Adopted Asian Daughter Chapter 7

Chapter 7


“He wants to give me to other boys,” Cindy said flatly.

“I see,” her father said. “Tired of you already, is he? I hope you haven’t been doing less than your best for him, Cindy. That would displease me a great deal.”

“No, Daddy,” Cindy said, her voice shaking a little. “He’s not tired of me. He just said that if he ever does get–he might want to let his friends–Daddy, you don’t want that, do you?”

“Don’t I? What are you, Cindy?”

“I’m a gook bitch and a gook sex slave,” Cindy said in a low voice.

“Yes. I’ll have to think about it, Cindy. Meanwhile, come over here and show me just how well you’ve been pleasing Chad. Perhaps that will help me to make my decision.”

Cindy showed him.


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


“What in the hell do you think is going on with Cindy?” Rachel Harris said to Armina Banks.

“I don’t know, but either she’s lost her mind or this guy Chad has got some kind of a hold on her,” Armina replied.

“But god, he’s such a nerd! And Cindy always couldn’t stand him. So what in the world could it be?”

“Maybe she found out he’s got a really big one,” Armina said.

Rachel giggled. Then she said, “Well, I don’t think that’s it, because Cindy didn’t seem very happy about going off with him when he said he wanted to–you know.”

“Well, Cindy obviously isn’t going to tell us. So maybe we should ask Chad,” Armina said.

Rachel stared. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why? I mean, Cindy’s our friend, right? If she’s got a problem with this white guy, I think we should try to help her out. Us Asian girls have to stick togehter like rice.”

“Yes, but–but we can’t just, like, go up to him and ask him, can we?”

“Why not? What can he do to us? Either he’ll tell us or he won’t.”

“Well of course he won’t. Duh,” Rachel said.

“Okay, probably not. But it won’t hurt to ask.” Armina grinned. “And maybe we can persuade him.”

Rachel stared again. “Get out of here! I wouldn’t touch that guy with a ten-foot pole.”

“I know, me too, actually. That’s why we have to help Cindy out if she’s in some kind of bind. You with me?”

“I guess. Shouldn’t we get the other Asian girls in on this?”

“Not yet,” Armina said. “Let’s see how it goes.”


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


When Raymond took Jenna into the boys’ room on the first floor of the school early in the morning, before the start of classes, there were half a dozen boys already there, most of them standing around and smoking. Jenna knew only one or two of them. They all stared at her in surprise and wonder.

“Hey, what the fuck?” one boy said finally. “What’s she doing here? This is the guys’ bathroom, for Christ sake!”

“Maybe she wants to see what a guy’s dick looks like,” another one said, grinning. “Maybe it’s research for biology class.” Everyone snickered. Bill Talbot, who was in Raymond’s history class, addressed him. “What’s going on, Ray? Why’d you bring her in here? You need a place to fuck or what?”

More snickers.

“Ask her,” Raymond said.

“Okay. What’s going on, babe? Lost your way?”

Jenna took a breath. “I’m–” She looked at Raymond, then away. She swallowed. “I’m here to be pissed on,” she said.

There was silence.

“Say again?” Bill said wonderingly.

Jenna said it again. Her voice shook a bit, but there was no mistaking the words. The boys just stared at her, apparently struck dumb. “What the fuck’s she talking about, Ray?” Bill demanded finally. “This some kind of stupid stunt or something Asian that we don’t understand?”

“No,” Raymond said. “It’s not a stunt. It’s like she said, she’s here to be pissed on. Any of you guys want to piss on a girl, this is your chance. That’s it.”

“It’s actually an Asian tradition. Every girl must be pissed on once in a while to heal herself spiritually.  It’s part of my discovering my indigenous Asian culture.” Jenna chipped in.

Somebody laughed. “Shit,” somebody else said. “Who the fuck wants to piss on a girl? What fun is that?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Bill said. “It’s sure to be more interesting than doing it in some old toilet, right?”

“That’s crazy,” someone else put in, a tall boy with a sallow face.

“Ask her,” Raymond said again.

“Okay. How about it, girl. What’s your name anyway?”

“Her name’s Jenna,” Bill Talbot said.

“No it’s not,” Raymond said, grinning. “Tell them your real name, baby.”

Jenna swallowed again. She didn’t know whether Raymond’s father wanted her to share the name he had given her with the outside world. But since Raymond had asked her, she had no choice. “My name is Yellow Piss,” she said in a low voice.

A few more boys had come into the bathroom by now. No one had left. There were murmurs and exclamations of surprise around the room.

“Nice name,” the tall boy said. “So how come you want to be pissed on,Yellow Piss?”

Jenna didn’t know what to say. She knew she couldn’t tell them about Raymond’s father. She closed her eyes. “I have to,” she breathed. “I–I just have to.”

“That’s enough questions,” Raymond said. “Any of you guys want to piss on her, or not?”

“Why don’t you do it, Ray?” Bill Talbot said. “Give us like a demonstration, you know?”

“Shit, what a bunch of wusses,” Raymond said. “Okay, sure. I’ll start it off. Why not?” There was a line of urinals along one wall. Raymond took Jenna Wang over there and placed her in front of the nearest one, pushing her back against it. “Kneel down, baby,” he told her.

Jenna sank to her knees, then at Raymond’s further urging sat back on her haunches, so that her face was just below the level of Raymond’s crotch. She was kneeling almost directly over the drain, her back to the curved porcelain face of the urinal, her knees on the hard tile floor of the bathroom. She was shaking a little, but beneath her blouse her breasts were rising and falling noticeably with her rapid breathing.

Raymond stood in front of her and unzipped his pants. There was a strained silence in the room as boys crowded around to get a better look. Raymond took out his cock, aimed it at Jenna’s face, and after a moment began to piss. Jenna gave a short, sharp cry as the yellow liquid hit her face, but then she was quiet. She kept her eyes and her mouth closed while Raymond continued to release a strong stream of urine all over her unmoving face.

As the stream died down, the tension in the room suddenly broke and the boys burst out into exclamations of awe, astonishment and delight. Now several others wanted to do what Raymond had done, and one after another they did. It was getting close to class time now, and more boys were coming in, all of them expressing their amazement at what was going on, many of them wanting to join in. Soon there was a line in front of the urinal in which Jenna was kneeling, and boy after boy released his piss happily into Jenna’s face, and on her body as well. The white blouse she was wearing was quickly soaked through, as was the bra beneath, and the shapes of her nipples could be seen clearly as the material clung to her body. They were stiff and hard.

Word of what was going on in the ground-floor boys’ room soon spread through the school, and more and more boys started coming in, until it got too crowded to hold them all. When the line at Jenna’s urinal began to snake out the door and down the hall, Raymond had to stand guard at the door and allow only a certain number of guys in at a time, so they wouldn’t draw unwanted attention from the faculty.

As Raymond had predicted, many of the boys wanted to do more than piss on her. Especially when her clothes got so piss-soaked and sodden that Raymond said she might as well take them off. Jenna wasn’t sure whether it was a suggestion or a command, but she was so dazed and so aroused by what was happening to her, by the continual stream of piss splashing into her face, and by the increasingly excited mob of white boys who seemed to find pleasure in her debasement, that she didn’t care. She took off her dripping blouse and then her bra, to the cheers and moans and catcalls of the watching crowd, and when Raymond asked her why she didn’t finish the job, she took off her skirt and her panties as well.

The crowd grew frenzied. Raymond had difficulty maintaining the line at the urinal, and finally he gave up. They crowded around her now, as many at one time as could fit in a tight semicircle in front of her kneeling figure, and all of them pissed on her at once. Jenna was crying now, although her nipples were still hard and she showed no desire to escape from her situation. But the sense of her utter degradation, while it excited her intensely, could not help but affect her in other ways as well. Her tears were overwhelmed by the rivulets of urine that ran over her face, but her mouth opened as she sobbed helplessly, and the boys pissed into it. She choked at first and tried to keep her mouth closed, but her crying had stuffed up her nose, and she couldn’t. The boys kept aiming for her mouth, importuning her to swallow their piss, and she swallowed as much as she could, the rest spilling out over her chin and onto her breasts and body.

Bill Talbot was the first one to go further. As one group of boys finished peeing on her and made way for another, Bill stepped in and called for a temporary halt. A few boys objected, but the protests died away when they saw Bill stepping up to her with his cock erect and stiff, and pointing at Jenna’s sobbing, quivering, half-open mouth.

“How about it, baby?” Bill said. “You only drink piss, or you like to drink cum too? Come on, sweetie, take it in.” He rubbed the tip of his cock against her full wet lips.

Jenna gave a short, low moan and opened her mouth wider. Bill sank his cock into it.

The room again filled with cheers and groans of passion as Bill began to fuck Jenna’s mouth. He put his hands in her hair, but there was evidently no need to force her as she sucked willingly, even avidly, at his pumping rod. It didn’t take long to finish him off, but instead of letting her drink his cum he pulled out at the last minute and shot it all over her face, letting it mingle with the piss and tears that continued to drip from her. The boys cheered again.

After that, of course, they all wanted to do what Bill had done. For a while there was no more pissing, as boy after boy presented his stiff cock to be sucked. Some of them came almost immediately, some took longer, although those who were waiting continually hectored them to hurry up and make way for the next guy. Some of them followed Talbot’s example and shot their jism into her face, but most of them cummed off in her mouth, and at their urging Jenna swallowed as much as she could. Often she gagged as the boys pushed their cocks deep into her throat, or retched with the surfeit of semen she was ingesting on top of the piss she had already swallowed, but the boys paid no attention, ravenously eager to take advantage of this exciting and astonishing sexual offering. She continued to suck and she continued to sob, and when she parted her knees to spread her thighs, and her hand slid as if with a will of its own into her crotch, a great yell of delight went up from the watching mob.

When the bell rang for the first class much of the crowd cleared out, though some of those who had not yet had their cocks in her mouth stayed to take their turn. But there was not a boy in the school who did not hear the tale of the crazy Chinese girl in the ground-floor bathroom who was there to be pissed on and to be mouth-fucked if they wanted, and there was a constant traffic to that location throughout the day. All day long there was hardly a moment when Jenna was not taking someone’s pee on her face, or in her mouth, or on her breasts, or sucking on some boy’s cock until he came down her throat or into her eyes or her hair or wherever he wanted. It didn’t matter to them that she was a dripping, stinking, sodden mess, her hair lank with urine and semen, her face and body running with it. Most of them got hard as soon as they saw her, and so would fuck her mouth first and then piss on her after they came, although some reversed the process. A couple of times throughout the day Jenna had to throw up, and Raymond would allow her to crawl to one of the toilets and regurgitate some of what she had swallowed by the gallon. Then she would crawl back to her urinal, the foul vomit taste soon replaced in her mouth by that of the never-ending piss. She still knelt there with her thighs open, and most of the time she had at least one hand between her legs, fingering herself slowly, and sometimes frenziedly, while subjecting herself to what was going on. She came quite often, and as the day wore on her climaxes became more frequent, but she never let them interfere with any boy’s pleasure.

Raymond stayed with her all day, using her himself when he wanted to piss, and on two occasions letting her suck him off as well. There were occasional suggestions from some of the guys that they put her in the shower and let her clean up, so that then they could actually fuck her, but they didn’t get around to doing that until the end of the day, because too many guys were constantly coming in to piss on her.

When classes were over, though, and the school was emptying out, about a dozen of them gathered in the bathroom to implement that idea. Two of them stripped naked and took Jenna into the shower, giving her a thorough washing. By the time they finished most of the others were naked too, and waiting. They laid Jenna down on the bathroom floor and began to argue about who would be first. Jenna settled that by tugging frantically at the leg of the first white boy she could reach, practically pulling him down on top of her. She gave a sharp cry of both pain and pleasure as he thrust his cock with brutal directness deep inside her Asian pussy. She climaxed almost immediately, and the boy didn’t last much longer.

After him the rest of them took their turns, each one battering her heedlessly against the hard tile floor, each of them coming quickly and shooting his sperm inside her, and Jenna matched almost every climax with one of her own. Raymond did not fuck her, but when the last of the boys had taken his turn and left, he stood over her and pissed on her once again, grinning widely as he sent the yellow stream all up and down her naked, writhing body. He did not let her wash off again, but told her to get dressed just as she was and then to go report to his father. Which Jenna did.


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


“Did you ask your daddy about me giving you to other guys, Cindy?” Chad inquired.

Cindy had to take his cock out of her mouth in order to answer him. She was kneeling at his feet as he sat in one of the chairs in a locked classroom at lunchtime. This had become almost a daily occurrence. Chad loved to see Cindy on her knees in front of him. He always had her kneel and suck his cock, no matter what else was on the agenda. Sometimes she was naked when she did it, sometimes he let her keep her clothes on. The clothes always came off eventually though. It didn’t take long, because in obedience to his order Cindy never wore underwear to school. This caused her a great deal of embarrassment, because try as she might, she could not keep her high, round, unfettered breasts from bouncing and swaying beneath her blouse or dress as she walked, and this brought her a great deal of attention, and some comment, particularly from the male half of the school population. In addition, Chad had commanded that she always wear dresses or skirts to school, never slacks or jeans, and he had stipulated that those dresses or skirts should never be long enough to fall below her knees. She had to be very careful when she sat down, especially in class, and she never felt safe in crossing her legs now. Her male teachers stared at her, and the females looked disapproving, although so far none of them had said anything. But she was afraid that Chad had further designs for her in this area. It was one of many things she was afraid of from him.

She smiled at him as best she could, but her voice was unsteady. “Yes, I did, Chad,” she said. “He–he said he wanted to think about it.”

“Oh, really?” Chad said. He put his hand in her hair and twisted, and Cindy cried out. “Well, I’d like you to persuade him, Cindy. You think you could find a way to do that?”

Cindy was whimpering slightly as Chad twisted harder. “I–I don’t know, Chad, I–Oh god, I mean, you know my father, he’s–AAHHH! God! All right, Chad, all right! I’ll–I’ll try to–but I–oh please, Chad, I’ll try, but I don’t see how I can–”

“Stupid gook,” Chad said. “Go back to what you were doing.” With his hand still twisted in her hair, he pushed her face back to his crotch, jamming her mouth down over his cock. He held her that way, not letting her move, his throbbing dick completely filling her mouth and reaching into her throat. Cindy gagged and mewled around his cock, struggling to take in air through her nostrils, her hands clutching at his thighs, but he kept his unrelenting grip on her hair until her sounds and struggles made him come hard, shooting his gism direclty into her gullet.

It was only after she had revived him, at his orders, and then bent over the teacher’s desk so he could take her from behind, that Cindy timidly but desperately brought up the subject again. “Chad,” she ventured as she was buttoning her blouse. “Chad, you–you wouldn’t really…give me to other guys…would you? I mean, Chad, I’ve–I’ve been good–I always do what you want, don’t I? I’m–I’m here for you whenever you want me, and I–I always–I mean, why would you want to see me–I mean–”

Chad never tired of the thrill of having Cindy Cohn, the most popular Asian girl in school, who had always treated him like dirt, pleading with him. Of seeing her fear and savoring her forced submission. Now he smiled. “Damn, Cindy, if you were a little smarter I think you would realize that seeing how much you hate the idea only makes me want it more. Don’t you get that, Cindy?”

Tears dripped from Cindy’s eyes. “Oh god, Chad, please. Please. I’m begging you. Please!”

“What are you so afraid of, Cindy? Jesus, it’s not like you’re a virgin or anything. I mean, you’ve not only fucked me, you’ve fucked your step father and your step brother god knows how many times, and I’m pretty damn sure we aren’t the only ones. How many others have you fucked, Cindy?”

“Chad, please–”

Very suddenly, Chad brought up his arm and slapped her as hard as he could across the face. Cindy cried out in shock and pain and staggered back, then fell to her knees, sobbing. As he looked at her, Chad realized that although he had tortured and brutalized Cindy in many ways, this was the first time he had actually hit her with his hand. A surge of excitement suffused his body, and his cock stiffened yet again as he looked down at her.

“I asked you a question, gook whore,” he said hoarsely. “When I ask you a question, you answer it. Immediately. Understand, Cindy?”

Cindy’s head jerked up and down. “Yes,” she whimpered. “Yes, Chad. I’m sorry.”

“Now answer me. How many guys have you fucked with your filthy gook whore’s body?”

“I–I don’t know, Chad,” Cindy replied breathlessly. There was fear in her voice. “I–I only did it when my father told me to. When he–he made me–with some of his friends. And–”

“How many, Cindy?”

She took a shuddering breath. “Three, I think. Three of his friends. And–and at my last school there was this boy, he–he made me–oh Christ–”

“Yeah, well, I want to hear all about your sad story, Cindy, but not right now. I’m gonna give you a little homework, Cindy. Tonight I want you to write me out a list of all the guys you’ve done it with. Every one of them, you got that, Cindy? I want names, and I want them all. Then we can go down the list and you can tell me all about what happened with each one of them. While I’m fucking your ass. Okay, Cindy?”

“Yes, Chad,” she whispered.

“All right. So anyway, Cindy, what I was saying was that since you have fucked all these guys, you can’t be worried about losing your virtue or anything, right? So what do you care if I lend you to some of my buddies, just like your father did? You’re a gook whore anyway, isn’t that right? Just like you always tell your father, a gook bitch and a gook whore. Isn’t that right, Cindy?”

“Yes, Chad.” She was sobbing softly.

“All right then. So what’s a few more guys?”

Cindy moaned. “I–I don’t–” She struggled to control her sobs. “I–I’ll be ruined, Chad,” she gasped out. “Oh Christ. Everybody will–will know about–I’ll be the school whore.” She couldn’t stop crying. “Oh, damn you, Chad!” she burst out heedlessly. “You–you’ve already shamed me with my girlfriends, they–they think I’m–Jesus, I don’t know what they think. And–and if–if the whole–” She broke down again. Chad watched her sobbing there on her knees, his cock harder than ever.

“It happened before, didn’t it, Cindy?” he said finally. “At your last school. I remember Jenna Wang said something about that. You had to move away. And now it’s happening again. Poor little gook whore baby.”

Cindy continued to sob.

Chad rested his buttocks against the desk, thinking for a moment as he gazed down at the crying girl. “The thing is, Cindy,” he said then, “like I told you before, I’m gonna need a little variety when I get tired of using your slutty cunt and your slutty ass and your slutty mouth. Something to keep me interested, you know? And I figure watching you degrading yourself for a bunch of my friends, fucking and sucking all the guys you’ve put down for so long, would be real stimulating. Didn’t I explain that to you, Cindy?”


“Answer me, whore.”

“Yes, Chad,” Cindy got out. “You explained that.”

“But I’ll tell you what, Cindy.” He considered for another moment as Cindy looked up at him with a faint glimmer of hope. “You mentioning your girlfriends has given me an idea. That snooty bunch of Asian girls you run around with all think they’re such big wheels. They’re almost as stuck-up as you, Cindy. As you used to be, I mean. All so full of themselves, and they won’t spit on white guys like me. You see where I’m going with this, Cindy?”

“I–I don’t–are you–”

“I’m thinking we might make a deal, Cindy. You don’t want to fuck my friends, maybe I can fuck yours, you know? That would provide some variety, all right. And god knows I’d love to stick my dick into one or two of those Asian bitches. Or all of them, for that matter. That Melanie Bryan, for example. She looks like she’d make a great fuck. Or Norma Veney, with the tits out to here. Or Rachel Harris, Armina Banks–damn, they’re all good-looking Asian cunts, and don’t they know it! So what I’m thinking, Cindy, is that you could do both of us a favor by maybe getting a couple of them for me, you know? You think you could do that, Cindy?”

Cindy was staring at him through her tears. “Chad, I–how could I–I don’t know how I could–they’d never–it’s–it’s impossible, Chad–”

“Really? Well, that’s a shame, Cindy. Then I guess you’ll just have to become the school slut. Too bad.”

“Chad, please! I’ll–I’ll do anything you want–”

“But I told you what I want, Cindy. I want your snotty-ass Asian bitch friends. At least one or two of them. Don’t you think you could persuade them somehow? Use your influence. You’re the big cheese, after all, aren’t you, whore?”

In spite of her distress, Cindy gave a bitter laugh. “I used to be,” she said, sniffling a little. “But you pretty much took care of that, you–” She cut herself off hastily.

“Well, I think you still carry some weight, Cindy. And a smart Asian girl like you should be able to figure out some way to use it. I don’t care how you do it. And I don’t care if the bitches like it or not. Matter of fact, I’d prefer it if they didn’t. Makes it more exciting, just like with you, Cindy.”

Cindy swallowed, trying to pull herself together. “But Chad, my father didn’t–he hasn’t said you could–”

“He will,” Chad said. “I’m pretty sure he will, Cindy. Especially if I tell him about this new plan. I think that would appeal to him, don’t you? So here’s the deal, Cindy. I’ll give you a week. You get at least one of your pals to fuck for me in that time, I’ll keep you all to myself, okay? Until I get tired of her, of course. Then we’ll go on to the next one.”

He could see that Cindy’s impulse was to curse him again, but she held herself back. She just shook her head helplessly, her eyes brimming with new tears.

“Do we have a deal, Cindy?”

“I–I’ll try,” Cindy whispered. “But I don’t see–I don’t think–”

“You don’t have to think, Cindy. You just do as you’re told. One way or the other. Now see, talking about those girls has made me all hard again. Crawl over here and suck me off again before you leave, Cindy.”

And Cindy did that.

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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