slave – A Submissive East Asian Woman's Dreams and Fantasies

I feel so empty without white cocks.

Being a BWC slut is who I am now, or what is left of me. A broken, empty set of holes always burning with hunger for white men and their penises.

The haunting void left behind by white men gets worse now.

Some nights it engulfs me and tries to swallow me whole. Confessing my pain, my sinful lust for abuse and my concupiscence for degradation is the only way I can feel anything at all. It makes my mind go blank and allows me to drift into a serene, nameless happy bliss of ease. Some other times it makes me feel weightless, like a slowly ebbing and flowing stream rhythmically receding from the bank.

It also makes me feel so naked. And so shameful. As if a thousand eyes were on me as they probe and prod into my life, digging and gnawing for more sordid details of my descent into depravity. Thrusting into me, yearning to do even more depraved things as they stretcher deeper and deeper into my flesh, my soul, more than what I’m permitting them.

I don’t like this. I don’t want to be this broken, marked as if by monsters. I hear their words. Memories of their actions course through me. I will never be able to get away.

I wish I was once again an Asian virgin, the virginal Asian girl who never knew the meaning of BWC, bareback gangbang, SM, double penetration, spitroasting, cum swallowing, piss drinking, etc. I feel disgusted with myself just now, knowing that all my holes have been filled to the brim with white meb’s cum.

I miss the innocent me. I miss the 18 year old me.

I feel so estranged and unacquainted with who I am now. I miss feeling pure again. This doesn’t feel good.

But it’s still better than nothing at all.

Once a gangbang slut, always a gangbang slut.

I love the fact that men are getting off of my trauma.

I don’t want your pity. I don’t want your mercy. I could tell you my tragic childhood, my depression, my suicide attempts, but no, the reason I’m telling you all those things is not so you can pity me.

I do not want pity. I want your laughter. I want sadistic, evil men who will lick the tears off of my face and then spit on me. I want you to laugh at me, laugh at the pathetic whore who is cowering in the corner, crying, begging for release from this cruel drudgery of existence.

My son was actually conceived during a gang bang. Though he is the love of my life, sooner or later, I suppose, I have to tell him the truth.

I feel I am—as it were—isolated in a single moment of being, with a moat or lacuna of oblivion all around me. I am now, at the age of 38, a woman without a past, or a future. I am stuck, in the flux of a constantly changing, meaningless now.

I’m always absent minded, and yet what happened to me 20 years ago have been imprinted forever inside my mind.

As I’m writing this, it’s once again past midnight. Besides the fluorescent glow of the laptop screen, the cottage house I’m living in is completely dark. There is no sound except the constant thrumming of cars on the nearby highway, like midges around a light bulb, like existence itself that thronged and hummed around me without obstinate difference.

My mind is in eternal chaos, a shifting kaleidoscope of fragments in pitch darkness.

I’m not able to tell anyone why I am crying just now. Such experiences as what I’m narrating to you now were not uncommon in my previously married life.

An indescribable oppression fills my whole being with an agonizing anguish. It’s like a a shadow, a mist passing across my soul. It’s strange, yet familiar. It’s a mood.

I worked as a prostitute not because I was in need of money, but purely because I enjoyed whoring myself out. It excited me. It made me feel sexy and rebellious.

I catered to group events especially because I enjoyed being the center of all male attention.

One time I was invited to a party and the men offered to triple my money if I would allow them to not use any protection. No condom. No birth control. No pulling out. They wouldn’t stop gangbanging me until I became pregnant.

It excited me to the core.

I knew the risk, obviously, but I also felt “right”.

Now what do I mean by I felt right? It’s hard to explain but let me try. I felt right because I was turned on. I was comfortable with the men. I felt like I was able to open my sexuality to them. I ignored the risk.

I felt right also because they were all rich men, educated men, successful men. It felt “right”. I felt good. I felt okay to be bred by those men. Even though I knew I would never know who the real father is.

“Once a gangbang slut, always a gangbang slut.”

On the one hand, there is no denying, in the eyes of ordinary, normal folks, I’d be considered a—what they would call—a ruined whore. On the other hand—there is no denying, and lying, though deceiving to others and even myself, doesn’t make it any less true; eventually, the truth always crawls out—I was living the best time of my life.

“Once a gangbang slut, always a gangbang slut.”

Words. Words, my professor once taught me, can be voracious and anarchic beasts. Loosened and unleashed, it stampedes through a woman’s heart and threatens to destroy her whole world. The power of words. Never underestimate the power of words, the most destructive, the most creative inventions. Wars have been fought over words. In the beginning were the words.

“Once a gangbang slut, always a gangbang slut.” I still get knots in my stomach when I hear those words, trippingly pronounced upon my tongue, invoking feelings of betrayal.

Because the fact of the matter is, once I was getting used to being gang banged, it had become nearly impossible to go back to having vanilla sex.

A few weeks after that gang bang party that defined and changed me for being who I really am, I found out I was pregnant.

And few months later, without any procedure to stop my pregnancy, I started to feel my body changing.

It was like I was ovulating constantly. My hormone level was in overdrive. When I hit the 17 weeks mark I was constantly craving cocks. My pussy was so slick and swollen and nothing—watching porn, fucking myself with dildos and vibrators, fucking with myself with a fucking machine even—nothing seemed to alleviate my sexual needs. My nipples also felt heavy and constantly ached, but they were also extremely sensitive and were desperate to be touched.

At any time I keep in my phone contact of approximately 20 different guys that I put on a rotating group every other weekend. I select 5 of them and all I have to tell them is “I’m horny for a gang bang. Come to my place tonight at 9 PM. Hit the gym and don’t shower.”

I tell the guys to hit the gym because I love the smell of sweaty white men. The musky, pungent smell of white men’s sweat carries me to an elevated state of lust.

I always choose a set of 5 guys because when I have all my holes stuffed with cocks, I’d like to have two more cocks in each one of my hands so I will have something hold on. Like hand rails on an elevator to heaven.

I believe there is a reason God gave me three holes and two hands and the ability to have multiple orgasms. I’d be disappointing my creator if I didn’t put my body to best use.

My hormone level became more unpredictable as I became more advanced in my pregnancy. It was rare that I actually felt normal. Most of the time I was just a mess. I couldn’t control my libido and I was always thinking about sex.

In addition to insatiable cravings for sex, I also constantly craved for food. I normally eat very little and I’m a very picky eater, but during my pregnancy I ate voraciously. And I ate everything. Chocolate. Eggs. Tofu bars. Noodles. Pasta. Ice Cream. Potato chips. I was constantly hungry. I couldn’t control myself, just like I couldn’t control myself around white men.

During a gangbang session, before the actual initiation of penetration, the culmination of our love of life (for I’m a fanatic lover of life), I always ask my boys to stand away from me and show me their erect cocks as I got on my hands and knees and crawled to them. I knelt before their gorgeous white cocks, and admired the sight which I was soon to devour.

My impatience. My eagerness to please. My demands for entertainment must have made me seem so childish, and isn’t it true that at heart women will never grow past being children.

I fell giddy like a school girl choosing my favorite candies as I touched their massive erections, cupping their balls, and giving each one of them a lick here and a lick there.

More than a fanatic lover of life, I’m a fanatic lover of white men, to whom I’m willing to dedicate my life to worship. And that’s why I cannot lie to my son about who I really am. Eventually I have to tell him the truth.

I went into labor for about 24 hours and it went back and forth. At the time I was at home and my mom was ready to go to the hospital with me but then out of nowhere the laboring disappeared and I started to relax again. I mediated and breathed in and out, those long breathes like sighs of relief; images of the guys who gangbanged me flashed before my eyes and I wandered which one of them was the father. Moments like those were not uncommon during my pregnancy. I tried walking, moving, resting, crawling on all fours, hip rolls, other yoga moves suggested to me by my roommate (my best friend, a girl I knew since high school, and she lived with me until I turned 25).

The house was quiet by 11 PM. My mom was tired. My best friend had gone to sleep too after a day of exhaustion. I felt like I was in the center of a storm.

I slept only a few hours, and they were troubled and feverish hours. Disturbing dreams entangled with bizarrely sexual images. “a gang bang slut. A pregnant whore. A yellow cunt who enjoys drinking white men’s piss.” I heard my mom crying In the other room. We never discussed how she felt throughout this whole ordeal.

The cool air from the air conditioner—it was summer when my son was born—was invigorating and it somewhat steadied my faculties. I was not seeking refreshment or help from any source, either external or from within. I was blindly following whatever impulse moved me, and I allowed invasive, alien forces to direct my hands to whichever direction they fancies, thus freeing myself from any responsibility—I felt reluctant and weird, as if I was in the midst of a violent rape, as my hands stimulated my nipples. A primal desire arose through my body. My hands reached for my clit and I rubbed it hard. It wasn’t enough. I shifted myself to the edge of the bed and took out my vibrators and dildos from my night drawer. I stuck one inside my ass, one inside my pussy, one inside my mouth and then went to work. Images of myself being gangbanged resurfaced. I was in a trance. I fucked myself and moaned. My son was soon to be born into this world and he will know his mother is a whore. I cried.

A recollection of all the gangbang sessions I have had d since my first one: fragments and images appeared to me like a vision. I remember at another party—that was a year after my son was born—a guy was cupping my head from behind while several guys took turns jerking off their cum into my mouth. The previous guy’s cum was still on the tip of my tongue as another guy came in and mixed in his cum. It was like a cum cocktail inside my mouth. Some spilled to the side of my mouth, smearing my red lipstick and messing up my makeup. I moaned and groaned in pleasure. One guy. Two guys. Three guys. Four guys. A total of four guys ended up cumming inside my mouth and then and only then I swallowed. Their taste was nasty. But more than the taste itself, I felt an arrow piercing my bosom. I had become a cum urinal, I thought, and all the guys loved it.

Throughout the years I practiced on my blowjob skills and perfected them to the suitability of western white men. When a customer suggested that I deepthroat and he would pay more, I googled and did literature search and practiced everyday with my toothbrush. After a few months I was able to let guys take turns deepthroating me and they ejaculated their cum directly down my throat and into my tummy.

It may seem paradoxical for me to tell you that I’m actually completely asexual. I can go now for an entire year, or even years maybe, without sex, and I’d function perfectly normal. I could be bored of course, but it does not bother me in the least. On the other hand, if I’m in the right mood, if I want to truly please a man, I can have sex with him as much as he can get it up. I feel like at the end of the day, I’m my own master of my sexuality, and that’s perhaps why I am so confident in my sexuality.

Sometimes sex can actually seem more like a chore to me. Perhaps it’s because I have had sex with hundreds of men.

At the age of 37, I’m no longer a young woman. I’m an old, used up whore. But it doesn’t mean I’m useless. I can still be of use to white men.

And of all the white men I love, I love young white men the most. I love having sex with young white men in their 20s. And especially if they’ve never been with an Asian woman. Because after sex with me, I can guarantee, they’ll be hooked on Asian pussy for life. It’s the feeling that I’m actively spreading the yellow fever, infesting their innocent minds with Asian fetish, that brings a special joy to my heart.

I let those virile young white men gangbang me, pick me up like I’m a ragdoll, throw me around, brutalize my holes with their massive white cocks. I use the cock in my mouth as a gag so I don’t make too much noise, and when I’m getting drunk on the feeling of their cocks fighting for room inside my pussy and ass, I squeeze the cocks in my hands.

I remember being at a party for college aged white studs and as I was sucking a guy’s cock, some white girl yelled, who invited this old Asian hooker? The white girl even threatened to call the police on me for being a prostitute. I was so ashamed of my behavior, for being such a slut, and someone had to explain to her that I was some nerdy Asian kid’s mom who just enjoyed being fucked by hung white studs then and only then did she relax and rest her case. But she still hated me and didn’t want anything to do with me. I do notice that I attract the hatred of white women a lot.

That particular night I was brought up to a room and fucked from evening until morning. There were a total of 16 different guys.

With beer in one hand and marijuana in another they rotated among themselves. One guy pulled out and put it in my mouth. Another guy whose cock I was holding with my hand just a minute ago went into my pussy and the guy who was in my pussy now rubbed his cock against my nipple. The entire time I was in a trance. It’s an unspeakable pleasure. To have multiple handsome, virile white men all pleasuring me.

I never asked those men to wear condoms. I told them I don’t care if I get pregnant again. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The worst thing that ever happened was this one time when they had me blindfolded and asked my son to fuck me, but as soon as my son had put on the condom he cummed inside the condom and his penis barely even touched my pussy. I heard wild laughter and knew somethig was off. I grabbed the blindfold off and pushed him away and there were more boisterous laughter all over the room as the guys all cheered and my son stole away in shame.

“Once a gangbang slut, always a gangbang slut.”

I love the fact that those men who fucked me had no respect for me and had thought of every way to try to humiliate me. The worse they treated me, humiliated me, the hornier I became. It just felt so right. It just felt so good.

And after the gang bang I was as inevitably drenched in cum as the wet ground on a rainy day: covered in cum from head to toe: cum in my hair, on my face, on my chest, and inside all my holes. Cum leaking out of my ass, my pussy, my nostrils. Cum in my stomach.

Before they left for the morning I offered to lick their asshole and after they left the smell of what had just happened lingered on and I usually had to masturbate and make myself have another orgasm before I fell asleep in a stranger’s bed covered in filth and degradation. My son picked me up afterward and we drove home in silence.

The taste of their cum usually lasted for an entire week. No matter how much I showered afterward, I could always taste their cum in my mouth and my sense of smell take on a colorful intonation. Just by reminding me of who had cummed inside my mouth, I was able to see the color associated with that guy’s cum. And when this association happened, the world became more colorful. I saw the golden sheen of the lion, the blue eyes of the white man, the orange pubes of the Irish man, the red hair of the Scottish, the speckled pink pigment of the ginger guy, etc. And all their cum was inside me and their presence were imprinted now forever in their different colors.

I may be seen by others as a irreparably damaged slut, even deranged perhaps. But to me, I feel like I’m actually doing god’s work. I may be hated by ignorant people, but only god knows that I’m a saint, a yellow savior sent to this deep blue earth to give salvation to all the sexually starved, horny white men. My reward is not on this earth, but in the glorious, sun-bathed after life.

I need to feel inferior and humiliated.

When I was younger, I used to be ashamed of those feelings. Feelings that I get when I was humiliated, degraded, made inferior in front of white men. Yet after the feelings of shame washed away, I always ended up coming back and asking for more. I crave the sexual humiliation in front of white men even more so than the actual sexual act itself.

As I got older and even became a mother, I had thought, those phases of my life would pass, and it was true, those feelings did pass for a while, while I was married, and yet like a recurring nightmare they came back, crawling into my brain like a parasitic infection.

I once thought I wouldn’t ever come back, to stoop so low into such depravity. I once thought I wouldn’t ever get off from being verbally degraded, physically abused, and sexually molested by white men, again. Yet here I was, whored out to white men who were not just racist to me, but who outright treated me like garbage.

Eventually I learned, I stopped fighting my sick urges, those urges that have always accompanied me since my teenage years.

I suppose I need to accept myself for what I am. I need to be made feeling inferior. I need to be made feeling worthless. I need superior white men to treat me as a punching bag, taking out their frustrations pounding my holes, human toilet, relieving their urine into my mouth, my pussy, and ass.

Perhaps you are right, I’m sick. I need help. I’ve been destined to this road down to depravity since I was born.

I now accept myself for who I am. An inferior Asian slut who craves the dominance of my white master.

Today I fucked up. And my dom decided that I need to be punished. A group of his friends wanted to see me, “we want to see this inferior ch**k fucktoy you got”, and my dom had ordered me to clamp my nipples and meet them over zoom. Instead I told him I was too tired and took a nap.

Well, my dom was very displeased. I had embarrassed him in front of his friends. He came home from work. My kids had gone to bed. In a stern voice he ordered me to go to the bedroom, strip, and spread my pussy lips wide and wait for him.

When saw me, with my hands splaying open my pussy, spread on bed, he said I didn’t do a very good job.

He took out those large, black, paper clips that you use for office supplies and clamped them on my nipples, clit, and pussy lips. Gagged my mouth with a penis gag. Took out two dildos and stuffed them inside my pussy and ass. With all my holes plugged, I was ordered to lay still. Then he took out a thick black marker and wrote “CH**K” in giant letters across my chest.

Worst of it all, he was not going to fuck me. He brought another Asian woman home and fucked her as I lay naked, clamped, and plugged, watching them defiling my own bed.

He fucked the Asian woman to multiple orgasms. After he was done fucking her, he whipped my ass with his belt and didn’t stop until I was a sobering, whimpering mess.

I was aware that my son was able to hear everything that was going on in my bedroom.

It was perhaps not the best decision in the world that I allowed my dom to move in with me. In fact, during his interactions with my son, he had encouraged my son to have no respect for women. He told him that “women, especially Asian women like your mother, are nothing but a set of holes.”

“She is just a set of holes. And she is built to have all her holes fucked 24-7, preferably at the same time and with plenty of big hard cocks in queue to replace the others that are finished. Asian whores like your mother should be put on display and whored out non stop, wouldn’t you agree? What are you, a faggot? Aren’t you proud to have a whore for a mother?”

This was a typical conversation my dom had with my son.

Instead of becoming angry, my son actually agreed with my dom in his very misogynistic treatment of women and became an eager complicit in his endeavor of debauchery.

“No, I’m not a faggot. I’m a white man. A white man deserves to use an Asian cunt like my mom. We should hold a gangbang party for my mom on weekends. Only white men will be invited. She will serve drinks and mingle with all the guests, and they will grope and fondle her while she’s serving them. We should put a gyno table in the middle of the living room, and as soon as I ring a bell we put her into the chair and put her legs up in the stirrups. All the partygoers would watch as she masturbates herself with her dildo. After she fucks herself, we should all take out our cocks and fuck her.”

“You don’t care she is your mother?”

“She is my mother but she is also a slut. She deserves it.”

“That’s a good boy.”

“I’m not a boy. I’m a man. I’m a white man. Asian whores like my mom should be serving me like she served my white dad.”

Daily my inferior Asian cunt craves the dominance of the superior white men. When I’m not being put into my proper place, I feel irritated, restless, and neurotic. The strong, hard slap from the hand of a white man, on the other hand, instantly cures me of my insecurities, my mood swings, my depressions. I crave this kind of treatement. It makes me comfortable in my inferiority, let me breathe in it, drown in it, stew in it.

After the restless night, I cowered myself into a fetal position and eventually fell asleep, my mind and body numb from the humiliation and abuse.

Around noon time, I finally was able to get up and went about my day. My dom had already left for work and I cleaned, cooked, and cried a good cry as I masturbated myself to an orgasm.

My phone rang in the afternoon. My dom told me he was going to bring his friends over and I was to “prepare myself.”

Evening.

I donned my nipple clamps, anal beads inside my ass, dog collar with a big O ring dangling in front of my chest, wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs clicking against each other. I greeted my dom and his friends in front of the door.

My dom was pleased.

My dom and his friends had no respect for me nor for my family. And yet the more they humiliated me, degraded me, the more turned on I was. I’ve put myself in dangerous situations before, but not like this. I woke up in the middle of the night, imagining that if I were ever the premier or the president of some Asian country, I would declare total and complete defeat at the feet of an American president. Inferior Asian whores like me are not fit to lead, but only to be subjugated.

My dom let my son control my remote vibrator.

Once, to satisfy the sick and depraved wishes of my dom, I brought one of those wearable remote vibrators that pair with an app so someone far away can control it. I was out for some errands and my dom and my son were home alone. Unbeknownst to me, my dom had told my son about it and he told him that it would be “hilarious if I got my mom to use it in public and I get to control her vibrator.”

My dom called me on my phone, put it on speaker while my son stayed quiet and worked the app while he talked to me. They both listened to me cumming my brains out in a grocery store.

I was floored when I found out the truth. However, that was not the end of my humiliation, but the beginning. My dom was previously married to an American women, and he had two sons and a daughter. After letting my son control my vibrator, he had passed the game onto his sons. After that, he passed it onto guys he met at bars and clubs.

I had all my life had been accustomed to harbor thoughts that were forbidden to be voiced. Those thoughts, formless, mindless, and shapeless, became the basis of my struggle throughout my adult years. They belonged to me and were mine own, and I even entertained the conviction that I had a right to those thoughts because they concerned no one but myself.

Even when I’m alone, all by myself, as I walked down the street, fully clothed, those thoughts come rushing toward me, like hands poking though my cunt. The hunger inside my womb was like a raging fire. I thought I it would drive me insane.

I was and I am now forever a slave to white men. White men rule over me as kings. My pleasure was subordinated to theirs.

Those thoughts formed words and whispered to me.

I am still infatuated with white men. I had tried to forget about white men, realizing the futility of remembering. But those thoughts are like obsessions, ever pressing themselves upon me.

Flashes of all the white men who have fucked me appeared before my eyes. It was not the details of our acquaintances, our passionate nights together, that dwelt upon my mind. It was their being, their existence, which dominated me, which, sometimes fading, sometimes lucid, eventually melt into the mist of forgetting; then, out of nowhere, reviving again with an intensity which filled me with an incomprehensible longing.

Confession of an inferior Asian slave

This inferior Asian whore knows she was born to worship big white cocks with her mouth, pussy and ass.

“For a sadistic and cruel white master, petite East Asian females are the ideal types of slaves he should look for.”

“There is something unique about East Asians that makes dominating them iressistable and incredibly exiciting.”

I had been owned and collared for over a year now. My white master had been involved in D/S relationships for 15 years and had owned and trained over dozens of female slaves/submissives, mostly of whom were Asian. While living in Singapore, he had kept several 24/7 live-in Chinese slaves/servants, the longest of those lasted for more than three years.

He was very selective with the women he would get involved with, by choosing only women who are capable of following rules, protocols, guidelines, and rituals, and who understand the importance of slave training and conditioning (both psychological and physical).

Of my accepttance of my place, as his subjuguate, as beneath him, as nothing more than an inferior servant whose only place is to serve, please and be used and trtured for his benefit; and of my rejection of the misnotion of equaity, and the lies of modern social norms, in that I understood it would take hard work, dedication and a good deal of pain and suffering to be molded into the best possible slave—for certain people—East Asian people—are better suited to live as slaves and servants; their lives should and are better served to revolve around pleasing their masters—white men of European descent; and Asians are the epitome of such slave material, and so should be rightfully owned controlled and trained by their superior white owners—I’m proud to say, as a Japanese woman who is capable of deep submission, obedience, respect and capable of surrendering herself as property to a white man, I was chosen.

She is inferior in every way and she needs daily ass beatings to remind her who’s the superior white master and who’s the inferior asian cum dump.

My white master began by having me wear a modified underwear with a built-in vibrator that he controlled remotely through an app on his smart phone.

I wore this all day and all night and he controlled the vibrations at his leisure throughout the day … no one knew I was wearing it but it did take a lot of practice to get used to it at work and in public. It was my first step in experiencing being owned and losing control on a physical level, knowing that I had to completely surrender my sex, my pleasure, and my orgasm … to be completely at the mercy of someone else.

Administering physical and psychological training in different aspects of service and submission

Almos everyday I received heavy punishment in the form of bondage, humiliation and beatings. I was given training in domestic servitude, cock-sucking, sex-slavery, and ritualistic worship. When expectations and requirements are not met, cruelty were doled out.

… Once we met in his office, I was stripped naked.

And I changed into my slave attire, which included a leash, a collar, ankle and wrist cuffs, nipple clamps, and a custom fitted female chastity belt where he could insert dildos and vibrators in my ass and pussy with remote controls. The ankle and wrist cuffs were so I could be conveniently put into shackles and stockades, or be chained in cages, or restrained to other torture devices.

Then, I spent an hour kneeling on the floor, bowing and reciting my slave mantra like a monk who had forsaken the world to live in a self-imposed cloister …

For an entire week we focused on domestic training. I had to rehearse various tasks of cleaning, folding clothes, serving drinks, cooking and being used as a human furniture. During a party, my master had a serving tray strapped to my body, and put a gag in my mouth that was actually a cup holder. I would stand in the center of the room, silent, with perfect posture holding everyone’s drink on the tray.

“There is nothing more important to an object than the need to serve.”

Not onlyd did I just do cleaning, cooking, and other domestic chores, but I also practiced posture-training to different slave positions, monitored my reponse time to verbal cues/orders, when and how to speak, attitude, eye-contact, crawling and kneeling. I was trained hard to his satisfaction that they became a second nature to me. I did everything while demonstrating deep respect and gratitude knowing that oterwise I would suffer consequences of punishment that included whipping, caning, slapping, bondage, humiliation and many other different torture methods.

I understood it was for my benefit and it ws my only chance to serve an experienced white master.

This inferior Asian whore has no right in the home of her superior white master, and will remain naked at all times except for a collar and leash.

After domestic training, I was given cock sucking training, according to my master, this was the same kind of traiing that’s given to Asian prostitutes in brothels.

On the first day, contrary to what I had expected, I wasn’t even allowed to be sucking on a real cock. I spent hours just practicing on a dildos. I was taught how to deep throat, controlling my gag reflex, demonstrating enthusiasm; verbal praise of penis, sucking with gags in my mouth, various cock-sucking positions to control the length of time for a cock to ejaculate, “hand techniques/no hand, ball sucking technique, licking your lips, swallowing with attitude …”

The next day I spent a few hours watching videos of other Asian slaves sucking cock. I was chained to a chair with headphones strapped to my head and forced to watch these videos on repeat. Likewise at the end of the day, I had to watch some videos of extreme BDSM and hardcore torture. With his other live-in slaves, he had actually made them watch video recordings of him beating them. They were forced to watch themselves screaming, crying and begging for mercy on repeat for hours on end. This was done regularly to remind them what happened when they did not follow rules and to remind them of their place.

Only after I had meticulously honed my skills, which lasted for days, was I given the permission to suck on a real cock. And my dom was ruthless. He made sure to make my throat the most miserable.

Ahis cock sucking training involved quite a bit of humiliation, verbal humiliation, face slapping, hair pulling, and the like. For instance, in the coursework description, which he had given to every Asian slave he owned, it was written: “Your white master has ruthless inhibition when it comes to making the most miserable littel throat doll I can. That means there will be some very sloppy wet face fucking with you gagging, drooling, and slobbering all over my cock. You will learn to beg like a hungry animal for my cock and you should know I’m meticulous about having my shaft and scrotum licked until it’s glistening. I am also meticulous about how you lick the thick mess up and how you tell me it is the most delicious thing you have ever tasted.”

She will get chastity piercings so you can lock up her sweet Asian pussy while you are at work. I would not be expected to masturbate myself. When my white master is horny, I’m horny.

I crossed the bridge and it was very different than anything I’ve ever imagined or known in my life until that point. There was no limit, no safe word … I lived every second of my life from that point on as a domestic servant, a sex slave, and a whippint post that was used and abused for his and his (white) girlfriend’s pleasure.

In addition to being owned by my white master, I had to report to his girlfriend. She was my mistress, “a white goddess”, in the words of my white master, and she had final say over everything and oftentimes even over my white master. I followed her orders, learned to worship her, serve her, please her, just as I served my white master

She was an extreme sadist, even more sadistic than my white master, but at the same time she was classy, elegant, sophisticated, and smart. She greatly enjoyed humiliating her Asian slaves. But, most important of all, my white master did whatever she demanded.

For instance, if she want me beaten for several hours until I am screaming, crying, and beggin for mercy then my white master would carry out whatever punishments she decided for me. I learned to worship her feet deeply as I had often spent long hours rubbing lotion on her feet, massaging her feet and washing her feet. Sometimes I also had to lick her feet, an “oral foot bath,” according to my owners.

As their live-in slave, I was never allowed to eat with my white master and white mistress. I would server them dinner and only eat after they were done and I was never allowed to eat from the table, but only from a dog bowl on the floor.

After dinner, the rest of the night included more chores, more slave-training, and whatever other chores they had at their disposal. For example, when my white mistress got back form the gym, I was required to bath her in the shower and then give her foot massage. I was given extensive training to become her pesonal foot slave, as all their previous Asian slaves were specifically trained in this regard. Trainings included not just foot worship, such as the aforementioned “oral foot bath”, “foot massage”, but also general foot care, such as toe-nail polish, nail clipping, being used as a foot stool, washing and bathing her feet, foot soaks using pedi-eggs, drinking her foot bath water; bowing, kissing , praying at her feet, cleaning her shoes, etc. etc.

My white master would stand behind me and whip me with his leather belt night after night until I have learned to suck, clean, and woship every inch of her gorgoues lily-white feet with all proper protocols and demonstrating deep respect, passion, and gratitude.

I will get laser hair removal so my Asian pussy will be permanently smooth and hairless.

As a fellow female, I had nothing but deep appreciation of my white goddess’s flawless and stunning looks. Her absolutely perfect legs and feet deserved to be worshipped and I was so blessed to be worshipping her.

Later during the night, when I had done with all my chores, work, service, clean up, and foot massage/worship I may be privileged to spend the evening with my white master and my white goddess.But I was let allowed to sit with them on the couch. I was kneeling at their feet or serving both of them as their foot stool.

Another part of my slavery that I would love to share with you is that I was required to wear a chastity device that had actually been pierced in. There is some company that does the design and the piercings. It was called a clitorial shield, and it was designed to prevent female orgasm while still allowing vaginal penetration. I was often fucked mercilessly for hours and be on the verge of orgasming but never be able to have one. The only way I would have one is if my white master removed the barbells that he had a key for. Once the bars were removed I would be able to have the contractions necessary to have an orgasm.

You can not imagine what it was like to always be on the verge of orgasm … wanting so badly to have one but your body simply cannot have one. Of all the methods of cruelty, my white master says and I agree, this is actually the most effective at instilling obedience in Asian slaves, by liberating their sexualilty, turning them into wanton sluts, and then curtailing their sexual freedom and transforming them into volunatary sex slaves.

My white master says, “I have seen some of the sickest crying, moaning, screaming, tantrums and desperate begging to be released as they are fucked into oblivion. Any Asian slave I have kept in this has learned to provide impeccable service and deep worship that is almost spiritual … they have truly been molded into slaves in every sense.”

After wearing the clitorial shield for a month, I was upgraded to the second device, which was a female chastity device with multiple labia piercings. The device was pierced in over my entire pussy to prevent access with a master padlock that kept everything securely in place. With this there was not way to access to my pussy at all and so in stead my white master would simply fuck me in the ass.

And this was how I was used … after that I never experienced any penetration in my pussy ever again as long as I was his slave. Everytime I was fucked, I was only fucked in the ass as I watched my beautiful white mistress having the best sex of her life.

I will get tattooed with my master’s name so everyone will know this inferior asian slave is owned property belonging to a superior white master.

White men are the greatest men to have ever existed

To counter the argument that white men are not so special, some would argue, great civilizations come and go in cycles, and that the glory and superiority of any particular race at any particular time is merely a blimp in the infinite history of the universe. Those denials, almost always smugly proffered by those with a hidden agenda to create a false sense of equality of all races, in a futile effort toward an egalitarian utopia in which nothing is essential, nothing is great, and nothing matters in the least; they would never point out the utter inferiority of any other race but rather spend all their days to carp and harp on the great white race. They would never point out that not a single great civilization was created by the Africans. They would never confess to the completely obvious fact that the white race is unique in all human history in creating an immensely new civilization starting in the 1600s that transformed the entire earth and that no civilization before had accomplished even a fraction of what the great white race has accomplished; a single invention in the 18th century’s Europe would have been a landmark of the greatest feat for any other civilization in over one hundred years; the exponential growth of European science has outpaced all recorded history of mankind. The Chinese themselves, upon encountering the technologically superior, almost alien-like, western civilization, marveled, that in all of Chinese history, there was not a single group of foreign people who could so singlehandedly transform the way Chinese lived; “The barbarians conquered the Chinese, but those barbarians were eventually conquered by the Chinese through our superior culture,” the Chinese scholars quipped about their own superiority. But something entirely different happened when the white soldiers of enlightened Europe trampled through the forbidden gates of Peking. The White civilization, armed with not just superior science and technology, but also superior culture and ideas, and a spiritual ruthlessness and aggression that is utterly lacking in a decadent civilization such as the Chinese, had not just destroyed the Chinese land, but also destroyed their very sense of self; for the first time in Chinese history those conceited Chinese could no longer think of themselves as the center of the world.

Similar things happened all throughout the world, but most especially so to the civilizationally advanced Far East. For the first time in their cloistered history they were being conquered not just by foreign people of superior aggression, but also by superior ideas.

And anyone who is honest to herself, who is not afraid to look into her heart of hearts, would confess to the world, that the world conquest of the White race is unique, in that no other race of people has so transformed the entire world as the white race had, and that no race of people so far has ever come to match the superiority of the white race in its total domination of the world.

And that is why, as a female of the inferior race, I am so honored to serve white men, as the gods they rightfully are. As their subjugate, their conquered slave, upon whom am so heaped with so much love and adulation by my white conquerors, I am both flustered and terrified, that the mighty white men would use me to their hearts’ content. I kneel before my white gods and prostrate before them as nothing but an inferior asian slave, I beg them to allow me to worship them, and if my flesh could serve as their entertainment, to pleasure them as an inferior female of an inferior race, then it is the completion of my purpose. And when their sperm flow through my womb, to destroy what is outdated and obsolete, and to infuse me with new blood, new genes, to create a superior being out of me, I know I am being elevated out of my inferiority, for what has been proven to be weak failures must die, so the strong and successful shall flourish; so the inferior asian genes inside me must die, to make room for the mighty genes of the white gods; and so shall all the inferior females of the conquered asia, beaming with obedience and deep submission, merge with the white gods of Europe, full of rage, power, and genius, to carry on the progression of the world to its new height.

For this is the natural order of the world that all humanity has witnessed, and this is the natural progression of the human species. The conquerors must pass on their genes inside the wombs of conquered females, as the natural order dictates.

The superiority of the great white race shall be inherited through the wombs of females of the inferior races.