Adopted Asian Daughter Chapter 6

Chapter 6


“Jenna Wang wants to see you,” Raymond said to his father.

“Indeed.” His father put down his newspaper. “Very well. Bring her in.”

Jenna was wearing a green and white print blouse and a pair of jeans. She was very pale, and she was trembling. But her face was determined.

“Yes, Jenna?” Raymond’s father said.

Jenna took a deep breath. “I’ll do it,” she said.

“Really?” Raymond’s father said. “Do what?”

“What–what you said. I–I’ll carve ‘chink slave’ into my arm.”

“I see. And why would you do that, Jenna?”

Jenna stared at him. “You know why,” she said. “Because I–I want to belong to you. I want to be your Asian slave. You said that’s what it takes. I was scared, okay? I–I’m still scared, but–but if that’s what it takes–I’ll do it.”

“That’s not exactly what I said, Jenna, but close enough,” Raymond’s father said. “And so you are ready to do it. Right here, right now. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Jenna said. Trembling harder.

“Look at this, Raymond,” his father said. “This is a rare and beautiful sight. A pretty, sexy Asian girl who is ready to do anything we want. A sweet young shina woman who is willing, even eager, to put herself utterly in our power. That is the power of the white race. Be proud to be white. Be proud of our ancestors. Look how afraid she is right now, how beautifully, arousingly afraid, and yet she is prepared to mutilate herself for our enjoyment. Because, as a chink, she is a slave at heart. She longs to crawl and serve. She longs to be used, and to be hurt. And we can use her, and hurt her, and do anything we want with her. Anything. Isn’t that exciting, Raymond?”

“Yeah,” Raymond said. “But will she really cut herself?”

“Of course she will. Show him, Jenna.”

A tiny sound came from the girl. But she began to move toward the kitchen. She moved as if in a trance, trembling harder than ever, her legs barely able to hold her. Raymond’s father got up and followed her into the kitchen, and Raymond came after them.

There was indeed a wooden butcher block on the table, and a meat cleaver hanging nearby, among other implements. Jenna’s movements were stiff and mechanical, as if they were disconnected from her brain, but she didn’t allow herself to pause. With a palsied hand she took the cleaver from its hook. Then she moved to the table and placed her left hand on the block. She was panting hard, and she gave a wild, mindless little cry as she raised the cleaver above her shoulder, ready to strike.

“Stop,” Raymond’s father said.

His voice was not loud, but it was sharp, and it was enough to stop her even as she was bringing the cleaver down. She looked at him, her eyes wild.

“I have no intention of having a disfigured slave,” Raymond’s father said. “The willingness is enough. Put the cleaver down.”

The instrument dropped from her nerveless hand and clattered onto the table. A moment later her knees gave way, and with a soft moan in which relief was only one of several elements, she fell to the floor, almost fainting.

“You see, Raymond?” his father said. “Completely in our power. This fine young Asian girl is our possession. Like a useful gadget, or a handkerchief we blow our noses on. A toy for us to play with. An object for our pleasure. That’s what you are, isn’t it, Ms. Wang?”

“Yes,” Jenna breathed.

“Let me show you. Come with me, Jenna. No, don’t bother to stand. I want you to crawl. On your hands and knees. I like to see Asian girls crawling. Come.”

Jenna, still breathing hard, got onto her hands and knees and crawled behind Raymond’s father as he led her out of the kitchen. Raymond followed, watching Jenna’s ass moving in her jeans as she crawled. Raymond’s father led her down the hall and stopped at the door to the bathroom. “In here,” he said, and stood there as Jenna crawled past him. “Go over to the toilet,” he told her. “And kneel upright.” He followed her in, and Raymond stood in the doorway, watching.

Jenna’s expression was a mixture of puzzlement and apprehension as she crawled over the tiled floor. When she reached the toilet she turned and raised herself into a kneeling position.

“Fine,” Raymond’s father said. He stepped over to stand in front of the trembling girl. “Don’t move, Ms. Wang,” he said. Then, not hastily but with a deliberate flow of motion, he unzipped his trousers, took out his cock and began to piss into her face.

Jenna cried out and instinctively turned her head away. “No!” Raymond’s father said sharply, and she turned it back again. Her eyes were closed. “Open your chinky eyes,” he said, still pissing, and Jenna, whimpering, did so. Raymond’s father pissed into her eyes. He pissed into her nose and all over her face, and into her hair. Then he told her to open her mouth, and he pissed into that too.

When he finished Jenna was choking and crying. Her face dripped with piss, her hair was soaked, and most of her blouse was drenched as well. It stuck to her skin and showed the outline of her brassiere straps.

“Yellow Piss,” Raymond’s father said. “That’s your name from now on. Yellow Piss. Remember that. Now clean this up. Not yourself, just the room. Then go home. Come back tomorrow.” He turned and left the bathroom.


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


Chad was in a perpetual state of excitement, thinking of how he now had Cindy at his beck and call. For a week or so he walked around school exulting in this knowledge, and the feeling of power it gave him was so heady that that in itself, at first, was enough to satisfy him. It was enough to know that he could fuck Cindy Cohn any time he wanted to. It was enough to see the apprehension in her eyes every time he saw her, in the halls or the cafeteria or the classrooms. The fear that at any moment he might come up to her and demand that she give him her body. The knowledge that when and if he did, she would have to comply.

Yes, it was exhilarating. But of course the day soon came when it ceased to be enough. He had to put his power into effect. He had to have Cindy again.

He saw her in the cafeteria, eating lunch at her usual table, with three of her girlfriends, Rachel Harris, Norma Veney and Armina Banks. His first instinct was to wait until he found her alone. But then he reconsidered. His sense of power overcame his caution. Why not show it off? It would be so much more humiliating for her. And Cindy’s humiliation was his pleasure.

He went directly over to her table and sat down opposite her. “Hi, Cindy,” he said.

He loved what he saw in her eyes. It was more than fear–it was more like terror. And pleading. Not here, her eyes said. Not now. Not in front of my girlfriends. Please, her eyes said. And they also said, I hate you. But of course she had to be nice to him.

“Hi, Chad,” she said. And she tried to smile.

Rachel and Norma and Armina had seen Cindy being nice to him before, but it still puzzled them, and they were looking puzzled now. Well, they were going to have more than that to puzzle over. “It’s time, Cindy,” Chad said.

Cindy went pale. She put down the fork she’d been holding, and he noticed that her hand was shaking a little. She gave a swift reflexive glance to either side of her to take in her friends’ reaction. She smiled weakly again, but her voice was unsteady. “Time for what?” she said.

“You know what, Cindy,” Chad said. And when she didn’t say anything, still hoping to salvage something of her self-respect in front of her friends, he looked right into her pleading, agonized eyes and said clearly, “Time for you to fuck me.”

Norma Veney gasped. Rachel’s mouth dropped open, and Armina looked frozen. Cindy looked down at her tray. “Chad, for god’s sake,” she whispered shakily. “Please …”

“Come on, Cindy,” Chad said. He leaned back in his chair, gazing around the table at her unbelieving girlfriends, then bringing his eyes back to the object of his lust. She was sitting with her shoulders hunched, shaking her bowed head slowly as if in unconscious denial. “I want to do it now, Cindy,” he said. “I haven’t really fucked you properly yet, you know. I mean I’ve had your mouth, and I’ve had your ass, but I haven’t actually fucked your sweet slanted pussy yet. That’s what I want to do now.” Another gasp from Norma, and sounds of astonishment from the other girls. Chad stood up. “Let’s go, Cindy.”

There were tears in Cindy’s eyes, and they began running down her cheeks as she slowly pushed back her chair and got to her feet. She did not look at any of her friends. Chad could feel their amazed stares at his back as he led her away. Some of the other people in the cafeteria were staring too, though they had not overheard the conversation at Cindy’s table. But the sight of Cindy Cohn, in tears and obviously miserable, going off with a white nerd like Chad Rosen was enough to cause a murmur to fly around the large room.

Since it was lunchtime there were many empty classrooms, and Chad quickly found one. He closed the door and locked it. Cindy turned on him, her face twisted with shame and rage. “You son of a bitch!” she shouted. “Why did you have to do that in front of my friends? Oh god, you filthy miserable bastard! You–you–”

“Hey, you’re forgetting yourself, Cindy,” Chad said. “You’re supposed to treat me good, remember? You want me to tell your father about this?”

For a moment his words silenced her. He saw the realization in her eyes, the new fear of the possible consequences of her outburst. She struggled with herself for calm, but her anger and misery were too much for her, and she burst out again.

“I don’t care!” she shouted, crying full-out now. “I don’t care, tell him, I hate you! Oh Jesus, I hate you! You filthy slimy piece of white trash shit! Why did you do that to me? You–you’ve–you’ve ruined me! You–” And she broke down, sinking into a chair and sobbing her heart out.

Chad took his clothes off. His cock was very hard.

As her sobs began to diminish somewhat, he went over to stand in front of her. When she had regained enough control to become aware of him standing there in his nakedness, she gave an anguished groan and turned her head down and away from him. Chad reached out, took a handful of her long black hair and pulled on it, forcing her to look back at his crotch. She was still crying, but softly now. Holding on to her hair to keep her head still, he leaned forward and let his cock brush her cheek. Then he began rubbing it over her face, moving his hips so that his dick moved slowly back and forth and up and down, over her cheeks and her lips and her eyes and her chin, occasionally leaving a small trail of pre-cumeon the smooth flesh. Cindy made small sounds of pain and of anguish.

Finally he let go of her hair and crouched down so that he could talk to her face to face. “Now listen, Cindy,” he said. “You don’t really want me to tell your father about your behavior here, do you? I mean, I think you know what he would do to you for disobeying him and yelling at me like that. Right, Cindy? He and your brother would really have a ball with you. More whipping, I bet. And other things too. Maybe some of that electric thing you hate so much.”

A involuntary whimper of fear escaped Cindy’s throat.

“And maybe he’d let me watch, you know? I’d really enjoy that, Cindy. But you wouldn’t, would you? So like I said, you don’t really want me to tell him about this, do you? Do you, Cindy?”

Cindy shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

“I didn’t think so. So now I think you’re gonna be real good to me, Cindy, and give me the best fuck I will ever have in my life. Right? I mean, I know you have to fuck me and try to make me happy and all that anyway, and that’s great, Cindy, but now you really have some extra incentive, you know? You make it extra good, Cindy, and give me everything I want, and I won’t say anything to your daddy. Okay, Cindy? Do we have a deal?”

Her eyes were still wet, but as she looked at him he could see that the hatred for him was still there. Hatred and contempt. But the fear was still there too, and that would drive her actions, he knew, in spite of her other feelings. This excited him tremendously.

She nodded jerkily. “Yes,” she got out. “All right. All right.”

“Good,” Chad said. “Now I want you to start out by kissing me, Cindy. You remember how you kissed me in your room, when you were hanging by your wrists and you were so scared that I was going to shock you again? That was a great kiss, Cindy, maybe the best one I’ve ever had, but you know what? I want this one to be better. I want it to be twice as good. You understand, Cindy? I want to be able to cum just from this kiss alone. I want it to blow me away. You’ll do that for me, won’t you, Cindy?”

Cindy nodded, wiping at her eyes.

“Tell me, Cindy. Say, ‘Yes, Chad, I will kiss you and fuck you and do anything you want.’ Tell me that, Cindy.”

In spite of herself her eyes spilled over again. “Yes, Chad,” she said in a low, gasping voice. “I–I will kiss you and–and fuck you and do anything you want.”

“Right, and tell me what you are, Cindy. Just like you tell your daddy.”

“I–I’m a gook bitch and a gook sex slave,” Cindy whispered.

“Right. Now kiss me, Cindy.”

He would not really have thought that Cindy could improve much on the kiss she had given him in her bedroom, but he had to admit that she did her best. Her lips covered his as she bent forward in her chair, and her tongue was a wild, slithering, caressing, searching, probing, stroking, tickling animal with a life of its own. The fact that he knew how much she hated what she was doing, and who she was doing it to, redoubled his pleasure in her enforced ardor. She still sobbed softly from time to time, but without letting it interfere with her ministrations. The fervor of the kiss upset his balance and he fell back onto the floor, pulling her with him, their mouths still fused. Now she lay on top of him, and he felt her body twisting against him as her tongue twisted in his mouth, felt her breasts rolling on his chest and her legs moving over his, and he would indeed have come from that kiss alone if he hadn’t broken it in time. He broke it by grasping her hair and pulling her head back and away from him.

“Good, Cindy,” he panted, gazing at her pain-filled eyes. “That’s real good. But you still hate me, right?”

“Chad…” she groaned, trying to ease the pain in her scalp by pushing her head back against his hand, but he only pulled her hair harder.

“Tell me, Cindy,” he gritted. “Tell me the truth. I won’t tell your daddy, okay? Not this time. I just want to hear it. I want to know, so it will be more fun to fuck you. Tell me how much you hate me.”

“Yes!” she cried, sobbing again. “Yes, damn you, I hate you! I hate all you white people. I hate you like poison! You little white bastard! Oh god! You white pig piece of shit! Yes!”

“Good,” he said, suddenly letting her go. “Now take your clothes off, Cindy.”

She gave a little cry of relief as he released her hair, then rolled off him. He watched as she pushed herself onto her knees and then got unsteadily to her feet. Chad got up too. He started to sit in one of the classroom chairs, then changed his mind. He pulled the teacher’s chair out from behind the desk at the front of the room and seated himself in it. It was roomier and more comfortable, and better for what he had in mind.

Cindy, still crying softly, began to unbutton her blouse. Instinctively she turned away from him as she did so, moving toward the far wall.

“No, no, Cindy,” Chad said. “You know better than that. Come on over here.”

She turned and moved toward his chair.

“Come closer, Cindy,” he ordered. He pointed to a spot about two feet in front of him. “Stand right here. Right in front of me. I want to get a good view.”

Cindy stood in front of him.

“Now strip for me, Cindy,” Chad said. “Strip that Asian body naked while I watch you.”

Cindy’s head was bowed as she resumed the unbuttoning of her blouse.

Chad’s cock was throbbing so hard that he again felt himself in danger of exploding. Of course he had seen Cindy naked before. But still, there was something intensely arousing about having her stand there and take off her clothes for him, reluctantly laying that body bare to his eyes once again. He watched avidly as she pulled her blouse off, revealing her firm round breasts encased in a flimsy black bra.

Next her shaky fingers fumbled with a button and zipper on the side of her skirt, and then the skirt was around her feet. Her panties matched the bra. He almost reached out to put his hand on a smooth shapely thigh, but he held back.

After a brief hesitation, Cindy reached behind her back to unhook her brassiere. Her head was stlll bowed.

“Look at me, Cindy,” Chad said.

Her head rose slowly, until her damp, anguished eyes were looking into his. They stayed there as she unhooked the bra and took it off.

“You have great tits for an Asian girl, Cindy,” Chad said. “I don’t know why you bother with a bra. In fact, I don’t think you should wear one any more. Or panties either, for that matter. So from now on you come to school without underwear. Okay, Cindy?”

Her eyes widened. “You–you can’t–you can’t make me–”

“Can’t I?” Chad said. “Can’t I, Cindy? What do you think your daddy would say about that? You want to ask him, Cindy? Maybe he’ll invite me to dinner again, what do you think?”

“Chad, please–”

“Take the panties off, Cindy. Look at me while you do it.”

Cindy did. Chad let her stand there for a little while as he gazed at her naked body, his eyes moving up and down over every mouth-watering inch of her flesh. “All right, Cindy,” he said finally. “I want you to fuck me now. Right here in this chair. Come on, get up here.”

He reached for her as she moved reluctantly toward him, and with his guidance she climbed onto the chair, straddling his legs, kneeling over his thighs with her breasts practically touching his chest. He lowered his head to take one of those breasts in his mouth. He sucked on it, then bit down on the nipple, not fiercely, but hard enough to bring a cry of pain from her mouth.

“Sweet Cindy,” he muttered, a little breathless now. He slipped his hands under her haunches and lifted her just enough to position her over his cock. “Take it in, Cindy.” he rasped. “Fuck me good.”

Cindy was breathing hard too, but not from excitement. She made a choking sound as she reached down to place his cock at the entrance to her pussy. She bit her lip and closed her eyes as she began to sink down on it, but Chad, grabbing her hair threateningly, told her to open her eyes and look at him, and she did. His dick twitched dangerously as she slowly took it into her, and what he saw in her terrible eyes was almost as stimulating to him as the sensation of her tight warm Asian cunt.

“Oh, that’s good, Cindy,” he panted. “Shit, your cunt is just as tight as your ass, you know that, Cindy? All the way in, baby, that’s it.”

Cindy continued to lower herself until she was sitting on his thighs, with his cock buried inside her reluctant pussy. “Oh, goddam!” Chad moaned. “I’m inside your cunt, Cindy. I’m actually fucking Cindy Cohn. Who’da thought it, huh, Cindy?”

Cindy’s damp eyes blazed at him, and her mouth opened as if to say something, but she quickly shut it again.

“Go ahead, Cindy,” Chad said. “Say it. You have a free pass right now. You can say whatever you want as long as you fuck me good. That’s our deal, remember? So say it.”

Cindy’s voice, though unsteady, was low and full of loathing. “I fucking despise you,” she said. “I fucking hate your guts. I’d like to kill you. you fucking white devil turd.”

“I know,” Chad said. “And I make you sick, right, Cindy?”

“God, yes!” Cindy said.

“Good,” Chad said. “Now fuck me, Cindy.”

Cindy’s eyes still blazed into his for a brief minute. Then, her face twisting with a mixture of disgust and despair, she began to move slowly, her body rising and falling over his cock. Chad moaned. He put his hands on her breasts, kneading the high firm mounds, then squeezing them until he brought a soft cry from her. But she continued to move up and down.

“A little faster, Cindy,” Chad panted. “Not too much, just a little. That’s it. Oh, that’s good, Cindy. Don’t stop.” He clamped her breasts harder, listening to her squall of pain, loving the way it made her body jerk as she went on fucking him. Then he released her breasts and slid his hands down to her rhythmically flexing thighs, feeling the working of the muscles beneath the soft smooth skin each time she pumped herself up and down.

“Tell me how you hate me, Cindy,” he said breathlessly. “Go on. Fuck harder, Cindy, and tell me all about it.”

Her movements quickened. Her breasts bounced on her chest as her body rose and fell. Her hair was disordered, falling over her shoulders and clinging to her face, and she was panting now with her exertions. “I–I hate you,” she breathed. “I hate you…I hate you…” Moving up and down, fresh tears in her eyes now, she hissed it out again and again, each time she lowered herself around his straining cock. “I hate you…I hate you…I hate you…”

“Oh, Christ!” Chad couldn’t hold back the explosion that overcame him.

His head fell back, his haunches actually lifting off the chair as he spewed his cum wildly into Cindy’s moving pussy. He grabbed her hair and forced her face to his, kissing her panting mouth and raping it with his tongue as he finished cumming. Then he let her go.

“Good girl, Cindy,” he gasped. “You can get dressed now. You did good, Cindy. I look forward to doing this a lot from now on. Maybe every day, how does that sound, Cindy?”

Cindy gave a small involuntary whimper as she struggled to her feet and began to gather her clothes.

Chad had another idea. “And you better make sure I keep enjoying it, Cindy, because you know what? If I start getting tired of you, maybe I’ll pass you on to some of my friends.”

Cindy looked at him, startled. “No!” she said.

“Sure, why not?” Chad said. “Other white loser types like me, you know? All the white geeks and nerds that you like to laugh at, you and your friends. They’d all give just about anything to be able to fuck Cindy Cohn.”

Cindy swallowed hard. “You can’t do that, Chad,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “That’s not–my father would–”

“Well, maybe that’s another thing we can ask your daddy about,” Chad said. “Will you ask him, Cindy, or should I?”

“Chad, please. Chad, for god’s sake…please…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Cindy,” Chad said. “Don’t forget to leave off your underwear.”


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


Her name was Yellow Piss. Nobody knew that but herself, Raymond, and Raymond’s father. Everyone else thought her name was Jenna Wang. But she knew. She was Yellow Piss. And she belonged to Raymond’s father. And to Raymond, by his father’s authority. But it was his father who owned her soul. And her body. And her mind. And whatever else she had. Owned her entirely. She was his Yellow Piss chink slave. She had gone home from his house still reeking with his piss, her hair damp with it, drops of it still on her face. She had gone home and gone into her bathroom to take a shower, but she hadn’t done that right away. She had lain down on the bathroom floor, in her piss-wet clothes, breathing in the smell of it. But it wasn’t really the piss that she was absorbing, taking into herself. Reveling in. It was the smell of her own degradation, the incredibly heady aroma of utter and complete debasement.

He could have done anything to her. She had been ready to mutilate herself. When he stopped her, knowing that she was ready and willing to be his Asian slave, she had expected to be taken, to be used sexually, perhaps to be tortured, whatever. And she had wanted it all. Instead, all he had done was to take her–no, to make her crawl–into the bathroom and piss on her. And he had named her Yellow Piss. It was doubly degrading, doubly humiliating, and doubly arousing. Lying there on the bathroom floor, she had put her hand between her legs and masturbated herself to orgasm three times within ten minutes.

The next day after school she went to his house again, as ordered. Her heart was pounding and she was actually shaking as she mounted the porch steps and rang the doorbell.

“Who is it?” came a voice from inside. His voice.

“It’s–it’s Jenna.” There were other houses only a few feet away on either side, there were people passing on the street; she didn’t want to use her real name.

“Who?” came the voice.

She knew he had heard her. She took a breath, looking around to see that no one could overhear. “It’s Yellow Piss,” she said, not very loudly.

“I can’t hear you,” came the voice.

She closed her eyes and said it loudly now. “It’s Yellow Piss!” She couldn’t look, she could only hope no one had heard her.

The door opened. “Come in,” Raymond’s father said. She followed him into the living room. He sat in his chair. “Did you forget your name, Yellow Piss?” he asked mildly.

“No. I–I’m sorry. I just didn’t want–”

“I don’t care what you want. What is your name?”

“Yellow Piss,” Jenna said.

“Say it again.”

“Yellow Piss.”

“We must make sure you remember that. Go into the kitchen and get me a glass.”

When she came back with the glass Raymond was there, having just come from school himself. Raymond’s father took the glass from her. He unzipped his fly and took out his cock. He held the glass underneath his cock and pissed into it. When he finished the glass was about halfway full. Then he handed it to Raymond and instructed him to piss into it too, which Raymond did. The glass was nearly full now. Raymond’s father took it from his son and handed it to Jenna.

“Drink it,” he said.

The smell was foul and made her gag, but again it was the aroma of her degradation. She put the glass to her lips and drank. She had to hold her breath, and even so she choked up at one point and had to stop.

“Drink it all,” Raymond’s father said.

She didn’t know if she could, but she kept drinking. She gagged several times, and once, with about a third of the glass still to go, she retched and thought she was going to throw up. She stood there, taking deep, rapid breaths, while Raymond and his father watched her, waiting for her to continue. Praying that she could keep it down, she forced herself to drink again, until finally she had swallowed it all. She retched again, her body twitching as she tried to control the roiling in her stomach. Somehow she managed to contain herself.

“What is your name?” Raymond’s father said.

“Yellow Piss,” Jenna said, gasping.

“You won’t forget that again, will you, Yellow Piss?” Raymond’s father said.

“No,” Jenna said. “No, I won’t.”

“Good. Raymond tells me you are a great lay.”

The suddenness of this comment took her aback, and she didn’t know what

to say. “I–thank you,” she said finally.

“Especially when you’re in pain,” Raymond’s father said.

Jenna was silent, but her heart quickened.

“Show me your breasts,” Raymond’s father said.

Jenna, her fingers shaking slightly, unbuttoned her blouse and took it off. Then she took off her bra.

“Fair,” Raymond’s father said. “Nice and firm, though. It should be pleasant, hurting them.”

Jenna made a small sound.

“Oh look, Raymond,” his father said. “Look how her nipples stiffen at the thought of pain. That’s very nice. I expect they’ll get even harder when confronted with a nice cold pair of pliers. Isn’t that right, Yellow Piss?”

Jenna’s knees almost buckled. “I–I don’t–I–”

“Well, perhaps we’ll find out,” Raymond’s father said. “In the meantime, I have an assignment for you, one that will allow you to live up to your name.

Tomorrow, when you arrive at school, you will go into the boys’ bathroom. Is there more than one, Raymond?”

“Yeah,” Raymond said. “There’s one on each floor.”

“Well, choose the largest one. You will go in there and stay there all day long. When someone asks you why you are there, you will say you are there to be pissed on. Then you will let anyone who wishes to piss on you. Anyone and everyone. All day long. Is that clear, Yellow Piss?”

“Yes,” Jenna got out. She felt numb.

“Raymond, you will see that she follows my instructions.”

“Hey, these guys aren’t gonna want to stop with just pissing on her,”

Raymond said. “Some of them are gonna want more, you know? If she’s right there in the can, letting herself be pissed on. They’re gonna want to fuck her and stuff.”

“That seems probable,” Raymond’s father said. “And I don’t suppose you would be able to stop them, Raymond. So there seems to be no help for it. So, Yellow Piss, if anyone wants to fuck you–and stuff, as Raymond so eloquently puts it–you will allow them to do so. Do you understand?”

Jenna thought she might pass out. “Yes,” she gasped faintly.

“Yes, sir,” Raymond’s father said.

“Yes, sir,” Jenna said.














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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