A Surprise Visit 7

After a long day of classes and trying to explain to a student why she got a less than stellar grade, I was looking forward to a date with my television, a pot of hot tea, and a long shower. As I turned the key in my door, I was contemplating the merits of rooibos versus chai and was distracted wondering how quickly I get water to boil in the kettle.

I had barely kicked off my shoes in the entryway (being the good Asian girl I am, I never wear shoes in my house) before I heard your voice.

"I've been waiting. And now you're going to be punished for making me wait."

Before I could react, you grabbed my hair and painfully twisted it, forcing me to my knees. That was when I realised you had sprinkled uncooked rice on the hardwood floors, making me kneel on the small, hard grains. I gritted my teeth in pain, but not before a moan escaped. My mind went in a thousand directions at once. I knew you had the keys to my home, but you so rarely used them that I rarely expected visits from you. Had I known you were going to show up, I wouldn't have spent so much time with an argumentative student. And what kind of punishment had your sadistic mind cooked up, having sat there for who knows how long?

I sat there kneeling at your bare feet, trying to ignore the pain on my knees, and immediately started to undress, knowing better than to stay clothed in your presence for any longer than necessary. Before I could finish undressing myself, though, you ripped the rest of my clothes off my body. I knew at that point this wasn't going to be a good evening. I kissed and licked your bare feet, trying to show how sorry I was for inconveniencing you. You sarcastically laughed, guessing my intentions. "You stupid gook whore. If you think that's enough to get you out of trouble, you're dumber than I thought. But go ahead. Keep licking my feet like the dumbass dog that you are. And speaking of dogs..."

You kicked a dog bowl filled with rice over to me. "I figured you'd be hungry by now. Since you're such a rice nigger, this is all you get to eat tonight... this and my cum, which is already on there. If you'd gotten home sooner, the cum would have still been nice and warm. Too fucking bad for you, zipperhead slut. Eat up."

You shoved my face in the bowl with your foot forcing me to eat, some of the rice going up my nose. I didn't notice that you had crept behind me in the meantime. Suddenly your thick white cock was in my wet cunt and you were fingering my dry ass. I whimpered, but I knew not to beg for mercy that would never come.

You started fucking my cunt, each thrust forcing my knees back and forth on the rice, causing immeasurable amounts of pain. One hand grinding further and further in my ass, and the other forcing my head deeper into the bowl of rice, muffling my cries and reinforcing my place as your Asian fucktoy.

Over and over you called out names "zipperhead whore" "yellow cumslut" "fresh of the boat fucktoy" "shovelheaded cunt." Occasionally, you grabbed my a fistful of my hair, forcing me to repeat the names.

My fucked me until I was worn out and tired -- my cunt and ass ached. My knees were raw from the rice. You suddenly stopped and yanked me to my feet. The sudden movement hurt nearly as much as kneeling for so long had, and I screamed, causing you to slap me across the face so hard I saw stars.

You threw me on the floor on my back and mounted me again, this time grabbing my tits, pinching them and twisting them until I was breathless. You warned me that if I made a sound, you would cut one of them off -- but just one, leaving me a lopsided worthless whore who no one would ever want. To prove your point, you pulled out my ceramic kitchen knife and pressed it just under my tit, daring me to move. I nodded my understanding, and you resumed your torture, my eyes welling up and tears running down my face.

You pounded my cunt again, and I bit the inside of my lip cheeks and lip desperately trying to keep silent. You continued your torture of my tits, which you had always maintained were too big for a Asian whore like me. But since there was so much to grab, twist, and pull, you might as well. After my tits were thoroughly battered and bruised, and you had bruised my cunt, you grabbed me again and stood me up. "Bedroom," you commanded.

I quickly and anxiously walked down the hall to the bedroom and waited to see what was next. I didn't have to wait for long, as you tossed me on the bed, face up, with my head hanging off the edge of the bed. You took time to use my handcuffs to secure my arm to one side of the bed and a scarf to secure my other arm to the other side. You wasted no time in shoving your cock down my throat, laughing when I started choking. Instinctually, I tried to move my head and arms to gain control, but I couldn't; I was completely at your mercy, which only made you laugh more as you went deeper down my throat, thrusting harder and faster.

Spit was drooling out of the sides of my mouth. Tears were streaming down my face. I was choking. My body was writhing. You were shouting an endless assault of racial epithets at me, although you occasionally threw in a garden variety "pathetic slut" or "worthless slag bitch." You spat in my face, on my tits, on my cunt.

And as you came down my throat, I cried. I had never been so exhausted or so content. I knew that I had done as much as I could to try to please you.

As you released me, you held me tight and told me that I had pleased you, that I had served you well. You remembered that I always get cold after intense service, and you wrapped me in a blanket. I started to drift off and heard the ever-so-sweet words, "You did such a good job, baby. I am so pleased with you." And I fell asleep with a small smile on my cum-crusted lips.