Ling of Minnesota

Ling had always been drawn to men who fetishized her race and ethnicity. She longed for the stereotype, to be objectified as a "China Doll" or a "Lotus Blossom Baby." But in reality, Ling was born and raised in Minnesota by a white mother and an Asian father. Her accent occasionally slipped into a Midwestern "you betcha", much to her disappointment.

Each time Ling entered a room, Ling felt the weight of their presumptions pressing down on her, suffocating her true identity beneath layers of stereotypes. Yet, Ling played along, slipping into the role they assigned to her like a well-worn costume. Although Ling had a mixed heritage and grew up in the Midwest, Ling was still subject to the expectations of being a dutiful daughter to her second-generation Chinese father. Law or medical school were the only paths allowed for her.

But she was also confined by the stereotypes of her white mother, with the expectations that she would have a latent interest in ice fishing and hockey. Which of course she did, but that had nothing to do with one thing or another.

Beneath the facade, a storm brewed within her. Ling yearned to shatter the stereotypes and break free from the confines of her parents' imaginations. With each passing day, her resolve strengthened, fueled by a fire that burned brighter with each demand for discipline and affirmation of her future success. The time had come for her to reclaim her story, to rewrite the narrative that had been imposed upon her without consent.

Porn became the vehicle by which Ling would reinvent herself. Hot Asian porn stars became the mirror in which Ling saw her own true identity.

Sneaking into her room after the lights were out, her fingers deftly navigated the keyboard, her eyes fixed on the tiny screen. The images danced before her mind's eye: the ecstasy, the domination, the submission - everything Ling couldn't find in her own life. It was as if these performers had been chosen just for her like they understood the longing that bubbled beneath her skin. They were nasty, and submissive, and free-spirited, and taboo-breaking.

Ling had tried talking to her parents about it, but their stern faces only reinforced the message: her life was determined by their expectations and their desires. And so Ling continued to hide, her heart aching with the knowledge that she was living someone else's story. But it was in those late nights, under the cover of darkness, that Ling began to find herself.

Ling touched herself with her fingers. Her wet fingers would rub against her tiny, brown clit. She would stroke herself an image in her head as clear as the digital videos on her computer screen. A sexy little Asian in a schoolgirl outfit dominated by thick hard construction workers.

As the weeks went by, her private sessions became more frequent and intense. Ling found herself craving the release that only Ling could provide herself with this newfound sense of sexual freedom. Her heart pounded in her chest as She maintained her ragged breaths, trying to keep the sounds of her masturbation hidden from the rest of the household.

Late one night, her father stumbled upon her in the throes of passion, her face flushed and her body wracked with shuddering ecstasy. He had always known that something was off with his daughter's behavior, but the sight of her clicking away at her computer in the middle of the night, her hands frantically combing through her pubic hair, filled him with a sense of dread.

He stood in the doorway, watching as the tears cascaded down her face, her features contorted with pleasure. He saw the hurt and longing in her eyes - watching her as Ling watched men who looked like his colleagues and bosses take a train on a young Asian girl who looked like his daughter.

At that point, he knew that Ling was lost. The next day Ling packed her bags and got an apartment in the city.

It started with an email, sent to a random man Ling'd met online. He spoke of sadism and submission, of power and weakness.

As Ling stood at the crossroads of conformity and rebellion, she knew that the path ahead would be a difficult one that would take courage to accept.

During their first date, Ling meticulously prepared a traditional Asian meal, dressed in a vibrant silk kimono and insisting on cooking alone. The fragrant aromas of ginger, soy sauce, and sesame oil filled the air as Ling gracefully served him with delicate chopsticks.

"Holy shit! You look like Vina Sky. Where the fuck in Minneapolis have you been hiding, Lotus Flower."

Ling smiled shyly. Vina Sky was the topic of many of her bookmarks.

Her petite frame was adorned in a vibrant silk kimono, hugging her curves in all the right places. Beneath the silk, partially transparent, a luscious curvy brown body could be seen.

Her dark hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, framing her delicate features. Her skin was smooth and flawless, with a warm golden tone that seemed to glow under the light.

He sat back with a smug grin, reveling in her submissive, child-like demeanor that fit his ideal image of an exotic Asian woman. As he finished his meal, Ling knelt at his feet and obediently ate the leftovers from his plate, fulfilling his Oriental fantasy.

He patted her head like a dog. "That was some good rice food, but next time I want you to make me a burger. Now what do you have on under that kimono."

Ling could feel his hard fingers caressing her skin as he slowly undid the intricate buttons of her kimono.

As the garment fell away, Ling saw the hunger in his eyes. It was a familiar look, one that Ling had seen many times before in the videos she watched. He looked at her like he was a wolf and Ling was a little, Asian doe. Ling was something for him to conquer and make his own.

"Do I please you?" Ling whispered innocently

He remained expressionless, but Ling could feel his heart pounding against her with every touch. Ling knew exactly what he wanted - to fulfill his fantasies of being in control, to be worshiped and obeyed.

He ripped the kimono from her body and threw it across the room.

Her skin prickled with goosebumps, and her dark nipples became stiff. Ling couldn't ignore the contrast between her nakedness and his fully clothed state. He held her there in anticipation as he silently evaluated her.

He hesitated for a moment, then whispered, "You remind me of my Asian colleague from the office. The one who always looks so put together and in charge. The one who thinks she can run with the big boys."

Ling smiled seductively, knowing exactly what he wanted.

"Like a Lotus Flower, always waiting to be plucked."

With a growl, he lifted her onto the countertop and began to kiss her passionately, his hands roaming over her body, exploring every inch of her skin. Ling moaned softly, her eyes closed as Ling felt his hands trace the lines of her body, slowly moving lower and lower.

He reached down and gently parted her legs, his fingers delving between her folds, stroking her clit. Ling gasped, her hips bucking against his touch as he continued to explore her.

"You're so wet for me," he growled, his voice low and intense. "Do you want me to make you come?

"I'm so embarrassed," Ling giggled and tried to put her legs together. But he forced them apart. Then Ling felt the white man's mouth on her sex. He ate her slowly, satisfying himself in her cries and quivering. Somehow he made the act of cunnilingus all about him. Like he was a predator devouring her. She reached down and clawed at his broad shoulders helplessly.

When they were finished, wrapped in sweaty sheets, Ling had to admit that though the date was a good first step, there was still progress needing to be made before she could fully transform.

On their second date, Ling suggested giving him a massage. The idea had come from some of the Nuru videos she had on heavy rotation. Ling instructed him to remove his shirt and lay down on the yoga mat while she undressed to her panties and covered herself in warm oil. With soft, skilled hands and her body pressed against his, Ling massaged away all his tension and stress. As he turned over for the happy ending, Ling couldn't help but admire his large, pale form and couldn't help imagining being forcefully taken by this powerful Caucasian man.

She slid her body up and down like it was an erotic slip and slide. Every inch of her skin was devoted to pleasuring the hard cock being massaged. Eventually, he was sick of the teasing and flipped her over, and fucked her.

On the third date, Ling sat him down for a heart-to-heart. "Listen, I'm not going to show you a lot of emotion. It's important that no matter how I dress for you and for friends, I will always appear shy and demure. No matter how I am feeling, don't ask. You're my boyfriend now and you need to consider me as your servile housekeeper, your slut, and your inferior based entirely on my race and sex."

"That being said, you need to start taking anything you want from me whenever you wish. If I fail to please you in any way, you need to punish me. I will never say "no" to anything you want me to do, but you should have the perspective that even if I did say no, it is in your right to demand it of me anyway, and you take it. You need to demand that I give you what you desire, even if you have not yet asked for it. Just to make sure you understand what I am looking for, I have sent you a series of links to pornography related to race play and free use. I want you to watch them and study them. "

"I will bend my mind and will be pleasing to you. I will wear my sexiest clothes, to make those who see us together jealous. I will remain on your arm and simper. I will never disagree with you. I will let you do the thinking for me, and devote all my thoughts to how to be pleasing and how to please you."

"I want you to call me horrible names. I want you to be sexist and I want you to be racist. I want you to treat me like your exotic, little fuck-toy from the Far East. This will likely be the longest conversation we will ever have. From now on, most of my sentences are going to be three words or less."

Ling kneeled before him and lifted the collar to him. "Put this on me if you think you can handle that."

For a few minutes, the man was still. What Ling was asking for, seemed at first, an obvious choice. What red-blooded American man would say no to a live-in sex slave girlfriend devoted to his pleasure. But of course, it was never that simple. Feelings might get involved. Guilt at what he was doing to her no matter how much she consented to it, or shame in not living up to his values of believing every human being deserved to be treated with dignity and respect. To be so near a fantasy was sort of like being on the edge of a precipice. The wind might tip you either way.

Ling closed her eyes when he strapped the collar around her neck. When Ling opened them, her eyes were blank and filled with need. "Me so horny". Ling moaned. He laughed and pulled her along to the bed. He tied the leash to the foot of the bed, strapping her down with her ass in the air.

"Please, fuckee me!" Ling squealed.

"You yellow rice-cake slut," He growled. The words sound foreign and dangerous coming out of his mouth. "You cum-slut fortune cookie!" He slapped her ass and Ling squealed in a high-pitch falsetto.

The room was hot and steamy with lust and desire. His hands were rough as he slapped her ass, hard. Ling's skin turned from dark brown to bright pink with every smack. Her eyes were hidden behind a veil of mascara-clad lashes, her lower lip with its bright red geisha colors sucked between her teeth.

He fucked her. So hard that her mind went as dumb as the pinups on the internet. "Fuckee me!" she whined.

Ling's body shook underneath him as he took her hard, over and over again. With each thrust, he felt more in control, more powerful. It was intoxicating to have this beautiful Asian woman at his complete disposal. His face contorted in pleasure as he emptied himself inside of her, his seed filling her up. As he pulled out, he wiped his throbbing member on her cheek. She was crying beneath him, maybe in pleasure, maybe not, but he guessed he didn't have to worry about that now. Her voice was pitched higher like someone had siphoned helium into her brain.

Ling was left with a sense of satisfaction mixed with a longing for more punishment, more degradation. She lay there naked, used and satisfied, looking at the collar around her neck. A permanent reminder of who she belonged to now - this white man who had taken her completely by surprise but given her what she wanted in return: liberation from societal expectations.

She tasted herself on his cock, sulking on his wet cock happily, hoping for him to get hard and take her again. She loved her sweet and sour taste on his cock. He relaxed against the bed, letting her do all of the work. He thought absent-mindedly about turning on the TV and watching something while he worked.

Between his legs, working hard, Ling mewed like a happy little Asian kitten. Just like a Minnesotan, he thought.