13 comments/ 97697 views/ 70 favorites Asian Abuse Ch. 01 By: Bibliophile Author's Note: Fair Warning! This is a dark fantasy that combines interracial sexual dynamics with degradation and humiliation - and may rub lots of people the wrong way. *** There MUST be something very wrong inside of me. That's the only way to explain how I could STILL be so horribly aroused, with drenched panties, a warm feeling in my tummy and fantasies that just keep getting CRAZIER ... even after a few hours have passed since HE dropped me off and I've already fingered myself to a couple of the most satisfying orgasms I've ever had. But time is wasting. I have to write a thank-you note to him -- and the stress of having to write that, of needing to write that -- and write it so that he will see me again, is blocking out every other rational thought. I might be a "stupid, worthless rice nigger", but I have to be a smart enough "slant-eye" to write this note properly and see this unbelievable man again. He's just too good at dishing the kind of delicious verbal humiliation that I am desperate for. I can't help but savor what I just went through, though. It started out on a chat -- not with him, but with another asian girl like me. It got to a discussion of sex pretty quickly (like it usually does online). We found out (don't ask how) that she and I have both have the same interest. We're little tiny asian girls in a land of over-sized, white giants. I understand completely the craving for strong, big, powerful men (no need to feel embarrassment there) ...it's only the craving for HUMILIATION and DEGRADATION that is hard for me to get and shameful for me to admit to myself (although with a wet pussy and a distracted mind, it's impossible to ignore or deny). As I chatted with this girl, she said she had traded several emails with a round-eye that knew JUST how to push her buttons and make her cream her pants, who seemed like he was the real deal: tall, white, articulate, handsome...and extremely racist. A dream for sick girls like her (and me) that actually crave to be put in our place and to be made to feel inferior. She said she never got up the courage to meet him. I took a fatal step and asked her if she'd send me his email...she asked me if I was sure and I said yes. Now I don't know whether that was a huge mistake or the best decision I ever made in my life. I emailed him. He emailed me back. She was right, but I had more courage (or maybe I am just more desperate and twisted and stupid than her), and it wasn't long until I ended up in a sleazy motel room, completely naked, with a spare belt of his wrapped around my elbows, then cinched behind my back, with my little tiny asian tits pushed out, being groped, fondled, man-handled, with me looking at him standing behind me in the mirror. He towered over me...I came halfway up his chest, ruggedly handsome in his business clothes, huge and powerful. I felt powerless and, because I felt powerless, I also felt extremely turned on. The thing I most remember about him is his smile: confident, assured, impish, relaxed, friendly, but also very male, very powerful, a promise of wickedness, a promise not to go easy. "Get on the ground you worthless, stupid, rice-eater," with a hand fisted in my hair, pushing me down inexorably in front of him, until I collapsed to my knees. You see, that was the kind of phrase in his emails that made it impossible for me not to meet him, to throw caution aside, to embrace my sick fantasy and to see what the real thing might be like...to agree to be this man's little "fuck-toy" and "slut-whore" for the afternoon (his words, not mine, but oh-so-desirable words) I must have sent off a wrong vibe during this heavenly "foreplay" since he asked, in a mocking tone, "You don't want to go home do you, you piece-of-shit slant-eye? Already had enough?" "No Master. Please let me suck your cock like you wrote about that you wanted. Please. Please..." What can I say in my defense, I have a psycho-sexual problem (or whatever they call it). He didn't like my reply. He slapped me, HARD, across the face. I was stunned -- that had never happened to me before -- I'd never been hit like that. How could he do it? How could he have the confidence to do that to a girl he'd just met in real life? "Careful, you bitch. You don't have the RIGHT to call me Master. As far as I know, you're nothing but an untrained, stupid, yellow piece of trash that I'm not even sure can suck cock properly, so don't take on airs." Imagine a warm feeling spreading through my belly and moisture leaking from my "little yellow cunt" during this absurd tirade of his and you'll get a pretty good idea of how my body and mind reacted to something I had wanted for as long as I could remember and was finally getting. "I don't like to spend time with uppity rice niggers who think they might be a slave, when they're really just trash." He said this in the most believable, realistic, hurtful, wonderful, impossibly mean and condescending way. Words are inadequate to relay the TONE of how he said these things to me and the DESIRE that surged in me and dripped out of me as he berated me. I felt my nipples harden into little points of lust as he threw slur after slur at me. He made me feel like I was trash, and that was just how I WANTED to feel. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know what to do or what to say..." The need to sexually service this over-sized man, my absolute need to be worthy of him, was overpowering me. I had to please him. I had to earn his approval, even though I was inferior and could never be equal to him. "I don't want you pretending later that I forced you or took advantage of you, cunt. I should untie you now so you can go home to your nice safe life and end this little stupid adventure of yours. I'm not going to get any nicer as this date goes along." "No...please...no...you can do anything to me that you want...please don't make me go home. Please use me for whatever you want. I'm sorry I called you Master. I won't do it again." This seemed to mollify him (not sure). After bitch-slapping me again...AGAIN...He unzipped his fly and took out his thing. What can I say...it might have been my mood, my psychological state, but it looked enormous. You have to understand...I usually deal with the cocks of under-sized asian males, not the cocks of humongously tall and broad-chested white men. This man's cock seemed huge. He pulled both his balls and his cock out at the same time and I could smell them, on my knees, from 3 or 4 inches away...and they smelled different; clean, male, powerful, wonderful. He put his hand on my head and pulled it forward to his cock. I instinctively opened my mouth to take him inside and then I was in for my next big surprise. His cock was huge and it wasn't even HARD yet! Hindsight is a better judge of these things. I was in the moment, terrified of him ending the date and sending me home, desperate to please, horribly aroused by his words, overpowered by his presence, thrilled by his degrading demeanor and condescending attitude, desperate for more verbal humiliation. Was he actually huge? I don't know. But for the purposes of this particular date, I was overwhelmed and he was huge...leave it at that. And he got bigger as he rocked my head back and forth, like some tool, using my mouth to stimulate his cock...while I inhaled his scent, basked in the presence of his pendulous balls, marveling at the growing presence inside my mouth. He pulled out and bitch-slapped me again. Hard. This man could really hit! As the tears started from my eyes in reaction to the overwhelming emotions that came from being slapped repeatedly, I was rapidly falling in deep lust with him. Where has he been? Why couldn't I have met him sooner? "Careful of your teeth, you stupid, fucking gook." I was actually a chink, not a gook...but he was just a round-eye -- so I had to have low expectations of his ability to differentiate me from other asian girls. He bitch-slapped me a second time right away. I could feel the tears really rolling now. I started sobbing from it all, from the bitch-slaps, his awful words, his attention, his male-ness, his presence. I was simultaneously happy and desperate. Happy because I was living a fantasy; desperate because the fantasy might be more than I could handle -- and I didn't WANT it to be more than I could handle. It's one thing to fantasize about being bitch-slapped, but I can say with certainty that the reality is almost TOO MUCH (but not quite, thankfully, since I survived). He pulled out of my mouth. I felt desolate. "I knew you couldn't handle it, you stupid, shit-for-brains, zipperhead. We've just gotten started and you're already sobbing. I guess you want to go home after all." How could he know that I was sobbing from being overwhelmed, sobbing because I was in shock from the face-slaps, but not because I wanted to go home. In fact, I was in my own secret version of little asian-girl heaven, finally having found a white man that might give me what I fantasized about -- not in some pretend fashion, but in REAL fashion. But I WAS sobbing because he HAD overwhelmed me, so I wasn't able to communicate properly my extreme gratitude at being hit by him and berated by him. "No...No...No...I want to stay...", was about all I could manage. He grabbed hold of my head and rammed my willing and eager mouth back onto his cock and rocked me back and forth on his magnificent tool again and again and again and again, in metronomic fashion. He switched his hand from my head down to my nipples, grabbing one in each hand and twisting them painfully as he used my tits, almost like machine controls, to rock my body back and forth on his monster-cock. He ground my poor nipples so hard between his thumb and forefinger that I began to scream in pain, with those screams muffled by his dick sawing back and forth in my mouth -- I looked down in awe as the flesh-colored rod made it's long journey back and forth between my lips and the entrance-way to my throat, without ever coming out...and without ever piercing that tight hole. With my elbows tied behind me, I was helpless to resist. I think, sadistic jerk that he was, he actually enjoyed my screams as he used his vice-grip on my poor nipples to pull my body forward and backward. I could feel his hard cock get even harder as my body shuddered under his brutality, my elbows pulled against the belt holding them behind my back, my mouth spasmed on his cock, the tears came rolling out of my eyes, and...most embarrassing of all...I could feel my nose begin to get runny (really, really embarrassing). I actually felt like I was going to throw up, but his cock gave me no room to retch. My body had no time to react as it was pulled back and forth against him, my nipples being pulled off from my body, or so it felt and seemed. Here is where I made a mistake. The pain was so intense, his cock was so big, my mouth was so small, that I think I bit down on him a bit, more to get my balance and stay on my knees than anything else -- he was just too much man for me. I would never dream of biting a superior man like this on purpose. Even now I feel awful that it happened. I couldn't have done him any real damage...he was too strong to be hurt by a little, worthless girl like me, but he bellowed in anger, pulled his cock out of my mouth (I felt bereft) and laid another right open palm hard against my left cheek. The force of it threw me to the ground at his feet. "You stupid, fucking, worthless slope-heads never learn," he said menacingly, unlatching his belt...I could see him pull it through the loops on his pants while I lay nearly dazed on the ground. The soft, snicking sound focused my attention. When he had it fully off, he doubled it over in his hands and I literally moaned in desire, fear and, I have to admit, anticipatory pleasure at what was to come. "I can't believe I waste my time with pint-sized little slant-eyes like you," he mumbled to himself as he picked me up off the floor like a sack of potatoes. He wasn't talking to me, he was talking to himself -- as if I wasn't in the room, or wasn't a person. He placed me on the bed, tits into the mattress, elbows still behind me. I was sprawled flat. Unable to see, I felt a whisper of air and then a blinding crack of pain on my ass. He had brought his doubled-over belt down in a swift, hard stroke against my vulnerable and exposed rear-end! I howled in pain, crying. He stuffed something in my mouth...it must have been my panties because I smelled my own arousal. "You chinks have to be taught not to bite!" [Now he was calling me a chink and not a gook? Did he even know the difference? But I felt now was not the time to correct him. It would have been hard to anyway, with a mouth full of cream-soaked cotton.] He brought the belt down again. My ass felt like it was on fire, felt like it was being flayed off. My hands were actually free, since my elbows were cinched, not my wrists ...and I covered my ass with them. I couldn't help myself. "You don't like taking punishment on your ass? That's what it's built for, you stupid, untrained gook." "But that's okay, I can strap you elsewhere, if you prefer." He turned me over onto my back, too easily...and brought his belt down just as brutally across my tits as he'd done against my ass, but with my elbows cinched behind me, there was no way to protect myself. And he was right, by the way, it's better to take a hard belt-stroke from a superior man on your ass than it is against your tits. I literally thought I was dying, it hurt so much. And he was bringing his belt up again for another stroke of horrible, unendurable pain. "This is what happens to rice niggers that bite," he said calmly as he strapped my tits a second time with his belt. He spoke in a way as if he almost knew we'd end up here. Maybe he was right...he could have used any excuse, I'm sure, to hit me and whip me like this. Who was I to disagree with him? I was screaming and crying into my panties, turning over to take my tits away from the monstrous belt. "No, bitch..." he growled, as he turned me back and put a hand over my mouth to keep me in place. "You had your chance to take your punishment on the ass...you decided to turn over and so that means you take the strokes across your tits. Didn't I explain the rules to you?" HE DIDN'T! HE DIDN'T! "I didn't, but you'll have to learn them as we go along..." He delivered two more brutal strokes, a total of four across my tits to go along with the first two against my ass. I was still alive, but I don't know how. "Now, are you ready to suck cock again without biting, cunt?" I couldn't answer him, my mouth being stuffed with panties...but I nodded my head frantically. He picked me up and sat down in a chair, having me kneel in front of him. He pulled the panties out of my mouth and guided my head down near his dick. It had lost a tiny bit of its erection, but was still big and engorged and beautiful -- and smelled great. I engulfed it eagerly into my little asian "chink" mouth. And he let me suck his cock! Maybe the violence of the last few minutes had sated him, maybe he had gotten something out of his system...he was quiescent for a few minutes as I bobbed my head up and down, like a little school girl looking to please, to get a good grade, on his engorged monster. "That's a good little slope-head..." he whispered teasingly, as I tried to swallow and caress his warmth. "I can tell you're trying hard. Make sure to keep the stroke nice and slow...and I'll reward you with a nice, big load of jism. Won't that be a treat...and more than a worthless bitch like you deserves." Now, I know this is going to sound bad...like I'm just trying to write an exciting (or a revolting) story rather than express my true feelings...but these little words of praise from him made me feel very gooey and warm. Incredible feelings of thankfulness and warmness toward HIM coursed through my body. I was so grateful for his praise even though he was calling me names and hurting me. It's incredible to think about even as I write it. Here I was, bound by my elbows, hurting from his belt, sore from his fingers twisting my nipples, with a running nose that pierced me with embarrassment as it dripped down onto his magnificent cock, and tears drying on my cheeks, humiliated from his awful words and his hard and remorseless bitch-slapping....and I was GRATEFUL to him for calling me a "good little slope-head"! Him giving me praise, even as he was calling me names, was more precious -- in that moment -- than anything any other man had ever done for me. That I could win praise from a man like him? That I could please him? Be worthy of him? I sucked his cock for a LONG time. I became very familiar with his straight shaft, his big, bulbous mushroom head, his wonderful, clean, overpowering and masculine scent. He would pull it out every once in a while and lay it across my face and make me kiss his shaft and lick his balls...and I would be amazed at the length of it as it came out of my mouth -- how did something that big fit inside me? I would relish as he rubbed it across my face and made me thank him for letting me suck it -- and I could hear the gratitude and truth in my words as I thanked him and thanked him again and he chuckled in satisfaction and put it back in my mouth. It was amazing how turned on I was, to be naked, kneeling, elbow-tied, bruised, alternately choking and gagging on cock and sucking it, licking his balls, getting more and more turned on, getting more and more in lust with him. And all the time he kept a nice, low litany of verbal humiliation and degradation, alternately teasing and stern, menacing and playful, mixing and matching a huge variety of words that were all deliciously forbidden, taboo, exhilarating, exciting, humiliating, distasteful, mocking and oh-so-stimulating. ...bitch...cunt...slant-eye... gook... whore... slut... worthless... inferior... stupid... rice nigger... slope-head... zipperhead... chink... jappo... trash... untrained... rice-eater... He even teased me by comparing my technique to other kinds of girls he'd "sampled"...(his term, not mine)...girls he called "kikes" and "camel-jockeys" and "red-dots" and "euro-trash". As my nose ran, as my shoulders ached, as my head pumped up and down on his fuck-muscle and as my thoughts spun off into infinity while I sucked his cock gratefully, I wondered if other girls from other cultures had the same sick cravings I had. The way he was talking, maybe they did. Who knows, maybe even tall, big-titted white girls...who could have as many white men as they wanted...had taboo cravings too...that they had to go to someone outside their race to get fulfilled. Maybe the desire to experience forbidden humiliation at the hands of a strong "other" male wasn't isolated to us "chinks" and "gooks". But I'm straying - back to the point -- back to my fantasy. This man was a virtuoso at verbal degradation. He was tuning me...optimizing me - so that I responded precisely to his playing and so that I'd put out just the right notes for the specific symphonies rolling around in his mind. I was the song and the instrument and he was the composer, the musician, the conductor. And by the way, I was a wet, sopping MESS...my nose running nose from all the work that I was doing on my knees...my tits and nipples sore and hurting from his quick, violent punishment of me...my elbows aching from being cinched behind me so tightly, my puss dripping arousal and running down my thighs...in a haze, turned on. Without warning, he pulled his cock out of my mouth and I tensed up. Had I done something wrong? Was he going to beat me again? Asian Abuse Ch. 01 He made me stand up by simply pulling my hair. He turned me around and pushed my back down a bit...which had the effect of pushing back my pussy and putting an arch in my back. I was tense with excitement. Would I get fucked too? That was too much to ask! Was I worthy of getting fucked? I wasn't sure. I wanted to show him that I had enough stamina to suck him off. What if he didn't like my pussy? What if I did something wrong to make him mad and he wouldn't see me again? I was so deep in my fantasy world of degradation and humiliation that I felt I didn't deserve to be fucked. I was frantic, but too afraid to say anything. I felt him line his cock up with my sopping pink gash and he put a hand on each hip and pulled me back toward him. The sharp pain as his turgid cock entered into me for the first time was immediate and I couldn't suppress a squeal of pain. BUT it was also the best entry by a cock that had EVER been made into my little, bare, shaven slot. OH MY G*D, I felt, as he used his grip on my hips to push me forward again and then pull me back for a second stroke on his iron-hard fuck-stick. It's impossible to describe the feeling of being totally turned on, living out a fantasy, and then being speared -- in a very masculine and sexy way, by a big, hard, fat, cock. I literally felt myself shaking with pleasure. "Had enough, slant-eye...want to go home?" he mocked teasingly, "I can see that you're shaking...can't handle being used by a real man?" "MMMMmmmmMMMMmmmm..." was all I could manage in reply. Pathetic... He just chuckled and continued to use me as a lightweight sexual fucking device, rocking me back and forth on his warm, fat, throbbing prick. "Look at this...you've made a mess on my cock, you stupid rice-nigger...," said in a mocking tone. Of course I had...I was gushing over his monstrosity with my pussy. What the hell did he expect? "Get back down on your knees and clean up that mess you made ..." The anguish I felt as I lost his prick from my pussy was replaced quickly by comfort as I turned around, sank back onto my knees and eagerly gobbled up his rock-hard weapon again in my mouth (I wish I had my hands to balance myself, to cup his balls...very inconvenient to have my elbows cinched behind me). He was right, I HAD made a mess. I could taste myself all over him. I was humiliated by all the leakage, the tell-tale signs of how I responded with arousal to his awful words and to his sexual violence... and desperately moved my mouth around to lick his cock, lick his balls, clean him up with the only thing available to me, my mouth (my elbows tied behind me, my hands uselessly dangling). I was ashamed of the way I'd dirtied his cock with my unworthy pussy cream. It's crazy to say, but I was really desperate to clean off my filthy juices from him if he didn't want it coating his magnificent cock. But I was brought back to reality by another hard bitch-slap. "Not so fast, you ignorant whore...take your time and do it right." His low, in-control voice calmed me. I really appreciated, even though it sounds unbelievable to say it, that particular sort-of-corrective bitch-slap (not a hard one as the previous bitch-slaps had been, more of a corrective face-slap, to get my attention). He was right. I was going too fast, not properly serving him, not doing it right. I admired his control, that he was able to slow down my stupid, desperate haste, to make me do it right. I moaned in servitude, in pleasure, in obedience, in slavery (even though he said I wasn't good enough to be his slave) on his cock. He made me turn around and reverse-fuck him again while standing up...and made me clean up the gushing mess I made all over his cock again. The man had stamina. And then something happened that I never thought would happen, imagined could happen. "I'm beginning to get uncomfortable, bitch...I need to relieve myself... I don't like to use motel toilets. I'm not sure how sanitary they are." Not sure how sanitary they are? What the fuck was he talking about? What did sanitary mean to a man? Don't they just stand up and piss on the floor (that's a private inside-type-of-woman joke). "I need to piss. You've done a terrible job using that body of yours to suck my cock, to grip and milk it with your cunt...you've had plenty of time and you don't even have me close to orgasm yet...and you've run out of time." His words that I'd done a poor job and that I'd run out of time with him were bringing up inside me INCREDIBLE feelings of unworthiness, of shame, of humiliation. MUCH WORSE THAN BEING CALLED NAMES. I had no idea that I had to do anything but be a passive receptacle for him to use as he pleased. Milk him with my pussy? Terrible at sucking cock? These were foreign concepts to me. Wasn't every man grateful for a blowjob, wasn't it just natural for men to bust their nut by fucking a girl's pussy. But I recognized the absolute truth of what he said, even as I did not understand at all what was going on. He must have been fucking me (or having me suck his cock) for 40+ minutes now...and he hadn't yet cum. There must be something deeply wrong or unworthy about me. "We need to end the date now so I can find a clean and sanitary bathroom to relieve myself." I had turned from supremely-content-inferior-little-asian-girl-being-dominated-by-superior-white-man and enjoying the transformation of perverted-fantasy to even-better-reality (even though there was a scary moment or two earlier with all the bitch-slapping) to absolutely frantic in the space of a few seconds. I felt certain, absolutely certain, that if this first meeting between us ended without him coming to orgasm, that there was no way I would or could convince him (or beg him) to see me again. I wouldn't be worthy. I couldn't think of anything to do other than to shove my mouth deeper onto his cock (though there was no way that thing could get into my throat), in a last desperate attempt to coax his jism out of him and complete my responsibility, my duty, my absolute need, to get him off, to feel his surge to climax, to take his superior white jism into my inferior asian body. "Look at me, you pathetic gook...look at me" Mouth-stuffed with dick, I raised my eyes and looked at this man that I had to please. "I know you're disappointed. I know you yellow whores live for serving men like me...but my need to piss is getting in the way, now...and you're not properly trained for toilet duty....time to end the date...I don't piss in motel toilets." Trained for toilet duty? What did that mean? What was he talking about? I hung onto his words like a drowning person being thrown a flotation ring. But I couldn't bring myself to take my mouth off his cock. He'd have to force me off. I had a pathological need to obey him, but I would have to be forced off at this point. He put his hand in my hair to pull my mouth off, but for the first time today I defied him. With all my strength, I pushed my head down, desperately trying to keep his cock in my mouth. He gave me a medium slap across my cheek, but that wasn't enough to dislodge my determined cunt-throat (I should leave the derogatory term creation to him, but I had made a connection in my mind...between using my mouth and cunt interchangeably to serve him). "It looks like you're not ready to call it a day yet, you stupid gook?" "Unnnnhhh...Unnnhhhh," I gobbled around his cock, not daring to take my mouth off of it. "Are you already a trained toilet, then?" ????!!!!???? "It wouldn't surpise me...I would think yellow girls like you always eventually learn to drink piss...after all it's yellow too and you're suited for it...and you're not really good for anything else" His words were burning into my brain, leaving a brand across my sexual identity, the way I thought of myself, of what I might do, of what I might crave. My mind was working at light-speed through all the possibilities, the permutations, the potentialities. I knew, with a sinking feeling - but also one of anticipation for all the new fantasies that I could masturbate to - that I was changed forever in the space of a few seconds by this new suggestion as to how a white man might make use of me (how THIS white man might make use of me). "You're an acceptable toilet for me, if you're ready...you sake-serving bitch...and then you can keep serving me with that little tight body of yours ...but it'll be very bad for you if you waste my piss...if you retch it up...if you don't swallow every last drop." He was talking softly to me, gently. But the implications of his words were enormous. It was hard to imagine being his "toilet", but it was also IMPOSSIBLE to imagine ending this date, ending this chance to be his little girl, if it was within my power to keep it going. "Are you ready to be a urinal, bitch? Are you ready so soon in our relationship? Are you that desperate to be with a real man?" I felt the hairs raising on the back of my neck and my nipples hardened into little points of intense desire, longing and need as I looked at him, mouth filled with cock, knowing what he required, knowing that I had, for my own sake, to give it to him. I mumbled yes and nodded. It was unintelligible. He knew what I meant. "Remember, don't waste a drop...flush it all down..." I expected it to come right away...I was worried I couldn't get through it. "Slow down now. Slow way, way down..." I did. I slowed my head-bob down to a crawl...I could feel every flex of his fuck-muscle as the nature of his hard-on changed subtly inside my mouth. It took him a while, I guess, for his hard-on to subside enough to allow the piss through. The first drops of bitter water hit my throat on the down-stroke, toward his root. I froze in terror, frantic that I would retch. But I didn't. I kept his cock in my mouth. He put his hand back on my head and stilled me. I kneeled, absolutely still, frozen in awe, transformed from cock-sucker and molested cunt into obedient inferior asian toilet, who served this man in every way he wanted. The trickle became a stream. I took my first swallow, careful not to break that precious contact of worthless asian to superior white-man. It was bitter, but manageable. I drank tea, but knew the smell of coffee. That's what I was drinking, his morning coffee. It was revolting and thrilling, liberating and de-humanizing at the same time. The stream became a gusher. I was worried I couldn't keep up. I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. My whole existence focused on treating his cock like a long, refreshing drink of something warm and toasty on a cold winter day, not a degrading imitation of a toilet in a dark and dingy motel room. The gusher began to slack. It turned off, it turned back on, it petered out. He grunted in satisfaction. "That's a very good little bitch....such a well-behaved little yellow piss-drinker you are...I'm proud of you. You might be trainable yet." His words thrilled me, completed me, made me gush down below, made me heady up above. I gripped his cock even more firmly in my mouth, clenched my numb hands into little fists behind me, determined not to fail now. He called me "good"! He called me "well-behaved"! He was "proud" of me. Best of all, he called me "trainable"! How much those words meant to me is impossible to over-state. Maybe he would see me again. If I did absolutely everything he wanted, maybe I could serve him again! We transitioned from man-using-toilet back to man-getting-cock-sucked seamlessly. He didn't give me a chance to recover or catch my breath...he just used his hand to tell me to start sucking again, giving me a gentle nudge to begin my cock-sucking motion. I did it eagerly, without complaint, with enthusiasm, and with a belly full of warm piss. I could literally feel it sloshing around in my stomach...and it made me feel warm and gooey and grateful again...like when he praised me earlier...and it made me complete, and fulfilled. It raised inside me deep feelings of "worthiness" and "completeness" that I'd never felt before. And I actually felt gratitude to him that he'd let me be his toilet, and stayed with me on this date. It was one thing to serve a man like him in the normal way. But I felt that I had served him in a special way, that I had really proven myself. I knew I could do it again if he wanted me to. When he had me stand back up, turn around and back onto his cock again, this time I felt like I DESERVED the delicious pain of insertion rather than not being worthy of it. His hands on my hips, guiding me up and down on his cock, using my pussy like he'd used my mouth...to stroke his cock...was heaven. "Milk that cock...whore...convince me that you want to serve me...quit concentrating on your own pleasure ..." he lectured me...reminding me that I was lost in my own pleasure, not concentrating on him. My fleeting feelings of triumph and fulfillment and worth were replaced by shame that he'd caught me having fun...he was right. His gentle reproof, now that I felt I knew him so much better, was actually more painful than the rage at the beginning of this surreal date. "I'm sorry,"...I whispered as I made a conscious effort to bear down, to clamp down on him with my pussy, as he stroked my body back and forth on his cock...as my wrists, free below my cinched elbows, rested on his thighs, balancing myself so he could make the best use of my pussy for his cock. "Sorry doesn't cut it, rice-nigger...you need to learn, to train yourself, your pleasure doesn't matter...you need to train yourself to get YOUR pleasure from MY pleasure. You need to change your whole outlook. You whores are a dime a dozen. If you don't get your mind right, I'll find another girl with a better outlook." "I will. I will. Please give me a chance." Back to my knees, back to cleaning up my leaking mess from his cock. Eventually, he moved the mouth-to-cunt-to-mouth fucking to mouth-to-ass-to-mouth fucking. [By the way, I can't let anybody see this (even though I know I won't be able to delete it once I'm done). I need it in writing to remember the first REAL time I was used.] Ass-to-mouth is an ultimate form of degradation (I'm glad I went for a colonic before meeting him, just in case). Suffice it to say that getting fucked in the ass by him hurt really bad (I thought he was splitting me open), that it was very degrading (and horribly arousing) and that I don't want to over-emphasize the importance to myself. The verbal degradation and being turned into his personal and private toilet were the highlights for me, not the ass-fucking or the ass-to-mouth. That's a normal, every-day fetish, in my mind, not the special fetish that I nurtured within myself to be the slave of a white man and to be his personal property, to be worthless and priceless at the same time....to be called names and now...to be his special and private urinal. But this glorious experience of kneeling, being tied, being name-called, being bitch-slapped, sucking cock, being fucked, drinking piss, serving HIM, had to stop. I just wasn't prepared for how he would bring everything to conclusion. He pulled out two big ugly pieces of black metal...BINDER CLIPS...attached them to my nipples and proceeded to fuck the mouth of a suddenly-screaming-in-pain little asian girl into a stupendous orgasm by holding the back of my head and taking control of my entire body. I could tell that the tears streaming down my face, the sobbing of my mouth around his cock, the shaking and trembling of my body in the pain from the cruel biting metal all served to feed his sadism and take him over the edge into his enormous orgasm. As his cum shot into my mouth, hot and sticky and welcome...I worried that my nipples were being pinched totally off my body by the unforgiving metal. "Be sure and swallow every fucking drop, you fresh-off-the-boat stupid slant-eyed whore...you need to earn your next date with me...and I don't date girls who waste my jism while they're pre-occupied with their own problems". The amount of slurs this guy knows is AMAZING! Fresh-off-the boat? I thought that slur was internal to my community only...something we used on each other...I'd never heard it from a round-eye. I wish I had time to relish his orgasm, his cum, his essence. But truth to tell, I was in too much pain, too much distress, too much of a haze, to really enjoy it and savor it. How unfortunate. Maybe next time I'll get a better chance to taste it and enjoy it. I did make sure it didn't leak out of the vacuum lock I was trying to maintain between my exhausted mouth and his spent and shrinking cock. He undid the belt around my elbows. My arms fell useless next to my side, lumps of nerveless meat, bound for at least an hour. He made me look up at him while he removed the horrid metal. And while the pain of their bite was horrific, the pain of their release was unendurable. I collapsed at his feet, my arms around his ankles, sobbing quietly in pain. "What do you say, rice-nigger? Can you manage a thank-you for all this time and attention I've given to you today?" "Thank you, Master....Thank You." He took a foot and kicked me medium-hard in my ribs as I lay at his feet. "I told you not to call me Master, you untrained, ungrateful almond-eyed whore...you haven't earned the right to have me as a Master." He was talking matter-of-factly, like to a meaningless and powerless person who held no interest to him. No ire or anger in his voice. "I'm sorry....I'm sorry...," I sobbed. His lack of anger frightened me, making me feel that he'd given up on me. "I don't know what to call you..." "Call me Sir." "Thank you, Sir...Thank you...I can't thank you enough." "Your poor blowjob technique and your inability to properly milk my cock with your cunt and ass has made me late. I've got to get back to work. Quit your shaking, get your ass up and get dressed. Let's hurry...I need to take another piss." So much for aftercare, I guess, from the man I wanted to worship for the rest of my life. This was actually a REAL BLACK MARK AGAINST HIM, in my book. I could have hoped for better. I probably shouldn't settle...but I was absolutely willing to overlook minor defects in his personality now that I knew he could DELIVER on the degradation and the humiliation. You have to take the bad with the good, I guess. It was hard, but I was under his spell....I made desultory efforts to put myself together while he put his own clothes back on (he didn't have much to do...he really hadn't taken that many clothes off...he'd just unzipped his fly and unbuttoned his dress shirt, really). As we were getting ready to head out, he gave me some final instructions.... "Make sure you send a thank you note to me by email. Put it in writing so we both know the score. If I'm not happy with it, there will be punishment. I actually recommend you don't send one...and that you not see me again. You're a bit of a mess and I won't be any easier on you in the future." His words both appalled me and galvanized me. I couldn't wait to get home and tell him what today had meant to me. I ignored his foolishness about him not being good for me -- he was the man of my dreams -- but I was stressed about sending him a note that would please him, make him happy with me (or at least satisfied enough to see me again). "...and remember, the only thing I offer to a worthless whore like you is pain and humiliation and degradation...and lots and lots of sexual training while I turn you into something that is of marginal use to me." Music to my ears. Did I say at the beginning that there was something wrong with me? What he was offering is what I WANTED. "Sir?" "Yes." Asian Abuse Ch. 01 "You said you had to take another piss?" "Yes. I'm just a few minutes from the office, though. I can make it." "Can I be your toilet again, Sir? I don't want you to be uncomfortable." The smile he gave me, secret and satisfied and just between him and me, was like the sun rising in the morning as he gently put his left hand on my shoulder, as I sank to my knees in gratitude, as he unzipped his fly with his right hand and pulled out his blood-filled but soft organ again, and as I sank my mouth onto his cock for the last time today, but hopefully not the last time in my life. His second piss was much less bitter, but just as much in terms of volume (was he drinking water during our date? I was too pre-occupied to watch him closely). The coffee taste was all gone. It had a nice, clean, fresh aroma (How sick am I) that I felt I could probably learn to crave, just as I craved his verbal degradation. "Such a good little girl," he crooned, purposely, approvingly, calculatingly...I knew...as he gave me praise and cemented me as his plaything. This was an emotionally cruel, manipulative and sadistic man, but he was MY KIND of emotionally cruel, manipulative and sadistic man. ====================================== I've agonized all afternoon about this letter, I'm worried it's too long, but I feel a pressing need to send something before too much time goes by. I hope it earns me another date...I have to go sleep, I'm totally exhausted. ====================================== Dear Sir, Thank you, thank you, thank, thank you, thank you for a perfect date! I don't even know how to begin to thank you enough for using me like the "worthless rice nigger" that you called me. I'm glad you took so long to come, that I had to work long and hard to please you with my mouth. I felt like I could have worshipped it all day with my mouth and with my whole body. I liked hearing your chuckles of satisfaction at times as you used and degraded me. I thought it so sexy that you never even took off your clothes. I was so happy that I was able to back onto your cock and ride it with both my pussy and my ass. Your cock felt absolutely luscious in both holes (both are very sore, but sore in a good way) and I couldn't help gushing all over your monster. I'm so glad you let me clean up the awful mess I made on your cock. I was so ashamed, but I couldn't help myself. It was especially humiliating to go ass-to-mouth, but I deserved it. Please know that this is no problem -- I will never refuse to do anything you say. You can even punch me or kick me. I don't care. I just want to be able to serve you. I loved it when you told me that I'm "such a good girl". It makes me feel incredibly good. You used a similar tone when I drank your piss. Thank you for not ending the date then and thank you for letting me be your toilet so that we could continue. I would have been devastated if I couldn't do that for you. I promise you will never have to use those toilets at the motel or anywhere else you want to use me. I would be honored to always drink your piss whenever we're together. It's more than I deserve. I'm actually daydreaming about it now. Being your toilet is something new for me and it is filling all my thoughts now. Please see me again so that I can prove myself to you again and again in this way. When you slap my face and call me names it has a tranquilizing effect on me...very soothing. I may cringe in anticipation but I love it immensely when you make contact. That, when combined with the way you so expertly degrade me makes me feel very cared for, like you are caressing my face and caressing me and giving me what I need and not judging me. I don't know why, that's just the way it is. I'm glad I found you. Thank you for understanding what I need and being kind enough to give it to me. You're a very good person, more than I deserve. I hope I pleased you and that you will decide to use me again someday. I'm afraid today won't be real unless I see you again and you humiliate, degrade and punish me. I need to also tell you that I deserve to be punished very harshly for being a stupid and untrained "gook" and "chink" and I hope you won't hold it against me that I am what I am. In fact, I am desperate for you to punish me. I hope you don't hold my race against me, Sir. I will gladly take more punishment if you think I deserve it -- or even if I don't deserve it. Please be as harsh in my training as you want. I need it and want it. You can punish me and train me and turn me into whatever you want me to be. As we both know (and I agree with you) I'm just a worthless "slope-headed" piece of trash and I will be grateful for anything you do to me and for any attention you give me. I'm so thankful for the time you gave me today. I cannot thank you enough for treating me like you did. PLEASE let me service your cock again in the future. I am just a stupid piece of trash that needs desperately to be trained and degraded and punished by a superior man like you. ...Your total gook and slant-eye and rice-nigger and zipperhead, worthless cunt and humiliation-slut at your beck and call. PS: I heard you refer to me as a good girl once in particular and possibly another time. Thank you very much for that. I didn't want you to think I didn't hear you. Your dick was filling my mouth but I sighed in relief to feel that you were pleased with my efforts at that moment. Every slight thing you do and say to me, like those things, results in deep feelings of worth and deep feelings of happiness for me. Please let me experience that again, Sir! PPS: I just want to make sure you know that I totally understand my place and fully understand that it's about you and only you. If you feel like hitting me when you call me names, so much the better. I trust that you won't damage me or hurt me more than I can handle. But even if you do, I deserve it. I TOTALLY trust you. I am just a receptacle for your superior White cum and piss. I want everything you want, as much as you can give. Please! Please! Please!!!! PPPS: Thank you again Sir...it is really hard to stop thanking you for everything, but I don't want to make you angry at my unworthiness so I will stop now and go to bed. I'm completely exhausted. Thank You! ***** Author Postscript: If you made it this far, then THANKS for giving my totally unrealistic and juvenile fantasy a chance to take a few minutes of your day (or night)! Feedback is always great to get, whether it's positive or negative.