Nothing in this world makes me feel more fulfilled, more satisfied, than being reminded of my place as an inferior Asian cunt, the fact that white men are superior and that I’m powerless against their superiority.

I love when white men don’t have any reservations about fucking me in public, treating me like a piece of meat, telling me that I’m a chink and then proceed to choke me, slap me, beat me.

The rougher I’m being treated, the hornier I become.

I’m soaked at the thought of being completely naked, collared and leashed, on my knees like a yellow bitch in heat, licking the feet of superior white gods.

I confess that I spend most of my time thinking about white men and their BWCs. I need their abuse almost daily. I need to feel their thick veiny shaft pulsating inside me, stretching me out, turning me inside out like I’m a fleshlight.

The feeling of their cocks twitching inside me as they fill me with cum always drive me wild. Feeling their rhythim, as they pick up their pace, feeling their balls slap against my pussy and those long, deep, hard strokes, as they pump me full. I need it so fucking bad.

How I come to be proud of being white cock worshipping Asian slut.

At the moment I’m suddenly reminded of someone that I had been intimate from years ago. He told me that he didn’t want to continue dating me and he explicitly told me the reason was he didn’t “want to date a white cock worshipping Asian slut who was out there fucking any guy as long as he’s white.” I tried to explain but he wouldn’t listen, and ultimately we parted ways.

He was a white guy by the way. And I can’t believe that it has been already ten years ago.

I was deeply hurt. At the time I was still young, naive, and much of the world was like a mystery to me. I didn’t know that there were men out there who could be so cruel. I didn’t think too much of it because soon I was dating someone else, but his words stuck with me, seeped through into my unconscious, lay dormant and then one day those words burst out of their cocoon and I became infested.

I have struggled with what I am. I’ve read through feminist theories. I have read through psychology self help books. I went to therapy, and, though I don’t fully agree, but I have come to accept:

It is an act of freedom for me to reclaim that label. I love having sex with white men. There is nothing wrong with that. I, as a woman, am capable of deriving immense sexual pleasure from the sexual act with white men. There is joy in my sexual escapade. Pleasure, joy, and pursuit of happiness—there is no need for justification for their existence.

A lot people don’t seem to understand what true sexual power and real freedom looks like. They think it’s bad that someone derives sexual pleasure from being unequal, from being treated as inferior, and they see it as shameful, but I don’t care. I’m living my life in the way that brings me joy.

Ways that White Men have put me in my place and made me extremely horny.

  • When I was in high school, one day, my mom and I were driving to the grocery store and a white couple fought over us for a parking space. The white woman stepped out of the car and when my mom started to argue with her, she firmly slapped my mom, and she followed the slap with a very stern, “Excuse me?” The cops were called. No charge was filed, but the slap was deeply ingrained into my brain. When I started dating my first boyfriend, a white guy of course, I asked him to slap me and say the exact same “Excuse me?” before sex.
  • When I was in college, I once had to bend over for an inspection by a white male doctor, and as I was bent over, another doctor (also white and male) walked in and saw me completely exposed, with my ass and pussy on full display. He quickly apologized and went out. Later that day, I masturbated myself thinking about being double penetrated by those two white male doctors.
  • While my first boyfriend was vanilla and I had tried to get him to be more open, it never worked and that was when I started dating my second boyfriend, a frat boy, who was—I’m glad to say—not afraid of being a little more racist. One time, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and forced my head up to meet his gaze, and he called me his little chink whore. I became instantly wet and I begged him to fuck me after he spat in my face.
  • In another instance, while we were attending a frat party, my boyfriend pulled me over his lap for a quick but hard ass spanking. It was quick, but was so intense and humiliating because everyone was watching.
  • I met my first white master when I had my first internship. He made me kneel beside him as he was finishing something up, and he stuffed my panties in my mouth and warned me not to drop them. Another thing he did was he liked to handcuff my hands before my back and then expose my tits in front of the ceiling to floor exterior wall in his office on Wall St.

Those things all happened to me before I turned 21, and somehow today I was reminded of them. I heard somewhere that the most formative events of your life all happen before you turn 21, and perhaps that is why they are stuck inside my head for so long.