Pleasing White Man in all his physically prepotent glory is my passion. There is no feeling–no ecstasy greater, no joy more overwhelming to my heart–than the feeling of a white cock slammed into my throat, bulging my tiny esophagus, leaking its pre-cum into my tummy; and, I, in this painful, pleasurable, humiliating process, soaking my pussy.
I’m obsessed with being forced to pleasure White Man, worship White Man, and submit to White Man, even if it means that I will be gagged and that I will struggle with his white meat rammed down my throat, even if it means that I will be constantly starving for White Cock no matter how many cocks I’ve been fed.
Because otherwise I’m useless.
I heard somewhere on a podcast that more than 80 percent of women are having sex with less than 20 percent of men, and this is actually enabled by change in technology and globalization. The argument goes somewhat as follows: less than 20 percent of men are considered unattractive to women. Of those 20 percent, less than 20 percent of them are above 6 feet tall. Of those percentage, less than 20 percent has attractive personality. And of those, less than 20 percent is rich. Etc. Etc. If you do the math, you come to realize than a tiny, tiny percentage of men are attractive for all women, and all the women who are having sex with a man may be ending up, in a limited pool, be having sex with the same man. The vast majority of the rest of men are simply genetic dead ends who will never have sex with women.
And it just so happens that that tiny percentage of men are almost entirely white.
My white owner—my pussy tightens and moistens just at the mention of him—played a game with me and another white-cock-starved Asian girl while we all stayed in a seedy motel together. He told both of us that we were to not make a sound while we were being fucked. “If you make a peep, I stop and switch to the other.” Both of us hadn’t been fucked in a while and so we were desperate to keep him inside us, but we would inevitably cry out as he positioned to drive himself deeper and deeper. He butchered our insides. And yet for him, “It’s so much fun watching you both desperately trying to stay quite,” as he cranked up the intensity of ruining our innards.
Immured in the daily treadmill of material survival, in going to work and leaving work, immersed in, surrounded by, and flooded all round with handsome, solipsistic, imperious white men, the commonwealth of an Asian woman living in the west, whether any of us has any awareness of it whatsoever, consist mostly of deviant sexual escapades with the said kind of men; which can be more or less otiose games without reproduction or childbearing, and yet can be demonstrably luxurious for the soul, and yet, yet again, can be all too often irresponsible and devilish in their consequences.
My white owner had given me daily assignment to watch WMAF porn videos and play with my cunt and clit EXCEPT that my dildo must be inside my ass the whole time. My desperation to touch my swollen Asian clit and make myself cum became unbearable after a couple of days. Although the feeling of desperation made my cunt wet as well.
For reasons that I’ve yet to fully comprehend but depriving my Asian pussy of white cock made me incredibly horny. When I was at work I was too busy and had no opportunity to play with myself, but the other half of me knew that I could make time, by going into the bathroom, in the dressing room, or even inside my car, but my owner forbade me to use my dildo inside my pussy and it made me suffer. One day I even woke up to me rubbing my clit in my sleep. That was how horny I had been.
During the road trip to the seedy motel he made me “show the other Asian girl a video of you being a horny slut while at work.” In that video, I squealed like a typical Japanese slut because I never imagined that he would show it to others. I tried pulling my phone away. I tried turning it off because I was embarrassed, not just for me, but also for the other girl. But he asked me, or to be more exact, told me: who was in charge. He made me repeat it. “White Man is in charge. And White Man gets what he wants.” I was humiliated, appalled; I was made an object of virulent anathema, and yet I was also dripping wet.
Those are not occult notions, that White Men are desirable for Asian chicks. Those feelings are, for an Asian woman, of an immensity of the commonplace. They are, in fact, perfectly pragmatic, experiential and repetitive, each and every time those lines came to me they came to inhabit me, possess me, enter into the sinews of my remembrance and sense of the future, and like a painting transmutes the landscape of my previous perception–my previous perception, in which I considered myself equal to white men, in which I had deluded myself with puerile provenance of my Japanese heritage, in which I had foolishly taken pride.
I felt the impetuous desire that was in me, and a yielding mood like a cloud of thunderstorm had came upon me.
That night at the motel, I was fucked in the ass twice, and yet I still felt like I was having a mild orgasm an hour later. During the process my pussy was on fire, and I had to pee so badly, but instead of letting me go, or use the bathroom with dignity, my white owner held me upside down and made me piss all over myself and my face. My urine went up my nose, into my mouth, and my hair was soaked too because of how much piss came out of me. “She is a nasty slut and she is proud of it,” He bragged to the other Asian girl, who was kneeling by the door of the bathroom, staring in a state of trance, her eyes staring blankly into the abyss.
The other Asian girl went by the name “Jillian”. She is Chinese, originally from Shanghai, about 5 feet 8, with marmoreal skin from the kingdom of White Queen, and long silky black hair like Snow White, works as a regional sales manager for Huawei. During the day she is the patriotic Chinese nationalist poster girl. My white owner had been her secret lover for over three years now. He took her out do dinners, to expensive trips abroad. If you looked through her social media profiles, you would always see pictures of her at fancy restaurants, five-star hotels, and other expensive trips to history-rich European countries such as Greece, England, France, etc., and she is always seen with someone, either dining or swimming or diving, or fencing–because there are always two sets of everything, two sets of dishes, two sets of silver-plates, two sets of hands, and yet that someone is never actually seen. He is invisible. But he is there, and he shows up at night, and creeps out at dawn. Some at her company–all of them Chinese male engineers–gossiped that she is dating a matutinal-crepscular non-being.
Her interests are “food, travel and shopping”. Her interest in my white owner is never mentioned anywhere.
“Being creampied and walking around with your wet, sticky cum filled in my panties is a turn on. I love feeling the wetness rubbing against my cunt all day, reminding me of the incredible fuck I had that morning,” referring to my white owner as “Sir”. She is fully aware that my white owner has multiple girlfriends, all of them Asian, and she is okay with it. However, she would never tolerate a Chinese guy having more than one girlfriend. “Feeling your cum between my thighs as I’m going about my day makes me crave your cock and cum all over again.” Without even caring for my feelings, she said those words in front of me and my owner as if I were indifferent to jealousy. Those are the sentences that arrested my spirit. Her words mapped out the different spaces, the different journeys and histories we have traversed, re-traversed, seeking to quarry, and to inhabit and yet in the end all converging at the same point, as if in a recursive formula, “in-folding” inside the limits of our words, defining the immanence of being Asian.
That night at the motel, both of us got anal cream pies from my white owner. We also sucked his cock right after it came out of our butts for the first time too and it was incredibly hot. Sometimes I had thought that my sex life cannot possibly get any more exciting than it already is, but then, my owner surprises me. The mere knowledge that many other Asian girls are fighting to win his favors makes me even more attracted to him than I felt was possible.
The next morning my white owner decided that he had had enough of me and dragged me by my hair to the bathroom and sadly I knew what was coming. He told me to kneel in front of the toilet and forced his cock in my mouth and started to piss. I can’t explain it, but if you are a perverted dirty little Asian girl like I am then you know that drinking your white owner’s piss is one of the most amazing feelings in the world. Some of it fell into the toilet, and the last mouth-full he made me swallow. As if it wasn’t already humiliating enough, he then demanded that I cup my hands and take a sip of the toilet water and piss that fell out of my mouth, and then he made me repeat the line, “I’m a worthless yellow piss slut.” I didn’t think twice. After I had successfully accomplished my tasks, he petted me on the head and said, from now on, this will be my new morning routine.
Sometimes I need to be reminded of my place in the world, and it’s beneath White Man.
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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8 thoughts on “I know my place in the world.”
This is great Jenny. All women should aim for a white men and treat them like masters. It must become common sense that women feel more pleasure when dominated by white men and are treated as sex slaves.
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I find it very arousing that you are so obsessed with white cock but as much as I love Asian women I could never treat a lady so poorly.
Sexually I would enjoy you submission but physically I could never hurt you and degrade you.
To love a woman is to respect that woman.
Does that make me weak in your eyes? To love and respect an Asian woman and never punish and abuse her.
you are an idiot if you think otherwise
she does audio too …
chink cunt is all over certain areas of USA..all big cities..chinese..korean lots..jap..not so much..dont use dating websites..all there are IN Asia..not USA..military base areas are good..many GI’s married Asian women..Tampa FL is loaded If you think you will make a connection here..I have some swamp land in Florida you might like..
It’s good that you recognize your true purpose, to serve the White Man!
BWC/German in Kansas City seeking slender, nympho AF for live-in relationship. I am a homeowner.