Adopted Asian Daughter Chapter 4

Chapter 4


Raymond didn’t tell his sister how he found out that Chad had let out the story of what he had witnessed that night. He just told her it was true, cursing at her all the while for being careless enough not to make sure Chad’s lips were sealed. Cindy didn’t pay him much mind. He had no power over her, except through their father; it was only at his orders that Raymond would dare to molest her in any way–which was why, when he did get that chance, he was so eagerly enthusiastic about it. But Cindy was also angry to hear that Chad had broken his promise to her, although as far as she could see the story had not gotten around. She sought him out and said she wanted to talk to him alone. Chad somewhat nervously went with her to her car.

“You white devil cracker son of a bitch!” was the first thing she said to him. “You promised me you wouldn’t tell, you piece of shit! We had a deal. Don’t try to deny it, asshole, I know you told somebody. My brother knows too, and I’m surprised he hasn’t beaten you up already.”

“Cindy, I–I’m sorry,” Chad replied humbly. “Look, I only told one person, and–and I really couldn’t help it. Nobody else knows, and I’m sure–”

“I don’t give a crap if you only told your dog!” Cindy blazed. “You weren’t supposed to open your stupid mouth! After what I did–Christ, showing myself off with you and pretending to even like you! What a laugh! I had to force myself through every minute of that dumb act. I could hardly stand to look at you, if you want to know the truth. Every second I was dancing with you I wanted to throw up! Because you really make me sick, you shithead loser dork! If you ever so much as talk to me again I’ll spit on you! You got that? Now go back to the cesspool where you belong.” And with that she got into her car and drove away.

Chad went back to school. He didn’t really care if Raymond did beat him up. It couldn’t make him feel worse than Cindy had.


# # # # # # # # # # # #


“That jerk guy Cindy went out with told somebody about what happened,”

Raymond said as he, Cindy and their father sat around the dinner table.

His father looked up sharply.

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s gotten around,” Cindy said quickly.

“Me neither,” Raymond said. He had not told either of them about Jenna Wang. “I got it covered okay. Nothing to worry about. But I’m gonna have to deal with him.”

“I already did,” Cindy said. “I told him off good. Really let him have it. I don’t think he’s going to say anything more.”

“Wait a minute,” Cindy’s father said, in a tone that for some reason made Cindy stop eating and freeze. “You told that Chad boy off? You were rude to him? Is that what you said, Cindy?”

Cindy swallowed. “Daddy, he shot his mouth off! He promised me he wouldn’t, he gave me his word, and he told!”

“Cindy,” her father said. “Didn’t I tell you to be nice to that boy?”

“But–but Daddy, that was–”

“Didn’t I, Cindy?”

“Yes, but–”

“And you disobeyed me?”

Cindy started to speak again, but then fell silent. She understood that no logic, no explanation, no appeal to reason would avail her now. She had turned very pale.

“I think you will have to make it up to him, Cindy.”

“Daddy, please–” Cindy whispered.

“After dinner you will call Chad up and invite him over this evening. Then we will see if we can’t think up a little entertainment for him.”

Cindy was unable to eat any more. In fact, she had to excuse herself to go into the bathroom and throw up.


# # # # # # # # # # # #


Chad, of course, was quite surprised when Cindy called him and invited him over. He didn’t know what to expect when he showed up at Cindy’s house, but whatever it was he didn’t expect to enjoy it very much. Still, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say no.

Cindy’s father answered the door and let him in. When they were seated in the living room he offered him a drink, which Chad declined.

“Well, Chad,” Cindy’s father began. “I expect you were rather surprised to hear from Cindy tonight, after the way she treated you earlier today.”

Chad swallowed. “Well, yes, sir, I was.”

“Of course. Cindy is really such a headstrong girl. When I heard about it, I thought it would be only right if she could make it up to you in some way. Actually, I’ve decided to let you choose the way yourself. She’s waiting for you upstairs, Chad. Why don’t you go up and see her now? You may have an hour with her. And you may do anything you want with her in that time.” And with that Cindy’s father leaned back in his chair, picked up a newspaper and started to read.

Chad stared at him for a long moment. Finally Cindy’s father lowered his paper. “Well, Chad? Is there anything else?”

“I–uh–no, sir.”

“Then go ahead. Cindy’s waiting,” Cindy’s father said, and raised his newspaper again.

Chad got up slowly. His knees felt wobbly. He made his way to the stairs and started up.

He didn’t know which one was Cindy’s room–assuming Cindy was in her room–and he was about to knock on the nearest door when he heard sounds coming from a room down the hall. The sounds were of heavy breathing, labored and interspersed with whimpers. The door to the room was open, and he stepped up to it and looked in. And nearly fainted.

Cindy, stark naked, was hanging by her wrists in the middle of the room, her body suspended by a stout rope from what looked like a pulley set into the ceiling. Black leather manacles were fastened around her wrists, and the rope was secured to the short chain that ran between them. She was hanging free, with her toes several inches off the floor, her arms stretched high over her head and pulled taut by the weight of her body. That body was straining in every inch, the flesh tight over her ribs and torso, her breasts pulled high on her chest, almost flattened under the strain. Her curvy legs dangled helplessly, her feet reflexively but vainly reaching for the floor they couldn’t touch. Her head was hanging back, her long black hair falling almost to her ass, her mouth open and gasping, emitting the agonized sounds he had heard in the hall. He made some kind of sound himself, and Cindy, hearing him, raised her head. Her eyes were indescribable.

“Chad…” she gasped. “Take me down. For god’s sake take me down.”

Chad moved slowly into the room. His first impulse was to do as she asked, but something held him back. He stood for a moment, just staring at her.

“Chad, please. Get me down. There’s–there’s a switch over there. On the wall. Just–just turn it on. Please Chad, I can’t take any more, please!”

Chad looked. There was indeed a switch by the door, evidently some kind of control for the pulley. He moved toward it. Then he stopped and turned back to her.

“Chad, damn it! Oh god, I can’t–Please. Oh please.”

Chad was suddenly aware that he was hard.

“Wait,” he said. He moved to the bed at one side of the room and sat on the edge of it, not taking his eyes from her. From her dangling, helpless, agonized body. Her breath was coming harder than ever, and she was moaning now. Her rope-suspended body turned slowly, back and forth, giving him views of her from different angles. He was fascinated. And very aroused. “Oh god, Chad, I can’t stand it! Please, I’m begging you, please! How can you do this to me?”

His own breath was quickened now. “Hey, Cindy,” he said finally. “Don’t you remember what you said to me this afternoon?”

“Chad, listen–”

“You know, how I make you sick and all? How I’m such a white loser and a white dork, and how you wanted to throw up when you were with me? Remember that, Cindy?”

“Chad, I-I’m sorry, Chad, I’m sorry, honest, I didn’t mean it, please

Chad, I’m–”

“Oh, I think you meant it all right,” Chad said. “You sounded very sincere, Cindy. You said you never wanted to see me again. So why should I do anything for you, Cindy?”

“Chad. Jesus. I can’t stand it. I’m–I beg you. I’ll make it up to you,

Chad. I swear. I’ll–I’ll do–”

“What?” Chad said. “What will you do, Cindy?”

Cindy closed her eyes. Tears ran down her face. Her voice, hoarse and breathless, sounded strangled. “I’ll do anything,” she got out “Anything, all right? Just get me down, for god’s sake!”

“Well that sounds good, Cindy, but you know what? Your father already told me I could do anything I wanted with you. Anything, he said. So why should I bargain with you, Cindy?”

Cindy began to cry in earnest. Agony and despair were mingled in her sobs. Chad wondered if his cock had ever been so hard before. He stood up, with the idea of releasing it from his pants, maybe even taking his clothes off.

After all, if he could do anything with Cindy…the possibilities crowded his brain. As he stood his eye lit on a low table near the bed. His eyes and his mind had been so full of Cindy that he had not paid much notice to his surroundings. Now he saw that there were a group of objects laid out on the table. They had evidently been placed there for his possible use. One of them was the leash Cindy had worn the other night. The one Raymond had beaten her with. Next to it was a small whip that looked like a riding crop. There was also a rubber paddle, and several clamps of various sorts. In addition there was an instrument Chad didn’t recognize. It was a cylindrical device with a pronged tip and a button on the side. He picked it up curiously. Whatever it was, it looked wicked. He held it away from him and pressed the button. It made a loud zapping sound, and the prongs vibrated and sparked.

Cindy heard the noise and opened her eyes, which widened with fright as she saw what Chad was holding. She shook her head from side to side instinctively while she tried to form words.

“Some kind of an electrical thing,” Chad said. “I bet it really hurts, right, Cindy?”

“No,” Cindy said hoarsely. “Chad, no. No, you can’t. Please, Chad, for god’s sake please. I’ll do anything you want, I swear.”

“You said that already, Cindy. But I’m kind of curious now.” He moved toward her.

The pulley creaked as she reflexively tried to pull away from him. Her useless struggles only increased the strain on her arms and shoulders. “Chad no, Chad I beg you, don’t do that, listen, Chad, please, I swear, I’ll be so good to you, I’ll be good to you always, no Chad, no, Christ no…”

“Damn, this must really be something,” Chad said. “Let’s just see.” He was close to her now. He reached out and placed the tip of the device on the side of her upper thigh and pressed the button. He didn’t know what to expect, but her reaction exceeded his wildest imaginings. She gave an ear-splitting scream and her whole body convulsed, curling up on itself in the air, her legs, bent almost double, rising up to her waist, her upper body twisting and hunching. The spasms lasted for several moments as the pulley creaked wildly, and then she was hanging again, shaking and twitching, groaning and sobbing, her legs still kicking faintly.

“Wow,” Chad said.

He unzipped his pants now, and freed his rigid cock. “Look what you do to me, Cindy. Look what all your pain and your suffering does to me. I didn’t know I was like that, Cindy, but you bring it out in me. You sweet suffering gook bitch. You gotta do something about this, Cindy. But first I want to zap you again.”

Cindy gave a shout of terror. “NO!” she cried. “No, Chad, no more, Chad, god…” He was standing in front of her now, and with a tremendous effort she swayed her body toward him, raising her legs and hooking them around his hips, arching as close to him as she could. The strain and pain on her shoulders and arms must have been intense, but she held herself that way. Chad stepped closer to her, letting her press herself against him, letting her squirming body rub against his. “Chad, please. I’ll be yours, I’ll be anything you want, don’t do that, I can’t stand it, I beg you, I beg you…Chad…take me, do anything to me…oh god please….”

“But you said you can’t stand me, Cindy,” Chad said. “I’m a white loser. I’m an asshole. I make you throw up, remember? You don’t want to throw up, do you, Cindy?”

Her legs clutched him harder, her voice a continuous pain-filled gasp. “I’m sorry, god, I said I’m sorry, Chad, I’ll make it up to you, I’ll–”

Since she was several inches off the floor, and since he was a bit taller, her mouth was on a level with his. “I want you to kiss me, Cindy,” Chad said, interrupting her babbling. “You hear? I want you to kiss me good. Real good. And try not to throw up, Cindy, because I won’t like that. Kiss me like you love me, Cindy. Like you can’t wait to fuck me. And don’t stop till I tell you. You understand, Cindy?”

Cindy nodded spastically, her eyes wild with fear and desperation. She brought her head forward and pressed her mouth to his, her open, quivering, panting, gasping, moaning mouth, and she did her best to kiss him as he wanted. Her head rolled from side to side as she plastered her trembling lips against his, and her tongue went into his mouth. She still sobbed and made inarticulate sounds in her throat as she struggled to take in air through her nostrils, but her tongue snaked against his, writhed in his mouth, probed it searchingly, then reached as far as it could, as though trying to slide down his throat. All the time she held onto him with her clutching legs, her groin rubbing against his hard-on and her tautly straining breasts heaving against his chest. He let her go on kissing him for a full minute, loving her enforced obedience and the sounds of her agony almost as much as the pleasure she was giving him with her mouth and body. But when he felt that his cock was ready to erupt from the rubbing of her squirming torso, he pulled away from her and stepped back. Cindy gave a cry of anguish as her full weight fell once more upon her exhausted arms.

“That was nice, Cindy,” he said. “That’s a great mouth you have. Really great. I want to fuck it, Cindy. Just like your father did, and your brother. Fuck it and come in it and watch you swallow my cream. Just for starters. Okay, Cindy?”

Cindy again nodded her head and began to beg him to take her down.

“But first,” Chad said, “another little zap.” And he raised the electrical device and placed it against the underside of her breast. Cindy screamed frantically. Again she tried desperately to pull herself away somehow, anyhow, tried to pull herself up by her now useless arms, but there was nowhere to go, she had no strength left, and Chad kept the instrument where it was, his hand on the button. “NOOOO!” Cindy shouted, her voice hoarse with terror, trying vainly to pull herself up by tugging against the rope. “NO NO PLEASE Chad NO GOD NO I CAN’T NO Chad NOOOOOO…”

He pushed the button.

“NOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!” Cindy howled, and this time Chad wondered if she might break the rope, stout as it appeared, with the convulsive gyrations of her body, which thrashed and flailed and flopped about for a good thirty seconds before again hanging helplessly. Streams of sweat rolled down her skin, and she sounded as though she was strangling for real as she fought to get breath into her lungs through her wide-open mouth. Her head hung back limply, as it had when Chad first entered the room, her face now twisted with an agony that made her at once ugly and beautiful. Her contortions had left her body swinging from side to side, and Chad reached out to stop it. Not that he wanted to ease her pain, but he couldn’t keep his hands off her any longer. Her taut, damp flesh felt wonderful under his hands. He slid them up to her breasts, cupping the slightly flattened but still luscious mounds, then took her nipples between his fingers and twisted them hard.

This new torment had its gratifying results in a further cry and an almost incomprehensible plea from the hanging Asian girl, but Chad’s lust for sexual gratification was finally growing stronger than his pleasure in her pain. The cries and sobs and whimpers emerging continuously from that lovely open mouth further inflamed his desire to fuck it. He went over to the wall control, prepared finally to let her down. It was a two-way switch, with no indication of which end was which. He pressed one end experimentally. There was a hum of machinery and the pulley started to turn, but it was the wrong way. Cindy moaned piteously as her body rose slowly, heading for the ceiling. Chad took his hand off the switch and the movement stopped. He pressed the other end, and the rope slowly played out as the hanging form descended. Cindy gave a cry of relief as her feet made contact with the floor. She was unable to stand, however, and she continued to hang by her arms as the rope lowered her further, finally falling onto her knees. Her position gave Chad a sudden idea, and he took his finger off the switch again, leaving Cindy kneeling upright, her arms still stretched tightly over her head, her breasts still pulled up, her body virtually unable to move. Cindy cried out again, this time with apprehension, as Chad came over to her.

“That’s perfect, Cindy,” he said. “The perfect position.” His cock was still sticking out of his pants, still rigid, still throbbing. He stepped as close to her as he could and jabbed it at her face. “Suck me, Cindy,” he said.

“Suck the white loser who makes you throw up. Suck him good.”

And Cindy did. She still emitted the occasional sob, the frequent moan, the almost continuous panting. But she took him into her mouth and gave him the best blow job she was capable of, and by far the best that Chad had ever experienced. She used her tongue and her lips and her throat, and she sucked him so well that, although he tried his best to make it last, he was unable to hold out and it was over far too soon. He came so violently that instead of making her swallow his sperm, he inadvertently pulled out of her mouth and shot it all over her face and her hair. But that was fine too.

He was still recovering from his orgasm when he heard Cindy’s father calling from downstairs. “Chad? Your time’s up, I’m afraid. Finish up and come downstairs now, please.”

“Yes, sir,” Chad replied, hastily stuffing himself back in and zipping up his fly.

“Thanks, Cindy,” he said.. “Just one more thing before I go.” As he headed for the door he stopped to press the control switch. The rope pulled up again, taking Cindy’s body with it. Cindy cried and begged and pleaded, but Chad waited until she was once again hanging from her wrists before taking his finger from the switch and going out the door. Her moans followed him downstairs.

“Well, Chad,” Cindy’s father said. “I hope you enjoyed yourself this evening.”

“Yes, sir. I did, very much,” Chad replied.

“Good.” Cindy’s father showed him to the front door. “I hope Cindy won’t give you any more sorrow. But if she does, you’re always welcome to come back again. Would you like that?”

“Yes sir, I surely would.”

“Fine.” He opened the door, and as Chad stepped through it he added, “On the other hand, Chad–if you ever again say a word to anyone about anything that has happened in this house, whether the other night or this evening, or any time in the future–if you do that, Chad, I promise you that you will not live to graduate. Do I make myself clear, Chad?”

Chad swallowed hard. He felt cold. “Yes, sir,” he said sincerely.

“Good,” Cindy’s father said. “You have a good night now.” And he closed the door.




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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