Black Alexis Dominates White Ch. 16

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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 suadiye escort 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 yakacık escort 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 şerifali escort 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.

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