Adopted Asian Daughter Chapter 8

Chapter 8


Jenna Wang walked the nine blocks from the school to the Cohn’s house, shivering most of the way and trying to avoid the startled, curious glances of the people she passed. She knew she looked as though she had been caught in a rainstorm, drenched from head to toe, her clothes clinging to her, her hair lank and dripping, her face running with moisture. Unless people got close enough to smell her, they probably wouldn’t know it was urine she was dripping with–mixed with a little semen from the white boys who had jerked off on her face when they had finished pissing on her the last time. People usually avoided getting that close to her, but they stared and wondered. Jenna felt shamed and horribly self-conscious, but her nipples were hard, as they had been through most of the day, and the moisture between her legs was from a different source. Part of her hated herself for responding in this way to such degradation, but she knew she couldn’t help it. That was how she was, and who she was. That was what had brought her here. She was Yellow Piss.

At the Cohn house, she went up on the porch and knocked at the door. In a moment she heard Raymond’s father’s voice. “Who is it?”

This time she knew the correct response. “It’s Yellow Piss,” she said, quite loudly.

The front door opened and Raymond’s father stood there. He looked her up and down slowly. “You are a disgusting mess,” he said finally. Jenna swallowed. “Yes, sir,” she said breathlessly. “I did what you–I followed your instructions, sir. Raymond told me to report to you. Sir.”

“Good,” Raymond’s father said. “But you don’t expect me to allow you into my house in that condition, do you, Yellow Piss?”

“I–I don’t–I–”

“Stop stuttering like an idiot. You will remove those stinking rags you are wearing–all of them–before you enter my house.”

Jenna looked around fearfully. There were a few people passing on the other side of the street. A few houses down a woman was sitting in a porch swing reading a magazine. Other than that there wasn’t much sign of life, but she didn’t know who might be watching from the houses. Or who might come along the street at any moment. She thought of protesting, but she knew it was futile.

“Once you have done that,” Raymond’s father continued, “you will take that clothing to the garbage can there by the curb, and put it in. Then you may come back and knock again.” And he closed the door in Jenna’s face.

The people on the other side of the street had passed by, but there were a few more pedestrians now on both sides. It was late afternoon and people were returning home. A few cars passed by, and a man came out of the house directly across the street and began to water his lawn. Jenna wondered if she could put off what she had to do until there was less traffic, but she knew she couldn’t. Raymond’s father was waiting, and possibly watching. There on the porch she began taking off her clothes for the second time that day. She was breathing hard, and she was shaking. Unbuttoning and pulling off her wet blouse, she tried not to look out at the street, but she couldn’t help it. Nobody seemed to notice her at first. Then, as she pulled off her skirt, she saw the man across the street look up and then stare at her, his watering hose forgotten. She looked away, but a man passing on the sidewalk had seen her now, and stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide. A woman down the block seemed to be pointing her out to her companion, both with their mouths open. Oh god, she thought, what would happen? Would they call the police? What if someone she knew saw her? What if–

She was making a little sound with each breath she emitted as she took off her bra. A passing car stopped. Another came up behind it and stopped too, the driver honking his horn impatiently at first, until he turned to see what the driver in front of him was staring at.

Jenna took off her panties. There were tears in her eyes, but her nipples protruded from her breasts like tiny rocket heads, and she could feel them throbbing. Nevertheless she had to gather all her courage and will power to pick up her discarded clothes and carry them out to the curb where the trash can stood. She wanted to use them to cover her breasts and her crotch, but she didn’t. If Raymond’s father was watching he would not like that. So she just held them in her hands, her hands at her sides as she walked as steadily as she could off the porch and down the little path to the curb, her breasts bouncing nakedly with each step, her small brown patch of pubic hair glinting in the afternoon light. Then she deposited her clothing in the metal can, turned, and walked back to the porch. As far as she could hear, none of the people watching her made any comments. They just stared.

Shaking harder now, she knocked at the door again. “Who is it?” came the familiar voice.

Jenna swallowed. “It’s Yellow Piss,” she said. She wondered how many of the watchers could hear her.

Raymond’s father opened the door. “That’s better,” he said. “Come in, Yellow Piss.”

Jenna crossed the threshold, and Raymond’s father closed the door after her. He seemed unconcerned with whatever audience Jenna had collected. Perhaps he had reason to be. After closing the door he turned to the naked girl. Then, very suddenly and with no warning, he raised his hand and slapped her very hard across the face.

Jenna cried out and fell backwards, falling to the floor, as much from shock and surprise as from the force of the blow. “What–why–” she gasped out.

“Why?’ Ramond’s father said. “Why did I hit you? Because I wanted to. That’s all. It was a whim. You are here to satisfy my whims, Yellow Piss. I don’t need a reason for hitting you other than that. Isn’t that right?”

Jenna swallowed. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, sir.”

“Right. And also to get you off your feet. From now on you are never to stand upright in my presence, unless I order you to, or give you permission. As a chink slave, you will be on your knees to me at all times unless told otherwise. Is that clear, Yellow Piss?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m waiting,” Raymond’s father said.

Jenna, who had been sprawled where she had fallen, hastily clambered onto her knees. Nervous and quivering, she was uncertain whether to sit back on her haunches or to kneel upright. She chose the former.

“No,” Raymond’s father said.

Quickly she pushed herself up so that she was in effect kneeling at attention, her thighs at right angles to her calves, her weight pressing her knees harder against the floor.

“Straighten your back,” Raymond’s father said.

Jenna obeyed, holding her body as rigid as she could.

“Put your hands behind you. Crossed at the wrists.”

Again she did as he said. Her hard-nippled breasts thrust toward him, her taut body still glistening with moisture. She knelt there with her eyes cast down, not daring to look up at him.

“Good,” Raymond’s father said. “That is your slave posture. That is how you will present yourself to me at all times, and that is how you will remain in my presence when not under other orders. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you may get on all fours and crawl into the bathroom, where you will clean yourself off. You still stink of piss, a natural state for a chink, but somewhat unsavory for the rest of humanity. When you have finished you will crawl into the living room, where I will be waiting. Do not be long.” He turned and walked away.

Jenna got on her hands and knees and crawled to the bathroom. She cried helplessly as she showered and washed out her hair. She didn’t quite know why she was crying. Or rather, she was aware that there were so many reasons that she couldn’t possibly sort them out. Part of it was shame. Part of it anger, mostly at herself. Part of it was simple relief at finally ridding her body of the noxious feel and smell of urine. Part of it was a kind of despair at the knowledge that she was giving up her life, her freedom, albeit willingly. And part of it, she knew–perhaps the biggest part–was happiness.

When she had finished she crawled into the living room. Raymond had arrived now and was sitting there with his father. Jenna crawled to Raymon’s father’s chair and knelt before him in her slave position, upright, her back straight, her hands behind her, her eyes cast down. Raymond’s father said, “Raymond has been telling me about your performance today, Yellow Piss. I am happy to hear that you carried out my orders to the letter, with no trouble. I am convinced now that you will make an excellent chink slave, and I have decided to take you on permanently.”

A surge of joy suffused Jenna’s body, so unexpectedly strong that it drowned out whatever other emotions she might have felt. She wanted to jump to her feet, but she forced herself to remain in position. “Thank you, sir,” she said breathlessly. She could not restrain herself from looking up at him for a moment, but his expression as he looked at her made her lower her eyes again.

“As my permanent slave,” Raymond’s father went on, “I will want you to live here, so that you will be available to me whenever I want you. I may have you leave school to serve me full-time, but I have not yet decided that. You will not have to bring any of your possessions when you come here. A slave does not have possessions.”

A startled Jenna looked up at him again, her mouth and eyes wide.

“But–but sir I–I can’t–I mean–I’m–my mother would–she wouldn’t–she would never–”

“Stop stuttering. Your mother would object to such a move. Of course. I understand that. Do you have other family as well? A father? Brothers

nnd sisters.”

“N-no, sir. My father’s living in China, and I’m–I don’t have any–”

“Well, that makes it simpler, doesn’t it? Don’t worry about your mother. I will deal with her. In fact, you need not go home at all. Now that you are here, you may as well stay. Raymond, show Yellow Piss to the spare room, where she will stay until further notice. She will crawl behind you, of course.”

“Can I fuck her?” Raymond said.

His father looked at him in a way that made Raymond blanch a little. “I thought you were tired of her, Raymond,” his father said. “Didn’t you have Yellow Piss at your beck and call, able to do anything you wanted with her? And didn’t you pass her on to me because she was too much for you to handle? Is my memory failing me, Raymond, or is that not the case?”

“Yes, sir,” Raymond said. “But hell, it’s not that she wasn’t a good lay, you know? And after watching her all day, with all those guys and everything, well–it’s made me horny as hell. You know?”

“Of course. But let us get one thing clear, Raymond. Yellow Piss is now my slave, not yours. You will do nothing with her without my permission. Nothing. At any time. Just like with your sister. You understand that, do you not?”

“Yes, sir. I’m–I’m just asking permission now, Dad, okay? I’m really hot for her now. Can I fuck her? Please?”

“Yes,” his father 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.

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