Adventures of a Shanghai Slut

I always enjoyed flirting with men at parties. And my husband always enjoyed watching me doing it. I sensed that he felt proud when he saw other men lavish envious attention on me. But the last party I went to didn’t turn out as I had planned.

For most of the night, it was no different than the dozens of other parties that my husband and I’ve been to. My top was cut too low and my jeans were too tight. Men were hanging around me, staring at my tits, occasionally brushing up against me as we walked. But as the party was winding down, a group of them were huddled around me, telling me dirty jokes, and making remarks to themselves about my tits. I was horny, happy, and looking forward to going home and fucking my husband. But the hornier I got, the more obvious my nipples became, and the men just seemed to be more emboldened. One of them reached out and pinched my nipples between his fingers. I tried to tell them to stop but I was frozen with shock and fear. Before I knew it another guy took his turn and squeezed my nipples. Then another. I just stood there and let them.

We were at a private party that was exclusively for western men and Asian women and this happened in the garage of the owner’s house. It was just me and six or seven expat men living in Shanghai. I wasn’t sure how many exactly. Two of them backed me up against the wall and I heard the sound of the roller doors being pulled down and I felt a hand between my legs. I looked up at the man’s face. I told myself that I needed to resist, and to tell him to stop, and all I actually did was opening my legs wider for him. It was as if my body was no longer listening to my command. There was a man on either side of me, and I put my arms around their shoulders for support. Then they lifted my top to reveal my tits while the other men rubbed me between the legs. The rest of the men just stood in front of us and watched.

… In that crowd I noticed one of them was my husband with his medium built shoulders, brown hair and grey eyes.

He smiled at the guy from Wales who was rubbing me between my legs and nodded as he unbuttoned my jeans and I felt his hairy fingers on my panties. As soon as he worked his fingers under the waistband and found my pussy, my head arched back and I dug my fingernails into the shoulders of the two American guys supporting me. I begged them to stop. I begged my husband to save me and take me home, but my pleading fell on deaf ears. They laughed at me and then, the two guys holding me up each grabbed one of my tits and lowered their mouths on my nipples. I grunted loudly as the first one, and then the second one, took my nipples between their teeth.

They now all moved closer and I heard a jumble of voices. “Cheap Chinese slut.” “Asian whore.” “She loves it.” “Who fucks her first?” And then, amid the sea of voices, I heard the familiar masculine sound in his British accent telling someone to “teach my Chinese wife a lesson. … stick a finger up her.”

I felt delirious, consumed by what I perceived to be betrayal by my own husband and what was about to happen to me. I felt the same fat, stubby, hairy finger slide inside me and then two other men pulled my jeans all the way down my ankles. I was panting hard. From their conversations I learned which man was British, which was American, and which was French.

The two Americans crouched beside me, one to my left and one to my right. They reached between my legs, and each grabbed one of my pussy lips between their fingers and thumbs, and gently pulled them apart, exposing my swollen clit. The men had all cheered as my panties were ripped off of me, and they cheered again as my clit was displayed for them. The entire garage echoed with the most disgusting and degrading comments about me.

That finger was still moving around inside me, and I felt I was going to cum. I heard my husband’s voice again, and I couldn’t speak. I had completely lost control over my body. And then I heard his voice up and close. “You get to pick,” he said. “You get to pick someone to fuck your pussy.” My knees buckled and gave away as he said it.

The thought of picking a random person from the crowd of the Free World to fuck me in front of so many other first-world men pushed me over the edge. I was panting and grunting and just as the first wave of my orgasm was about to break between my legs and inside of me, I felt the finger slide out of me and the two Americans let go of my pussy lips. This wasn’t happening. They can’t stop now. I thought to myself and looked around the garage in desperation, panting wildly as I did, my face just pleading for one of them to say “let the Asian slut cum,” but none of them did. My head slumped down in defeat and tears rolled down my cheeks.

My husband stroked my cheek and wiped away my tears. I whispered in a low moaning “please” but he ignored me. I sobbed as I felt the orgasm that had almost started to consume me recede.

The thought of begging a foreigner, a stranger, and very likely a western sexpat fucking his way in Shanghai to fuck me made my pussy drip, and I bowed my head in shame, imagining the comments those men would make if they saw what was happening between my legs. But they hadn’t noticed. They were busy talking and laughing about how big my Asian clit was.

I looked at the men standing in front of me. Some were tall. Some short. Some with blonde hair. Some with brown hair. Then I saw a man about six feet three, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he was smiling and talking to a drop-dead gorgeous blonde girl, whom I assume is his girlfriend, most likely from East Europe. I had tried to flirt with him once at the very beginning of the party, but he had ignored me as if I weren’t there. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t take interest in Asian girls, I assumed, and I told my husband I wanted to do him.

“Why him?” The blonde woman next to him asked. My head spun around in the direction of her voice. She was standing near a side door and a cold chill ran down my spine as I saw the head lights of a passing car through the open door. Anyone driving by or walking past would have seen me, and I gasped frantically and screamed: “Shut the door!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, you fucking Shanghai whore.”

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered. I actually hated everything about the stuck-up blonde bitch, but I would have gotten down on my hands and knees and licked her feet if that’s what it took for her to forgive me. She had looked down her nose at me the moment we met, and now she had every right to. A car pulled up in front of the open door and then disappeared into the darkness as the driver turned off the head lights. “Why do you want the door shut, whore?” She knew she had won, and she was going to make me squirm.

“I’m sorry.” I desperately wanted the door shut, but all I could get out of my mouth was “I’m sorry.”

She looked at me with the same contempt that she had seen with me at least a dozen times throughout the night. I felt like she was the beautiful mistress of the mansion, and I was her lowly chamber maid, a cheap servant girl who had forgotten her place.

“It seems to me that you like an audience. I thought you would have thanked me, now that people can line up outside and watch you make a spectacle of yourself. Do you want me to shut the door again? You pathetic Chinese whore! Now you were asking my boyfriend to fuck you, weren’t you? He doesn’t like you. You’re too cheap, too easy. He likes women with a bit of class about them.” Her eyes moved down my body, and lingered between my legs.

My mind was racing as my head hung in shame and humiliation.

” Um sweetie … your pussy is dripping.”

“I’m sorry.” I cringed as I apologized once again.

“No you are not! Don’t lie to me you worthless Asian slut.”

The men had been silent as they watched her taking control of me. But now they were bursting out laughing and making the most vulgar and cruel comments about my pussy and how wet it was.

“And look at the size of your clit! No wonder you’re such a slut. You must get horny just walking down the street with a clit that big.” Her finger was just a few millimeters from my clit as she pointed it. If she had touched me there, I would have cummed all over her. She moved her finger up and down my clit, slowly, pretending to stroke it.

“I will tell you what we are going to do. She stared into my eyes as she spoke. “I will let my boyfriend fuck your worthless Chinese pussy.” I moaned loudly as she said it. “But first, I’m going to cum on your tongue.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I was cumming. I grunted and dug my fingers into the American men who were holding me. I threw my head back as my orgasm took hold of me. But as quickly as it had erupted inside me it faded away. Just a taste of the real pleasure that awaited me. I lifted my head towards the blonde woman, and I was thrusting myself against nothing but the cool night air. I tried to touch myself, but the Americans holding me wouldn’t let me. I begged her to touch me but she just laughed at me. I looked around the room in desperation, pleading for someone to help me, but no one did. I was almost hysterical, tears rolling down my cheeks. I whimpered once more as I slumped into the arms of the men holding me. My clit throbbed in frustration. I felt dizzy as I lifted my head again. I took control of my breathing and slowly the dizziness subdued into a hazy light-headed feeling.

“I will let my boyfriend fuck you, with the help of all these other men, but first, you will make me cum with your tongue.” I nodded a few times and bowed my head in shame. “And once I’m finished with you, you will suck off every man in this room, and you won’t waste a drop, do you understand? Okay, boys. The slut likes an audience, but I don’t. Wait outside.” She was the kind of woman who could get men to do anything for her. The men filed out the side door, my husband smiled at me as he left. I saw them standing near the door as the blonde alpha female closed it on them. They were hanging around like a pack of animals, ruled over by the queen, waiting to get their turn on the bottom bitch, the lowly bottom bitch in heat.

She motioned for me to get down on my knees and I did as I was told, my top still pulled up under my arms, my jeans still down around my ankles. She stood in front of me, my face only a few inches away from her crotch as she reached under her dress and slid her white lace panties down and then she lifted her expensive cream woolen dress and spread her legs. She wanted me to do it now, but I’d never done this with another woman before. I wanted her to enjoy me. I waned to make it as good for her as I could. I gently rested my hands on her thighs and parted her lips with my thumbs. She was wet and her clit was swollen. I licked it and she moaned softly. I flicked it with my tongue and she moaned again. I enjoyed the way her body reacted but she had lost patience with me and grabbed the back of my head and buried my face in between her legs. I looked up at her as I licked and sucked on her clit, but her eyes were shut. She wasn’t even looking at me. She was breathing heavily and rubbing herself against me as I licked her. Soon, she was thrusting herself against my mouth, panting and moaning as she came. When she finished, she turned her back to me as she pulled up her panties, and adjusted her dress before opening the door to let the men back in.

When my husband came back through the door she put her hand on his chest and whispered something to him, his grey eyes lit up—it was so strange seeing my husband talking to a white woman, it was a feeling that I could never get over, since I always assumed that my husband was a guy with yellow fever who could only date Asian girls. Then she put his hand on her ass and he looked at me and smiled and before I could say anything he left with the blonde woman. I felt a rage of jealousy but before I had time to worry about my husband, I was once again surrounded by a dozen horny western men. I had felt safe while my husband was here, but now, those men had me to themselves.

My legs were weak and shaking as the two Americans supporting me lowered me to my knees, at the feet of a French man I absolutely despised. My hands shook as I undid his belt and zipper, and he pushed them away. “Tre bien. Tres bien. Useless chinoise whore.” He said as he pulled his cock from his pants. I felt the blood drain from my face as I saw his cock for the first time. He laughed and I knew why. He was still soft. He had seen every part of my body, and he had watched me squirm like a bitch in heat, but he was still soft. I hadn’t even aroused him. It was the ultimate insult, and everybody knew it. My humiliation as a woman was complete.

My hands were still shaking as I wrapped my fingers around his shaft. I guided it to my mouth and wrapped my lips around it. I felt it begin to swell in my mouth as I sucked on it. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head forward, making me swallow. It was hard now and he pulled it out of my mouth and told me to lick it. I licked along the shaft, then the balls. I tried to play with myself but the men holding me slapped my hand away. I looked up at him, and he looked down at me with that smug grin typical of western sexpat living in Shanghai. His cock throbbed in my mouth and I felt his cum squirting against the back of my throat and I kept my promise to the blonde woman. I didn’t waste a drop and swallowed it all.

Then another man stood before me, undid his pants like he was standing in front of a urinal and wiped out his cock. He shoved it in my mouth and before long my mouth was once again filled with cum.

One after the other they walked over to me with their cocks in their hands wanting their turn. They kept count as each one of them came inside my mouth and I swallowed as much as I could. The bitter and sour taste in my mouth made me want to throw up. The two men supporting me were still standing beside me and they haven’t had their turn. They told me to lie down and pointed to the dirtiest part of the floor and started jerking themselves off over me. Their cum squirted all over me, my tits, my hair. I was covered in cum, and some grease from the floor. “Ten. Eleven. Twelve … Anyone else want to use the Asian cum rag?” I heard them say. Then they dragged me to my feet, and once again backed up me up against the wall. I put my arms around them just I had done earlier. One of them shoved his fingers up me and started sliding in and out of my pussy. Once again two men pulled the lips of my pussy apart, just as before.

I looked at the man with blonde hair who was about to fuck my pussy and I felt my clit throbbing. He hesitated a moment, staring at my cum covered face and tits. “Please. Please. I did everything you wanted me to do.” I pleaded with him. I felt hands moving behind me and I realized a finger was working its way up my ass. I couldn’t help myself. I rode the finger until it was sliding in and out of my ass, in rhythm. I saw him unzipping his pants and curiously I observed his blonde pubes. Then I felt the tip of his penis touching my clit and I screamed out.

I don’t know how many times I cummed. The intensity of what happened to me was indescribable. I pleaded with them to stop. I wanted more, but I just couldn’t take anymore.

My pleading for them to stop fell on deaf ears as I felt the tip of his white cock pushing up against me and I gritted my teeth as I felt it stretching me open beyond what I had imagined was possible. It was filling me up completely and I tried hard to adjust my body to fit his size. It hurt like crazy, but it hurt good. I could feel his cock so far up inside me that it made me gasp for air like a dead fish on dry land. Then it was all inside me. He stood there for a moment as he enjoyed how good it felt. “Tres bien! Chinese pussy tres bien!” I think that was what he said and just realized he was French. Then he started to slide it out again, until it was about half way out and he thrusted it up inside me again. My head slumped to one side and I grunted like a pig being slaughtered. His big cock was tearing me apart, and despite of my protest, I loved it.

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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