Adopted Asian Daughter Chapter 2

Chapter 2


Cindy came back wearing a lovely blue dress which showed off her excellent figure without being blatant about it. She was perfectly though not ostentatiously made up, and she looked as pretty as ever. Cindy’s father had been engaging Chad in a friendly discussion about football to pass the time, while her brother had gone off about his own business. Now Chad stood up, hoping that his hard-on had diminished enough not to be obtrusive. Cindy’s father showed them out the door, cautioning Chad to have his daughter back by one o’clock. Chad promised he would.

Neither of them said a word until they were in Chad’s car and he had started the engine. Then Cindy turned to him. “Listen,” she said fiercely. “If you tell anybody about this, I’ll kill you. You understand? You say one word to anyone–ever–I swear I’ll get back at you, I swear it!”

Chad blinked. “Okay,” he said. He was still staggering mentally under the impact of the scene he had witnessed. He hadn’t thought about telling anyone. He hadn’t really thought about anything. “Okay, I won’t.” They did not speak again until he was turning into the school parking lot. Then Cindy turned to him again. “I mean it, Chad, okay? You can’t tell anybody about–what you saw. It was just–it was something that–that’s nobody else’s businesss, okay? So just keep your mouth shut. All right, Chad? Promise me.”

There was something subtly different about her manner this time, less threatening, more anxious. But her tone was still snotty, and even condescending, being an Asian woman, who thinks she is the most prized race of females on the planet. Chad did not answer immediately as he searched for a parking spot. He was thinking that he wished she would be nicer to him. After all, she was asking him for a favor, even though the way she put it sounded more like a demand. But still …

He found a spot and turned the car in, then turned off the engine. “Hey, Cindy?” he said.


“I’m not gonna tell anybody, okay? I mean, I told you that, right? But listen–don’t you think–I mean, especially since you want me to keep my mouth shut and all–don’t you think you could be…like…kind of nicer to me, instead of–you know…”

In the dim light from the parking lot lamps her face suddenly hardened, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “I just mean I think you should be nice to me,” he said simply.

Cindy’s body stiffened. Her voice, when it came, was a cold, harsh whisper that startled him almost as much as her words. “You filthy fucking white son of a bitch! All you white guys are the fucking same.” she said.

He looked at her in surprise. “What?”

“You think you can blackmail me?” she went on. “You think I’ll go down for you like I did for them, just so you won’t spread that around? You think you can have me that easily? Is that what you think, you little feeble-minded white trash dweeb?”

He was so astonished that it took him a minute to absorb what she was saying. She thought he wanted to blackmail her for sex! For a moment the idea stirred something in him, making his mouth dry. But no. It was obvious that that wouldn’t work. Besides, it had been so far from his mind that he couldn’t even consider it seriously.

“Hey!” he said, shaking his head. “Hey, no–wait a minute–Jesus, Cindy, I don’t–that’s not what I’m talking about. Come on! Listen, all I meant–I just mean, you know, you always, well, you’re always so snobbish, you know? When you–when you talk to me, it’s like I’m a bug or something. Especially in front of everybody, it’s–well, it’s embarrassing, you know? Now you–you’re so–I mean, I thought maybe you didn’t know what it was like to be embarrassed, but–but now–well, I guess you do. Okay, I’m not going to embarrass you more by telling people what you don’t want me to tell them, but I just thought–you know, we’re on this date here and all, and I just thought instead of treating me like crap, you might just act a little nicer, that’s all. Like maybe you really wanted to be out with me. Like maybe I wasn’t such a terrible guy. Such a loser. That’s all I meant. You know?”

Cindy looked at him in silence for what seemed like a long time. “Okay,” she said finally. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying if I don’t put you down in front of the other kids–if I play up to you tonight, and act all lovey-dovey and make believe you’re like some cool stud and all–then you’re giving me your word you’ll forget about what happened at my house, and you’ll never say a word about it. Is that what you’re saying?”

Of course that wasn’t what he was saying at all, really. For one thing, he still hadn’t meant to threaten her with telling; he hadn’t been trying to make a bargain. For another, he hadn’t wanted it to be an act–he had wanted her to be genuinely nice to him, to look at him as though he were a person, not an inferior object. But he knew in his heart that this was the best he was going to get, and he decided he would be a fool if he didn’t settle for that.

“Well, yeah,” he said, shrugging. “Something like that, anyway.”

Cindy nodded slowly. “Okay, Chad,” she said. “You got a deal. Let’s go.”

And she opened the car door and got out, heading for the school building. Chad hastily locked the car and followed her. As they entered the gym, where the dance was in progress, Cindy took his hand. She smiled brilliantly as they came through the door, and she turned to him to include him in her smile. Chad felt overwhelmed. He knew that a lot of eyes would be watching as the pretty and popular Asian girl Cindy Cohn made her entrance, with Chad, the nerdy white loser, and she was already playing her part, showing him off as her escort. She continued to hold his hand as they moved slowly through the crowd, greeting friends and stopping to chat briefly here and there. Many people seemed surprised to see her with Chad, especially displaying such apparent intimacy, but no one said anything. Now they were approaching a group of Cindy’s closest friends: Rachel Harris, Melanie Bryan, Norma Veney, Sallie Jussel, Armina Banks–the reigning clique of adopted Asian daughters, the most popular girls in the school. All of them, Chad saw, were looking at him in more or less obvious disbelief. Some of them were openly staring. Melanie Bryan didn’t bother to stifle a giggle as they approached.

Cindy’s smile never wavered. “Hi, guys,” she greeted them. “Chad, you know everybody, right?” To his astonishment, she released his hand to snuggle closer to his side and slip her arm around his waist. “Chad’s my guy for tonight,” she said brightly. Most of the girls looked as startled as he suspected he did. Cindy turned to him then, smiled into his eyes and said in a soft, intimate voice, “Dance with me, honey, okay?”

“Sure,” he managed, and a moment later they were on the dance floor, though he could barely hear the music over the pounding of his heart. Cindy moved close to him, taking his hand, he was moving somehow. She was still smiling up at him. “How am I doing?” she whispered. “Fine,” he said. It came out as a croak, and he had to swallow before he could continue. “Fine, Cindy. You’re doing just fine. Great.” She laughed softly, as though he had said something really amusing, and then as the music segued into a slow ballad, she moved even closer to him, her body melting into his.

He was dancing automatically, still not sure of the beat but instinctively following her movements. He could feel the soft swaying of her body, the pressure of her breasts pushing into his chest, the movement of her thighs against his. Her head was against his shoulder, and he felt her warm breath on his neck. His own breathing was rapid, and he could feel his cock getting hard. He couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Cindy felt it too. He heard her low, soft laugh again. She didn’t move away; if anything, she pressed herself more firmly against the hardness. But she whispered in his ear, “Remember this is all make-believe, Chad. Okay?”

He nodded. Of course it was. It was all an act, and she still thought him a white dweeb and a nerdy loser. Afterwards she would probably giggle with her girlfriends, explaining to them what a great act she put on, what a sucker he was. Though of course she wouldn’t tell them why. And he suddenly remembered her as he had seen her earlier that evening, on her knees, naked, crawling, sucking her step father’s white cock. Being whipped. Screaming. Sucking her step brother’s cock. Sobbing.

He was almost panting now, his cock was throbbing as it rubbed against Cindy’s body. And Cindy was laughing, saying, “Hey, you don’t want to come right here on the dance floor, do you, Chad? We better sit down for a while.”

He could barely walk, and his erection embarrassed him. As they came off the dance floor he excused himself to go to the men’s room. There he shut himself in a booth and jerked off. He thought of Cindy, of course. Naked and sucking and sobbing. It didn’t take long. The rest of the evening was a blur. Cindy continued to act as though she was really attracted to him, and he could see that a lot of people were changing their opinion of him, setting him higher in their estimation, simply because he had the stamp of Cindy Cohn’s approval. His whole life at school could well change because of this evening. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He danced with Cindy some more, and at one point had to jerk off again. He also danced with some other girls, including several of Cindy’s special friends. It was funny to see them sizing him up, trying to see what had sparked Cindy’s sudden interest. Again, he supposed they, at least, would learn the truth soon enough. Or part of the truth.

They left the dance about twelve-thirty. Outside her house, Cindy bid him goodnight. “I’d ask you in,” she said, half-jokingly, “but I think my father has plans for me.” Chad thought he heard a note of real fear under the joking tone. Surprisingly, it thrilled him. Then she said, “Well, I kept my part of the deal, didn’t I, Chad?”

“Yes, you did, Cindy,” he said. “You surely did.”

“And you’ll keep yours, right?”

“I will,” he said. “I promise.”

He really meant it too. But he didn’t count on Jenna Wang.




Author: jennifer suzuki

I have been a very confused—some might say very conflicted—girl ever since I can remember and I have always lived in a fantasy world of my own making. I was born in Japan, my mother is Chinese and my father is Japanese, and my father's mother or my grandmother was German Dutch, and I came to the United States as a teenager and lived and went to school in Maryland, and worked in New York. I lived in fantasy worlds since I was a teenager and I have always done so, sometimes so deep in my own fantasy I forgot my own identity. I no longer knew who I am. Physically I look more European than asian. My father is of mixed heritage—he has white blond hair, but he also has some distinctly Japanese features. On the other hand my features mostly resembled my grandmother, who was a full blooded European woman. Which was not something that really bothered me. Actually most modern Japanese look very European compared to the rest of asians. My father was a sadist, and my mother, on the other hand, was, in my opinion, a masochist with no self respect. Growing up, seeing my father beating my mother was almost as frequent as having dinner, and when not beating her, she was constantly being humiliated and degraded, like having to serve dinner to him naked on her knees or being tied to an utility pole only in her panties during the winter. At first I believed my mother was a victim, a unfortunate human being in the hands of a cruel evil man, but as I grew older I realized that it was my mother who enjoyed being treated this way. The initial realization made me feel she was a disgusting, perverted, sick person, but as I grew older I began to have the almost identical sexual fantasies that my mother lived and experienced through. I began to think that my mother was the luckiest woman on earth since apparently she had found a man who understood her desires and could give them to her. My dad studied and worked in America before, and during that period he desperately wanted to marry a white woman, and vehemently pursued several white women, but was unsuccessful. At the same time Japanese women were unwilling to marry him. Maybe because just like him they were looking to marry into the white race, or maybe because he had sadistic tendencies. Out of options he settled to look for a Chinese woman. Statistically, marriages between Chinese women and Japanese men have been quite common, and I personally knew quite a few couples just like my mother and father. Even here in America I knew several Chinese women who had Japanese boyfriends and those women were actually quite proud of having superior Japanese men as boyfriends. Japanese in general look much more European compared to other asians and I suspect it was the putative European appearance that attracts other asian women. Of course Japanese are not Europeans, no matter how much we try to become European, just as Jews will never be fully accepted as White Christians. I think Jews and Japanese have a lot in common. We were both persecuted by Europeans, the Jews by Germans, and Japanese by Americans, yet we both come to love our white Masters. Jews weren't officially considered white until very recently, and I think as time progresses eventually Japanese will be categorized as white in the future, though Jews and Japanese will always know that they are still inferior to their Nordic Masters. But as always the Jews will be Masters over the Arabs and the Japanese will be Masters over the rest of Asia. There is no other meaning to life, other than the degree of domination. I had an older sister who looked fully asian, as opposed to me who looked much more European. And ever since childhood I have always known for a fact that I was treated better by everyone else because of my distinctly European appearance. In school classmates would be hesitant to tease me because they always thought my father might be an American or an European man even though they knew my mother was Chinese but somehow they still were afraid of me solely because of my European appearance. The thing was that in Japanese naming system, my mother's last name automatically gets attached to mine, so for example, my name in Japanese would actually be "Suzuki Liu Jennifer", because my mother's maiden name is Liu; this way everyone would instantly know my mother is Chinese. On the other hand my sister was bullied almost everyday by upper classmates because she looked very Chinese. They made fun of her hair and clothes and told her that she looked like a Chinese pig and I had seen boys pulling down her pants and laughing at her for having a "Chinese vagina". I was a very young girl back then and I felt ashamed of having her as a sister so in school I didn't talk to her at all. When I was 12 years old, she committed suicide by hanging herself in her closet. I know this because I was the one who discovered her body. My parents would have never told me about her death if I did not saw her dead body by myself. And ever since her death a dark cloud formed over my head and throughout my teenager years I was constantly harrowed by thoughts of suicide. It was not until I was much older that I learned suicide is infectious and that had been why I was constantly thinking about suicide. The realization made me try not to think too much about death, but no matter how much I try I can never get her image out of my head. Sometimes I feel she still haunts me because I didn't talk to her in school. My parents divorced when I was 14 and I went to live with my mom in China for two years. Contrary to popular beliefs, I had never experienced any form of racism or discrimination against me when I was living in China. Most people assumed that I was an European girl and the aura of being European seemed to make me inapproachable, like the shield of Athena covering me from head to toe. Even when I was in school, when classmates would know my father was Japanese because of my last name, I had never really felt any discrimination, though I did feel they were kind of afraid of me. I had never realized how much being White meant until I was in America: the symbol of power, domination, and superiority that being White implies. Being White is being the entelechy of all that is beautiful, good and righteous. Which is strange because my nationality still is, in actuality, Japanese and as I grew older I started to look more asian. My hair has gotten completely dark and my looks started to resemble my mother's. I used to have very light-colored hair, but I just felt fortunate that I do not look fully asian like my sister was. When I saw this image [of a naked asian woman kneeling next to a black furred dog] in a Japanese SM magazine a few days ago, all of a sudden I remembered seeing my mother in a similar position when I was maybe just 5 or 6 years old. It was not a pleasant experience; it was an extremely scary and traumatic experience, and growing up I heard constant moaning and muffled screams coming from my parents' bedroom. Every evening was a nightmare to fall asleep. But knowing that many asian women were treated the same way as my mother had been treated somehow made me feel better about my own family. At least my parents were not as weird as they seemed, and while growing up I had gradually come to realize that many asian girls have the same masochistic tendencies as I do, but many were just very shy and wouldn't admit their secrets. So it seems there are many masochistic asian women out there who thrives on been humiliated and degraded just like the girl in this image; I don't know why but this image made me feel kind of normal. I have lived in the States for nearly ten years now and I have not talked to my parents, who had divorced, for several years, especially to my mother whom I had some very severe arguments with over the years, especially when she remarried after she went back to China. I was more fond of my father though I haven't really talked to him that much either because he too had remarried. Despite all the mean things I had said about my dad, he was always very gentle with me and never beat me. He beat my sister and my mother but never me and I suspect he was much more gentle with me because of my more European looks. I felt their divorce was a punishment for me, as if they had abandoned me and I never felt comfortable with either of them or their new spouses, whether it be in China or in Japan. My mother's new husband was a very cruel and domineering white man living in China and he never treated me with the same special treatment I received from my dad. And I remember one time when I went out with him people on the street mistook me for his wife and I felt so disgusted I never wanted to go out with him again and then he would yell at me and yell at my mom. I am glad to have gotten out of there. And my dad ... well let's just say I couldn't bear to coexist with his new wife either. The last time we talked was already 3 years ago. This image had brought back so many long forgotten yearnings. I miss my sister and my parents. The memory of my sister and my parents started to fade away, like wavering forms they passed before my clouded sight; their images have become a blur rise about me out of mist and cloud; their faces, and their figures have become shades of phantoms; I wanted to hold you close to me in that blessed fleeting moment when you reappeared to me in my dreams. If only I possessed the strength to draw you near. I wanted to forever remember you—you bear the images of happy days; your airy smiles still stir youthful tremors in my breast—but my memory faltered. It would have been simpler if I were already dead. I would never be seized again by those long forgotten yearnings. I shuddered at those thoughts; and a tear draws other tears. Crying is my only form of release; through crying I am channeled to the solemn and silent world of spirits; crying is my whispered prayer that lingers in a vagrant tone. I have no one to talk to. I live in solitary confinement. I have been driven to madness even though physically I stay put. My life—full of dolor, pain and suffering. Sometimes I wish I could end it. The only reason I continue to live is for otherwise I lack the courage to carry out that final act, to take me beyond and step into the unknown. It is so much better to have been never born at all, or at least to die an immediate death. How sweet and wonderful death would be. My dear Aya, I am so very sorry! A vast space of nothingness in the empty universe fills my heart. Everyday of my life I live in terror because of you. A family dog Growing up, I always felt lonely. My family dog was my only companion. He was a slightly larger than a medium sized dog, with grey and dark fur, and a nozzle that resembled a wolf. He was so cute, so adorable, and he was my only friend. I often played with him in my desperate attempts to communicate with another living being, like Madame Bovary sitting by her fire place in a melancholic longing for escape. I want out!, out of this nonchalant prison of thoughts, out of this cruel alienated society, out of these mind forged manacles whose clanking I hear like looming madness; the marks of domestication on their faces, marks of psychological slavery, marks of intellectual death; they are mere automatons, inanimate objects, so lifeless like straw men, hollow men, stuffed men. I can't bare to look at those miserable beings' faces. In a domesticated dog I see more humanity than the entire humanity. If only my family dog can take me away! And I will elope with him to a happy place, where there is no more sorrow, no more dread, no more cold metallic prison walls of the mind. My family dog was my only friend, and he was my only confidante. To him I entrusted all my deepest secrets. Sometimes I wished I was a dog: no more worries, no more sadness, no more consciousness, no more thoughts, just the need to satisfy my most basic instincts, lying by my owner's feet, worshiping him and completely dependent on him. Sometimes I wish I could have another dog just like the family dog I used to have in Japan. And he will be my husband. I will belong to him. I will be his bitch. I will obey him, crawl under his belly, gently caress his furs with my soft hands, and please him like I would please my husband. And he will be my beast and I will be his beauty. Albeit he will be a gentle beast, always so obedient to me, and yet always so much more aggressive, and animalistic; he will protect me from harm, with his sharp fangs and naturally endowed muscles for chasing down his prey; and yet he will honor me and obey me like a lover would. He will never be jealous, never be angry, as long as he is fed and watered. He will be my best friend.

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