abruptly shook my head. 

"I said is that understood?!" she asked, again. 

"Y-Yes." I finally answered in a stuttered whisper, looking down into her increasingly serious eyes.

"Yes, what?" she asked, again. Her firm grip tightened on my face even more. 

Defeatedly, I just answered the younger black woman in the manner she was demanding.

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am. I-I-I understand." I answered, timidly.

Alexis finally let go of my face and turned, walking towards the front door to Sarah's specialty shop. She stood there and pulled out her cell phone where she waited, now ignoring me.

Disgraced, I simply picked up all the fallen plastic shopping bags from the floor and began heading towards her. I could not wait to get out of there and go home, and I had to pass by the older white female shop owner and a few other white female shoppers who had witnessed this entire exchange. 

With my eyes to the floor and my face a deep crimson red from this humiliating defeat, I minced my way towards Alexis with my arms filled with the things she had purchased for herself. I struggled to hold the heavy door open as she exited first. 

Unconsciously, I glanced back to the other older white women in the shop. I was exiting with my back to the outside and looking in, still struggling with the bags and the heavy door. 

It was merely a split-second glance, but the look on their faces was embarrassingly memorable. It was the same look of shame and astonishment as numerous older white women had at Oaktown mall the day before. It was a look of embarrassment for me, and seemed like one that was so obviously a look of defeat for all white women.

When I finally exited and turned, I could see the young black woman strolling far ahead of me. She was hands free, walking away boldly and confidently as if she didn't have a care in the world. She had to be close to 30 yards ahead of me by now and I had to scurry along at a quicker pace in those uncomfortable heels in order to catch up. As I did, the 18-year-old woman merely glanced back towards me as if I were a second thought and continued on her way. 

Meekly, I followed behind. 

We had walked another 3 blocks when I finally realized that we were not walking back to my car like I had hoped. I didn't know exactly where we were going but this worried and embarrassed me to no end. There were so many people out in the middle of the day in this "yuppie" area, and on a Sunday as well. Many, if not all, stared at the sight of a statuesque older blonde woman tailing behind a small, beautiful black teenager in such a blatantly subservient manner, the manner in which she decided upon. 

Never did I imagine that she would put me on such public display, like this. It was all so demoralizing for me. So demoralizing that I could hardly stand straight or move my legs, which felt like they were stuck in a pond of mud. Only my fear of further angering Alexis Barron kept me doing what she was forcing me to do. In my mind, it was becoming another day that I was begging to come to an end. 

Like the day before, the excessive time out in public with the 18-year-old black woman was becoming more and more stressful. I was humiliated and on edge at all times as I timidly tagged along behind the dominant black girl. My eyes remained downwards and focused upon her backside in those white leggings and the blatantly obvious zebra-print panties underneath. She seemed to wear them so proudly and arrogantly. I did so in an attempt to know where she was walking to so I would not run into her as she continued her window shopping. But, there was a larger part of me that felt like I needed to keep my eyes down in order to avoid the many bewildered stares from passers by. 

The manner in which I was dressed had to attract a considerable amount of attention. I truly felt ridiculous and embarrassed in this outfit. It was, by far, the shortest skirt I had ever worn in my entire life. These were the highest heels that I had ever attempted to wear. I could feel the stares from others burning right through me as Alexis slowly walked ahead of me in such a decidely slow and arrogant manner.

The next 2 hours went by slowly. 

It was excruciating for me to be following young Alexis for this amount of time. We had only walked a total of three blocks from Sarah's shop, but the young black woman had to window shop past all 30 stores in that area at least twice. She never entered one of these stores and when she finally decided to head back to the car I almost felt relieved. My calves tightened from the excessive standing in those uncomfortable higher heeled shoes. 

The black teenager seemed to walk back to the car in her white leather ballet flats even slower, adding to this discomfort I felt.

When I finally let her inside the car and placed the 20 plus bags and our purses inside the trunk of my BMW, my arms pulsated in relief. 

Alexis did not say a single word during the long drive home. Rudely, she propped her ballet slippered feet up and onto the dashboard for the entire trip. For a reason I can not explain, her silence was making me even more nervous now. I kept thinking about what tomorrow would be like back at the office, and how my business had changed. I wondered how the others would take all this knowing that Alexis Barron would be running the operation. It was defeating to think about how such a young, black woman could be so successful in a matter of a few weeks when I had failed for over two years.

So much had happened since Friday. Things were happening so fast and these sudden changes were demoralzing for me. As my thoughts drifted further out and we turned down the last street heading for my house, Alexis broke the deafening silence and began to speak. 

"We still have a few things to cover tonight." she said. 

"Tomorrow is going to be a big day." Alexis added.

I could not even look into the young black woman's eyes as she spoke. My eyes concentrated on the short road as we reached the driveway entrance to my large suburban home. I merely glanced in her direction just enough to feel her overpowering presence. 

"Yes, Ma'am." I softly answered.

I pulled up to the front entrance of my home in the driveway and then stopped, turning off the engine. For just a moment, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to be away from the degradation I was feeling in public. But, I was also afraid of the unknown and being back at my house with the black woman I feared so much. At this moment, I didn't know which felt more humiliating to me. 

After holding the car door and then the front door open for young Alexis Barron, I retrieved the shopping bags from my car and walked inside. The 18-year-old black woman was, once again, positioned on the sofa of my livingroom with her feet propped up onto the coffee table. Her white leather ballet flats were still on her feet as she grabbed her lap top and powered it on. 

"Go put my things away." she ordered, then pausing. 

"And, my other things from yesterday as well. I'll pick out my outfit for tomorrow in awhile." she continued. 

"Oh, and take off that outfit of yours. You don't want it all wrinkled for tomorrow." Alexis added.

"Take a quick shower when you're finished and get back down here. We have more things to cover before tomorrow." she said in a firmer tone. 

"And, fetch me a bottle of Evian before you head upstairs, too." Alexis finished. 

I just stood there as the young black woman barked out order after order. My face grew more flustered as her tone became more direct.

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I answered, defeatedly. 

For a moment I just stood there in awe as I looked at this young, petite and beautiful black teenager sitting on my sofa with her feet resting upon the glass and chrome coffee table. I imagine my delay was merely seconds. 

My slow reaction prompted a stare that I will never forget. The young black woman simply looked up towards me, her flawless and beautiful mocha complected face appeared disturbed. Her prefectly-arched eyebrows bent in anger as she stared right into my eyes. My body almost went limp with that momentary stare as I stood there timidly. My hands trembled. 

I just looked away, avoiding her stare. I had to. She was swallowing every ounce of whatever self esteem remained. 

Nervously, I turned and walked away to do what I was told. I set the shopping bags down at the foot of the stairway leading upstairs, then headed for the kitchen to fetch the bottle of water Alexis demanded. I brought it to her and she took it from my weak grip without even a return glance or acknowledgement. 

Embarrassed, I stepped away and grabbed the bags before heading upstairs to the bedroom to put her things away.

It was a humbling task to put away all the new items Alexis had purchased for herself from this day, as well as the remaining items from the day before. The bags contained a myriad of things from shoes to skirts to blouses to lingerie and swimsuits. There was a small bag of 6 exquisitely designed african-styled gold bracelets and exactly 14 carved ebony bone bracelets. Yet, I was more curious about the similarities of the outfits than anything else. 

There were 6 more pairs of the most expensive black leather pumps. All were in the exact same style with an extremely low cut toe cleavage and precisely 4 inched heels. I set them on the large shoe rack in the closet alongside her other heels, sandals and flats. All the skirts were made from the finest black linen, short and sexy, yet classier and more business appropriate than the length of skirt I was wearing. The blouses were a mixture or crisp, white linen and expensive white silk. 

It took me nearly 20 minutes to put all her clothes away. My bedroom closet was now almost full of the young black woman's things. Mine had all been removed by her while I was out of the country, days before. The chest of drawers against the wall still contained all of her panties, stockings, bras, leggings and tee shirts. It was a humiliating feeling to realize that she had taken over what was once my bedroom. 

I looked at my watch and suddenly felt rushed. 

Quickly, I scurried into another bedroom down the hall to put my new outfit on a hanger. I hopped into the shower and rinsed my body and hair as fast as I could. It was then that I realized that I had nothing else to wear. The last remaining yoga outfit I had was left back at Sarah's shop and I couldn't put the other new outfit back on. 

"I just couldn't." I thought. 

As I finished combing through my dampened long blonde hair and glanced at my nude body in the steaming mirror before me, I felt ashamed. I was so humiliated by the manner in which this young black woman was treating me and ashamed by how intimidated she made me feel. I was thinking about what I was going to wear when my pause was suddenly interupted by her stern, youthful voice. 

"Wherrre arrrrrre youuuuu?" she yelled out, sarcastically, from a distance. 

Her sarcasm startled me and sent a chill down my spine. Nervously, I wrapped my body in the large white terry cloth robe I owned. I added a small white towel to my wet hair and literally rushed down the stairs and into the living room.

Alexis was still sitting there on the sofa with her feet propped up onto the glass coffee table. Her white spandex leggings, blouse and ballet flats had been disgarded onto the floor in a haphazardly manner. The 18-year-old black woman was now dressed in merely her black and white zebra-print nylon panties and white bra. Her size 5 bare feet were now smearing the glass table top aimlessly and childishly as she peered into her laptop computer.




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 10



I stood before her waiting for her to acknowledge me. She removed her eyes from the computer screen and looked up to me. 

"Make us some fresh salad and bring me a cup of coffee." she directed. 

"S-S-Salad?" I asked, repeating her command. 

My nervousness and timid response seemed to amuse her in some way. 

"Yes! A salad. You do know what a salad is, don't you?" she asked, in complete sarcasm. 

Her sarcasm made me blush and I felt so embarrassed by my less than educated response. Perhaps, I was just so nervous and scared that I wasn't thinking when I answered her. I simply nodded a "yes" and turned away to head towards the kitchen, once again.

As I began preparing a cup of Africa Kitamu coffee for the young and bossy black woman she yelled out.

"No onions, lots of black olives, tomatoes, shredded cheese and french dressing." she directed as her cell phone rang. 

I could not answer before I heard young Alexis beginning to speak to the caller. Then, she turned on the speaker function of her phone. She continued clicking away on her computer as she answered. The caller was Sarah, the mid 60's white woman shop owner we had seen just hours earlier. 

From the kitchen, I overheard the conversation as I prepared the salad for Alexis. 

"Miss Alexis? I am having the outfits you selected for Gretchen delivered to you tonight. They are on their way now." Sarah said. 

"Very good, Sarah." Alexis returned. 

"Thank you, again, Miss Alexis." Sarah replied. 

The older white woman was about to end the call when the young black woman stopped her.

"Sarah, wait!" Alexis Barron ordered. 

"Yes, Miss Alexis?" Sarah answered, inquisitively. 

There was a long pause. The beautiful, black teenager began scrolling through the shop's website on her laptop as she began speaking again.

"Sarah, I've changed my mind." she began. 

"Yes, Miss Alexis?" Sarah replied in a curious tone. 

"Sarah, I've decided to change the girl's outfits a bit." Alexis began. 

There was a longer period of silence as I served the young black woman the cup of coffee she ordered. She was still perusing the shop's web site and had a long, thin cigarette in between her two fingers. She motioned for me to light the cigarette for her. Humbly, I did so as the older white female shop owner waited on the phone in complete silence.

Nervously, I turned away and headed back to the kitchen to finish preparing Alexis Barron's salad. 

"Sarah, I'm going to go with the same white skirt I chose for Gretchen instead of the black skirts they're wearing now. I don't want them matching my outfit anymore." she said.

"Besides, white is the more subordinate color. It will fit in much better. So, it will be the white skirt, white blouse, white 5 inch pumps with the wider ankle strap, red choker and a wide red belt." Alexis explained. 

Sarah paused a moment. "Yes, M-Miss Alexis. I can g-get that done for you first thing tomorrow, if th-that's alright." she stuttered.

"Tonight!" Alexis demanded, authoritatively.

"You still have the girl's sizes, correct?" Alexis asked Sarah. 

"Y-Yes, Miss Alexis. I d-do have them but it's already past 4:30 and we close at 5 o'clock on Sundays, Miss Alexis." Sarah replied. 

There was an uncomfortable pause and I could feel a tension in the air as I continued to prepare the salad. My back was turned away from the livingroom as I bent over the counter to chop the black olives into small, thin slices. I started on the first tomato and felt uneasy with the silence. 

"Tonight!" Alexis repeated, firmly. 

"T-T-Tonight?" Sarah asked, nervously. 

Alexis Barron's tone grew more intimdating.

"Did I stutter?" she asked, her voice now irritated. 

"Oh, m-my. N-No, M-Miss Alexis. No, Y-You d-did not stutter, M-Miss Alexis, Ma'am. N-No, not at all, Miss Alexis. Of c-course not, M-Miss Alexis. I-I-I will have them done immediately, Ma'am. Right away, M-Miss Alexis." Sarah answered in a noticeably terrifed tone.

I felt so embarrassed hearing the much older white woman being verbally bullied by the black teenaged woman. She must have felt like I did and hearing Alexis Barron's firmer tone compelled me to work faster in preparing her salad. 

"Very good. Have them all at my office by 8 o'clock tomorrow morning and have my girls return their black skirts to you." She commanded. 

"Y-Yes, Miss Alexis. I-I will, M-Miss Alexis." Sarah replied. 

The 18-year-old black woman simply ended the call as I timidly carried two bowls of salad into the living room, hers and mine.

Alexis accepted the salad without a word and began eating, daintily. Seeing the sofa covered in files, binders, reports and the ashtray off to her right side I simply sat on the floor and began eating my own salad. I felt nervous and intimidated by her sudden firm tone with the older Sarah. I had thought they were more like friends until I overheard that conversation. 

As I quietly ate my own salad Alexis continued browsing on her lap top. It was difficult to eat as my stomach felt like it was in knots. My humiliation and the intimidation I was feeling was almost overwhelming. Still, I needed some form of nourishment and for some reason I almost felt grateful that she was allowing me to eat without interruption. 

The young black woman began talking about her plans for the office and the strategies for our new product line. She had made so many brilliant decisions and accomplished so much more than I ever could imagine. Her sharp business mind and dominant personality took full control of my business, and of me. 

It was truly humbling how young, smart, beautiful and in control she was. It was embarrassing how someone so young and seemingly so naive outclassed me in every way. My feelings of defeat continued to grow as I sat there looking at her in awe as I picked through my own salad. 

"Here, look." she snapped, happily turning the lap top screen towards me. 

"I made some changes to the office design these last couple of days. I just got the email saying they just finished." Alexis stated.

Defeatedly, I just looked at the screen in absolute and utter amazement. On it were pages and pages of photos of the newly designed offices of my own company. Unbelievably, the young black woman had ordered the simple aesthetic changes of our offices, and the contractors had been working on them since we left there on Saturday morning.

The photos I was now looking at were both startling and curious. It didn't even look like my own company anymore. The changes were not constructive changes. They were merely design changes, and changes to some of the desks and chairs. The changes absolutely floored me. 

The colors to the walls and the pictorial accents to them were all of an african design. The lighter toned mocha-brown walls had a darker mocha brown trim and base board, and they were filled by black-framed african art designs, paintings and images. 

Images of the yellow, green and black colors of the African flag, black femininity and african landscapes filled the framed artwork. Black statuettes of female images, which were carved in what seemed like an ebony stone, adorned the desks, counters and file cabinets. Plants and potted small palm trees decorated the open areas and entrances to the only 3 glass doored private offices we had. 

Everything in the company was now a distinctly african design. 

"See. Isn't that pretty?" Alexis asked, in an obvious condescending tone. 

"Looks better, more youthful than that old stuffy white bread office we had before, huh?" she asked. 

I didn't know what else to say, or how to react. Seeing the dramatic changes to my own company in such a short period of time was shocking. I was in total disbelief of what she was showing me. The gall this young black woman had in getting this done was immeasurable and incalculable. My face beamed a bright red as she peered over the top of her lap top screen and flipped through the screens of numerous photos.

"Here's some of the new furniture." she said, clicking onto the next page.

I gazed upon the photos of the new office staff chairs, which were completely backless and cushioned in a rich fern green cloth. It was consistent with the african style motif. The chairs were these modern styled desk seats designed to promote a better posture and less back strain with no backing at all. To me, it almost appeared more like the person seated at them would be actually kneeling before their desks. I looked into Alexis' eyes, curiously. 

"They're for better posture. People work better and are more alert using them." she explained, sensing my curiosity. 

I returned my eyes back to the screen as the young black woman clicked onto the next page. My face was red from embarrassment and the way I felt inside seemed much worse. Passively, I looked at the next photos. 

"And, these are the new executive office chairs and desks." Alexis said, pointing to a group of 5 photographs from different angles.

The first photo showed a large, luxurious cushioned black leather swivel chair with a very high backing behind an immaculately polished redwood desk. Off to the left side corner of the executive's desk as it faces outward was a much lower side desk chair. This side desk chair was covered in the same fern green fabric as the office assistant's chairs in the front office, only it had a full back and a small matching redwood desk surface mounted before it. 

I found this quite curious and even confusing. 

As I looked at the photo from another angle, I noticed that the corner of the executive's hardwood desk was partly cut away. In it's place was a simple one foot long and 8 inch wide cushioned black leather padding neatly mounted to the side and top of the main desk. It was slightly curved inward and partially "hollowed" out in an almost half moon shape. The softer padded opening faced up while the length of it pointed straight to the side desk chair, which was ridiculously close. 

I had never seen anything like this before. 

"Oh, that's an ankle rest. It's the newest thing. All three of the executive offices have them." Alexis explained. 

When the young black woman clicked to another angle of the same photograph it was obvious this new side desk chair was quite a bit lower to the ground than a normal chair would be. That so called ankle rest faced directly towards the smaller visitor's chair, nearly meeting on the same level. The seat of the side desk chair, itself, seemed to be at least 8 inches lower than most office chairs. It was actually anchored to the side of the larger executive style desk, and bolted into place.

Another angle clearly showed the side desk chair attached to the executive's large desk with a much smaller matching desk top set before it, yet it was just as low as the side desk chair. 

It truly looked like a modifed, upholstered version of one of those older grade school attached chair and desk top sets. It appeared almost insulting and degrading, and I stared at this photo with a bewildered look on my face. 

"I just love this modern look. It works so well for Management and their assistans to work closer together. It saves on space too." Alexis Barron said, confidently. 

It all looked unusual to me. But, my focus was on how dramatic the decor had changed. The 18-year-old black woman had made so many changes to match her personal interests. Her boldness and the manner in which she was controlling things intimidated me, and I was becoming more intimidated with each passing day. I felt completely weakened and could not respond in protest, despite me feelings of concern. 

Young Alexis pulled the lap top back to her lap as she sat back comfortably. Again, she propped her bare feet onto the glass table and crossed them at the ankles. She seemed to be admiring her choices on the new designs as she viewed the photos and then lit a cigarette for herself. 

"You like it, huh?" she asked, arrogantly.

Defeatedly, I answered. "Yes, Ma'am." 

My soft, faint whisper caught her attention and she now looked directly at me. My facial expression must have shown her how I really felt, which was humiliated, concerned and upset by all these changes. 

"Is there a problem?" she asked, sternly. 

Her beautiful, almond-shaped eyes stared into my eyes for a mere second before I lowered them to the floor. I began to tremble and grew nervous by her sudden displeasure and tone. My face felt flush and perspiration began to slightly trickle down from the towel on my head and to my cheeks. 

I had tried to contain my true feelings of her rudeness and arrogance in changing my offices. But, it was now obvious that I was unable to. 

To the 18-year-old black girl, it appeared that she viewed my facial expression as a sign of total disrespect and lack of appreciation for her efforts. 

"Is there?" she asked. 

"N-N-N-No, Ma'am." I answered, now quivering. 

There was a pause which felt like it lasted an eternity. The young black dominant was angry and perturbed by my lack of enthusiasm for the changes she had worked so hard to make. Her lit cigarette remained between her fingers and burned slowly as she disgarded her computer notebook to the sofa cushion off her left side. She bent over, placing her elbows onto her knees.

Alexis Barron stared right at me with a fierce look on her beautifully flawless face. 

"Come closer." she ordered. 

I nearly fainted. My fear was at it's peak as I shook uncontrollably and tried keeping my eyes from meeting hers again. Unintentionally, I blurted out the words I had been keeping inside of me.

"N-No, p-please?" I pleaded in a faint whisper.

The young black woman was unaccepting of my plea. Angered, she reached over and grabbed my face by the cheeks with her one hand, holding her lit cigarette in the other. With more force she pulled me closer to her and squeezed my cheeks firmly. I was now on my knees before her as she sat at the end of the sofa holding my face.

With her gorgeous face and perfectly-formed lips less than an inch before mine, she began to scold me.

"What the fuck is your problem?" she bashed. 

"Do you have any idea how much work I've put into this pathetic company of yours?" she screamed. 

"I am making something of this company. I'm not running it like some dumb, old weak ass white bitch. You got that?" she yelled. 

"Huh?" she asked, again.

Her grip on my face tightened. Her nails seemed to dig into my embarrassed and frightened face as she continued to berate me. 

Embarrassed, I nodded a simple "yes" as she continued grasping my blushing face more firmly. 

I could not vocalize any response as she continued to tighten her grip on my cheeks to the next level. She continued yelling and scolding me from merely an inch away. 

"Look at you. Just look at you!" Alexis yelled. 

It was precisely at this time that the door bell rang. Young Alexis was ignoring it and looking dead into my timid eyes as she held my face. A sharp knock followed the chime of the doorbell, and this seemed to disturb her.

"What? Who is it?" she yelled towards the door from a short distance. 

There was no response. 

"Come in already." Alexis yelled towards the closed door. 

I remained kneeling before the young black woman, sitting on the backs of my legs as she continued holding onto my face firmly. My back was to the front door and, initially, I could not see who had entered. I could just hear the verbal exchange between Alexis Barron and the woman who had just entered. 

"Who the hell are you?" Alexis asked, disturbed. 

"Well, I-I'm Linda from Miss S-Sarah's shop, Miss. I have a d-delivery of several packages for you, Miss. If that's okay with you." the woman answered nervously. It was obvious this woman was shocked by the sight of what she had just walked in on, which was the scene of Alexis Barron scolding me. 

"Very well. Bring them all in." Alexis ordered. 

"Yes, M-Miss. I'll bring them in right away." Linda answered, turning and walking out to retrieve the packages from her car. 

I would later discover that Linda was the shop owner's assistant. She was a 39-year-old white woman who had been divorced for only a year, and working part time for Sarah since then. Linda was an attractive auburn-haired irish woman with a 5'9" tall, 132 lb. frame and larger breasts. By her voice, she seemed startled by what she had just walked in on. 

My embarrassment increased as young Alexis turned her attention back to me. Linda's sudden appearance did not even break her concentration at all as she continued holding my face with her left hand. Her scolding of me simply continued. 

"Look at you. Pathetic." the 18-year-old black woman continued. 

"I bring your lame ass company more business and find so many problems and then fix them." she growled. 

"You ran this company into the ground like some sort of idiot and I make the necessary changes it needs. You should feel lucky that I came along at the right time." Alexis yelled.

"You fudged your numbers and hid things. Your mistakes could put you in jail if I showed them to the IRS, ya' know. You're lucky I haven't turned you in." she threatened.

"Isn't that right?" she asked loudly, her lips merely inches from my face. 

"Y-Yes, Alexis. Y-Yes, Ma'am." I answered her, meekly. 

As Linda made several trips in and out to deliver the packages, the young black woman continued holding onto my face effortlessly. Her scolding never stopped. Her threats to reveal all the finacial mistakes I had made worried me, greatly. 

"Listen. I do not need any attitude from you, ya' hear?" she snapped. 

"I've done more than all of y'all old dumb asses have done combined, and I expect to be shown some damn respect. Understood?" she ripped. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I softly answered, deeply embarrassed by how intimidated I was. 

At this time, I thought that this would be the end of her scolding of me. I had prayed that she would release my face from her grip and stop berating me, especially with the front door wide opened and the delivery woman coming in and out. 

Alexis Barron wasn't ready to stop. 

The young, black woman kept my face up looking towards her. She then took a drag of her long, thin cigarette and blew the smoke into my face from merely inches away. I coughed. 

"Yes, Ma'am what?" she asked me in the most condescending tone of voice.

Timidly, I knelt there sitting on the backs of my legs thinking about what the young black woman had just said. I suppose that I was trying to figure out how she wanted me to respond to her at that particular time. Suddenly, her attention was drawn to the delivery person. 

With my face still in her small hand, Alexis turned in the direction of the open door and to the tall irish woman. Apparently, Linda had been standing there for a few moments waiting patiently, and observing how the young black woman was treating me.

"What is it now? Is there something you need?" Alexis asked her rather firmly. 

The 39-year-old white woman was noticeably flustered. 

"Yes, M-Miss. Well, I have brought in all th-the packages and I-I just need a signature n-now, Miss." Linda stuttered. 

"I'll be with you in a minute." Alexis directed. 

Humiliatingly, young Alexis simply turned back to me and continued scolding me. She was waiting for my response as she now ignored the delivery person, making her stand there and wait.

"Yes, Ma'am what?" Alexis asked, repeating the question.

Her firmer tone seemed impatient now. I was petrified because I was not sure what to say, or how to respond. Somehow, it finally came to me and I answered the black girl in the best way I thought possible. In my mind, I answered in a way that would not anger her further. 

"Y-Y-Yes, Ma'am. I-I understand." I whispered, defeatedly.

Alexis' grip of my cheeks remained as she took another drag of her Virginia Slims cigarette and looked deeper into my already humbled eyes.




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 10



"Yes, Ma'am I understand what?" she asked me, continuing her onslaught, reaching down to her left to dash the cigarette out with her other hand. 

More embarrassed, I could almost feel my body growing weaker as the beautiful black teenager mocked me in such an unruly manner. I could feel the presence of the white woman delivery person still there standing at the door behind me, and witnessing this demoralizing exchange. I was a bundle of nerves and hoped my answer would end this humiliating scene. My eyes lowered and I gave in, once again. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am. I-I understand th-that you should b-be given r-r-respect." I stuttered in a faint whisper, which was just loud enough to be heard. 

The 18-year-old black woman squeezed my deeply embarrased face and shook it. 

"Do you?" she asked.

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

"Again!" she ordered, bringing my face closer to hers. 

"Y-Y-Yes, M-Ma'am. I-I do." I answered, scared. 

"Again!" she commanded in a louder voice.

"Yes, M-Ma'am. I-I do." I replied, once again. 

I heard young Alexis snap her fingers and wave the white delivery woman over with her right hand. The young black woman's left hand still held my face as if I were some sort of pet. My eyes began to water and my face felt like it was on fire as she controlled it so rudely. 

Linda handed the delivery receipt to the young black woman and she looked at it with little interest. The 39-year-old white woman then handed her a pen. 

Totally disgraced, I remained sitting on the backs of my legs in this half kneeling position. The black teenager placed the bottom part of this page directly onto my forehead and, with complete and total disregard for me, she signed it using my face. Like the sales contract from last Friday, Alexis arrogantly used my forehead and face to complete her signature. 

Demoralized beyond comprehension, I felt like fainting as the black woman handed the signed receipt back to the delivery woman. She then dismissed her. I could hear her running out of the house quickly as the door slammed behind her. 

It was at this time that Alexis finally released my face from the grip of her small, dainty hand. 

Seemingly satisfied, she leaned back into the sofa and grabbed her lap top computer. She placed it upon her lap as I sat there on the floor at her feet, totally embarrassed by what just happened. When she propped her size 5 bare feet up onto the glass table again, she tossed the tube of lotion to the floor before me. 

No words were said at this time. Not one word. 

Yet, it was clear what I was being told to do. Alexis Barron's non-verbal command to massage her feet with this lotion, like I had done the night before, embarrassed me. My face blushed as I realized just how humbled and humiliated I felt before, and beneath, the 18-year-old black woman. 

end. chapter ten.



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 11



Many thoughts ran through my mind as I remained sitting on my knees and the backs of my legs before young Alexis Barron. 

The hardwood floor beneath my shins was cold as I held the tube of lotion in my weak hands. I simply gazed upon it, lost in thought, and wondering what Alexis Barron had in store for me. It caused me to drift further into my humiliation. 

The manner in which this beautiful, young black teenager tossed the lotion to floor before me was so rude and insolent. My face was sore from her firm grip of my cheeks, yet it was the utter humiliation and defeat that I felt at this moment that seemed to dwarf my soreness. 

It seemed so long ago that I was this mature 40-year-old struggling business owner who had options. Despite my struggles and failures, I still had my own life and my own decisions to make. 

In reality it had been only a few weeks since Alexis Barron walked into my office, and into my life. Thoughts of her studying me from afar entered my mind, but I quickly dismissed them. How could she know that I would simply "cave in" to her youthful beauty and immense inner strength? It seemed impractical and unreasonable.

Now, I was kneeling at the feet of this beautiful black teenager feeling intimidated and embarrassed. I was humbled as she directed me without words to massage her size 5 bare feet. 

More thoughts of how she had casually strolled into my life and taken such complete control of me and my failing business humiliated me. I felt like a huge coward, demoralized, defeated and embarrassed by how intimidated she made me feel. It was demoralizing how much weaker I had become around her in such a short time. 

As I held the blue and yellow tube of lotion in my hands, I glanced upwards to Alexis. Passively, I looked at her as she glared into her computer screen. 

She was so beautiful. The 18-year-old black woman was not even 5 feet tall and merely 95 lbs., yet she possessed an astonishingly firm and proportionate 32c-21-33 figure that had been tightened to perfection from her many years in gymnastics. She was the most feminine young woman one can imagine, yet she was also remarkably athletic and strong for her small size. Her beautiful, youthful face and flawless ebony complexion made her look even younger. 

Her unique beauty could easily rival a slightly darker skinned Halle Berry. Yet, it was her intelligence, bold determination and dominant personality that weakened and humbled me the most. I struggled to speak in her presence and found it absolutely impossible to stand up to her. 

Alexis was sitting on the sofa above me as she tapped away at the keys on her lap top computer. I simply cowered on the floor beneath her. Still dressed in merely a bra and the flimsy zebra-print nylon bikini panties she had worn all day, she appeared comfortable and confident. Her well-manicured bare feet were propped up onto the edge of the glass coffee table to my right, and crossed at the ankles in an almost arrogant and authoritative manner. Her young, gorgeous face appeared more determined by her task. Her stern eyes stared at the computer screen with laser focus. 

Carelessly, I squeezed a large dollop of lotion onto my hands. I had been lost in thought when I looked down and suddenly realized this dollop of foot lotion was far too excessive. It had to be more than ten times the amount that was needed to massage the black girl's small feet, and more than I had intended to use. 

For a moment I was confused and flustered by my carelessness as I looked down at the enormous amount of lotion in my hands, and then to the young black girl's feet set off to my right. 

Without giving it much thought I simply placed both of my lotion covered hands to the black girl's left foot. This was her foot that was crossed over the top of the other, and at the ankles. I began to disgard the excessive globs of silky foot lotion onto her toes with both of my hands, thinking that I would eventually have to use it for a longer period of time. 

Quite honestly, I did not know what I was thinking at the time.

Suddenly, young Alexis stopped clicking away on her keyboard. She must have felt the difference of the inordinate amount of lotion on the toes of her left foot. The enormous amount of foot lotion placed on her bare toes must have become very obvious and very unusual to her. 

The silence when she stopped typing was deafening to me. Nervously, I withdrew both of my hands from near her feet and closer in towards my body like I was child caught with my hands in the cookie jar. My face turned bright red. 

The young black woman simply and casually peered around the right side of her computer screen towards me. She looked directly into my eyes with a strange and curious look, then to the massive amount of white lotion placed onto the tops of her dark toes, then back to me again. Timidly, I removed my eyes from hers and looked down to the floor embarrassed. I felt the strength of stare and swallowed the lump in my throat. 

My careless, yet minor mistake must have been so obvious for her to feel it on her toes like this. I almost felt scared to disappoint her in this manner and I sensed she was about to scold me for this careless action.

"I-I-I'm sorry." I whispered, nervously. 

My eyes remained to the floor, and away from the young woman's piercing eyes. Feeling truly hapless at this stage, I quivered as I realized that my palms were covered with just as much of the silky foot cream as her toes were. 

I found myself sitting there on the backs of my legs before her with my hands full, my palms completely saturated and now facing upwards as if I were in some sort of prayer or meditation position. My face burned a deper red from the embarrassment of my error as I continued to kneel before Alexis in silence. My quivering began to increase and I was terrified to look back up to her.

The eternal silence to me was, in reality, merely seconds. Yet, it caused me to slowly bring my eyes upwards to her meet her beautiful face. Her youthful look was stern and all-knowing, and I watched nervously as she shifted the lap top from her lap off to the left side of the sofa. The young black woman reached for her cigarettes, casually grabbing one of them and lighting it for herself. She leaned far back into the sofa and looked at me cowering on my knees before her. Alexis took a long drag of the 100's length Virginia Slims cigarette and blew a longer stream of smoke up into the air as she stared back at me. 

The 18-year-old black woman seemed to be studying me closer, contemplating her next move. This smooth and callous delay intimdated me to the point I began to feel faint. My fear of the unexpected overwhelmed me. I could feel the coolness of the excessive lotion on my hands as they remained before me with my palms up in this defeated position. 

In total silence, and with the utmost arrogance, the beautiful young black woman gently swung her left foot over to my face. Unbelievably, she began wiping off the large dollops of silky lotion from her black toes and onto my pale cheeks. She literally swiped the lotion from the bottoms of her toes onto my right cheek as if I was a door mat. Then, she swiped the excess lotion from the tops of her small toes onto my left cheek. 

Defeatedly, I sat there looking into her stern eyes as she cockily began smearing the creamy lotion all over my face with the toes of her left foot. 

"You really should keep your face moisturized, ya' know." she suddenly stated. 

"White women as old as you need to take care of their faces." she mocked, continuing to smear her bare lotioned toes across my face.

The carefree and uncanningly arrogant manner in which this black teenager slathered my face with the silky foot cream from her toes was humiliating. The toes of her left foot traced my entire face. 

It appeared to be some sort of childish game to her as she made sure that lotion was smeared deeply into my skin, onto my cheeks, chin, forehead and nose. She applied the foot lotion around my eyes and the sides of my face, and these actions were repeated again and again. 

Degraded, I simply knelt there in utter shame unable to move. I was frozen in humiliation. My eyes were half shut and my vision almost blurred by the absolute arrogance of this beautiful black girl. It felt as if I were in shock as I remained still and timidly accepted her unimagineable disrespect for me. 

"The older y'all white women get the more you need facial creams, don't you?" Alexis asked in the most condescending tone. 

"Must be hard trying to keep your skin tight when you get real old, huh?" the 18-year-old asked, rudely.

Her left foot never seemed to stop smearing the lotion on my face. Gently, yet arrogantly she continued this demoralizing action while berating my "older" pale skin. Mockingly, this continued for nearly 15 minutes as her toes applied the cream to my defeated face. 

Cowardly, I knelt there in humiliation and amazement as Alexis Barron continued. She finally stopped, then propped her left foot up onto my right shoulder. she rested it for a mere moment before I could feel her toes begin to press onto the back of my neck. It was as if she had locked her slippery toes in place to secure my neck and control my head. 

Even more degrading was the fact that this incredibly beautiful black teenager was not yet finished humiliating me. 

Smoothly, Alexis swung her right foot around to the front of me and then right before my face. With childlike amusement, she simply tapped my nose with her big toe. I was speechless as her uncanny arrogance continued while I remained kneeling in total passive silence. 

It was at this time that her cell phone rang. 

The 18-year-old dominant black girl continued looking at me as she answered, beginning a conversation with her friend, Finesse. I was afraid to move, yet I made an ever so slight motion to adjust my legs underneath. She did not release me as I had thought she would. Rather, she further disgraced me by continuing to use my flustered face with her other bare foot. 

The young black woman was "cocky" and arrogant and unrelenting. 

Alexis curled and pointed the toes of her delicate right foot like a ballerina. She stretched out her leg, flexing and curving her foot back and forth with brash arrogance. It shocked me when young Alexis eventually bent her knee closer in towards her and then pointed her toes down to meet the palms of my hands. 

In the most disdainful and exagerrated way one can imagine, the young black woman literally "dipped" her pointed toes into one of the large dollops of lotion in my hand. Audaciously, she brought them up to my face in a slow, calculated manner and began spattering moe lotion to my already moist face. 

This time, the manner in which she did plastered my face with the silky cream became many times more arrogant and devastating. 

Her smug facial expression embarrassed me as she seemed to care less for my predicament, and more for her amusement. Her captivating eyes stared right through me as she spoke to her teenaged friend on the phone and lit another cigarette. 

On my knees, I sat there in awe as the young woman continued "dipping" her toes into the large lumps of lotion on my palms, then bringing them up to my face to disgard it. She repeated this action numerous times as I knelt there in complete degradation was attempting to paint my frightened face with the silky lotion, and using her bare toes like some sort of mock paint brush to do so. 

As this continued, I felt more defeated. My head felt controlled and anchored in place by her other foot, which remained curved around the back of my neck. Her heel rested upon my shoulder. The young black girl's right foot began to actively smear the myriad of dollops of lotion she had so systematically postioned on my face the past several minutes. 

The arrogant smearing of the creamy lotion on my face with her foot was now much firmer, and far more erratic. It began to feel like she was actually massaging her own foot by using my face as some sort of massage tool. The tiny black woman kneaded and pressed her toes and the balls of her foot onto all parts of my face, almost playfully and without consideration or concern. She remained talking on the phone, almost ignoring the degradation I was now feeling. 

Her small foot was literally "planted" onto my nose during longer periods of time, firmly wriggling and wiggling and smearing it with complete disdain. Her youthful, bratty attitude showed more than her stern dominance, yet the combination was insulting and degrading for me. 

In utter disgrace, I knelt sitting on the backs of my legs before the petite young black woman for more than two hours. At one point, young Alexis Barron had propped the cell phone between her shoulder and ear to secure it while she reached for the tube of lotion. Without a single word to me, she positioned the palms of my hands together to form some sort of cup before squeezing out even more lotion. 

I simply could not believe how degraded this made me feel. 

It was a ludicrous amount of the silky foot cream, and for those 2 plus hours she continued massaging her bare feet on my nearly beaten face, utilizing every ounce of this additional lotion.

My lips felt swollen and my face was saturated from the moistness. Her tiny size 5 bare feet poked and prodded, swiped and smeared, and kneaded my face like some sort of toy. The 18-year-old black woman relentlessly kept her bare feet to my nose and face during this entire call, switching from her right foot to her left, and back to the right on occasion. Her brash, cocky attitude intimidated me. 

My humiliation could not have been worse at this particular moment as I watched young Alexis finally end her call. Still, I could not move. I looked at the young black woman with half shut eyes, defeated and anchored there by complete embarrassment. She simply looked towards me and the way she had just used my face. 

"Ya' feel that? Isn't that the softest lotion ever?" she asked, in the most bratty tone of voice. 

"Isn't it?" she repeated, expecting an answer.

There was a long pause.

"Huh?" she asked, again, sarcastically. 

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I finally answered, timidly and beaten.

I could not tell you what time of the night it was when Alexis finished the devastating massage of my face with her bare feet. But, I can't remember a time when I felt more tired.

Exhausted, I remained sitting on the floor before her. The backs of my legs were sore from sitting on them for so long and I felt as if I was about to tip over. The young black woman's left foot remained resting upon my left shoulder with the tops of her toes securing the back of my neck. My vision was slightly blurred by my degradation and fatigue. 

Alexis Barron simply leaned as far back into the sofa as she could. Her backside was right at the edge of the cushioned sofa seat and her small torso layed flat upon it. Her head was positioned at the very bottom of the back rest. 

She gazed towards me as if she were studying my defeat. I remained in this partial kneeling position on the floor feeling like I was some sort of punch drunk boxer about to fall over. The young black woman paused for a moment before dashing out the cigarette she was holding, her petite body clad in a white bra and that pair of tiny zebra-print nylon bikini panties.

Without further hesitation, the 18-year-old black dominant partially spread her legs open and began to touch her panty-covered pussy. Casually, she touched her crotch with two fingers as her left foot tightened around the back of my neck.

Non chalantly, she began pulling my listless head closer in towards her. I was unable to find the strength to prevent this as the young woman controlled my head with relative ease. She continued bringing my head in closer and closer until I felt her hand on the top of my blonde haired head. 

Humiliated, I barely realized what Alexis was doing yet I was too weak and beaten to resist her. When she pulled me to within a foot of her young body she began to wrap her mocha brown fingers into the thick strands of my blonde hair. First, the fingers of her left hand and then the right. 

My half shut eyes opened wider for a mere second when she gripped my hair firmly and pushed my head down slowly. The view of her nylon covered mound in those ultra thin flimsy and silky zebra-print bikini panties came into focus for only that moment. My eyes then reverted to the blurriness which was caused by my shame and deep humiliation. 

The 18-year-old black girl systematically began to pull my face into her panty-clad pussy while pressing it firmly against her. She handled my head like she was handling a rag doll as she "mocked" a kissing motion. Her dampened, wet pussy soaked the thin wispy nylon fabric of her panties as she pulled my flustered face back and then brought it forward to meet her young pussy mound. 

Back and forth, over and over, again and again, the black girl "pumped" my reddened face into her silken wet pussy. With my arms down at my sides, defeatedly, she continued to repeat this action. 

The black teenager must have pressed my face into her panty-covered pussy more than three dozen times before she finally stopped, my nose literally an inch before it. I was breathing heavily and exhausted. The humiliation I felt was immeasureable. The pungeant, yet sweet musky aroma of her young teenaged pussy demoralized and intoxicated me. 

As my heavy breathing was just beginning to subside, the young black woman pulled my face into the zebra-printed nylon crotch of her panties with greater force. Now, she held my head there firmly. My nose and mouth were flush against her pussy mound. Her slender, small brown fingers entangled in my long blonde hair seized my head like a vice grip, and my pale scalp began to sting from her fierce grip. 

Alexis began to slowly grind my face against her silk-covered pussy as she leaned back and arched her small back, smoothly. My ambushed face turned a crimson red as I began pleading with her to let me go. 

"P-p-please?" I murmured, the sound of my voice muffled by her pantied crotch. 

But, the young and beautiful black girl was relentless and determined to selfishly pleasure herself. 

"Quiet." she simply commanded.

Alexis Barron's grip on my head tightened ever so slightly. She increased the motion of her pelvis and continued to lambaste my face with her pantied pussy, with even greater force. Up and down, she controlled my head by it's hair in the most arrogant manner possible. The young black woman forcefully yanked my face into her small, trimmed pussy mound with an intense fury that I would never be able to imagine. 

As the intensity increased, I found it more and more difficult to breathe. I was terrified to speak or protest in any way, yet in my mind I was begging and pleading for her to stop. 

"P-please, Mmpfph, P-P-Please, Mmpfph." I begged. 

Brutally, the 18-year-old black woman grinded her silk-clad pussy onto my face. I could feel her wetness increasing as she hastened the grinding motions. The soaking wet, thin nylon fabric of her little panties that covered her young mound was the only thing preventing my mouth and nose from entering inside her. 

Suddenly, Alexis began a wild "mashing" motion of her pussy against my face. Simutaneously, she held my head in place with a tighter grip of my hair. The young woman ripped, pulled and yanked on my hair like she was riding a bucking bronco. She continued increasing the intensity at will as she literally pummeled, pounded and pulverized my defeated face into near oblivion. 

On and on, this continued. The young black woman roughly used my face relentlessly until she finally reached her first orgasm 20 minutes later. When she did, it felt like a bottle of champagne had been uncorked. The young woman flooded my entire face with what seemed like a gallon of her sweet and musky juices.




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 11



Still, she did not relent. 

Alexis held my face against her now soaked panty-covered pussy for a few minutes before she started grinding again. I was astonished by the fact that this young black woman had just pleasured herself, yet was not yet finished using me. 

In utter disgrace, I remained kneeling before her, my arms to my sides, submissively. My body was limp, weakened and defeated already. Yet, with unimagineable arrogance she began the slower, softer grinding of her wet pantied crotch against my face again. 

Once again, the 18-year-old black girl increased the intensity and force of the grinding in a slow, methodical way. She proceeded to get rougher and rougher with every passing minute, and my nose started to feel obliterated. Despite her petite size, the 4'11" tall black girl overpowered me, completely and thoroughy. 

Abruptly, she used my face until she reached a second orgasm. 

My eyes began to tear from the absolutely boorish and brutal grinding of my face against her mound. Her tiny, zebra-print panties were sopping wet and she callously continued holding my embarrassed face and nose in place against her.

The strong scent of her femininity was almost overwhelming. The taste was sweet, yet indescribably humiliating. 

Embarrassed and weakened, I knelt before her sitting on the backs of my legs with my nose forced up against the wet nylon material covering her young well-toned mound. In complete disbelief, I began to feel young Alexis beginning to slowly grind my face against her mound, once again. 

"Oh my G-G-G ... no." I thought. "P-Please. Not again?" I begged, in silence, as I groveled before her.

Astonishingly, the young dominant black girl brought herself to a third, fourth and then a fifth orgasm in the next hour. Her orgasms were just as intense, yet she "came" a little less each time. 

She brutalized my face even more, emphasizing the use of my nose and mouth during this time, and pausing merely five minutes between each orgasm. Alexis kept my face pressed against the soaking wet panties of her crotch relentlessly. Not once, did she allow my nose to be more than a centimeter from her young pussy during this entire devastation. 

Humiliated. Defeated. Disgraced. Demoralized. Humbled. These are all words that would describe how I felt after she abused me in such an exaggerated manner. 

The intimidation I felt had grown. My body never felt weaker, nor did it feel more beaten up. My nose was sore and my lips were swollen. My scalp felt as if she had ripped a considerable amount of my blonde hair from my head. It throbbed and pulsated in pain. 

Exhausted beyond comprehension, I could barely keep my limp body upright as I continued kneeling before her. The young black woman had finally released my head and face from her control, and I now sat there with my eyes almost completely shut. My torso wavered back and forth, gently, as I struggled to control my balance. I felt much worse than the aforementioned punch drunk boxer now. Much worse. And, as I knelt there staring in disbelief, I peered towards Alexis Barron with blurred vision in total defeat. 

The 18-year-old simply sat back into the soft, cushioned sofa and began smoking another cigarette. She peered back to me, seemingly content. Her beautiful face revealed a slight, sinister like grin as she studied her conquest with such curiosity and amusement. 

For the next 5 minutes, I "wobbled" there before her on my knees, unable to move. The large terry cloth towel around my body had fallen to the hardwood wood. 

Alexis seemed more satisfied by my defeat than she was by her pleasure. 

It was at this time that young Alexis slipped out of those little zebra-print nyloned panties. She was still wearing her white bra and now holding the absolutely drenched panties from the index finger of her right hand. 

In the most "bratty" manner conceiveable, the young black girl placed the cigarette to her mouth. Without use of her hands, she held the thin cigarette between her lips and leaned over with both of her hands to my face. 

There wasn't an ounce of fight in me as I felt her left fingers begin to touch my swollen lips and chapped chin. She sqeezed my face cheeks momentarily before putting her fingers to my chin, once again. 

Degraded, I simply sat there kneeling in place as I felt young Alexis open my mouth by my chin. Uncanningly, the black girl placed the crotch of her sopping wet nylon panties directly into my mouth. She pushed them in a little further with her fingers and callously "tapped" my mouth closed. Her arrogance was humiliating.

I could feel the dampness on my tongue as I became more aware of the ultra demoralizingly sweet taste of her orgasm. 

The black teenager quickly shot back to sit on the sofa and stared at me. She laughed to herself, almost out loud. Her adolescent actions seemed to match her youthful face, and her uncompromising beauty appeared more amused than I had ever seen before, or since. 

Kneeling before the young woman in utter defeat with half of those drenched panties inside my mouth and the other half sticking out, I couldn't have felt more humiliated. I was barely conscious from the exhaustion and shame that I felt, yet I was aware of just how dominating this black girl could be. She humbled me beyond explanation. 

"Did this really happen?" I asked myself, disgraced. 

"Was this actually happening?" I wondered, in complete and total awe. 

I must have looked pathetic kneeling before this petite, young black woman. I have no words to describe the absolute degradation I felt. 

Minutes later, young Alexis got up and touched the top of my head as she walked by. Her touch was like that of a pet as I continued sitting on the backs of my legs, unable to move. 

"We should get to bed early." she said, casually, as if nothing happened.

"We have a big day tomorrow." she added. 

The young teenaged black woman simply began strutting up the stairs to the bedroom as I glanced to my left, barely coherent. Her prefectly-shaped mocha browm asscheeks flaunting herself with every step.

"Don't be long, ya' hear?" she instructed as she disappeared from sight.

At this time, I collapsed. I literally brought myself down to the floor to my left side to rest for a moment. 

I was annihilated. 

Spent, humiliated and disgraced beyond words I could not move. In my mind, I just needed a moment to lay down and recover from the brutalized grinding and use of my face. I could not believe or conceive what had just happened to me as I layed on my side, the hard wood floor of my liviingroom comforting me. I struggled to gather my senses. 

That is when I simply passed out cold. With the soaked crotch of the young black woman's dripping nylon panties inside my mouth and the other half carelessly protruding out, I fell asleep. 

I slept in this position the entire night. 

end. chapter 11.



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. 




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 12



"Ack!" she snapped. "Take this shit outta here. And, it's too damn hot!" she scolded. 

I just stood there looking at the beautiful girl in defeat. My face beamed red as she held the cup by the handle and extended her arm towards me. 

"Here. Take it already!" she ordered. 

"Make a fresh cup." Alexis demanded.

My eyes fell to the floor. Meekly, I grabbed the small cup from her dainty hand. Her disapproving tone and stern directive caused my stomach to knot, uncomfortably. 

It was embarrassing for me to realize that she was demanding a fresher cup of coffee when she had this one right before her. That is when I looked into the cup and noticed the cream had not fully settled when I heated it up in the microwave.

"I-I'm s-sorry. I d-didn't mean t-t-to." I apologized, stuttering nervously.

The black teenager simply "shoo'ed" me away, waving me off with the backs of her fingers in the most arrogant manner. 

Rather then speak up again, I simply began my journey back down to the kitchen to prepare a fresh cup. Alexis wanted a fresh cup of the African Coffee from the single cup brewer, and my feelings of ineptitude increased to the point I could not form a proper response. 

As the coffee machine brewed a fresh cup I stood there in the kitchen in complete shame. 

My mind wandered and the fear of this dominant teen woman being dissatisfied enveloped me. By now, I had already learned how she could be when she was angered or disturbed in any way. At this time, all I could think about was young Alexis' anger, and that is when the sound of the coffee brewer finishing snapped me back to attention. 

Unthinkingly and flustered, I grabbed the cup and placed it onto the saucer before scurrying back up the stairs. My hands trembled as I handed it to Alexis, once again. I stood there resigned, and in anguish. She peered into the cup and looked at the darker coffee inside. Another disapproving look traced her incredibly youthful face and perfectly painted lips. 

"There's no cream in it." she reprimanded. 

My heart skipped a beat as I looked into the young black woman's eyes. Stupidly, I had forgotten the single teaspoon of cream she had always demanded. I felt myself apologizing. 

"I-I'm so sorry." I whispered, afraid of her next words. 

I reached over to take the cup and saucer from her youthful hands when she stopped me. 

"No, dumb-dumb. Just bring the cream to me." she commanded. 

The sharp-minded 18-year-old black woman made me feel so insignificant and feeble minded. My face had to appear so flustered from the embarrassment that I was feeling at this time, as I turned to make my way down the stairs again. 

Frantically, I ran downstairs and grabbed the small pint carton of cream from the refrigerator. I rushed back up the stairs to the bedroom and held the cream in my hands. I stood before her quietly, patiently and submissively as she sat back reviewing that sheet of paper. One interminable minute later, she looked up to me. 

"Do you have a spoon?" she asked, sarcastically. 

My shoulders slumped even lower than they were as I realized my absent-minded mistake. I looked down at the pint of cream in my hands and then back to Alexis Barron. I could not make eye contact with her. She sat there commandingly, yet quietly as I could feel her eyes upon me questioning my thoughtlessness. My lips were unable to move and I could not speak. 

Once again, I turned in defeat and headed back downstairs to the kitchen. This time to retrieve a teaspoon. I felt so ridiculous and my pace became much slower as I labored back up the stairs for what seemed like the tenth time. 

Finally, I arrived back at the bedroom where Alexis Barron was sitting. She was still looking at the sheet of paper in her hand and simply extended her other hand with the cup and saucer towards me. My hands shook nervously as I poured the cream onto the teaspoon, then into her cup of dark coffee. I used the spoon to stir the hot liquid, listening to the clinking sound of the spoon tapping against the walls of the cup.

My mind was completely obliterated. Lost in the thought of my humiliation, I simply stared into the small cup as I continued to stir it slowly. Mesmorised, my mind seemed to drift as I watched the cream mixing with the darker coffee. I had lost all track of time. 

I must have been stirring the coffee and cream together for minutes when I finally caught myself. The energy in the room has suddenly changed, and when I removed my eyes from the cup it was Alexis that was staring at me again.

Timidly, I glanced into her eyes and my hand stopped stirring. A faint "clinking" sound of the spoon still inside the cup from my trembling hands was amplified in the quiet room. Her stern, beautiful face showed just a hint of amusement as my eyes suddenly collapsed to the ground. 

"Set it down over there." the young woman directed, handing it back to me. She motioned to the small table next to the bed. 

Obediently, I did as I was told. 

My mind was a blur when I completed this task. I looked back towards the young black woman with a beet red face. There was an uncomfortable silence that lasted for nearly a minute when she eventually spoke again. 

"I need a cigarette. Go and get me one." Alexis ordered, again waving me off with the back of her streamlined mocha brown fingers. 

The arrogant gesture turned my whole body to gelatin. Embarrassed beyond words, I could hardly fathom the strength from my weakened body to answer her. Somehow, despite the intimidation that overwhelmed me, I managed. 

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I replied, in the faintest whisper. 

Again, I found myself walking down the stairs and obediently following one the black girl's orders. This time I moved much slower as I headed towards the livingroom where she had placed her pack of black clove cigarettes. My mind was completely scattered and my anxiety increased as I desperately tried to decide if Alexis wanted the full pack of cigarettes, or just one of them. 

"Hurry on up." she yelled from the upstairs bedroom. 

Her youthful and commanding voice caused my heart to stir faster as I frantically grasped one of the dark cigarettes. I left the rest of the pack on the glass table. Terrified, I rushed towards the stairwell. My feet in those 5 inched heels were beginning the throb already. By the time I made my way back to her my breathing had become much heavier. 

Obediently, I handed the single clove cigarette to Alexis and stood before her. She accepted it and now held it between her two fingers. The young black woman simply peered back up to me with a disgusted look upon her beautiful face.

"What am I going to light it with, your big fat red nose?" she questioned acrimoniously.

My knees literally "buckled" when I heard her speak. Her words and sarcastic tone drawing attention to, and acknowledging my physical appearance of the reddened nose she caused. It was the young, black girl's fierce grinding of her pantied pussy all over my face last night that caused my nose to be so swollen. Now, she was mocking it.

"Huh?" she asked, with added sarcasm. 

"Na-Na-No, Ma'am." I answered, timidly.

Defeatedly, I turned and headed back down to the livingroom to fetch the lighter. My body felt limp and weakened as I clumsily struggled to maneuver in the 5 inch stilletto heels. The leather strap around my ankles caused even more discomfort. 

I found the lighter resting on one of the sofa cushions and desparately grabbed it. Awkwardly, I tripped as I turned on my heels too fast. I fell to my knees as the small lighter popped out of my weak grip and fell to the hardwood floor. 

In my mind only did I feel like I was taking too long to retrieve the lighter. Flustered by the length of time I was taking, I reached for it in desparation and grabbed it. Then, I scurried back up the stairs to Alexis Barron. My face was flush by the time I reached the bedroom. I found myself standing before her, once again.

Meekly, I extended my arm to hand her the lighter. The young black woman had just placed the black cigarette between her fully painted wet red lips as she looked up to me. 

"Well, light it already." she ordered, simply, staring into my defeated blue eyes.

With the dark papered cigarette held between her lips only now, and without use of her hands, young Alexis sat there waiting for me to light the cigarette. I bent down to one knee and held the lighter out towards her with both of my hands, which were trembling nervously. 

I rarely used a lighter in my life before this time. I was unsure of the proper way to ignite it. Despite my tall and seemingly athletic frame, I was not very strong at all. My hands were weak, and my long fingers even weaker as I struggled to get the lighter to ignite. 

Once, twice, thrice and the lighter merely sparked but did not work. My hands shook, terribly, as I made a fourth and fifth attempt. I tried to grip the small lighter in a different way and made a six, seventh and eighth attempt. Still, it was not igniting. 

My face turned a deeper shade of crimson. I could feel myself beginning to perspire as my weakened hands held the lighter out before Alexis. My eyes tried focusing on this simple task and I kept trying again, and again. A ninth, tenth and eleventh attempt were also unsuccessful. 

The 18-year-old black girl's expression suddenly changed. And, it changed dramatically. She removed the cigarette from her lips and now held it between her index and middle fingers, still at the same level as her mouth. She looked at me in near disbelief and disgust as I continued my futile attempts to get the lighter started. 

The young woman had this look of discontent on her gorgeous young face, almost as if to say "are you kidding?" Her face seemed to express a thought of how pathetic I must be.

Alexis simply stared at me during this entire event. 

Worriedly, I kept trying and it must have taken at least another dozen attempts before the lighter finally lit. My thumb was very sore by now and my embarrased face was mildly relieved when the small flame burned between us. 

I desperately struggled handling this simplistic task. I felt panicked to keep my hands steady and my thumb on the button to keep the fire going. As I extended my long arms outward to young Alexis to light her cigarette, my hands began to shake even more. They continued to shake as I unsuccessfully labored to steady the flame. 

The slightly frantic motion of the flame caused the young black woman to place her left hand onto my wrists, where she locked them in place. She bent forward to accept the small flame to her clove cigarette. Mercifully, it was lit. 

With arrogance, Alexis blew that first puff of her clove cigarette smoke right back into my face. I coughed twice as she released my weakened wrists, and the now hot lighter dropped from my hands to the floor. 

Alexis Barron simply sat back into the chair and glared in my direction. Once again, my eyes lowered in shame. My failure to complete such a minor task was humiliating. I almost felt as if I had let her down as she sat back imperiously smoking her unusual cigarette. Her presence was so overpowering to me at that particular moment. 

My face continued blushing as I remained on one knee before her, embarrassed. The mere 30 seconds of silence was deafening. 

"You did remember to bring the ashtray, didn't you?" she finally asked, using a rather condescending tine. 

My heart seemed to stop for a moment as my eyes slowly and reluctantly moved up to meet hers. My mind raced as I realized that I had forgotten the small ceramic ashtray on the coffee table downstairs. I felt as if I would collapse from the humiliation I was feeling. 

To me, it felt like the young black woman had me laboring up and down the stairwell all morning. I felt foolish and embarrassed by the number of times she had me running up and down the stairs to fetch her things. In the most defeated manner, I sunk my head and shoulders lower as I made my way down to the livingroom in silence. 

Obediently, I returned to the bedroom and handed the ashtray to Alexis. I was both mentally and physically exhausted, and I simply fell to the floor on both knees before her. I was nearly in tears and praying that I wouldn't have to run back downstairs again. 

It was at this time that young Alexis began reviewing the announcement she had written for me to read to my staff. The beautiful black teenaged woman read the words she had chosen for me from the single sheet of paper in her dainty hand. I literally cowered before her. The words she chose felt immensely degrading to me. 

"I want to apologize for all my failures, my ineptitude and incompetence during these past two years." it began. 

"I have made so many poor decisions and my poor performance as a Manager has been substandard." the announcement continued, on and on, and on again mentioning my failures and lack of ability.

"Since Miss Alexis Barron has arrived at our company a short time ago, she has shown such amazing ability." the speech read. 

"We are so fortunate to have Miss Barron with us to show us the way, and to lead us all into a new era. One that will be successful and allow us to keep this company and our caeers alive." the announcement continued.

"It is Miss Barron who has been able to succeed where we have failed so miserably in the past, and for this we should all be grateful to her." it continued.

"She has shown such brilliance in product development and her keen insight into the market place has been inspirational."

"Because of this, and due to my incompetence, Miss Alexis Barron has been appointed to the position of President of this company. She will be in charge of operations and making all operational decisions from this point forward." it read. 

"I will be assisting and supporting Miss Barron in this process in any way she deems necessary, and I have graciously accepted this new role as her assistant and subordinate so that we may become a better, more fruitful company for now and in the future." the speech concluded.

As I knelt there listening to the words she had chosen for me to read, I was about to collapse in shame. The realization that I would have to deliver such a demoralizing and defeating speech to my staff in less than 2 hours seemed overwhelming. In my mind, I battled with the thoughts of how I would be able to actually do this. 

"How would my staff of 7 older white women in their 40's and 50's accept the fact that this 18-year-old black woman was now in charge?" I asked myself. 

That is when I began thinking about what I had witnessed in the office upon my return from Oslo. I remembered thinking how Ginny, Beth, Meghan, Tiffany, Candace, Grace and Kate had all responded to her authority already.

At the time, it had been incomprehensible to me seeing how passive these seven older white women had become around this petite, teenaged black woman. 

Then, I realized just how intimidated I felt around her. I knew that I felt humbled by her and the manner in which she had been using me since my return truly embarrassed and degraded me. Her beauty, intelligence and inner strength pacified me like no other person had before. 

Meekly, I looked back up into Alexis' piercing light brown eyes. They seemed to glow. 

"Any issues?" she asked, sternly. 

"N-No, Ma'am." I softly answered, in defeat.

"Good! I think it's perfect too." she said, proudly.

As the young black woman perused the announcement one last time in silence, a sinister smile traced her perfectly-shaped red lips. Suddenly, she stopped and looked back to me.

"Gretchen! Get my outfit ready and lay it out for me on the bed." she ordered. 

I paused for just a moment thinking about what her outfit would be. Then, I was not sure what Alexis was referring to. She interupted my thought immediately as I knelt there in silence.

"My newest black skirt, black belt, white nylon blouse, the new black Manolo pumps I got from Sarah's shop." Alexis directed.

"Oh, and get my bag of stockings over here too." she added. 

"O-Okay." I whispered, picking myself up from the floor.

Many of my thoughts were still on the announcement I would have to make that day as I gathered the items of the young black woman's outfit. Robotically, I put them together on the bed and moved to the chest of drawers. I pulled out the large ziploc bag of stockings curiously marked with the word "worn" in a black felt pen, and I placed it upon the bed. 

"The coffee-mocha tones ones. The pantyhose today." She directed, as she stood at the bathroom door buttoning her expensive silky-looking white nylon blouse. 

Alexis had a small white hand towel in the crook of her left arm as she buttoned her blouse. 

When I opened the huge plastic bag, I was greeted with the overwhelming and pungeant aroma of her extremely well worn nylons. The stronger scent completely caught me off guard as I carelessly dropped the bag before the bed. 

I had the get to one knee to retreive it, and I remained there on the floor as I began sifting through the bag searching for the one single pair of pantyhose Alexis decided upon. I soon postioned myself to sit on the backs of my legs as I continued my task. 

It was at this time when I began to understand why some of my staff had complained about the smell of young Alexis' feet when she first began working with us. The strong scent of her nyloned feet was so embarrassingly obvious to me now.

At this time, young Alexis walked over to the edge of the bed and sat right before me. She continued holding onto the small, white hand towel and seemed to be wiping her hands on it.

"Look at me for a second." she suddenly directed. 

Curiously, I looked slightly upward to Alexis and directly into her eyes. My heart began to beat faster while I remained in this kneeling position, sitting on the backs of my legs. Her cute, yet stern voice and mere presence continued to intimidate me to no end. 

"Yeah, I was right. Too much makeup. Waaayyy too much." she exclaimed.

Instinctively, my eyes began to shy away from hers. Her natural dominance felt overpowering. That is when the black girl placed her left hand onto the very bottom of my chin and leaned in closer. Gracefully, she held my face with her one hand and angled it back and forth, and then towards hers. My eyes were barely opened in shame as she studied my face. 

With utmost arrogance, the young black woman began patting my face with the little hand towel. She started wiping off the very light coat of makeup I had applied earlier, and was now "dabbing" the end of the towel on her tongue to moisten it.

"Yeah, too much. You certainly don't want to look like some old whore ya' know." she said. 

Disgraced, I remained kneeling with my arms down to my sides as the young black woman continued to wet the towel with the saliva from her tongue, then using it to wipe the excess makeup from my face. 

She held my flustered face like a mother would hold a child's when cleaning off a messy chocolate ice cream cone from their face. 

This action was completely embarrassing to me as Alexis then patted my face dry. 

"There. That's better. Much better. You don't need all that." she insulted. 

"Do you have my stockings yet?" she asked, suddenly changing the subject as she released my chin. 

Suddenly, I was snapped back into the task I was working on. I had lost my train of thought and meekly glanced down at the bag of stockings. 

There were only a few packages of new, unopened stockings and they looked foreign. When I looked closer, I realized they were from England. 

The other dozen pairs were a combination of pantyhose and garter stockings. Most of them were a smooth, richer mocha-brown shade with an absolutely enormous darker shaded reinforced toe style.




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 12



A couple of the pairs were black and another pair was a deeper taupe shade. But, all of them had an unusually and astonishingly larger than average darker reinforced toe on them. 

As I searched for the pair she wanted the strong scent of well worn nylon stockings pervaded my senses. Strangely, I then noticed that all the pairs of garter stockings and the pairs of pantyhose had a small yellow tag clipped onto each pair. A number was written on each one of these dime-sized yellow tags, 6, 10, 11, 12, 5, 8, and so on. The miniature plastic clip held the tag in place. 

When I found two pairs that closely resembled the mocha-brown shaded pantyhose Alexis had described I pulled them out. One of them had the number 5 hand-written on the tag, while the other was tagged with the number 12. I had no clue as to what these numbers meant at that moment as young Alexis reamined sitting on the edge of the bed right before me. 

She had her blouse buttoned and the african gold jewelry she chose almost in place. Her necklace, wrists and fingers were adorned in gold, which was a sharp contrast from her dark mocha brown skin. The pink, fluffy and fuzzy slippers decorated to look like a bunny remained on her bare feet as she bent her head sideways to adjust the earring on her right ear.

"Those." she said, the sharp bronze colored nail of her index finger pointing. 

She pointed directly to the coffee-brown pantyhose with the number 12 tag clipped on the waistband. 

Alexis was all but ready. She needed only her pantyhose, heels and to slip into her skirt to finish getting dressed. She sat at the end of the bed managing her last earring when she noticed how timidly I was removing the tiny tag and clip from the waistband. 

As I searched for a place to disgard the tag off to the side, she began speaking. I imagine she simply decided to explain it's purpose.

"Those are super expensive." she said. 

"They're hard to get so be careful with 'em. Got that?" she said. 

I knelt there sititng on the backs of my legs kneeling before her as I placed the other pairs back into the large ziploc bag. The pair she decided upon sat on my lap. 

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I whispered. 

"They're from the U.K., and custom made." she continued to explain.

"Get'em started for me." she directed, referring to the pantyhose she wanted me to assist her getting in to. 

Casually, the black teenager slipped off the pink slippers from her bare feet and kicked them off to the side. She placed her right foot onto one of my stockinged thighs as her left foot was raised up closer to my face, just below my chin. She "wiggled" her toes arrogantly, yet in an almost "bratty" manner as if to air them out. 

I realized just how sweaty her feet really were at this time. Her tiny size 5 bare feet had been in those thick, fuzzy slippers for so long this morning. I could feel the obvious dampness of one of her feet on my thigh while the other before me was visibly wet with perspiration. 

Nervously, I aligned the pair of pantyhose she decided upon in the proper manner before her. I wasn't sure exactly what she wanted me to do, but I reasoned that she would need them where she could pull them on her body with greater ease. 

I then peeled the left leg of the hose back to the bottom until I held the stockinged foot area opened with both of my hands, which trembled as the pantyhose was ready to receive her first foot. My hands remained shaking as she continued to explain. 

"Yes, it's hard to get them in my size since I'm so small." she voiced so non chalantly, as she pointed her small toes to the stockinged foot area I held before her.

"That's why I never have them washed." she continued. 

"Not ever." she stated as I assisted in slipping on the remaining portion of nylon over her already sweat-drenched left foot.

"That's the reason I number them that way." the young black girl continued explaining.

Her blatantly carefree and non chalant attitude was a contradiction to her actions as she casually "wiggled" her foot into the first leg of these pantyhose. The enormous size of the darker shaded reinforced toe part covered more than one third of her tiny young foot, and she twisted her ankle ever so slightly in an attempt to straighten out the silky material over her foot. 

I was absolutely awestruck when young Alexis Barron then pulled her stockinged foot upwards and literally "plopped" her left foot right on to my embarrassed face. 

Her stockinged toes rudely cupped my entire nose as the ball and heel of her sweaty nyloned foot pressed against my lips and chin. Humiliatingly, she began using my face as some type of brace or foot rest as she straightened the nylon material around her ankle and calf. 

Not once did the black girl break her concentration while speaking. 

"The number means the number of days I've been able to wear them, ya' know, to see how long they'll last and all." she said, cupping her stockinged toes around my reddened nose firmer.

"I found out awhile ago I can get so much more use out of them when I don't have to wash them." she said. 

Her young stockinged toes were dampened by her sweat, and the pungeant aroma from the nearly incomprehensibly well worn nylons was overbearing. Still, the young woman curled and mashed her strong smelling stockinged toes over my face and nose without a care in the world.

"And, well ... I can usually get like 20 or 30 days out of them before they start running." she explained. 

Alexis was relentless. On and on, and on again, she continued talking about her expensive nylon stockings and pantyhose, and her reasons for using them in the ways she described.

"Sometimes, even more than that." she stated. 

With childlike arrogance, she kept her left foot "planted" over my face while taking an unusually long period of time to smooth out the nylon material around her ankle. I felt demoralized by the powerful scent of her very well worn nylon stockinged toes as she appeared unaware of my suffering. 

"I think it's worth it, though." she continued. 

Cruelly, she kept her left foot in place as she tapped my hands with her right foot to start putting the next side on. My head and neck were anchored in place by her left foot as I struggled to look down to my hands. 

Blindly, I had to peel the other leg of the hose down to the foot area, where I held it open with my hands again, now ready to receive her right foot. 

The 18-year-old black woman slipped her right foot into the stench-ridden nyloned hose and began wiggling it into place as she did with the left one. 

"They're so silky and really durable. They have to be to get this much use out of them." she elaborated. 

Astonished, I watched as she finally removed her left foot from my face and fell flat onto her back on the top of the bed. With what seemed like an acrobatic movement, the flexible former-gymnast shot both of her legs straight up into the air, her toes now pointing to the ceiling, and she gracefully manuevered the pantyhose over her tiny hips and waist. 

It was unbelievable to see her petite body contort in such a way. She spent merely seconds getting the pantyhose into place from this position. My mouth hung open in utter disbelief as I watched the impressive display of flexibility, yet I remained demoralized beyond my wildest imagination.

Even more demoralizing was the manner in which she came back down into a sitting position. 

As the black girl swiftly glided her pantyhose covered legs downward, she stretched her right leg forward just above my left shoulder as she "smoothed" the silky nylon material of her leg with both hands.

With one smooth, practiced movement the young black woman kicked her leg back up into the air like a Rockette's dancer would, and quickly brought her right foot onto my face. There, she literally planted the reinforced toes of her right foot over my nose and lips. 

The movement was so quick and seemingly calculated that it surprised me. My eyes opened wide in shock as she ignored me and simply concentrated on smoothing out the nylon fabric of her streamlined leg. 

Still, young Alexis never broke the flow of her explanation. 

"Yeah, it really has to be good nylon material. That's why they cost so much." she continued, so matter of factly.

The firmness of her well worn nyloned toes over my nose increased ten fold as I remained in this humiliating position on my knees before her. 

"Mmpfh. Mmpfh." I gasped, struggling to breathe through the obnoxiously pungeant scent of her stockinged feet. 

"These are so soft. The more I wear'em the softer and more manageable they get." she said. 

She continued to squirm, wiggle, press and wriggle her nylon-sheathed toes over my nose with a relentless vigor. 

The black teenager was so non chalant and deliberent in smoothing the nylon over her legs in this manner. She took an inordinate amount of time as she used my face as if it were some sort of inanimate object.

"I do like the way they let my toes breathe and all." she continued. 

My eyes began to water as the young woman "writhed" and "mashed" her silk covered toes on my face in such a disregardful way. 

"And, they really don't get too stinky." she said, clenching her well used nylon toes around my nose and smearing them across my face as she released it. 

"Naw, Not really." she continued.

My mind began to drift. The uncanny strong scent of her sweat-soaked, well-worn pantyhosed toes defiled my face to the extreme. I became dizzy and could hardly breathe in enough air to stay alert. 

"I mean, it could be worse ya' know. I just think it's worth it to get'em so totally soft and slippery like this." she added. 

The onslaught of the stockinged toes of her right foot planted on my face in the most insulting way possible went on for nearly 10 minutes.

The 18-year-old black woman added to the absolute insult by replacing her left foot back onto my face in the same manner. 

Defeatedly, I remained sitting on the backs of my legs with my arms submissively down at my sides. The toes of her left nyloned foot now treating me as the same inanimate object to prop her foot upon. 

I felt so pathetic and incoherent as the young black dominant "squished" and "squirmed" her stockinged toes over my nose, forcing me to inhale even more of the demoralizing aroma. 

She wriggled her little toes over my nose with such youthful arrogance, and with no regard to my suffering, while she continued to feign the smoothing out the calves of her nylon clad legs. 

The entire time she continued talking about her nylon stockings and explaining where she got them, and why she wore them for such extended periods of time. 

I could not say exactly what the young black girl said from this point on, since I had become dizzier and far less coherent by the minute. My mind was foggy and my eyes teared from the pungeant aroma of her well kept nylon stockinged feet.

It seemed to go on forever. 

Her sarcastic and excessively bratty voice was incomprehensible to me as she "mangled" my nose and face into submission with her silken toes. Yet, the thought of this beautiful teenager actually going out of her way to wear the same stockings for 12 days in a row, or more, truly demoralized me. The strange fact that she never washed her stockings was near inconceivable to me. 

As I knelt there wavering in my altered state of mind, it felt as every breath I was taking came from her obnoxiously well worn and used pantyhosed feet. The thought weakened me. 

Finally, and without warning, Alexis removed her left foot from it's grip of my nose and brought it down to my lap. She returned her right foot back up until it was level with my face. Her toes were pointed like a ballerina inches before me. 

"My shoes, please." she ordered, sarcastically. 

I just knelt there incoherently, unable to respond verbally or physically. I felt weakened and dizzy from the strong odor and firm manipulation of her toes on my face.

"H-Huh?" I stammered, in a faint whisper. 

The young black woman "tapped" the side of my flustered cheek with her pointed toes. She tapped it a second, third and fourth time. 

"C'mon. Let's go." she demanded. 

Obediently, I reached over to retrieve the young girl's 4 inch high classic Manolo pumps. I placed them onto her feet, one after the the other, in a slow and defeated manner. Alexis Barron simply jumped to her feet and grabbed the tiny black skirt from the bed, slipping it on and zippering the back. 

I brought myself to my feet with great care. My head was still foggy and I used the edge of the bed to pull myself up, wobbling and teetering on the 5 inch heels I was wearing. 

The absolute arrogance of this young woman was mind-boggling to me. Her inner strength and natural dominance caused me to feel so low and insignificant. I felt as if I were in a drunken stupor as I wavered my way over to the chest of drawers to reapply my makeup. 

"No time for that now." Alexis snapped. 

"Let's go." she ordered, taking the makeup pad from my listless right hand and tossing it to the side. 

"I'll be downstairs. Get my purse, portfolio and lap top and meet me by the front door." she commanded.

Her youthful tone was much more direct now.

"Y-Y-Yes, Ma'am." I replied, meekly. 

As young Alexis left the room, I tried desperately to come to my senses. I could barely comprehend what had just happened, and how cruel this young black woman had been by using my face like that. 

I was scared and intimidated as I looked around the room for Alexis' purse and portfolio. I noticed the fresh cup of coffee she made me prepare for her sitting on the bed side table. She had not even taken one sip of that coffee, and I felt demeaned by the fact she had me running up and down the stairs like a fool to fetch it. She merely disgarded it.

Worriedly, I scurried down the stairs and began searching for her things. I found them scattered in different areas of the livingroom, and I collected them as quickly as I could.

With my arms full, I made it to the front door and nearly tripped along the way. My clumsiness was attributed to my still foggy and light-headed state, and the devastation the young black woman had just put me through. 

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" Alexis asked, rather impatiently. 

I wasn't sure, yet I answered possitively and obediently.

"Yes, M-Ma'am. I-I th-think so." I stuttered. 

My mind barely cleared when I held the front door open for Alexis. The fresh morning air was a relief for the moment and I closed the door behind us and minced my way over to the car. 

I was moving as fast as I could in those tall, uncomfortable white heels, yet I could feel the impatience of Alexis Barron hovering around me. 

I tossed the items into the back seat of my car and rushed around to the passenger's side to let the young woman in. Then, I rushed back to the driver's side of my car and settled in. 

The rushing caused a slight dizziness and I placed my hands onto the steering wheel and paused to catch my breath. Alexis peered over to me with a pecuilar look on her pretty face. 

"You sure you're gonna be able to drive?" she asked, again. 

Demoralized, I tried to steady myself as I glared straight ahead. I was terrified to respond to the 18-year-old in a negative way. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am. I'm okay." I answered, my face blushing. 

"Look at me." Alexis suddenly ordered. 

Tentatively, I turned my head in slow motion to meet her eyes. I was nervous thinking about her next words. 

"Aren't we forgetting something?" she asked, as she abruptly reached to the back seat to get her purse. 

I sat there nervously as she began sifting through her purse. In seconds, she pulled out a lipstick red kitten's collar. It was the same type of red collar she had decided upon as the company's new monocre. 

Smoothly, she reached over and clasped it around my neck. 

"You don't want to be out of uniform on the first day, do you?" she asked, feticiously. 

I meekly nodded a "no" as I hung my head down in utter disgrace. 

"Good. Drive!" she ordered. 

The moderate drive was tense for me. I hardly could think of anything else except making sure that I concentrated on the road. It was this concentration that brought me to a more alert state of mind, and I was relieved for that. 

The black woman smoked 2 of her clove cigarettes along the way. 

As we entered the parking lot to where my one story office building was set, Alexis Barron spoke. 

"Drop me off by that bench." she commanded, pointing to a stone bench set between 2 small trees. 

"Yes, M-Ma'am. Okay." i returned. 

The stone bench was set merely 15 feet away from the front door of our office, and the leaves of the small trees hid the bench from the office view. 

"Go park and meet me there." she ordered. 

Nervously, I did as I was told and managed to find a spot seconds later. As I parked, I noticed my face in the rear view mirror, again. 

I swallowed loudly when I noticed my appearance. My face, which was so reddended by the grinding of her panty-clad pussy on from the night before, was now much worse. With my makeup removed, it was even more noticeable. 

My nose gleamed a crimson red, and my lips and chin looked as if someone had colored it in with a pink or red highlighter. 

"Oh my gawd!" I shouted. 

At this point, there was nothing I could do. I knew young Alexis was waiting and I did not have time to manage an application of makeup to my face, not that it would have concealed it anyway.

That is when I noticed the strong smell of the young black woman's well worn pungeant nylon stockinged feet again. I looked around confused, then realized that the odor was actually coming from me. 

Degraded, I concluded that it was my face that literally smelled like her excessively worn nylon stockinged toes, which she had spent so much time burying my face with. I could not imagine ever feeling so humilated before. I did not know what I could do, and I frantically rummaged through my purse to find my pocket sized perfume.

Defeatedly, I was unable to. 

With no option, I simply grabbed Alexis Barron's purse, her portfolio, her lap top computer and my purse from the back seat. Clumsily, I minced my way over to where she was standing. 

Her right hand was on her hip as she held a cell phone up to her left ear. As I drew nearer, I could tell she had been talking to Sarah, the shop owner. Alexis quickly stopped the call as I stood before her. 

"Are you finally ready?" she asked. 

My head nodded a "yes" in silnce, but I was not ready at all. The thought of entering my own business and reporting the changes to my staff of 7 was not something I would have ever imagined doing. The degradation I felt already caused my knees to shake, uncontrollably. 

The young black woman took one small stride towards the office, then stopped abruptly. 

"Oh, you were supposed to remind me of something. Weren't you?" she asked in an adolescent tone. 

Fearfully, I stood there "towering" above her with a puzzled look upon my already reddened face. It was then that I realized how foolish I must have looked standing near my office building in the short skirt and 5 inch tall heels with a red cat's collar adorning my neck. 

My 6'1" statuesque frame rising another 5 inches higher in those ridiculous white heels standing before this 4'11" tall black woman in her more reasonable 4 inch heels embarrassed me. Still, her question confused me and set my mind wandering as I struggled to find an answer. 

Mindlessly, I tried to think of what I may have forgotten. I began to panic as I looked down into the black teenager's more serious eyes. I grew more tense and her piercing eyes frightened me. It was as if I were a timid bunny looking into the eyes of an angry panther, except the size of our bodies were quite reversed. Despite being more than twice her petite size, I cowered before her and stood motionless and in fear. 




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 12



With a childlike voice, young Alexis began to "scold" me, once again. Her saracstic tone seemed to be rubbing it in, so to speak, as I quivered in an absolutely terried state. 

"You didn't come up to bed last night, like you were told. Remember?" she asked. 

Her words cut through me like they were a warm knife through butter. My forgetfulness and fear of her anger made me as nervous as I have ever been before. 

She looked so elegant, professional and even sexy in her classy business outfit. Yet, her youthful looks made her appear even younger than her true age. Her stern beautiful face shattered my nerves completely, and I stood there in anguish trying to apologize. 

"I-I-I-I'm s-sorry." I blurted in an undetectable whisper.

"P-P-Please?" I begged. 

"Tell me what you were supposed to remind me of." she demanded. 

I was terribly shaken. My bottom lip quivered as I searched for an answer to her question. She had me standing above her feeling so frightened and embarrassed as the humiliating answer finally came to me. 

"I-I was supposed to r-r-remind you to s-slap m-me?" I questioned, stuttering uncontrollably. 

My own response caused by eyes to water as I looked downward into her eyes. She seemed satisfied that I was able to remember her off remark from earlier that morning. 

Without further hestitation, the unusually petite black black girl stood up onto her tip toes and reached up to my face. She slapped my face with her right hand as hard as it has ever been slapped. Embarrassingly, she stood up on her toes to add leverage to her single slap to my timd, pale cheek. 

The firmness of that single slap made my head turn to my side. The sharpness caused my face to sting in pain as I returned my head back to her. My eyes lowered down to hers again, blushing in humiliation. 

"Next time you won't forget." she snarled. 

"N-No, Ma'am. I-I won't." I apologized. 

Unbeknownst to me at the time, the fierce slap she had just disciplined me with had created an embarrassingly and blatantly obvious deep red tiny hand print on the side of my face. 

My pale right cheek carried the full and undeniably-obvious imprint of the black girl's right hand as if it were a red temporary tattoo. 

The humiliation of having to walk into my own office like this, and in front of my staff with a slap print across my face, a reddish nose and chin with swollen lips, and smelling like her well worn stockinged feet became overwhelming. The manner in which I was dressed only added to the intense feeling of defeat I felt. 

"It's time to go in." Alexis ordered. 

Silently, we headed for the front door.

end. chapter 12. 



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 13



It was precisely 8:30 a.m. Monday morning when I held the front door of my single-story office building open for Alexis Barron. 

She strutted in, hands free, and with a confidence I had never witnessed before. Meekly, I followed behind the young black woman carrying all her things, and breathing her perfumed tail winds as we reached the front desk. 

The office was now fully redecorated in the most flagrant and flaunting african-styled design. Yes, the design was both classy and business oriented with excessive detail and highlights. But, it was clear that she had changed the feeling and theme to reflect her personal style and proud black heritage. 

Thoughts of the expense this had to take continued to enter my mind as I continued scanning the front offices and desks. 

The style was almost the same that the black teenager showed me on her computer that previous weekend. There weren't many things that resembled my business office from last Friday, and I simply reamined standing behind Alexis amazed by the changes.

All three of the glass-doored executive offices had been redecorated, as well. Even the two that had not been occupied for years. I had been using only one of them for myself these past two years. Now, all three of these offices against the back wall appeared decorated in this distinct and pronounced african design. 

The 18-year-old black woman stood at the front desk with her hands on her hips, apparently admiting the changes. The receptionist, Meghan, barely glimpsed upward to see who had entered the main office before her eyes quickly lowered back to her desk. 

I noticed that all 7 of the white women staff members had their eyes lowered to their desks and were working diligently. All seven now had the white skirts and wider red leather belts young Alexis had ordered from Sarah's shop. 

These were the sames ones she directed the 65-year-old white woman to deliver to the office by 8 o'clock this morning. The changes to the staff's outfits appeared to satisfy the black woman, and they matched mine nearly exact.

As Alexis Barron remained standing at the front desk with an unspoken authority, the entire office grew more tense. The faint sound of R&B music flowed from the speakers on the ceiling. I continued standing behind her clutching her portfolio, purse and lap top. Nervously, I stared at the transformation with my face still stinging from her slap. The humiliation I felt caused a mild dizziness that I struggled to control. 

"Meghan!" Alexis snapped. 

The 41-year-old irish woman snapped her head up quickly, in compliance. 

"Yes, Miss Barron?" she asked, suddenly quivering as she looked into the black girl's eyes. 

Meghan merely glanced over towards me as she sat there waiting for Alexis' words. Her eyes met mine for a split second, but I could feel them locked onto me as she suddenly realized my appearance. Her shock in seeing me caused a breif, yet noticeable pause. 

"Meghan, I'm speaking to you!" Alexis ripped. 

The firmer tone from the beautiful black teenager caused the older white receptionist to respond, in a near panic. 

"Y-Yes, Miss Barron. I'm sorry, Miss Barron." Meghan replied. 

"Get the staff together for a meeting in 10 minutes. The conference room." she ordered.

"Yes, Miss Barron. I-I will do that, Miss Barron. Ten m-minutes, Miss Barron." Meghan repeated, obediently. 

As the 18-year-old black woman sauntered through the main office and back to the private glass offices against the back wall, things felt so different. Her exaggerated and slower strides caused me shorten mine as I obediently followed behind her like I was her lackey. The entire staff seemed to fight the urge to look up as they kept their eyes focused upon their work. 

Alexis strolled through the office looking over their desks like she was a grade school teacher strutting around the classroom during a test. The 7 other older white women kept their eyes down and their heads bowed to their work. Only then, when the young black woman and I reached the back offices, did they began peering back over their shoulders in curiosity.  

The glass door to the office that once carried my name was gone. It had been taped over and nothing was visible in it's place at this time. My heart began to beat faster as we stepped inside. 

The private office was now redecorated in the same african design as the main office. The exceptions were the larger desk and the excessively enhanced and far more prominent detail. My office was now just like the photos young Alexis had shown me on her lap top computer. It looked much classier and richer in person, and it seemed to almost breathe a new life. 

"Set my things down. I'll be right back." Alexis ordered.

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I replied, the cloud of humiliation surrounding me like a fog after a rainy day. 

From my glass doored office, I watched as young Alexis Barron made her way down the hallway, and to the ladies room. I was standing there feeling so ashamed by the entire event. The moment was all too surreal for me. I felt as nervous and humbled as ever by what I was observing in my own office as I timidly looked around. 

As I set her things down on the desk top I viewed the changes to my glass doored office a little more closely. Just like in the photos, the redwood desk looked expensive and ritzy, only nicer than I remembered. 

The secretarial side desk chair was pristinely anchored to the side of the main executive's desk where I had sat for years. A lower, much smaller desk top was attached before the side desk chair in a rudimentary fashion. It was not much moe than a small surface for someone who would be sitting off to the side of the executive to write upon. 

This smaller side desk chair and writing area truly resembled one of those older school girl's desks, only it was exquisitely modified to match the executive desk. 

I struggled to understand the reason why this side desk chair and desk set had the seat portion positioned about 4 inches lower than the executive's chair. At the time it seemed rather impractical to me. 

The executive's desk had the ankle or foot rest Alexis mentioned on the left corner closest in. It was a small, padded ankle rest molded onto the corner desk top and directly angled to the side desk chair where a visitor or secretary would be sitting. 

The design of this so-called ankle rest seemed a little curious and unusual to me. 

The change was subtle, yet one could easily see the ankle rest was designed for the person sitting at the executive's chair to prop their feet upon to rest during long business days. In the past, I had tried propping my longer legs up onto the corner of the hard desk during phone calls. But, it had become uncomfortable after a short while. This apparent foot and ankle rest seemed to cleverly rectify this problem. 

The more curious part to me was that it seemed to be angled "too close" to the side desk chair, in a ridiculously exaggerated manner. I remember thinking that the position of it would make it virtually impractical to use when the executive had a visitor sitting off to their left side. 

Nevertheless, I bypassed this thought for the moment and continued scanning the landscape of the office with an increasingly nervous feeling. 

As young Alexis Barron remained in the ladies room, I looked at her things laying on the desk top. I began wondering what could be in them. 

Curiosity got the best of me. 

Tentatively. I opened her portfolio and began to peek inside. There were a number of folders inside and I thumbed through to see nearly a dozen of them, in a variety of opaque shades and colors. 

The very first folder on top was a lighter maroon shade and I opened it slowly. My hands trembled as I viewed the first page. It was a list of our staff and it included me. When I looked a little closer, I realized how unusual this list was. 

This list contained a full description of each one of us in the office. It was neatly printed onto an eggshell colored sheet of paper. At the end of the description, and to the far lower right side of each description there was a line of small boxes. 

The small check boxes were marked with the numbers 0 through 5, and the above caption read "Business-Intelligence Level." One of these little boxes was checked off with a red felt tip pen. Unbelievably, it was a ranking for each one of us in the office. It was my name that was the first on the list!

Astonished, I began reading through it.

Gretchen. Age 40. 6'1" tall, 142 lbs., 36-26-37. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,501.00. 

Beth. Age 48. 5'9" tall, 190 lbs., 36-28-40. Brunette hair. Hazel eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00.

Ginny. Age 56. 5'10" tall, 145 lbs., 36-26-38. Blonde-Grey hair. Blue eyes. Intelligence Level Zero, or less. Annual Salary: $32,500.00. 

Meghan. Age 41. 5'8" tall, 152 lbs., 34-28-36. Ash blonde hair. Blue-Green eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00 

Tiffany. Age 44. 5'11" tall, 155 lbs., 38-24-36. Red-Auburn hair. Green eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00. 

Candace. Age 53. 6'0" tall, 148 lbs., 36-26-36. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00. 

Grace. Age 50. 5'11" tall, 205 lbs., 38-29-42. Blonde-Grey hair. Hazel eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00. 

Kate. Age 45. 5'8" tall, 135 lbs., 36-24-36. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Intelligence Level Zero. Annual Salary: $32,500.00. 

Terry. Age Unsure. 5'6" tall, 145 lbs., 36-27-36. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Intelligence Level Zero, or less. Annual Salary: $32,500.00, or less. 

As I looked down at this page, I was immediately taken back. It was truly humiliating and degrading how this young black woman had rated us. She had actually rated us on our business intelligence and business sense. The manner in which she rated us all with a zero number was even more defeating. 

"How could she do something like this?" I thought. 

"Was this even legal to put our physical descriptions in a ranking like this?" I wondered. 

"And, who was Terry? We don't have a Terry working with us?" I thought.

My face blushed to an uncomfortably warm feeling as I stared at this sheet of paper with our names listed on it. 

At the time, I didn't know who Terry was. Not at all. But, it was this strange and curious list and the rude manner she assessed our intelligence that caused me to feel so humiliated. The thought that this young black woman had actually given us a ranking of our intelligence was insulting. 

I was in disbelief. 

I had ony taken a minute to read through the list. I knew there were other words on other pages describing all of us. Some were more detailed, and others were paraphrased. But, I did not look at them long enough to decipher.

By then, I was getting quite nervous. I was terrified to be caught. I kept glancing up to the office door watching for the ladies room door to reopen, and for young Alexis to emerge. The tension filled the air like I was some sort of spy in the middle of the night as I turned to the next page in this folder. 

On this page only three names were listed. Alexis was the first one, followed by two others. At least one of the two other names was not recognizable to me, and I was unsure of the other.

The heading of this page was simply typed is as "Future State," it read. 

Alexis Barron. Age 18. 4'11" tall, 95 lbs., 32-21-33. Black Hair. Brown eyes. Intelligence Level Five. Annual Salary: Undisclosed. 

Finesse Williams. Age 19. 5'1" tall, 108 lbs., 32-22-34. Black hair. Grey eyes. Intelligence Level Four-plus. Annual Salary: $125,000.00. 

Marissa Kenyatta. Age 18. 5'1" tall, 103 lbs., 34-22-33. Black hair. Brown eyes. Intelligence Level Four-plus. Annual Salary: $125,000.00.

"Oh my Gawd!" I thought. "Who are they?" I asked myself.

"And, why do they have such salaries written in like that? We can't afford that?!" I gasped. 

Then, I began to recall young Alexis Barron's numerous phone calls during all those times she had made me massage her young feet, or during those many humiliating discussions. 

I remembered hearing the name "Finesse" during a few of her calls. The name "Marissa" came up once or twice, as well. As I began to recall overhearing these names, a feeling of intense embarrassment engulfed me. These other two names were the young black woman's friends. 

My mind drifted as I stared, in awe, at this page. I completely lost track of time at that particular moment. 

When I looked back up to check and see if Alexis was about to come out of the rest room, she was standing just outside the glass door to my office looking in. 

She stood there with her arms crossed and peered at me through half shut eyes. A slight scowl appeared on her beautiful and youthful face as she caught me red-handed. I felt truly embarrassed and frightened, and as if I were a child being caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Timidly, I closed the folder and my eyes fell to the floor. She slowly walked in. My hands trembled as I zipped the portfolio shut and then stepped back from the desk, almost stumbling on the 5 inch heels I wore. 

The 18-year-old black woman stepped further into my office, slowly and cockily. My heart pounded in fear as she approached. She was quiet for the moment and she seemed to be contemplating her next move. I just stood there, shaking and panicked, as she began to slowly circle around me with an unspoken authority.

Alexis seemed to be studying me with great curiosty as I hid my face from hers, in shame. She circled me in slow motion once, then a second and third time. She appeared to be revelling in my fear that made me uncomfortable to the point I felt like I was about to wet my panties. 

I was becoming more and more uncomfortable with each moment that passed, and the silence frightened me to an unimagineable level. I could not believe Alexis was not saying a word to me at this time, especially when she stopped and stood before me looking up.

"What was she thinking now?" I began thinking, worriedly.

"Why did I do something so stupid like this?" I asked myself. 

My 6'1" tall frame in those statuesque 5 inch tall heels "wobbled" before the 4'11" tall black woman, embarrassed and intimidated. Her look of displeasure was weakening to me as she forced me to look downward into her uninviting eyes.

My eyes then fell to the floor, once again. 

Without further hestitation, the young black woman turned and snatched the portfolio from the desk. She unzipped it and pulled out the folder containing the announcement I was about to make. Casually, she just handed it to me and began walking away. 

"It's time for the meeting." she said. 

As I accepted the folder from her small hands I felt almost relieved. I was glad that she did not mention the incident, or take any action against me. I knew that my actions has to disturb her. It was so obvious that she had caught me rifling through her things. At this time, I found it nearly impossible for the young black woman not to "scold" or "reprimand" me for this, or worse.

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I answered, tailing behind her as she strutted towards the conference room. 

The walk down the hallway felt like the longest walk in the world. It was certainly the longest walk in my life, at the time. My intimdation couldn't have been higher. 

The thought of what I was about to do made me feel so unbelievably ashamed, yet somehow I found myself unable to fight it. She had degraded, dominated and disciplined me so much since last Friday, and I was completely in awe of my full compliance to this young black girl. 

My mixed feelings of humiliation, fear and intimidation combined with my inability to resist her truly confused me. 

The front office was empty as we walked down to the conference room. My entire staff of 7 other older white women were waiting patiently for the meeting young Alexis had called to begin. When we reached the area just outside the conference room, the black teenager turned back to me. 

"Don't embarrass me. Just do it right." she warned. 

I shook my head, in an embarrassed agreement. 

"O-Okay." I barely whispered, timidly. 

At this moment, I was intimidated and just wanted to get this all over with. By then, I had all but succumbed to her strength. In my depravity, I felt as if this was the only thing that I would be able to do to get passed this day and move on with my life. 

Thoughts of making the announcement and then running back to my homeland in Norway began to cross my mind. I didn't think I would be able to take this embarrassment much longer. 

Then, the thought of keeping this company alive to pay off all my debts seemed to win over. My past failures had been exposed, and I certainly did not wish to get into any trouble with the law, as young Alexis had threatened. Her aggressive and straight forward business sense, as well as her exceptional beauty, seemed to magnetize me for some unknown reason.  

Yes, I felt my company slipping away. But, I also felt as if this would be the only way it would survive. As I stood there, all these thoughts ran through my mind. More over, the intimidation I felt around her was overwhelming. My nerves stirred when she spoke to me.  

"Oh, and one more thing. Remind me to slap you for that little bullshit in my office." she ordered. 

My face turned a beet red shade. Once again, the young black woman was actually directing me to remind her to discipline me at a later time. I could not believe her gall. Her cockiness and arrogance in demanding such an order turned my nerves into a frazzled mess, and she was doing this just seconds before I had to give such a demoralizing speech. I stood there unable to speak at that monment.

"By the end of the day." she added.

"Understood?" she asked, demandingly.

"Yes, M-Ma'am. O-Okay." I replied.

"Make a note of it. Always take good notes. I expect that. Is that understood?" she asked. 

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I returned.  

I held the conference door open for young Alexis as she sauntered in with a regal presence about her. 

The rest of the staff had already been waiting for more than a few minutes over the time the meeting had been called for. In defeat, their heads seemed to look down to their note pads as the black teenager headed straight to the front of the conference table. She stood there looking over the all-white female staff, who was seated. The tension inside this room seemed intimidating in itself. 

"Gretchen has an announcement to make y'all. Look up and pay attention." she commanded. 

The other seven white women instantly complied, bringing their worried and sullen eyes up to hear this announcement. Their eyes seemed to catch mine for the briefest of moments until their slightly bowed heads could only hold on to my image standing before them. 

They stared seemingly embarrassed for me. I realized this was now the same embarrassment they had been feeling for themselves as this young black woman took such control and intimidated them. Yet, they seemed to take more pity on me for being the one who was chosen to take the brunt of her controlled wrath over us. 

Standing there in this ridiculously youthful and sexier outfit, the one Alexis was making all of us wear, was humiliating. She was making us all dress this way, and none of us had the backbone to complain. My face was reddened and nearly raw, caused by the "grinding" of her panty-clad pussy this past weekend. 

For me, even more defeating was the other 7 white women's faces trying to look at me. They all had the same look of despair that I felt being in the young woman's presence. They seemed awed by my appearance, and the fresh detailed red hand print on my cheek from Alexis Barron's slap. This hand print on my face had to be so obvious to them, although I did not realize it at that moment. 




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 13



In many ways, they had already submitted to the young, petite black woman while I was gone. It was as if they had been defeated by her and then turned to me to rescue them from her rule. Initially, I was their "leader" by default. Now, they were gazing upon their fallen leader, in awe, who had also been defeated one hundred times over. To them, it couldn't have been more clear that she had forced me to submit to her as well. 

In utter shame and disgrace, I delivered the speech the young black woman had written for me. I read it word for word, stuttering and struggling my way through it as the room remained silent. One could almost hear a pin drop when I finally finished the announcement.

I had defeatedly announced that little Alexis would be in charge, and that I would be assisting her. 

When I finally lifted my eyes from the written announcement I could see just how scared and worried they really were. Their faces blushed, in shame, as did mine. It appeared that they felt even more pity for me now. But, they still had their own concerns about their own jobs. 

In many ways, they all knew they were near the ends of their careers. They knew it would be difficult to find any other opportunities at their age. So many companies were bringing in new, young talent and disgarding the older workforce. To them, they felt partly trapped in their jobs at this time and might seek other opportunities later. But, they knew the chances of that were slim and unlikely. Yet, the larger part for them was the affect this young, bossy black woman had taken such control and intimidated them. 

She now had all 8 of us older white women reporting to her. 

Alexis stood at the front of the conference room with her arms crossed, satisfied by her apparent conquest. Her new position as "Acting President," which she termed, had officially begun. She studied our defeated faces and finally decided to speak. 

"Okay. Now, it's time to get to work." she ordered.

With a firm and direct, almost robotic like vigor young Alexis began barking out assignments to all of us. 

"You will all find a folder in my office outlining your initial assignments. I will pass them out to you starting at 9:30 this morning." she ordered. 

The entire white female staff brought their eyes up to the black teenager as she spoke. 

"Candace, 9:30! Be in my office. You're excused." Alexis snapped. 

"Y-Yes, Miss Barron." the 53-year-old white woman answered.

"Beth, 9:40! In my office. You're excused." she ordered.

"Yes, Miss Barron." the 48-year-old white woman answered, obediently. 

"Kate, 9:45! You're excused." Alexis continued. 

"Yes, Ma'am. yes, M-Miss Barron." the 45-year-old white woman replied, nervously. 

"Ginny, 9:50! Leave us, you're excused." the black woman commanded. 

"Y-Yes, Miss B-Barron, Ma'am. N-Nine-fifty, Miss Barron, Ma'am." the 56-year-old white woman answered, timidly. 

I stood there with my eyes completely to the floor as I listened to the stern directives from this petite black woman. She was all business. 

"Grace, Tiffany, Meghan! 10 o'clock. You're dismissed now." Alexis directed. 

"Yes, Miss Barron." the 44-year-old Tiffany replied. 

"Yes, Ma'am, Miss Barron." the 50-year-old Grace answered, stumbling ob her chair as she left the conference room. 

"Yes, Miss Barron." the 41-year-old Meghan responded. 

With the seven white women now rushing off to their own desks, young Alexis turned to me. I quivered before her as I finished "jotting" down the notes for the appointments she had just made. She appeared satisfied that I had followed her instructions to "take notes" as she viewed her new staff scurrying away. Her expression was all business, and I stood there waiting in anxiety for the next command. 

"Gretchen. In my office. Go and freshen yourself up first, and bring me a cup of coffee on your way in." she directed. 

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I answered, in defeat.

I watched her prefectly-shaped young body walking out of the conference room with tremendous confidence. My eyes instinctively lowered and my heart thumped a bit faster as I realized the transition in my business had just begun a new chapter. 

end. chapter 13. 



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 14



The young black woman strolled down the hallway from the conference room and towards what would now become "her" office. She walked with authoritative strides. For a minute I remained behind, standing alone in the small conference room rethinking the events that led up to this moment. The embarrassment Alexis had subjected me to this morning, and in the presence of my own staff, was emotionally catastrophic for me. 

Everything looked and felt different to me. 

What was once a simple case of an unruly employee with a seemingly poor work ethic had become so much more. The feeling I had during these past few days was foreign for me. The manner in which this young black woman intimidated me was becoming more humiliating to both me and my staff all the time. Still, we were unable to stop it. 

The announcement assigning Alexis Barron as the acting president created an overwhelming ambiance of defeat in the office. Surely, my staff of seven older white women had to know that young Alexis had dominated me and taken control of my life to a much fuller extent. They simply had to know it was much more than what they were witnessing here this morning.

Defeatedly, I began my walk through the main office and to the ladies room to "freshen up" as the young black woman ordered me to. Briefly, I wondered why she had directed me to do this before preparing her coffee and then meeting her back in my former office. Perhaps, I looked out of sorts to her, or maybe she felt that I needed to wash the humiliation off my face before starting my first work day? 

At the moment, I was unsure of the reason for her demand. 

My eyes dropped to the floor and my shoulders slumped as I timidly passed by the others enroute to the rest room down the hall. They were sitting on the new backless chairs that Alexis had purchased for them, and it appeared almost as if they were in some modified form of a kneeling position. 

Not one of them looked up to me as I walked by. The silence was almost deafening. My head hung in shame as I minced my way through the main office ever so slowly. The restrictive heels caused my pace to weaken with every step as I noticed the other white women wearing the exact same 5 inch high white leather heels. We were all dressed the same now in the white heels, white skirt and blouse, and that red kitten's collar around our necks, which was now the logo for our company.

As I turned the corner to the smaller 9 foot hallway leading to the rest rooms, I was immediately struck by the changes to the plaques on the doors before me. 

"Oh my Gawd?!" I thought. 

Previously, there had been two wash rooms with a simple Men's and Ladies placard assigning each of the rooms accordingly. Now, there were two entirely different placards. Apparently, they had just been unveiled as I noticed two larger "out of service" signs laying on the floor and discarded to the side of each wash room. 

Although we did not have any male employees, our small company had always kept the legal standard of having both a men's and ladies washroom. The men's room was for potential visitors and guests, or the occasional meeting with a potential male client. It was rarely utilized and at least four times smaller than the size of our ladies washroom. 

Now, both rooms had been changed.

In awe, I looked at the placards now assigning the only two washrooms in my business office. The much larger ladies' room was designated as "Executive," which was written in a gold bond print over an expensive looking ebony placard. Beneath the "Executive" sign were three gold-toned name slots designed to hold the ebony-carved name plates with the same gold lettering. The bottom two slots were empty while the one at the very top simply read "Alexis Barron."

The substantially smaller wash room that was once designated as the men's room had the same ebony placard with gold bond print. It was designated as "subordinate," and a total of 15 smaller name slots positioned in three rows of 5 beneath it. 

Eight of these fifteen name slots were filled in with the names of all of us white women, which was my staff of seven and then myself. The remaining seven name slots were empty.

I almost could not believe what I was looking at. This astonishing display nearly caused my heart to stop. My mind could not comprehend that someone could actually do something so bold and arrogant as to designate the wash rooms in such a rude and obnoxious manner. 

But, there is was in an embarrassing display. 

I was frozen there for a moment just staring at the new signs on the wash room doors. My eyes were widened in disbelief and shock, and I could feel the total disrespect she had for us coarsing through my veins. Another minute had gone by and I felt myself still standing there questioning this arrogant action. For some reason, I nervously reached for the door knob of the executive wash room. I imagine that curiosity was only part of the reason I attempted this. 

But, that door was locked. 

I stepped back and just stood there looking at the signs on the doors again. For another moment I hesitated before I finally gave in and lowered my eyes, as I defeatedly stepped into the wash room designated for subordinate.

As I turned on the faucet to run the cool water my mind felt as if it were retreating. I felt so insulted by all the changes young Alexis Barron had made. Another moment passed when I finally brought my eyes up to the small mirror above the small, white sink and looked at my reflection. For the first time since we arrived, I could see myself. 

Disgracefully, I viewed the almost ripe and reddened nose on my face caused by the grinding of her pantied pussy the night before. It seemed to turn an even brighter shade of red since that morning. My lips remained just as swollen and puffy. Now, a fully detailed reddened imprint of her small hand and fingers burned into the side of my left cheek from her wicked slap.

I was startled by the obvious image of her hand print on my face. It didn't seem real. But, as I touched my pale cheek the stinging pain brought me back to the embarrassing reality that I knew I was in. 

Desperately, I began to wash my face with the cool water. It was a futile attempt to rid my face of that mark. The cool water wasn't helping as much as I had hoped. After several attempts, I simply gave up and patted my face dry with one of the small white towels. Nearly in tears and my hands trembling, I brushed my long blonde hair over and over again. The fear of taking too long enveloped me as I continued to avoid looking at my own image. 

Finally, I stepped out of the wash room and headed for the break room to fetch the cup of coffee the young black woman had ordered. It was as if I was in another world. The office I had spent so much time in me these past two years felt like it was in another country. It was still quiet and tension filled the air as I filled a cup with coffee in the newly designed kitchenette and added a single teaspoon of cream. Obediently, I carried the warm cup filled with coffee to what was once my office. Abruptly, I stopped as I reached the glass door and gazed upon the new lettering. 

The darker tape covering my previously decaled name on the door had been peeled back and removed. The scraps of this tape layed on the carpeted floor below. In a larger, bolder and brighter gold print with black trim was her name, title and the company name my late husband had chosen in small lettering. But, now there was a "doing business as" reference beneath it letters twice the size. It read: 

Alexis Barron President Signature Perfume Co. dba Obsidian Scents, Inc.

The reference to the new company name or division sent a chill of humiliation down my spine. I began to think about the word "Obsidian" and it's meaning. As I stood there holding onto the cup of coffee, the meaning finally came to me and the definition of the word obsidian was "black."

Humiliated, I peered through the glass door to see the ravishing 18-year-old black woman sitting at her desk. She was seated straight up at the edge of her chair and leaning over some files on her desk. She was speaking to someone on the phone with a determined look on her face. 

Tentatively, I walked in and set the cup of coffee down on the desk before her. I felt so humbled before her and confused by what to do next. I simply stood there nervously and looking down at the desk top, my eyes staring at nothing in particular. Young Alexis remained on the phone and reading some type of document when she suddenly "snapped" her fingers. The loud snap brought my eyes back up to hers as she simply pointed to the side desk chair attached to the left of her executive's desk.

"Did you send them yet?" she asked the caller. 

I could not hear the caller at this time as I made my way over to the side desk chair and quietly sat down. As mentioned earlier, this secretarial type chair was nearly 6 inches lower than the chair she sat upon, and the exquisitely padded ankle rest she described was less than a foot away to my left. A small note pad and a pen lay on the small student type desk top before me. 

"Okay, good. Hold on!" she said in a stern voice, speaking to the caller. 

I watched as the black teenager placed the phone down and triggered the speaker phone option. Still, there was an uncomfortable silence as she tapped away on her computer to log on. Then, she casually turned her larger desk top computer screen towards her. 

"Alright, I got them." she told the caller.

"Yes, Ma'am." the female caller answered, softly. 

The silence continued as young Alexis leaned back into her larger, high backed black leather executive chair and stretched her legs out. She propped her high heeled feet up and onto the ankle rest anchored to the top left side of her desk facing me. Smoothly, she crossed them at the ankles with her right foot over the left. Embarrassingly, this left the bottoms of her high heeled feet "literally" four inches before me, the right heeled foot crossed over the top was on the exact same level as my flustered face.

My face turned an entirely different shade of crimson as the young black woman sat back with extreme confidence. She lit a dark clove cigarette for herself. Humbly and defeatedly, I sat there like a startled and timid little rabbit gazing at the bottom of the brand new black leather pumps. The small, white price tag of $595.00 still labeled on the bottom of her right shoe was arrogantly displayed merely inches before my face. 

Her shoes were fully upon her feet, but I could still detect the strong and musky aroma of the young black girl's well worn, perfumed nylon stockinged feet. Quietly, I sat there as Alexis continued with the phone call. 

"I'm looking at your resume and the application I emailed you this morning." she said. 

"Yes, Ma'am. Okay." the caller returned. 

I reasoned that Alexis Barron had emailed someone an application while I was freshening up and fetching her a cup of coffee. Now, she was discussing it with what seemed like a new applicant. Seconds later, I realized that this "new applicant" was Terry, the southern-belle waitress we met that weekend at the Oaktown Mall Cafe.

Curiously, I listened to the conversation in humiliation as I sat at the black woman's heeled feet right before my face. 

"Terry, your application says you're 46 and not the late 30's you mentioned this past weekend." Alexis snapped, in a somewhat lighter yet disturbed tone. 

Terry was silent. 

"Well, you're just a little fibber then. Aren't you?" the black teenaged woman asked in a condescending tone.

Again, there was silence as one could almost feel the embarrassment the 46-year-old Terry was feeling through the phone lines. Alexis continued studying the resume and application on her computer screen as she took another drag of the sweet clove cigarette. 

"Well, aside from your disrespectful lying the rest of your resume seems in order for a subordinate position." Alexis stated. 

The older blonde Terry quivered as she spoke.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am. I-I'm really s-sorry, Miss. I d-didn't mean any d-disrespect, Ma'am. Thank you, Miss Barron." Terry stammered. 

The 46-year-old blonde southern-belle waitress seemed relieved and grateful that young Alexis had all but dismissed the lie about her age. 

"I'll have my assistant contact you with a day and time for a formal face to face interview." She told her. 

"Plan on Friday around the lunch hour." Alexis stated, as she snapped her fingers and pointed to my pad of paper, directing me to write it down. 

"Yes, M-Ma'am." Terry answered. 

Without as much as a "good-bye" to the nervous caller, Alexis simply hung up the phone.

My hands were shaking as I wrote down the words for the possible Friday interview with Terry. I already had the other legal pad with notes from the meeting in the conference room. They contained the names of the white female staff, and their times to meet with Alexis this morning. I began shuffling through them as I looked at my watch to see there was about 15 minutes before the first white woman was scheduled to come in to see her. 

I felt disorganized and inept sitting before the black woman's heeled feet like this trying to put the notes together. Intimidated, I was afraid to bring my eyes up to hers as I could feel her staring at me with a look of disgust. 

"Hey." she snapped, tapping my sore nose with the bottom of her right shoe. "Use my scheduler at the end of the desk." she ordered. 

I brought my eyes up slowly to meet hers as I continued to tremble. I saw her pointing to the end of her desk just behind me, and off to my left side. Laying there was a very expensive black leather bound appointment book, or scheduler. I simply reached over with my longer arms and grabbed it. 

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

It was a full 8 by 11 inch size bound book that contained each day of the year, 2008. Each day had a list of lines for time slots by the hour, and then split into quarter hours. Although it had only been half way through the year at this point I could see many of the pages from earlier in the year written on as I leafed through them to find today's date. Today's date was bookmarked. 

"Everything." she said, suddenly.

I looked up to her eyes with moderate curiosity, startled by her words. 

"Write down everything. Take good notes. I expect that." she demanded.

"A good executive has good notes available to her at all times." she added. 

Timidly, I nodded a "yes" as I began to copy the names and times of the other seven white women staff, who were meeting with Alexis to receive the "assignments" Alexis described. Then, I turned to Friday's page and wrote in Terry's name at the 12 noon time slot with a question mark, which was the tentative meeting she mentioned. 

During these 5 minutes of adding the notes to the scheduler, the young black woman just sat there with her feet up and crossed at the ankles inches from the left side of my face. I sat there submissively as I finished and closed the appointment scheduler slowly. There was another moment of uncomfortable silence when she suddenly spoke, again.

"Let me see that." she demanded, referring to the book. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I responded, my hands shaking as I reached over to hand it to her. 

The 18-year-old black woman just snatched the book from my weak hands as I sat there at the side desk chair, cowering in fear of the unknown. She briefed through it quickly and scribbled a few extra notes before handing it back to me. 

As I accepted it and set it down upon my small writing surface, Alexis began dialing another number on her speaker phone, and she spoke to me as the phone was ringing. 

"I did say everything, didn't I?" she said, scornfully, then ignoring me as she began her call. 

I was completely confused by her words as I looked down to the closed leather scheduler before me. I could hear her speaking to the caller and talking about a conference call for this afternoon, and I hurriedly opened the book to get to today's page again.

"Yes, 3 o'clock would be fine to discuss this." she said, again snapping her fingers and pointing to direct me to write it down. 

As I finished writing down the appointment for three that afternoon, her call lingered and the conversation became a blur to me. That is when I noticed what the young black woman had added to today's schedule. It was written in at the end of the day, 5 o'clock, and the time was circled a few times. Humiliated, I looked at the words she had written in. 

"Remind Ms. Alexis to slap me for blank." it read. 

I could not believe my eyes. This young black woman had mentioned, in words, that she was going to slap me for peeking through her things. But, I was astounded to see that she had actually written it in like this in the appointment scheduler. The arrogance she exhibited in doing so simply made my shoulders slump in defeat. 

"How in the world can I do this?" I asked myself.

"Why would she make me remind her of that?" I questioned, in silence. 

The utter defeat I was feeling at the time seemed to surpass everything else. She was telling me to remind her to slap me later in the day for something that I did wrong earlier, and in my mind I knew that I would have to.



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 15



I continued sitting at the side desk chair attached to what was once my executive desk. It was now Alexis Barron's desk, and I was not able to find the courage to contest her about this at all. I felt truly "weakened" by her commanding presence, which seemed to grow stronger by the day. The feeling of defeat overwhelmed me as I began to understand just how different things were at this time, and how after only a few short weeks since she had made so many changes. 

There was a different energy in our office. One that was humbling, demoralizing and defeating for me, and for the other white women. Somehow, though, it was hard to deny that the office was much more professional and disciplined. Despite the humiliation, it seemed to breed an aire of current and future success. 

Despite her being less than half my age I knew this black girl was far more comptetent than I ever was. 

At the time, I struggled to understand why all these changes were happening, and why they had happened so fast. It didn't make any sense at all. Not back then. Simply put, I was always so nervous, timid and afraid to be around the younger black woman. I would tense up and freeze whenever she was near me, or spoke. 

Usually, I was unable to speak or speak up unless she directed a question at me. Even then I struggled. She made me feel less and less competent all the time, and I am sure she knew this all too well. 

I simply sat there, humiliated. 

The heeled feet of this beautiful black teenaged woman remained merely 3 or 4 inches from my face, crossed at her ankles. I sat there with my head slightly bowed afraid to move even an inch in any direction to avoid them. My fear of upsetting her kept me "anchored" there in place. 

Then, the time came for the rest of the white female staff to meet with Alexis. They were to receive their assignment folders. 

One by one, each of the seven older white women entered her office and stood before her desk. They all appeared to be just as nervous as I was, and I could not look back at them for more than a few seconds. Alexis casually handed each one of them a folder and gave each of them a verbal deadline to meet. Each one of these assignments was different, yet all focused on the growth of the company and creating power point presentations that needed to be completed for upcoming meetings with clients. 

My entire staff had just seen me sitting at the little side desk chair, and sitting at the black woman's feet as they entered. Her feet were neatly propped up onto the corner of her desk top facing me, merely inches away. She always had them crossed at the ankles. It was an arrogant and authoritative position for her that caused me to feel weaker and more embarrassed to be seen in this subservient position. 

I wondered if she was doing this on purpose because it sure felt this way to me.

As the seven older white women accepted their folders and left Alexis' office, I sat there with my head down. I could feel young Alexis staring right at me and I grew nervous by the deafening silence in our private office. 

I wondered what could possibly be next? It was that curiosity that caused me to slowly lift my eyes upward to meet hers.

I was only able to look at her serious eyes for a moment before they turned stern. Her eyes and beautiful face intimidated me. Humbly, I brought them back down to my little desk top. 

"Keep that appointment book ready. I've got several calls to make!" Alexis ordered. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am. O-Okay." I whimpered.

Alexis Barron turned on her speaker phone and then began making calls. These calls would be to our existing client base and the newer, potential clients. She had contacted all of them in the past weeks and they had been receptive to hear more about the changes. Now, she was calling to follow up before she would set up the more formal, in-person meetings for next week. 

Within just a few minutes of her starting these calls, the young black woman casually slipped out of her 4 inch black leather pumps. Both her shoes rested on the desk top just off to my left. Her dainty size 5 feet in those deep, mocha-coffee toned stockings with the absolutely mammoth-sized darker reinforced toes were 3 to 4 inches from my face. 

Her feet were impeccably clean and slightly perfumed, yet the well-worn stockings she had worn at least a dozen times before was creating a demoralizing scent. 

Alexis Barron casually "scooted" down and back into her large executive chair to make herself more comfortable. She was waiting for her first call to answer. She stretched her legs out ever so slightly with her right nyloned foot crossed over the top of her left, at the ankles. The toes of her right foot were now a mere centimeter from my face, and her unusual scent was incredibly demeaning to me. 

With total arrogance, the young black woman "touched" the bottom of my chin with the top toes of her right foot. This brought my eyes up towards hers for a moment as she looked away. She barely hesitated before planting the bottoms of her reinforced stockinged toes over my nose and face, and she kept them there firmly. My eyes watered as I looked back at her with my embarrassed and flustered face. She was ignoring me. 

Nonchalantly, she lit one of her black clove cigarettes and tossed the lighter onto the desk. She began speaking to this first caller as she arrogantly "pressed" and firmly "wriggled" her sweat-drenched nylon stockinged toes in my face.

It was like she could care less about how her actions humiliated me. Timidly, I just sat there in unbelievable degradation listening to her business call. I was afraid to move.

"I can do Monday at 10 o'clock sharp." Alexis told the caller. 

"Well, yes. That will do just fine. I am looking forward to seeing the new designs we spoke of. I will have my team available then." the caller returned. 

I recognized the caller's voice immediately. It was one of my former customers, Beth, from Montrell's department stores. Beth was 50, a white woman and the buyer for the woman's chain of 16 stores in this region. Although I had claimed her to be one of my customers, she had not purchased anything from us in 2 years. She had been a good customer of my late husbands during the years before I took over. 

"Gretchen! 10'clock Monday." Alexis ordered, pointing to me. 

She was directing me to place the appointment into her schedule. 

My hands shook as I "inked" in the appointment for Monday in Alexis Barron's book, her stockinged toes still flush on my face. She wasn't giving me an inch of space to write down the appointment. 

"Oh, is that Gretchen? Is she still with the company?" the caller, Beth, asked. 

"Yes, it is. She will be assisting me as I run operations." Alexis returned.

"Oh? Well, alright." Beth replied. "I guess we will see you next Monday then?"

"Yes, you will. I will see you then." Alexis said, determined as she ended the call. 

For the next 3 hours, I sat in this degrading position at the young black girl's stockinged feet in shame. This entire time, she made numerous calls to our existing customer base to discuss the upcoming new line of perfumes. She also discussed the changes to the current line that I had failed, miserably, to promote for 2 years. Embarrassingly, every minute and every second of these three hours she had her well-worn nylon stockinged feet and toes in my face. 

The only brief moments that her nyloned toes were not actually touching my nose and face were the split second pauses when she recrossed her feet. The young black woman would switch her ankle position, crossing her feet at the ankles from left over right, and then back over the left. Her left or right foot was in my face almost continuously. She did so about every twenty minutes for these 3 hours, and she never allowed me to breathe regularly. 

Her stockinged feet and toes "tapped" and "cupped" and "patted" my swollen red nose constantly. She "wriggled" and "smeared" her pungeant smelling toes on and over my nose with such arrogance, and I was forced to write all her "notes" and "appointments" down with her feet in my face. 

Alexis rarely looked at me except during her infrequent "personal" calls in between the business calls. During those calls, the firmness of her silky toes was even firmer than they were at my home this past weekend. 

Her business calls to what was once referred to as my current customer base seemed brilliant.

This 18-year-old black woman expertly "pitched" the new and existing lines of perfume, and had agreements to meet and present to 14 different stores already. She had made 14 in person appointments for next week, and she accomplished this before lunch time. She accomplished something in a few hours that I was unable to do in several months. 

I was amazed by her direct and professional manner, and how she had convinced these buyers to meet with her. The black girl was "poised" and "direct" and would not take no for an answer. It was defeating to listen how she "outclassed" me in every way imagineable as she made me sit there humbly at her feet. 

The strong, clean and perfumed aroma of her well-worn and warm nylon stockinged feet was making me feel lightheaded. She "mashed" her silk covered toes in my face with such disdain as I cowered at her feet feeling like less than a secretary to her. 

It was close to one o'clock when Meghan called and reported that there was a delivery for her. 

"Miss Barron, there is a package here for you." Meghan announced on the speaker phone. 

"Bring it in, Meghan!" Alexis ordered.

"Yes, Miss Barron. Right away, Miss Barron." she replied. 

Moments later she arrived with 2 small boxes carefully wrapped in one brown paper covering. She handed it to Alexis and stood there waiting to be dismissed. 

"That'll be all, Meghan." the young black woman ordered. 

"Yes, Miss Barron." the timid white woman answered as she departed. 

The package was business cards, hers and mine. The young black beauty opened them and smiled. She looked at hers and held it up before her face and raised it above her eyes. Her stockinged toes "cupped" my nose firmly. She "flipped" it onto the small desk top before me to read and I looked down at it. 

It was an african design an colored business card that had dismissed our older company logo. It now had the newer red cat's collar logo and a silhouette of the continent of Africa printed as a back drop. 

It read: Ms. Alexis Barron, President. 

My eyes watered from her strong smelling nylon-sheathed toes in my face as I gazed upon the card. That is when she tossed me what would become my new business card. 

It read: Gretchen Burroughs, Assistant and Subordinate to Ms. Alexis Barron. 

I was astonished and humiliated by the title she had printed on my new business card. My face turned many more shades of red as she appeared pleased by the art work of our new business cards. 

"Gretchen! I want a chef's salad for lunch. Run out and fetch it while I check on the others. Quickly!" she ordered. 

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

Quickly, I scurried out past the others in the office and began walking the one and a half blocks to Evans Street. This street had several small resturants and stores in a row between other office buildings.

My face was still red from her grinding on it, as well as her slap. Yet, I was thankful that the "sting" was beginning to subside. I was also relieved to not have her pungeant smelling nyloned feet in my face for at least this short period of time. I grew more embarrassed by my appearance in that short skirt and tall heels when I realized I was now out in public. 

end. 



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 16



As I walked down Evans street in my new revealing and demoralizing new outfit, I became increasingly aware of the stares I was getting from others passing by. I was there simply fetching lunch for the young black woman and I kept my face hidden as much I could. I didn't want anyone from the area of my business to notice me. 

My nervousness increased with every step I took away from the office, and this caused me to duck into one of the first restaurants I saw. 

Just as I ordered the Chef's salad for Alexis Barron, her text message came through.

"What's taking so long? Hurry your ass up!" her message read.

"Yes, Ma'am." I replied in a return text message. 

My face turned a golden red as I stood there impatiently waiting for the restuarant to prepare the salad. I had to pee so badly but I was afraid of taking too long and missing the opportunity to get the salad when it was ready. This place was very busy and every seat was taken by the usual lunch crowd. It was now just past one o'clock in the afternoon. I'm sure my appearance and my embarrassment were obvious to anyone who looked my way. I had hoped that nobody noticed how badly I had to use the ladies room. 

This first day with Alexis Barron running my business had already been a degrading one, and I certainly didn't want to make things worse by upsetting her. Part of me knew that this day was not even half over and my fears of taking so long consumed me. 

Finally, the large chef's salad was prepared and I quickly paid for it before running out of the restaurant. I was in a frantic state of mind by now since young Alexis had just sent another text message to me, which was simply a question mark with an exclamation point following it. 

Her impatience concerned me. I scurried back to the office in my ridiculous 5 inched white high heels clumsily, and the thick leather strap around my ankles felt as binding as ever. I felt as clumsy and uncoordinated as some sort of old mule trying to manage my longer than normal strides. 

By the time I finally reached the office building my long legs felt sore and my ankles were tightening, but I was relieved to be back at the office and out of the public eye. 

When I walked in the other 7 older white women were not at their desks. I had been gone less than 20 minutes and it was curious that none of them were manning the phones. It was unusual to see. The incoming calls each rang twice before the auto answering machine picked up, and I looked at the clock on the wall to see that it was twenty minutes past one.

Hurriedly, I walked through the office to deliver the salad to the young black woman. As I turned the corner I noticed 6 of the seven older white woman standing in line outside one of the bathrooms, which was the single occupancy ladies room. 

It was apparent that one of them was inside as the others all waited their turn to use the ladies room now marked as "subordinate." It was even more embarrassing to notice that the double occupancy ladies room which Alexis labeled and designated as "executive" could not be considered.

Humbly, I walked in and noticed young Alexis standing by the large window with vertical blinds looking outward. Her view was nearly one full block where I had just come from, and I realized she must have been watching my return from a distance. She had been observing me as I fetched her lunch salad. 

The young black woman was back in her heels now and smoking a cigarette as she kept her back to me for a long, drawn out moment. She continued to peer out the window as I stood there holding her chef's salad. I was afraid to say anything but I knew that she was aware of my presence. Finally, she spoke. 

"Next time call ahead so it won't take so long, understand?" Alexis directed.

"Ye-Yes, Ma'am. It w-was b-busy and I-I-I was just ..." I stuttered nervously, trying to explain that it was the busiest time of the day for this restaurant. 

Alexis stopped me in mid stream. With her back still to me, her left hand went up in the air with a "halt" type of gesture. This caused me to stop speaking. 

"I don't want to hear it." she said, annoyed.

I did not respond. Timidly, I stood there for a moment and then placed the salad on the beautiful black girl's desk. I removed the takeout tray from the bag and set the plastic fork wrapped in celophane on top as she turned and dashed out her black clove cigarette. 

"I don't eat with plastic." she suddenly announced. 

"Get me regular silverware." she ordered. 

Nervously, I stood there for a moment and just stared at her beautiful face. It was merely a few second delay and her eyebrows bent downward with a disturbed mannerism. 

"Uh, silverware?!" she repeated with much firmer tone of voice. 

"Yes, M-Ma'am. Oh-Okay." I replied, trembling.

Immediately, I turned and scurried towards the break room where the office kitchenette was located. As I passed the rest rooms I noticed the line was down to 3 women with another inside. I really needed to use the ladies room badly, but I was too flustered to try to cut in ahead of the others. 

In the break room, three of the older white women were quickly eating their lunches. They were quiet and somber. No one was speaking to each other as I frantically washed and dried a silver fork for the young black woman to use for her salad. 

With the knowledge of Alexis Barron's impatience in the front of my mind, I desperately scurried back to her office and presented the clean fork to her. She was now seated with her left heeled foot on the floor and her chair cocked to the side of the desk. Her stockinged legs were crossed as one of her leather pumps "dangled" precariously from the tips of her reinforced nyloned toes. 

"Gretchen, get over here!" she ordered.

"When I eat, I like my feet massaged. Always." she announced. 

"And, I do mean always. You understand this, don't you?" she asked, her piercing eyes catching mine.

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am. I understand." I answered meekly.

Humiliatingly, I bent down and knelt to the side of Alexis Barron. I sat on the backs of my legs on the floor and nervously removed the dangling heel from her stockinged toes. Obediently, I began massaging her right foot as she ate her meal. Within five minutes I heard the soft sound of a bell, which rang only once. Curiously, I looked up and wondered where the sound came from.

"Don't worry about that." Alexis announced.

"That chime means the afternoon break time is over and it's time to gt back to work." she informed.

I looked at the 18-year-black woman with a puzzled and embarrassed look. This was an office setting and not some type of factory, yet she had installed an automatic chime sound to ring through the speakers of the office to announce the beginning and the end of office personnel break times.

As Alexis explained the new office rules, she placed her left heeled foot onto my shoulder while I continued massaging her right nyloned foot. Like at my home the past weekend, she used my shoulder as a foot rest during her massages. It was embarrassing to hear her new office rules of a 15 minute morning break time, a 15 minute lunch time from 1:15 to 1:30 p.m., and an afternoon break between 3:15 and 3:30 p.m. She had all seven of the other older white women on this schedule, but this excluded me. She informed me that she announced the new rules and schedule to the others while I ran out for her salad.

For the next 45 minutes, I knelt there and massaged both of the young black girl's nylon covered feet. She directed which foot was to be massaged and switched them every 10 minutes as she delicately and arrogantly picked through her salad. She made personal calls during this time as I knelt there in humiliation. I was beginning to feel more subdued. I still needed to use the ladies room and I began squirming in my own skin as young Alexis noticed. 

"Where's your lunch?" she asked, sarcastically. 

"I-I really don't eat l-lunch too much. I just h-have to use the b-bathroom, Ma'am." I quivered.

That is when the black girl removed her stockinged foot from my hands and put her toes to my chin. She began turning my face from side to side to view it. She turned my face from side to side several times, using the pressure of her little toes to control my head. 

"Nonsense." she said.

"You're getting old." she continued. 

"You're of no use to me if you're not healthy, so you'll eat." she ordered.

"Get up, take your 15 minute break and finish this salad." she directed, sliding the tray of her leftover salad across the desk. 

"Put my shoes back on before you leave." she commanded.

"Yes, M-Ma'am." I replied.

Obediently, I placed her 4 inch leather pumps onto her delicate feet. My hands were noticeably saturated with her slightly perfumed stockinged foot scent as I timidly grabbed the styrofoam salad tray from her desk. 

I looked at young Alexis as I was about to leave her office only to see her checking her watch. It felt like she was timing me, but I wasn't sure about this as I stepped out at 2:20 that afternoon.

Frantically, I ran to the ladies room to finally relieve myself. I felt embarrassed as I stepped into the break room to garnish and consume the last remnants of salad from Alexis' leftovers. In her mind, she had graciously provided me with some nourishment and in some way I was thankful for that. 

I finished eating and made it back to the black girl's office with one minute to spare. On my way back, I noticed my former staff of seven white women working diligently at their computers. Alexis Barron was looking over some type of hard copy report as she spoke to a caller on her speaker phone. 

Her conversation with this unknown person seemed rather intense and she had this incredibly stern look upn her pretty face. When I stepped in timidly, she immediately "snapped" her fingers and pointed to her side desk chair, ordering me to sit. 

Obediently, I followed her non-verbal directive and took my seat as she raised her voice at the caller. 

"I don't fucking care. These numbers can't be right!" she shouted to the caller.

It didn't take young Alexis more than two seconds to kick her heels off and place her stockinged feet up onto the her ankle rests at the corner of her desk. They were, again, a mere inch from my face as I cowered there overhearing the female caller's voice.

"I'm s-sorry, Miss B-Barron. I'll re-re-do them." she answered.

I had no idea whatsoever what their conversation was all about, but it truly was upsetting to the teenaged black woman. Part of me was terrified by her stern voice, and another part of me was upset at this woman for upsetting her like that. I grew nervous about being around Alexis when she was this disturbed. 

"You do that! Tonight!" she commanded. 

"Y-Yes, M-Miss Barron." the caller returned as Alexis callously ended the call. 

My eyes sunk lower as her anger was felt throughout the private office. She didn't have to say a word for me to know how disturbed she was now as she grabbed her pack of black clove cigarettes and lit one. Angrily, she tossed the lighter onto her desk top. She tossed it so hard that it slid across the desk top and ended up on the carpeted floor at the end. Nervously, I felt that it would best to get up and retrieve the wayward lighter right away rather than do it later. 

This young black woman had a beautiful and innocent face, but when she was upset it was obvious she had a temper like no one I had ever met before.

As I placed her lighter back before her and sat back down, I could feel Alexis staring at me. She took a drag of her cigarette as I humbled myself at her nyloned feet, which were still crossed at the ankles and "purposely" an inch before my face. 

With silent arrogance, she cupped my nose again with the enormous darker reinforced toe portion of her stockinged feet. My eyes remained downward as she rudely "kneaded" her well-worn silky toes over my nose. I was afraid to look up as she continued manipulating her toes on my face. I could feel her contemplating something. It lasted only a minute or so before she began making another call. 

Humbly, I sat there disgraced and demoralized as the young black woman began her afternoon agenda of making phone calls.

Again, she seemed brilliant in making future appointments with new customers. The morning had been designated for former customers, and now the afternoon was for new customers. For the next three hours, Alexis Barron consumed and smothered me with her well worn stockinged feet. She would not let me breathe unless her nyloned toes were either an inch away from my face, or flush on my face and nose. 

It was now past 5:30 and I had become lightheaded by the strong, musky and pungeant aroma of her perfumed stockinged-covered feet. They had been in my face the entire day. I felt such disgrace sitting there since my terrified state of mind would not allow me to protest her insulting manipulation of me.

As I heard the others leaving the office I became more nervous. The thought of being alone with Alexis, again, made me tremble more than I did the previous weekend. It was the end of the day and the young black woman was finished with her first days' work.

"Is there anything else on the schedule?" she suddenly asked. 

As I looked down at young Alexis' appointment book, there was one last entry. It was the same entry that she had made in this book earlier in the day. 

"Remind Alexis to slap me."

The time at the end of the day was circled and I immediately tensed up knowing that I would have to repeat this to her. I could hardly sit still as I was shaking like a leaf, unable to speak. 

"I asked you a question." Alexis scowled. 

Nervously, I began to cry as I put my eyes to the floor in shame. My fear of this teenaged black girl beating me up again got the best of me as I fell to the floor on my hands and knees. I had not answered her yet, but I was overcome with such emotion and intimidation that I collapsed. 

"Pl-please, please?" I begged, groveled and pleaded from my hands and knees. 

The young black woman was not showing any mercy. She seemed amused by my display for only a moment before her voice turned firmer again.

"Stand up!" she commanded me.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I replied, wiping my tears as I stood before her chair. 

"On the other side of the desk." Alexis ordered, pointing to the spot five feet away.

Timidly, I minced my way over to the other side of the black girl's executive desk. I stood there looking down at the floor, embarrassed by my own actions as Alexis remained sitting at her desk with her feet propped up.

"Answer the question." she snarled. 

Humiliated, I stood there knowing that she would slap my face when I read the "reminder" that she had written into her appointment book. I began to shake all over as I mumbled my response.

"I-I w-was to r-r-remind you to s-slap me, M-M-Ma'am." I pouted. 

The petite black woman then got up from her chair and stood up. She was still in her stockinged feet as she reached down to pick up her own shoes. She held the 4 inch black leather pumps in each one of her hands as she strolled towards me. 

I grew more tense as she got closer. Alexis walked slowly towards me and began to "circle" me even slower, almost as if she were doing this on purpose to intimidate me further. Her cocky and arrogant "slow motion" strides around me sent me into a near panic as I remained standing. Finally, after circling me a half dozen times, she stopped directly in front of me. 

In the uncomfortable 5" heels I was wearing, my statuesque frame rose to 6'6" tall, but I stood there petrified before the 4'11" tall black girl in her stockinged feet. As she stood before me looking almost straight up, it had to be obvious to her how nervous I was. She sneered, reached up and gently put the bottom of one of her heels to my cheek. She began carressing it.

"You don't want me to slap you, do you?" she asked, condescendingly. 

"N-N-No, M-Ma'am. P-Please?" I replied, begging.

"You do know how upset I get when you don't act right, don't you?" she asked, mockingly.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I mumbled softly. 

"Then, why do you upset me?" she drilled, her tone of voice becoming even more sarcastic. 

She continued to touch the side of my face with the bottom of her shoe. The black girl "traced" my face, chin and nose with her musky leather show in the most arrogant manner possible. 

"Huh?" she asked, again. 

"I-I-I d-don't know, Ma'am." I sniveled. 

"Oh, my. You don't know?" she asked, adding more sarcasm to her tone and continuing to carress the side of my face with the bottom of her high heeled shoe.

My face was flustered and worried. I felt weak and intimdated by the small black woman, and her tone of voice humbled me more with every passing moment. 

"Well, could it be that you do that because you're a dumb, old white bitch?" she asked, continuing her sarcasm. 

"Huh?" she asked again, now reaching up and tapping the side of my face with her shoe bottom.

"I-I-I don't kn-know?" I answered, as I began to bawl.

My arms were locked down at my sides in submission. My overwhelming fear of the impending slap to my face kept me frozen and shaking uncontrollably. I had no idea of what to do next as I looked downwards into her stern, yet amused eyes. 

"You don't know?" she asked, cockily. 

"Really?" she asked with more sarcasm. 

I shook my head "no" as I pleaded with my eyes for mercy.

"P-Please? Please?" I whispered. 

"P-p-please?" I begged, again. 

"Please what?" Alexis asked.

"P-Please d-don't slap m-me, Ma'am. I-I-I beg you. I-I'll ..." I continued groveling.

But, that is when young Alexis "slapped" my face with the bottom of her shoe. This time it was harsher and my face stung as I looked down at her in awe. Her eyes were amused, yet they were serious. 

"Beg? That didn't sound like begging to me." she replied, laughing sarcastically. 

"I've heard begging before, and that wasn't actually begging. Not to me." she continued.

"Begging is something different than mere words." she added. 

Her eyes looked upwards into mine as I remained "towering" above her with a more pronounced fear. My body was shaking all over as the young black woman's eyes grew more serious. I knew that "look" in her eyes, and I truly felt as if she was about to reach up to slap my face harder than she ever did before.

My sense of judgment betrayed me and I was so terrified at that particular moment that I just to my hands and knees before her. I then fell to my belly at her size 5 feet and put my hands around her stockinged ankles. 

"P-Please, Alexis. I-I don't w-want to be slapped again. Please d-don't." I groveled. 

"What? No kissing of my feet? Surely, an old white bitch like you knows begging involves much more than that." she laughed, evilly.

Degraded, I began to grovel and snivel before the black teenager as she made me kiss the tops of her nylon-stockinged feet. She simply stood there with her shoes in her hands making me feel the lowest I felt yet. I felt so low and pathetic as I groveled before Alexis begging her not to slap me anymore. I was being made to kiss her small black feet as she stood there laughing at how intimidated I was.

"Yes, I do like you Gretchen. You're learning." she said, insulting me. 

Suddenly, young Alexis was distracted.

"Hmmm, it looks like we have a visitor." she said, rather non chalantly.

With my belly on the floor and my hands around the black girl's nyloned ankles, I turned my head from the kissing position at her feet. 

I looked over to the doorway and was astounded to see the 56-year-old Ginny standing there. Her mouth was hung wide open in awe and it was clearly obvious that she had just wet herself. She was so utterly terrified seeing the black teenaged beauty making me grovel before her that she actually "wet" herself. The new white skirt she wore was soaking wet from her displacement.




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 16



My embarrassment couldn't have been more pronounced. I felt so sorry for Ginny as young Alexis stared her down. 

"Ginny, wait for me in the office next door." Alexis ordered.

"Yes, M-Ma'am." the older white woman replied, her eyes sinking in humiliation. 

Ginny turned and walked away. Traces of wetting herself were left behind on the carpeted floor by the doorway.

"Get up." Alexis ordered me. 

I stood up demoralized that someone had actually seen how the black woman was treating me. I felt so low and disgraced that poor Ginny had to witness this. Besides me, the 56-year-old white woman was more intimdated by young Alexis than anyone else in the office. I was sure that Alexis Barron knew this, too. 

As I stood there, I watched as Alexis put her heels back on and ordered me to gather her portfolio, purse and other items. 

"Meet me by the car in 10 minutes." she ordered.

"Y-Yes, M-Maa'm." I replied, meekly as she took one step away. 

"Oh, and by the way ..." she began to say, turning back to me.

That is when the young black woman reached back up to me and gave me that firm slap across the face with her right hand anyway. 

"... that wasn't begging. That was groveling." she ripped.

"Next time you'll know." she finished, turning and walking out the door.

I put my hand to my face to comfort the stinging sensation, and the redness on my cheeks were more out of humiliation than any pain. It was demoralizing how Alexis had made me grovel and beg like I did, and that she decided to slap me anyway. I gathered her things and rushed out the door, heading to the car we drove in with. 

As I stood outside waiting for the black woman, I felt terrible for Ginny. I wondered what could be happening as the 5 minutes turned into 10, and 10 minutes turned to 15. It scared me to think the black girl was disciplining Ginny for interupting us, and wetting her panties in the office.

It was then that I saw Ginny holding the door open for Alexis as she emerged from our office building. Immediately, I scurried around to the passenger's side door to let my young black boss inside. Then, I scurried back around to begin our drive home. The tension in the car was one that I will never forget as I wondered what the pretty black girl did to Ginny. I wondered if she got slapped too, and that made me curious about the other older white women in our office. I had hoped that young Alexis didn't slap them, like she slapped me. 

The drive home was 40 minutes. 

end of chapter 16. 



Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 17



By the time we arrived back at my home I was feeling completely defeated. 

Thoughts of this first day with Alexis Barron as the acting President of my company ran through my terrified mind. She was now "officially" my new boss, and this was humiliating enough for me to come to grips with. The subtle ways she had degraded me throughout the day consumed me during the entire 40 minute drive. Even her stern silence in the car caused me to feel on edge when we finally pulled into the driveway.

Like always, the young black woman sat in the car and waited for me to run around and open the passenger's side door. Again, I held it open for her as she stepped out out of my BMW and headed for the front door. Quickly, I scurried ahead to unlock the door and hold it open for her. Before entering, she reached into the mail box and began sifting through the letters, continuing to do so as she walked inside. 

I followed in behind the beautiful black teenager and was carrying her purse, portfolio and soft leather brief case with my own purse. Although I was unsure of what to expect next, many thoughts of a repeat of the previous degrading weekend ran through my head. These thoughts were extremely discomforting to me and I was almost pleading in silence for young Alexis to leave me alone. 

With uncanny arrogance, the black girl stepped inside and "kicked" her 4 inched black leather pumps. She literally kicked them across the room while her eyes remained focused on the mail she was leafing through. 

There were no words to describe how rudely she disgarded her shoes as I watched Alexis stroll towards the largest sofa in the room. 

Alexis dropped the mail onto the glass coffee table to her right. Then, she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it before removing her nylon stockings. She simply left them on the floor as she unbuttoned her white blouse, tossing it on to the floor far off to her left side. 

The beautiful black girl now stood at the sofa with her back to me. She stood there in merely the flimsy black bikini panties and bra that she wore underneath her outfit this day.

I gazed upon her youthful and perfectly-proportioned body in amazement. I was embarrassed by how much more beautiful she was than me.

"Gretchen. Bring me my computer breifcase." she ordered, casually.

"Yes, M-M-Ma'am." I whispered nervously.

As I carried the leather briefcase over, the black teenager picked up the mail from the glass table and then sat down. She propped her now bare feet up onto the end of the coffee table as I handed her the computer. 

Alexis didn't even look at me as she took the laptop from my grip and turned it on. She placed it onto her lap and looked through the envelopes as her computer began to boot up. I stood there in silence watching the young black girl begin to "fling" the lettered mail over her shoulder, one by one. 

"Trash, trash, trash." she repeated, tossing 8 or 9 of the envelopes around the room. 

When she got to the last envelope in her hands, she opened it and removed the letter inside. She disgarded the trash in the same manner and began reading through the multiple paged letter. 

"My cigarettes are in my purse." Alexis casually said, ordering me to fetch them. 

Humbly, I fetched then carried the black girl's purse over to the sofa. I removed her black clove cigarettes from it and handed one of them to her, placing the remainder of the pack to her right side. As I lit the cigarette and placed the ashtray on the sofa next to her, Alexis looked up for a split second before looking back down to the letter. 

"Get this shit picked up and put away." she commanded, referring to the clothes, shoes and enveloped mail she tossed around the room.

Her mannerisms of "waving" me off with the back of her wiggling fingers couldn't have been more insulting to me. 

"Ye-Yes, Ma'am." I replied softly. 

As I began to pick up all the scattered items around the room, bending over uncomfortably, I was losing my balance. The 5 inched pumps I was made to wear added to my already clumsy attempts. My struggling appeared to "amuse" the black teenager as I placed the trashed envelopes into the kitchen trash can. 

"Bring me a glass of wince while you're in there." Alexis Barron ordered. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I replied.

When I handed her the glass of Caymus, she took one sip and handed it back to me so I could place it onto the glass table at her feet. 

"Make sure you put my stockings away in the same bag ya' got them from." Alexis ordered.

"Get yourself washed up and changed while I decide what we're gonna do for dinner." the young black girl instructed.

"Yes, M-Ma'am." I answered, retrieving the remaining items from the floor and holding them in my weak arms. 

I could smell the strong and insulting aroma of her perfumed, well worn nyloned stockings in my hands. It was the same embarrassing odor that was all over my face, which reminded me that the black teenager's stockinged feet had been in or on my face the entire work day. My humiliation intensified with each passing moment as I defeatedly walked upstairs to the bedroom to change. 

Removing this degrading outfit was only a temporary relief for me. The 5 inched strapped heels were restrictive and had caused my tired feet more discomfort than I had was used to. I showered then changed into a pair of long, white yoga pants with a white tank top and my pink house slippers. I pulled my dampened hair back into a ponytail before putting away the black girl's stockings, heels and outfit.

When I walked down the stairs and saw Alexis from a distance, she was already tapping away on her computer and handling a cell call. She was still all business and seemed determined in her work. Meekly, I approached her and stood before her to make her aware that I was here. The young black woman simply pointed to her feet on the glass table, gesturing her order for me to massage her feet. 

Humiliatingly, I obeyed. 

I bent down and began massaging the teenager's now bare feet with my hands. Her feet still contained the same degrading scent of her well worn nyloned feet, which continued to pervade my nostrils from the days' actions. 

I massaged Alexis Barron's feet for about 10 minutes when she finished her call and looked at me. 

"You're gonna have to run out for the dinner I ordered." she said.

"I ordered barbeque and they don't deliver." she added. 

"The address is 123 Court Street. Write it down and go get it." Alexis ordered. 

"Go now." she added. 

Embarrassingly, I got up and ran to the kitchen to "jot" down the address. I knew that it wasn't very close to my home and I knew that it would be about a twenty minute drive.

I grabbed my keys and rushed out the door in my house slippers and yoga pants, placing the address into the GPS unit in my car. Nervously, I got onto the expressway as I followed the voice directions. 

"Hurry up so it's still hot." Alexis texted me. 

I didn't text back because I was driving as I exited the off ramp to a neighborhood I was not familiar with, named Olympic Fields. 

As I drove through this area I realized that it was almost entirely an african american community. I began getting a little nervous since it was summer and the sun was still out at around this time. It was past 7 in the evening and I finally made it to a place named "Buff's Barbeque" on Court street. 

Timidly, I parked and walked inside. A young black girl in her teens was at the register when I announced that I was here to pick up an order for Alexis Barron. She, too, was exceptionally attractive and she looked dead into my eyes with a knowing smile.  

"One moment. I'll check on the order." she said. 

"Th-thank you." I replied, uncomfortably as I crossed my arms as if I were cold. 

There was no chill in the small restaurant, but the stares from a few others sitting at small wood table to the side made me nervous. I was sure that I was the only white person in the entire restaurant and, perhaps, the entire area. 

As I waited at the takeout window, I began to look around at the photographs on the wall. It was now clear that Buff was the owner, a mid 40's black man who had been in business for about 10 years. The pretty black girl at the register was his daughter, Trinity, who seemingly helped her father run the business when not in school. 

I waited five long minutes before the young black woman approached the resgister holding a large brown paper bag with the order in it. 

"Okay, here ya' go. A BBQ dinner and a veggie salad. That's $147.89, and how will you pay?" she asked. 

The stated dollar amount for what seemed like a small order threw me off guard. I was shocked for a moment as I stood there and looked into her serious pretty eyes. 

"I said how will you pay?" she repeated, firmly. 

"Uh, well I-I-I guess by cr-credit c-card, Miss." I answered, feeling taken advantage of and handing her my card.

The young black girl rang it up and handed me the receipt to sign. That is when I noticed the line items on the small faded blue ink receipt, and they were itemized by line.

"Barbeque dinner and salad: $22.89. Service Fee: $125.00. Total: $147.89." the receipt read.

My hands trembled as I leaned down with the pen in my hand looking down at the absurd dollar amount for this dinner. I looked back up to see the young black girl's stern beautiful face and piercing eyes straight back at me. He arms were now folded, impatiently. 

Defeatedly, I just signed the receipt and headed back out to my car to drive home. On the way back, just as I entered the expressway, there was another text message from Alexis.

"If it's cold you're taking it back." she messaged. 

Desperately, I made my way back to the house in what would be considered record time. I was so worried that her meal wouldn't meet her expectations, and I bypassed a few stop signs to get home as fast as possible. As I grabbed the large brown paper bag from my car I noticed the order tag stapled onto the top of the bag designating who the order was for and the dollar amount.

"Customer: Alexis' Bitch. Amount: $22.89." the tag read.

The humiliation I felt was surreal. I couldn't help but wonder if that teenaged black girl at the restaurant was friends with Alexis Barron, and that she had flagrantly made the amount higher than it should have been. I tried not to think about it as I made my way back inside, yet the thought wouldn't leave my mind. 

Alexis was still sitting on the sofa with her size 5 bare feet propped up onto the coffee table when I entered. Immediately, I ran to the kitchen to get silverware and opened the bag. I pulled out 2 large tin foil trays with a white cardboard lids. Both meals were appropriately marked and I served the young black woman her dinner before I knelt on the floor at her feet and opened mine. 

"I ordered ya' that salad instead. It's healthier for someone your age. You don't need barbeque." she said, insultingly.

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I responded in a submissive tone. 

As I began to "pick" through the salad that was set onto the glass table I felt demeaned. Yet, I was hungry and I put one leaf of lettuce to my mouth and began eating it. Alexis stopped me.

"Uh, my feet?!" she said suddenly. 

"Didn't I tell you I like my feet massaged when I'm eating?" she scolded. 

My face turned red as I realized Alexis was serious about "always" having her feet massaged while she ate. My head was bowed in shame as I dropped my fork and began massaging the teenager's bare feet.

"Yes, M-Ma'am. Y-You did." I answered weakly.

"Always means always." Alexis added. 

"Y-Yes, Ma'am." I repeated. 

The young black woman greedily ate her barbeque dinner as she watched a video presentation for marketing on her lap top. She ignored me as I knelt at her feet rubbing them diligently for close to a half hour. When she finished, she tossed the foil tray with the picked through bones and remaining barbeque sauce onto the glass table before her. 

She began to lick her fingers of the sauce as she continued focusing on the video.

"Get me a wet rag and a towel." Alexis demanded, and I rushed off to do so. 

When I returned, the young black girl arrogantly put her right hand out for me to clean it. Humbly, I did so and repeated this by washing her left hand and fingers of the barbeque sauce too. When finished, I knelt back at the glass coffee table and began eating my salad as Alexis Barron leaned back into the sofa with her lap top computer. 

"Mmmm. You don't know what you're missing. That BBQ is the best ever!" Alexis said.

I was kneeling there quietly and timidly eating my healthier meal as the black girl seemed to "gloat" about her substantial meal. I was afraid to respond in any way as she continued.

"Yeah. It's the best. I've known Trinity and her family for years. It's my fav!" she added.

"You'd prolly like it too. Everyone does." Alexis said as I continued to sit on the backs of my legs eating the vegetable salad.

"Next time maybe you'll try it too." she said, callously. 

"It's the best." she continued. 

"The sauce is homemade n' all that." she added, looking in and out from her computer screen.

I remained kneeling at Alexis' bare feet already feeling so low as she bragged about her robust meal and how she had found that place years ago. 

Unbelievably, that is when the young black woman casually stretched her left bare foot outward. With sarcasm, she dipped her big toe into the remaining barbeque sauce in the foil tray and brought it to my lips. My eyes widened in disbelief and humiliation as she then literally put her sauce covered toe to my lips. With uncanny arrogance, she "nudged" her big toe between my pouty lips and fed me the BBQ sauce. 

"See, isn't that the best?" she asked, rather fecetiously. 

My face blushed a crimson red as this beautiful black teenager repeated the demoralizing action by dipping her big toe into the sauce again. She gently pushed the big toe of her tiny left foot into my mouthm making me taste the sauce with her toe. Lazily, she sat back into the sofa as I knelt there in completely disgrace. 

"Isn't that just too good?" she asked, her toe staying inside my mouth. 

Humiliated, I just nodded a "yes" as this black girl was acting playfully arrogant, and she acted as if she was doing me some sort of favor by allowing me to taste the barbeque sauce. My face must have flushed in defeat. I could hardly believe how she was degrading me in this manner. 

When she finally removed her bare toe from my mouth and lips, she wiped it onto my tank top tee shirt and went on like it was nothing. 

In shame, I finished my salad while Alexis started to return some calls. It was closer to nine o'clock now. I got up and removed the used foil trays and used napkins from the table, cleaning the table and area before the young black girl. 

My mind was racing from the intimidation I was feeling being in her presence. The manner in which she was treating me was so insulting and demoralizing that I found it difficult to comprehend at the time.

Just past nine that evening, the doorbell rang and Alexis ordered me to answer it. We weren't expecting anyone, or at least I wasn't when it happened. I was shocked to see that it was Sarah, the mid 60's white woman that I had met when shopping with Alexis a few days back. She was standing at the front door holding some files with a worried look upon her face.

Sarah was the shop owner who had fitted me with the clothes young Alexis chose for me, and the outfits she had chosen for all of us older white women to wear in the office.

"Why is Sarah here?" I thought to myself.

My look of despair upon seeing this older white woman must have been obvious to Sarah. Her eyes seem to sympathesize with me as I asked her what I can for her. 

"I'm here to see Miss Barron." Sarah said, timidly.

I could not answer as I just moved to the side to let her inside. Nervously, this much older white woman walked into our livingroom where Alexis Barron was sitting on the sofa and relaxing. Sarah stood before her without a sound. She stood there quietly and waited for the young black woman to acknowledge her, which had to be a full two minutes.

"Let's see what you have." Alexis snapped.

"Y-Yes, Miss Barron." Sarah answered weakly, handing a group of papers to the black teenager.

Alexis "snatched" the papers from Sarah's limp grip and began looking at them. The papers were finacials reporting the sales and assets of what I thought was the older white woman's shop. 

"Well?" Alexis asked, roughly. 

The 65-year-old white woman was trembling and stuttering as she stood before the sofa trying to explain the numbers on the report. Alexis held the report in her hands and was sifting through the pages as Sarah spoke.

"M-Miss Barron. Y-You were right, Miss B-Barron. Th-there were mistakes, M-Miss Barron. I-I-I didn't realize them, M-Miss Barron. I'm so s-sorry, Miss B-Barron." Sarah stuttered. 

"Well, that's because you're an idiot." Alexis ripped. 

"Y-Yes, Miss Barron. I-I'm very sorry, Miss Barron." Sarah returned. 

"Still, the numbers are for shit. Not nearly what I expect." Alexis snapped. 

"I-I kn-know, Miss Barron. W-We'll do b-better next month, Miss B-Barron." Sarah replied, her face turning as red as a tomato.

"I-I-I will do better, Miss Barron. I'm so sorry. Th-there's no excuse, M-Miss Barron." Sarah added.

The young black woman made Sarah stand there in embarrassment for a few more minutes as she read through the pages again. 

"What the fuck have you been doin' all month to get such pathetic numbers?" Alexis yelled.

The older white woman stood there, ashamed by the black girl's scolding of her. I stood there feeling so sorry for her, but understood the intiimidation she so obviously felt. I was confused because I didn't understand why the mid 60's white woman was reporting the financials of her own clothing shop to the 18-year-old black girl. 

Sarah remained standing before Alexis. She was blushing as the young black woman finally threw the papers back at her. They hit her body then fell to the floor at her feet. 

"Leave!" Alexis ordered.

"Y-Yes, Miss Barron. I'm s-sorry, Miss Barron." Sarah responded, bending down to pick the papers off the floor. Her head hung in shame as Alexis repeated the command.

"I said leave." she ordered.

"Gretchen, show her out." she commanded me. 

"Y-Y-Yes, Miss B-Barron." Sarah whispered, as she turned and began walking towards the door.

My eyes must have shown a degree of shock and confusion as I walked the much older white woman out to the driveway. Sarah was crying and she turned to me with a look of desperation. 

"Please tell Miss Barron that I am so sorry for this. Please?" she begged. 

I did not know what to say. I was still confused and didn't understand exactly what was happening between Alexis Barron and Sarah. Somehow, I was able to form my confusion in a whisper.

"F-For what?" I asked the older woman. 

Sarah went on to explain that the teenaged black girl was now the owner of her shop, and she had been for awhile. She told me that young Alexis took over the shop close to a year ago, and had been running things ever since. 

"Sh-she's my boss." Sarah whispered, humiliated. 

She explained that Alexis graciously kept her on to work in the shop since she had decades of experience doing so, but the business wasn't near it's potential until she began making all the decisions. 

"Wh-what?" I thought. 

"H-How could she take over your business like that?" I mumbled in awe, asking Sarah. 

A look of fear appeared on the older woman's face, and she turned pale. 

"P-Please?" she groveled.

"P-Please don't ask m-me any more questions. I-I can't talk to you about this anymore. I-I'm sorry. If she sees me talking to y-you then she will become f-furious." Sarah said, crying. 




Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 17



The older white woman then turned and quickly got into her car almost bawling out loud. She drove away and it terrified me to think that young Alexis had already taken over another business from another white woman before I even met her. Now, she was taking over mine. The humiliation I felt for Sarah was the same humiliation that I felt for myself, and all the other white women in my office. All of us were petrified of this small black woman, and we would never be able to have the courage to contest her in any way. 

When I went back inside, Alexis was on the phone speaking to Terry. 

Terry was the white southern belle waitress we had met at the outdoor cafe of Oaktown Mall. Alexis had changed her scheduled interview and was telling the 46-year-old white woman to be at her office at 1 o'clock tomorrow afternoon. 

"Just be there, Terry!" Alexis shouted as she hung up on the call.

Young Alexis pointed to the carpeted floor before her sitting position on the sofa, gesturing me to sit. Obediently, I sat on the backs of my legs in the same kneeling position I was becoming accustomed to. Degraded beyond explanation, I sat there watching the black girl dialing another number. She stretched her bare feet out before her, and placed them onto my left shoulder. 

"Hey, Girl!" she said, starting her call.

My face was flushed as the young black girl immediately placed her right bare foot flush onto my face. She cupped my nose with her toes and began to "toy" with my face with her young feet in a playful manner. 

It was terribly degrading to be sitting and kneeling before Alexis Barron. She spoke to one of her friends while she rubbed her bare toes onto my face in the brattiest manner possible. I could not move as I overheard her conversation with one of her black girlfriends. 

She was speaking to a friend about how "pathetic" Sarah was, and how she would need to make changes faster than she had anticipated. 

"Now that you graduated last month, I think it's 'bout time we get you in there girl." she told her friend. 

"Yeah. The typical dumb and incompetent older white bitch just ain't doing it." she finished. 

"I need a sista in there." she added.

As I knelt there at young Alexis' feet I felt sorry for the much older white woman, yet I also knew that she was doing the exact same thing to me and my business. 

This young black teenaged woman was so assertive and so smart that it humbled and humiliated me to no end. Like all of us older white women in the office, I felt helpless and powerless against her. The control she had over us was embarrassing to admit, yet it was really and truly happening.

Alexis finished her call and now turned her attention towards me. 

She lit another one of her black clove cigarettes and leaned way back into her sitting position on the sofa. Her left foot remained on my left shoulder and her right bare foot remained in my face as she firmly manipulated her toes in a variety of positions to further degrade me.

"We still have a lot of changes to make." she said to me. 

I sat there, kneeling in complete silence and listened nervously.

"Your incompetence dug a hole so deep that only a black woman could get out of it. You must understand this." She continued.

"But, you seem to understand this more and more now." Alexis added. 

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I replied in the softest whisper possible.

"You're beginning to understand that it's my birth right as a black woman to dominate ya' all weak and inferior white bitches." she said, insultingly. 

"Isn't that right?" Alexis added, squirming her bare toes in my face with verocity. 

I just knelt there staring at Alexis Barron in awe of her words, and how she explained what she referred to as "black dominance." I was trembling in fear and had no clue how to respond to her unimagineable arrogance. 

"It's simple. I'm young and black, and that makes me superior. You're old and white, and that makes you inferior. That is why you do what I say. Is that understood?" she ripped.

"I'm the boss." she added.

"Y-Yes, M-Ma'am." I replied in a defeated tone.

I was so humiliated by the words of this beautiful black girl, yet her confidence and control truly awed me. I looked into her eyes like I was a deer in the headlights as she removed her small feet from my face and leaned over to me. 

She leaned over and took my face into both of her young hands, pulling me closer to her. I was too weak to resist her as the black girl brought my face to her panty-covered pussy. She forced me to smell her musky scent as she held my face there long enough for me to change my breath.

Then, the beautiful black girl removed her panties with one hand while she held onto the top of my blonde haired head with one fist. Her grip of my hair was fierce, and my eyes began to tear as I realized what was about to happen.

"Pl-Please, Alexis. I-I'm not lesbian." I pleaded in a whisper as I cried. 

"You'll get used to it." she said, smiling and bringing my mouth and nose to her trimmed pussy mound.

"And, you'll use your tongue this time." she ordered.

I nearly fainted as I began to cry like I have never cried before. 

Alexis Barron started out slowly as she held by head by the hair with one fist and grinded my face into her wet black pussy. She grew firmer with each passing minute. I was helpless as the first 10 minutes passed and the wetness of this black girl covered my entire face. 

"Now, I want your tongue." she ordered firmly.

Although I wanted desperately to resist I was in no position to fight her. Her aggressive and dominant personality humbled me as I obeyed her, and I felt completely defeated.