The Bamboo Ceiling Ch. 02

Special thanks for Literotikween's invaluable contributions. The following work of fiction contains adult, dark, and highly offensive content. This highly offensive content includes elements of race play, which many readers could (understandably and validly) find highly offensive. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter 2: Submissive by Nature

The rest of the month went by in a flash. Most of our client contracts are renewed in January, so December is a busy time. And that often means late nights at the office.

As the month drew on, James's mood soured. He was used to having more time in his evenings to host his . . . indiscretions. I never experienced "blue balls" myself, but I wondered whether he was so grumpy because he didn't have his usual outlet or whether he hated having to actually work. Either way, this was the first time I've seen James go over a week without bringing over a random hookup.

One Friday night—the weekend before Christmas—James was in a particularly foul mood as he drove us home. "This is ridiculous," James ranted, "Don't get me wrong, I love my clients. But these last-minute negotiations are getting so fucking old."

"You're doing a great job," I tried to assure him, even if just to save me from his temper, "your clients are really lucky to have you."

"Thanks, Kimmy." James shook his head and chuckled. I could tell that, as the workday went on, the hair cream that James used lost its hold, and his dishwater-blond hair started to fall around his temples. As he laughed, his hair subtly bobbed.

"You've been a great sport," James went on, "I know that I haven't been pleasant to be around for the past few days. It's been a while since I've had an 'outlet,' you know what I'm saying?"

I knew what he was referring to, but he knew as well as I did that I had no point of empathy.

"Yeah, that sounds rough," I gave a blanket empathy statement.

"You've been great though, Kimmy. I appreciate you being here." James moved his hand possessively to my thigh. "You've taken up most of the cooking and cleaning. And you've been a good listener. If you're not careful, I might just wife you and take my energy out on you."

I laughed awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

"Speaking of which, you still hanging on to that Asian girl's underwear?"

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I thought that James might have spotted me snagging Tiffany's panties after their hookup last month. I was also aware that James had already forgotten this girl's name, referring to her as 'that Asian girl.' But as interpersonally intelligent as he was, I wondered if he just didn't care enough about her, beyond her identity as 'that Asian girl.'

James was waiting for an answer.

"I--I was just throwing them away. I mean, what underwear are you talking about?" I was a terrible liar at baseline, but around James, I was an open book.

James threw his head back and laughed. "Sure, Kimmy. Let me guess: you try them on?"

I'd been had. I was his little Asian beta male roommate who masturbated in the panties of the girl that he'd fucked. And James knew it. Fuck.

He took my stunned silence as a 'yes.' "I thought so. You know, I wondered why you haven't even tried to find a girl while you've been living with me for these months. I'm sorry if I've been insensitive. But tell me, Kimmy, did you think about me when you tried them on?"

I bit my lip and silently looked out the opposite window.

"Another yes, I see," James paused as he ran his hand through his hair, "and I'm guessing that this isn't the first time you've done something like this."

I nodded my head, still unwilling to look over at James.

James was becoming impatient with my pouting. "Look at me, Kimmy."

I obeyed, but couldn't keep my eyes on him for more than a moment at a time. James kept his eyes on the road, but I could tell that he was enjoying the powerplay.

"Have you fantasized about me fucking you? I'd like an answer, roomie."

"Yes."

"How long has that been going on?"

"Since a little after I moved in."

"Have you ever been with a man before?"

"No."

"Are you gay?"

"No."

"So you are attracted to women?"

"Yes."

"But they don't feel the same way about you, do they?"

"No." I could sense my upper lip quivering as I outwardly acknowledged that reality.

"You know that you have much more in common with the women you're attracted to than the men that they're attracted to?"

"Yes."

"From being around you so often, Kimmy, I'd have to agree." James moved his hand back to my thigh as he continued, "and I'm not going to lie, Kimmy, I can't say I haven't thought about taking my energy out on you. It's been quite a dry spell with these godawful work hours."

I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded, still biting my lower lip.

"In fact," James continued, "I doubt you'd say no if I told you to blow me right here in the car."

I hesitated, choking on my response. "P--probably not."

"That's a good boy for being honest."

I felt an electric sensation travel up from my stomach and out into my fingers from the compliment. James rarely complimented me. And when he did, he typically did so to put me in my place. And that he was usually right both offended and aroused me.

"I could tell that you were a sub from the moment we met, Kimmy." As James's hand rested on my thigh, he moved his thumb back and forth, sending shivers through my body. "I enjoy that about you. I see the way you look at me. And I notice the way you obey what I tell you to do without question. You already act like my submissive little Asian housewife. The only difference is that I don't fuck you. Yet."

James paused, letting that last word hang heavily in the air. I was always cognizant of how freely James talked about sex. I was also cognizant of how presumptive James was; he fully his interactions with women to end in another notch in his bedpost. And when he turned on the charm, he was usually right. Now that James was turning that presumptive charm on me, I was putty in his hands. James was 100% correct that, if he told me to, I would unzip his jeans right here in the car and suck his cock.

"You already do what I tell you to do, don't you Kimmy? I want you to say it out loud."

"Yes."

"Yes, WHAT?" I rarely heard James speak so forcefully. But I knew what he wanted me to say, and my head was in subspace in a big way. So I enthusiastically complied.

"Yes, Sir."

"There's a good boy." We had rounded the corner from James's house. James pushed the button to open the remote garage door and pulled inside.

"Get out of the car," James continued, "go sit at the dining room table and wait for me. Understand?"

"Yes," I quietly replied and reached for the door handle.

James grabbed my hand forcefully. "Yes, WHAT?" His gaze penetrated my will.

"Yes, Sir."

"There's a good boy," James winked at me as he patted me on the side of the head like he would a dog. That his hand nearly covered half of my head made the belittling gesture much worse. I was ashamed (and more than a little horny) from the fact that James--tall, white, charming James—was about to add his submissive little Asian roommate to his list of conquests. Just like his previous conquests, including Tiffany, I was grateful for the subjugation.

I quickly and quietly grabbed my briefcase from the truck and entered the house. James's house. I shuffled with my head down past the expensive artwork on the wall, past the furniture that I could never hope to afford on my own meager salary, and sat at the dining room table. I knew better than to move from this spot until told otherwise.

James took his sweet time. I heard him lazily enter the house, put his things down, then go upstairs. A few minutes later, I heard the shower running. I just sat there with my hands on the table, staring at nothing in particular in front of me.

After a long shower, I heard the weighty thud of James's footsteps descending the stairs. He walked past me, not even glancing down at me, into the kitchen. He was wearing a white bathrobe.

As James opened the refrigerator to peruse its contents, he shouted without looking at me. "You'll be making dinner tonight. I'll have something with chicken and a lot of steamed veggies on the side. You'll have something vegetarian and low-calorie. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." I dared not move from my spot.

James closed the refrigerator door and walked over to the dining room table. James sat across from me and smirked as he stared me down.

"I'm not the first white man who you've fantasized about, am I?"

"No sir."

"I'm curious, who was the first?"

I told James about Ari and her childhood boyfriends. I spilled the beans about Brandon, and what I did—on more than one occasion—wearing underwear that I'd stolen from my sister. I talked about my pitiful dating history, and how my last girlfriend repeatedly cheated on me with white me. I admitted that, aside from being hurt and angry at each affair, I got off on being cuckolded by those superior men.

Growing up in a conservative Korean household, talking openly about sex was taboo. And even though I knew that the stereotype of the sexually submissive Asian permeated American culture, talking about it openly in Asian social circles was very taboo.

James looked at me thoughtfully as I spoke. Strangely, I knew that James wouldn't judge me for my submissive fantasies. I knew this because James already thought so little of me, that my confessions merely confirmed his preexisting beliefs. He already saw me—as he did with most Asian Americans—like a tool for him to use as his pleasure.

After we spoke for several minutes, James stood up and walked toward me. As James towered over me, James put one hand on the back of my chair and held my jaw with the other.

"You enjoy this, don't you? You enjoy acting like my little Asian trophy wife. I bet you'd be excited to seal the deal, right?"

He didn't allow me to respond. His hand still around my jaw, keeping my mouth shut, James just moved my head up and down in a nodding motion.

James let go of my jaw and reached down to unfasten his robe. What was he doing?

As he opened the front of his robe. This wasn't the first time that I'd seen his cock, but I was still taken aback by its size and its perfect shape. Even while flaccid, it hung inches below his massive balls. But with his exercise of power over his little submissive roommate, I could see it growing in front of me. It merely lengthened at first, but as its width swelled, it fell to the size a little as it began to stand upright. Then it slowly swung back toward the center as it angled upward, pointing itself at my face. I felt as if it was pointing at me, choosing me as its next conquest.

"I can tell that you like what you see," James smirked. "You're grateful for everything I've done, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

James's hand stroked my hair, going down the side of my face. "And a good girl shows her gratitude to her Sir, doesn't she?"

This wasn't the first time that James had referred to me in the feminine. I often wondered if it was an intentional jab, or just a natural, Freudian slip. The racist and sexist asshole saw both women and Asian men as his inferior, so both could have been true.

With intense anticipation of what was inevitably about to transpire, my breath caught. "Yes, S-Sir."

"Good girl," James cooed as his fingers wove through my hair, crawling toward the back of my head. "Why don't you give it a little kiss?"

I'd never done anything like this before, so I awkwardly leaned forward and gave a little peck on the head of his cock.

My mind was going a million miles an hour. On one hand, I was I felt my own—much less impressive—cock swelling at the display of dominance. But I also felt a profound shame in my stomach. Here I was, an educated, accomplished Asian man, about to perform the ultimate act of subservience on a less educated, less intelligent, undeserving white man. What would my mother say if she could see me right now? What would my sister say? What would my late father say? Did they also secretly desire to be in this very position, face-to-face with a white man's massive cock, preparing to serve it? Was this the natural order of things?

James's cock twitched as I continued to give it little kisses on the head.

"Good girl," James cooed. I can tell that you're going to be great at this.

I was offended that James assumed that this would be a recurring event. And my groin shifted in arousal because I knew that he was right.

"You've wanted this for a while. Haven't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Ask nicely, and I'll fuck you"Good girl. Now keep doing what you're doing, but work down the underside of the shaft down to the base. And you can give better kisses than that. Use big, wet lips."

"Sorry," I said, licking my lips to moisten them.

James patted the back of my head and guided me to the underside of his massive cock. "Don't worry, Kimmy; you're not the first Asian girl I've had to teach how to give a blowjob."

My cocktail of emotions intensified. He saw me as just another Asian girl—a creature that the racist asshat saw as a less-than-human thing to be used for his pleasure. But my breath quickened from the realization, because, strangely, I felt it as a compliment. I had always seen Asian women as something out of my reach; something out of my league. My experiences with my sister and with my girlfriend instilled in me that Asian women were for white men, and that I was unworthy of their time or attention. So in a way, James was elevating me to a level above my own self-image when he referred to me as an 'Asian girl.'

Guided by James's hand on the back of my head, I placed big, pouty kisses up and down his cock. James groaned in his deep, resonating voice as he exhaled.

"Good girl," his voice deepened.

James pulled my head back and positioned my lips to the head of his cock. He said nothing, but I knew to open my mouth as he slowly pushed my head onto his cock.

He started with just the head, going in and out through my lips. He then went a little deeper, about halfway through my mouth. I could tell from his length that, even if he hit my uvula, I would only be taking about a third of his shaft.

After a few moments of this, my jaw was on fire. I had never had any reason to keep my jaw this far open for so long. And James was so wide that I had trouble keeping my jaw open all the way while keeping my lips sealed around the shaft. The sensations on my tongue surprised me. James didn't taste 'good' in the sense I was used to; that is, I wouldn't enjoy food that tasted like that. But something about the taste of his manhood sent shivers down my spine.

I was relieved when he pulled out, as this gave my jaw time to relax. I rubbed the side of my face as I moved my jaw up and down.

"You're going to have to work on that, Kimmy. I'd normally slap a bitch if I felt teeth, but I'll let you off the hook because this is your first time. Wipe the drool off your chin and come meet me in the living room." James left the kitchen without another word.

After cleaning up my face, I saw James sitting on the couch. He had turned on a football game. "Come here, Kimmy."

I approached him and sat on the couch.

"No," James shook his head, "not there." James snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor by his feet. So this is where I had descended in our relationship; I was to kneel at the asshole's feet like a dog or a servant.

I obeyed, kneeling in front of James. He pointed at the television. "You see any Asian guys playing, Kimmy?"

I watched the players on the screen for a moment. "No, Sir."

"That's right. I've read that less than half of a percent of pro football players are Asian. They just can't compete. Do you know why that is?"

"No, Sir."

James laughed, grabbing my shoulder and positioning me between his legs. "It should be obvious right now, Kimmy. Could you see yourself exercising physical power over me? Could you see yourself trying to compete with me?"

"No, Sir."

"Good girl. In fact, I'd say that you belong right here, kneeling at my feet. Isn't that right, Kimmy?"

"Yes, Sir." This racist asshole was intolerable. But I was too turned on to do anything about it. James's cock was still standing triumphant out of his robe.

James grabbed my hand and moved it to his cock. "You'll get better with practice, Kimmy. Use both hands to rub up and down on the lower shaft. Use your mouth on the end. Most girls can't fit me in their throat—with a few impressive exceptions—so you have to use your body parts." James winked.

I immediately obeyed, hungrily bobbing my head up and down on his cock as I worked the base of the shaft with my hands.

"There's an enthusiastic little slut!" James was having the time of his life.

After several minutes of working James's manhood, my jaw was on fire.

"Fuck, fuck," James started to sound breathless, "don't you fucking spit it out on my couch or carpet."

I could feel his cock pulsating between my lips as he moved his hips up and down. He grabbed the back of my head with his free hand and pushed my head down. I gagged slightly but was able to keep myself from doing anything that would result in punishment later. Soon enough, my mouth filled with James's warm cum.

The power of James's shots contrasted sharply with the dribbles of cum I when I ejaculated. My mouth filled with a pool of this white man's cum. The thought crossed my mind that, if I ever had kids, the seed of my descendant's oppressors was filling my mouth.

"Wait!" James commanded. "Close your mouth, tilt your head back, then open it again and show me the inside of your mouth."

I complied holding the pool of warm, sticky cum while shaping my tongue like a little cup in my mouth.

"Good girl. Now swallow, then open your mouth wide to show me that you got it all."

I closed my mouth and had to tilt my head down to get it all down. I then tilted my chin up and opened wide. I couldn't help the goofy smile plastered on my face at James's compliment. And I hated myself for my own enthusiasm.

James sat there a moment, catching his breath. I waited obediently, looking up at his cock as it began to soften. I breathed deeply as the realization of shame and arousal washed over me. I had just performed the ultimate act of subservience for this man that I secretly hated. There was no going back after this. I was ashamed. And I was ecstatic.

"Fuck," James sighed as he looked me in the eye, "I've wanted to do this for so long."

I looked down at James's feet, unable to meet his gaze as I knelt subserviently in front of him.

"Look at me," James commanded. I felt an internal shift; the last of my protests washed away, leaving only a compliant little sub. I obeyed James's command. As I looked him in the eye, the reality of my new position in our relationship set in. James was always bound to dominate me. This act of submission was only the nail in the coffin.

James smiled triumphantly as he looked down at me. "We're going to have some changes around here," James continued, "First, you're not to speak unless spoken to. Second, you will always use an honorary when you respond to me. You can choose between 'Sir,' 'Master,' or 'Daddy.' But you will always use an honorary. Third, we're going to get you some new clothes. You're not a man, Kimmy. You can keep wearing slacks and button-downs to work. But I expect you to start wearing more pastel colors. You won't be wearing any boxers or briefs underneath them. If you're so fascinated by wearing panties, then you'll be wearing them under your work clothes. And as soon as you step back under my roof, the boy clothes come off. You can wear something cute—maybe a little skirt or a dress—but men's clothes are for men. Understood?"