The Bamboo Ceiling Ch. 14

This story contains graphic content and potential trauma cues for sensitive readers. Specifically, this story contains themes of non-consent, forced feminization, implied incest, and identity death. If this is not the kind of story that you can handle or would enjoy, then I recommend backing out now. This is purely a work of fiction, by and for consenting adults. Any resemblance to real people or entities is unintended and purely coincidental.

---

Chapter 14: The Conquest of Ari

I stared at the front of the plane, listening to the engines' low rumble. I dared not look to my right, where James sat silently, reading a book. James hadn't touched me in days; this was unusual, as he usually treated me like a walking Real Doll. And as sadistic as James could be, this palpable silence felt worse than his cruelest punishments. Now, sitting next to James in first class and waiting for our plane to travel from Bangkok to Portland, I wanted nothing more than for this awkwardness to be broken.

We had spent several days at a Thai brothel. While there, my body had been penetrated, touched, and defiled in every way imaginable. Though I enjoyed the experience more than I cared to admit, James saw this as a violation of his property rights. Indeed, I had quickly discovered that James wasn't angry at me at all. Instead, James's ire was squarely directed at Frank and his establishment, 'Lady Lumps,' for infringing on what James considered to be 'his' China Doll.

"I'll fucking sue," James had exploded to Frank when he discovered how Frank had fucked me repeatedly, "I'll bring this fucking place down."

"Oh, really," Frank shrugged off James's threat, "For what exactly? Trespass to chattels? The bitch isn't your property--at least legally. Are you going to go tell a court that you practically kidnapped an Asian guy before playing build-a-bear with his body? Do you want the feds digging into your--our--other enterprises?"

James said nothing, glowering silently.

Frank ignored James's expression and continued: "Besides, your firm practically owns this joint. Do you know how much revenue we bring in? Don't answer--I know that you know. How do you plan to explain to the partners after you bite the hand that feeds you?"

Despite his rage, James knew that Frank was right. Lady Lumps was a fruitful enterprise and a useful gateway to the country's 'informal' economy. He wouldn't dare suggest to his superiors that the firm take any action against it.

Thus, James and I now sat silently and awkwardly on our flight back to the States.

"I'm going to buy you a smart watch." James said quietly, randomly breaking the silence. Even in his quiet tone, it was uncharacteristic for James to discuss my 'living situation' so openly in front of others. "I'm not giving you full access to a phone, but you need a way to be able to contact me if anymore fuckers try that shit."

"Yes, Sir."

James was uncharacteristically crass in his tirade. As afraid as I was of James's vitriol, and as grateful as I was that this vitriol wasn't aimed at me, I couldn't help but feel pride at his protective instinct. I knew that I should have been offended that James saw me as a piece of property that he didn't want others to touch. But as broken as I was, and as acclimated as I was to the role of James's property, I felt surprisingly flattered at James's responsive rage. He wouldn't have felt this way if I wasn't a good little fuck doll.

"I don't blame you for what happened, China Doll. I understand that saying 'No' isn't exactly something I encourage in you. But we need to take steps to keep it from happening again."

Of course, how could James blame me for what happened? He had broken my will. How could he hold it against me for not then having the will to resist other men's advances? He had reduced me to a thing; he had robbed me of my agency and transformed me to an object to be used by men. How could he blame me for behaving accordingly? James could no more blame me for sinking to my knees before another white man than he could blame his Ferrari if it started when another man put the key into the ignition. By reducing me to an object, James had--paradoxically--freed me from responsibility.

In that way, my loss of power was therefore liberating. Though James might punish me if I disobeyed him, I ultimately had no responsibility for my actions. At the end of the day, the puppeteer is responsible for his puppet's behavior. And as I settled into my role as James's plaything, I relished the childlike liberation from responsibility. If I was a slave, completely obedient to a master who made my decisions for me, then why should I fret over the future? What could I possibly have to worry about? Was freedom--this paradoxical freedom within slavery--the reason that some people chose this life? Was this why so many chose the life of a subservient trophy wife?

For the first time in days, an authentic smile grew across my face. And for the first time ever, I felt genuine gratitude toward James.

"Honestly, Kimmy," James's quiet laugh broke me from my rumination. He maintained a hushed voice so that the other passengers around our first-class cabin wouldn't overhear. "You're such a groveling little whore for white cock, aren't you? I mean, you willingly--enthusiastically I hear--fucked Frank. Frank of all people. I'm told that you got on your knees as soon as the door shut and got to work on his fat fucking chode. Then you fucking thanked him after he exploded all over your face. And was Frank telling the truth that, with your face dripping in cum, you then begged him to fuck you?"

My stupid grin instantly turned downward into a chagrined frown. My face blushed and my head turned downward. Why was I so ashamed? Where did this weight in my chest come from? Where did this guilt--not just fear of punishment, but guilt--come from? This was contrary to the early days of James's training, where James's disappointment in me would give rise to my fear of the inevitable punishment. No; the sinking feeling in my chest told me that I had done something wrong, and I felt guilty, not just afraid of punishment. Was this a result of James's complete success in breaking my spirit? Had I so internalized James's dominance over me that my unconscious emotions viewed him as some GOD whose desires and commands dictated right from wrong? Had I so deeply accepted my colonizer's dominion that I wanted to bow down to him in supplication, only to prove my obeisance? And how did I square this with that freedom from responsibility, if I could indeed 'sin' against my master?

At that moment, I wanted to sink to my knees, to bow my head in repentance, and to beg James for his forgiveness. I wanted to tearfully apologize and implore James to bless me with his cock. I wanted to look up at him with those innocent doe eyes that he loves so much, to open my warm, soft mouth in offering for his cock, and let him baptize me with his superior seed. I wondered if this surrender was like the feeling of a religious acolyte who self-flagellated to atone for their sins. In either case, I wanted to make my shortcomings up to my master.

"For fuck's sake, China Doll, if I weren't here and one of these random losers," James gestured generally behind us toward the other passengers, "Pulled out a white cock and told you to get on your knees, could you even tell them no?"

I knew the answer to that question. I knew the answer to that question with absolute, 100% certainty. So did James. The shame of this shared knowledge both reddened my face and sent sparks down to my little dicklet. I shifted in my seat, both from discomfort and arousal.

"Let's just be real here, Kimmy. Suppose I didn't want you anymore. Suppose I just left you at the airport. Would you find the first greasy white guy you see and offer him your ass for a place to stay? Would you let him take you home so that you could fuck him, then thank him for the privilege while you made him breakfast and folded his laundry?"

My vision went black for a moment at the terror of James abandoning me. Despite months of plotting my escape, and despite months of fighting against James's domination, there was nothing I wanted more in that moment than to serve his big white cock. The thought of James abandoning me was terrifying. I wondered whether my terror at the thought was similar to an addict being threatened with deprivation of her drug. Was this what it felt like to be a 'crack whore'?

And James was correct. If his BWC was no longer available to me, then I would simply seek out another. There is no shortage of well-to-do white men in the states who would enjoy nothing more than a perfectly obedient, live-in ladyboy. And I would gladly give that to any of them. Indeed, this was the same dialectical tension that caused James's ire in the first place; in training me to be a whore for his cock, James had created a whore for all BWC. While his cock was unmatched in its power to melt me down, bend me to his will, and destroy my insides, I no longer had the fortitude to deny any white male advances. I wondered whether James regretted this biproduct of my conditioning, or whether he just considered my vulnerability to be collateral damage. In either case, I expected he would seldom allow me to leave the house again. If his bitch is incapable of saying no to any old pervert, then best to keep the little whore under lock and key.

"Whatever. I'm not going to leave you anywhere. I put too much work--and money--into making you my perfect little China Doll. And soon I'll do the same to that sister of yours. I'm not losing all that effort over Frank."

My eyes darted open at his mention of my sister. Ari hadn't come up in some time. A part of me thought--perhaps optimistically--that James had gotten bored with that little 'conquest.' As was her modus operandi, Ari had already fallen for this traditionally handsome white guy. He had already fucked her in ways that I was intimately aware of. I knew that, as soon as we landed back in the states, she would be enthusiastic to see him again. To be fair, I couldn't entirely blame her. She wasn't the first Asian girl to fall for this arrogant, rich asshole or his massive cock. And she wouldn't be the last.

I further noted that, to James, whether to dump me and find another Asian sissy ultimately came down to a business decision. And as much as I had previously hated James, as much as I had previously wanted my freedom, and as much as I had pretended not to crave his big cock, I was glad that he kept me. I say, 'kept,' and not 'stayed with,' because our relationship more resembled that of a master and slave than of two lovers. James found me, conquered me, collared me, colonized me, and now he enjoys the spoils of his colonization. And soon, he was going to colonize Ari.

I wondered how he would do it. How did he envision the result of his conquest over Ari? Would she learn that James's live-in housewife, maid, and fuck doll was her former brother? Would she learn that her brother was captured by his colleague-turned-boss and transformed against his will? Would she learn that her brother was then physically and mentally broken and rebuilt by James? Did James think that Ari would take that news... gracefully?

***

Several hours later, I was in the passenger seat of James's car. I watched the streets and cars fly by as I contemplated my situation. Was there any way for me to warn my sister? Could there be any way for me to appease James or persuade him to leave her out of this? I desperately wanted to protect her but had no power to do so. As we passed car after car, I further contemplated how James's white privilege emboldened him to completely ignore speed limits. As we approached our street, I became aware of a deeper, darker feeling arising within me.

Jealousy.

Given everything that I feared for Ari, from where did this little green monster rear its head? I didn't want to admit the answer even to myself. But deep down I knew that I was jealous of James's desire for her. This realization made me sick. I felt jealous of the thought of James fucking Ari when he could have been fucking me. I felt jealous of the dates and trips that James had already taken Ari on. And I felt jealous as I contemplated James taking Ari into his house, and levying half of his abuse at her, instead of completely at me. I was James's maid. I was James's trophy wife. I was James's fuck doll. As demeaning as these roles were that he had forced upon me, I resented the notion of sharing them with anyone else. James truly had broken my spirit.

As we pulled into the garage, James's loud yawn interrupted my thoughts.

"I'm going to hop into the shower. I fucking hate planes--so goddamn disgusting. I want lunch to be ready on the table when I'm done. Also, while I'm eating, I want you to shower too. Clean the last of Frank," James practically spit his name, "Off of you. And be waiting in my bed."

Of course, I had showered multiple times since Frank had used me. But all I could think of was that James was finally going to fuck me again. James was going to fuck me. I practically sang the words in my head.

James hadn't touched me since the incident at the brothel. Of course, he'd sampled several pieces of 'merchandise' while we were there. But he was possessive over his property. And as far as I was concerned--as far as his property was concerned--he was right to be.

In my haste for post-lunch activities, I pan fried a simple dish of chicken, vegetables, and rice. That even this was available was serendipitous; being away from home for so long, I only had pantry and freezer items in store. I hoped that my abundant use of seasonings and sauce would mask an otherwise pathetically simple meal. I often thought about this when serving James; pleasing him with my "chores" now seemed like an end unto itself, rather than merely a means to avoid punishment.

I then quickly hopped into the shower, and thoroughly cleaned myself. I lathered my face, ass, hips, and tits with soap, enjoying the warm water as the soap slowly flowed from my body. Despite the temptation, I knew better than to exfoliate; when you know that you'll be around company that day, it's best not to irritate and redden the skin. At the end of my lathering, I squatted down into the shower, pulled my douche from its holder, and prepared my ass--James's fleshlight on legs--for his massive cock.

I thought about James's cock as the water flowed out of me. I rinsed and repeated until I was confident that everything was perfect for him. It was important that my body be perfect for him. James had worked hard to mold his little bitch into the perfect plaything, and he deserved to enjoy his perfect spoils.

After drying myself, reapplying my makeup, and freshening up, I dug through my lingerie drawer. After several moments of indecision, I settled on a sheer white piece. Moments later, I was ready on James's bed on my hands and knees.

***

I heard the door open slowly before James's heavy footsteps approached. The mattress then shifted behind me beneath James's weight. I heard James's deep inhale, before a warm hand gripped my left ass cheek kneaded my ass with his thumb and palm for several moments before grabbing my other ass cheek. He spread both cheeks and leaned his head in.

"I've missed this," James breathed. I could feel his hot breath against my tight little hole as he spoke. I squirmed eagerly at the expression. Would James rim me? That would be profoundly generous of him. It had been a few days since his white idol had been properly worshiped; he shouldn't have to worry about his little Doll before his release.

The mattress continued to shift as James repositioned himself. I then felt something soft-to-the-touch, but enormous against my taint. Nope: James wouldn't be waiting today. In one smooth motion James rocked his hips forward, popping the head of his cock inside of me.

"Fuuuuuck," I moaned, burying my face into the pillow.

"Damn, my bitch is horny today," James laughed, "You miss Daddy's cock?"

"Yessss, Daddy," I nodded eagerly.

"Then ask nicely.

"Please fuck me, Sir," I moaned with my head still buried into the pillow.

"Ask better."

I lifted and turned my head to look James in the eye. I wiggled my hips, bouncing my ass from side to side.

"Please, Sir, please fuck my tight boy pussy."

"You can ask better than that."

I thought about the first time I took James's cock. He had just driven me (his "colleague") home from work. I thought about how I spilled the beans about my sister, the white men she fucked, and how I fantasized about those men fucking me. I thought about how James had won a contest of wills, the spoils of which were me sinking to my knees to cuck another guy's cock. I thought about how James's cock looked afterward, still hard and bouncing triumphantly through his robe. I remembered my thoughts about the colonizer's seed that I took inside my slight, soft Korean body.

"I've been thinking about your cock for days, Daddy," I said truthfully, turning my thoughts back to the present moment. "I really just want you to fuck me."

"Beg, Bitch," James commanded.

I bent forward more deeply, fully presenting my ass to James, fully surrendering my power to him. I arched my back and relaxed my hole, fully ready--and nonverbally begging--for James to fill it. I dug my nails into the sheets, fully expecting to be split in half by the monster that was prodding against my ass.

I then recalled how James had forced me to burn my traditionally male clothes. I thought about how he dictated my wardrobe, forcing me into humiliating women's suits. I remember the humiliation as, after I was demoted to being James's secretary, I had to take orders from James while wearing women's suits. I remembered the giggles from our female colleagues--a few of whom James had fucked--as they whispered and pointed at me.

"Pleeasse," I squealed girlishly, "Pleeeasse put your big white cock inside of me, Daddy! You haven't cum in so long, and I want you to cum in me, please Sir!"

James's breathing increased in pace.

I thought about how James paid a crooked plastic surgeon to feminize my face, give me massive tits, and widen my hips and ass. I thought about the way that my body jiggles as I walk, constantly reminding me of what James has turned me into. I thought about kimonos that James makes me wear around the house. I thought about the way that he fetishizes my Asian body."

"Can you cum inside of me, please? I want your colonizer seed inside of me, Sir. This is your Asian boy pussy, Sir. You conquered it, and it belongs to you. This is your ass, Sir. I'm your property, Daddy."

That did it. James gripped my hips with both hands, then plunged his cock deep into my Asian boy pussy. Though I spent most of my days denying it, everything I said was true. James had colonized me--and I was grateful that he had done so. He had conquered me, and I relished being his little piece of colonized property. I didn't need his respect, nor did I want it. I just wanted him to fuck me until I could barely walk, slap me on the ass, and tell me to make him a sandwich.

I wanted him to hurt me. I wanted him to control me. I wanted him to own me. And this white male dom was doing just that, as he plunged his rod fully in and out of my ass. I could feel his pendulous white balls--full and ready to explode with the seed of future colonizers--slapping against my taint as he railed me.

"Fuuuuck," James moaned as he fucked me, "That is my Asian boy pussy. Fuck. I might get you a real pussy."