I masturbate to the thoughts of being enslaved by superior White Man everyday.

I long for nothing more than to behold the stormy sea, less as a mighty spectacle than as a momentary revelation of the true nature of Superior White Man.

An Asian whore like me should be forced to push half-white babies out of my well fucked and abused cunt every nine months, he told me, as I listened to his words with a palpitating heart. The pronunciation of each syllable was sufficient to provoke in me a complete change in key of my sensibility, a modulation of my bodily clime without the external seasonal change. I felt cold at one instance, then hot at another, then warm, then tepid, then freezing, then scorched almost to the point of heat-exhaustion.

You should never be without a big round swollen belly, with big heavy tits filled with milk, big swollen nipples leaking milk onto the floor, he told me. The images associated with his words, cartoonish, Faulkner-like, appear with their associated syllables, lingered in my head,drawn-out, drooled and slurred, gradually merged with an inspired longing, a yen, a pine for fantasy.

Not only would I be bred, but I would be bred by at least six different white men simultaneously at a time, so that I would never be able to know who the father is, as befitting an Asian whore, according to him.

“You’ll probably be the kind of whore that will squirt and cum all over yourself in front of the doctors when giving child birth pushing our bastard out of your cunt. His head pushing against your cunt walls and clit, stretching your hole wider and wider will make you orgasm for sure. He’ll enter the world with your cum all over him. His mother is a breeding whore, and I hope he leaves your pussy all swollen and sore after he enters the world,” he continued.

Those words present to me a little picture of things, bright, familiar, eerie, strange, creepy, and grotesque, like the pictures hang on the walls of a school’s classroom, like the posters of horror movies plastered in subway stations, like the obscene advertisements of pornography. It robs me of my humanity, my womanhood, my dignity, my most cherished aspect of life as a female.

“That’s how it should feel all the time. It should hurt when you walk from being used and abused. Hurry up and push this bastard out of your hole just so we can put another one inside of you again. You should be bred until you are completely barren inside. After that, you should spend the rest of your days caged, collared and leashed, both holes plugged up at all times in chastity belt, waiting to be fucked and used as the fuck toy you were born to be. Hand spank your pussy and clit for me until you squirt tonight, dreaming of my superior half-white baby kicking inside your womb. Breed every nine months slave.”

Instinctively I felt my hand reaching for the forbidden fruit, my face blushing, my heart at my throat, a ghost dancing up and down inside me, clapping its hands and kicking its legs.

Those words magnetized my secret yearnings, waves of forbidden desires surging around me—those words to me were not merely an inaccessible ideal, but an imaginary, enveloping oasis into which I plunged to dream of a life not lived, to escape the anvil of a harsher reality of boredom, death, and loneliness.

For several nights I was unable to sleep, haunted, harrowed, insulted by those words. And the associated images of those words, unreal, fixed, always alike, filled my nights and days, touching my sexual organs as elaborated by the spell of my dreams and not perceived by my other senses at all.

And whenever I woke up in the morning, I felt shameful, guilty, and remorseful, troubled by the reality of those visions that most inflamed my lustful desires, humiliated that those words raised me to a midnight ecstasy, as an imagined reality, more painful than reality—something that I had until then deemed impossible—penetrated deep within my soul, held, restrained, and immobilized me between rocks of amethyst, like a reef in the Indian Ocean, by a supreme muscular effort, in an supreme excess of my strength, diverting me, as if a man sucking the clam-meat out of my clam-shell, leaving me with no purpose, lost in the indescribable and peculiar realm of dreams.

I listened but did not respond. I wished he would have spoken more. But I have never heard him speaking ever again. A few weeks afterward, I remembered those words again, and that night, I dreamed, that the white man who spoke those words put his words into action, came to my house, kidnapped me, and enslaved me, kept me in the condition as he had described. In that dream, I felt myself undergoing a dis-incarnation to a previous life. It was accompanied by a strange and vague desire to vomit, as one feels when one has developed a sore throat, and a persistent fever that had to keep me in bed.

Ever since, I masturbate to those words every night before bed, lusting for his power, his strength, his courage, his madness, his zeal, his tenacity, his superiority.

Love is a disease.

your inferior asian slave

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.

2 thoughts on “I masturbate to the thoughts of being enslaved by superior White Man everyday.

  1. You should not feel ashamed, it’s natural for anyone to look for better seed, and unfortunately better seed is just found outside of asians. Since chinks can’t give their women good seed to better their offspring, other races of men, mainly white men, will give it.

  2. You’re fascinating, but how about you act out on your fantasies? It will take time, but it will be easy and immediately rewarding. Become one of these Pick-Up Asians. Get out, find the suitable men, and get each of your holes filled, no condom allowed. Faced with an Asian slut who visibly takes care of her body, most would not say no. Put him in heat, and show him one of your three holes for his big white cock to ravage. Rule of the game is that one man is only allowed for one hole.

    You will not have to put effort anymore, as men will instinctively sense you are nothing but a yellow flesh container for real men to empty the content of their balls into. Let them decide which hole they prefer, and never complain no matter how much they bruise you, as this is about animalistic mating with a cock-hungry gook, not lovemaking.

    Commit every second of your free time at sexual expertise, and when you can’t find any man, just masturbate to make stimulation the rule rather than the event. It is the best both for your own pleasure and the big white cock of the hour, and don’t worry, while thousands of cocks stretch you, throw your chink body on the ground and breed your holes, you will not have the willpower anymore to think about the angry fits and sex mommy fantasies of the puny Asian boys.

    Once you got some favorite white men, open your little secret cult, dedicated to the filling of chink holes. Invite your vulnerable Asian friends, the young ambitious one, the lonely nerdy one, the one falling into despair because her chink boyfriend keeps making comments on how ugly she is. Hold them down and make them understand they will be saved through the pleasure of being defiled by hundreds of raging big white cocks, to the point they have nothing to hide anymore from their new white masters. Nothing reinforces bonds and solidarity more than a sex cult.

    You will be pumped every day, pregnant or not, and have your children taken away from you for a better life. If they still can pass off as chinks, the girls would be treated better than you and given the life of eye-candy models and concubines. The boys will help and assist their white masters, as well as making sure Asians do not go extinct. So in your later years, you will be held down and fucked by these young half-white adults not only for their leisure and motivation, but also in order to breed more Asian girls for the next generation to keep getting new fuckholes.

    SephWriter

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