Untitled

You’re the first female in your family to graduate from an academic institution. Of course, it’s not a boy school, so you didn’t learn science or math. You learned what most women know innately, but don’t have the right words to express it. Females lack the intelligence to describe their experience.

Which is why your graduation speech was written for you by a man, the Dean of the school cheekily but accurately known as Bitch University. As top in your class, the graduation speech falls on you.

You see your family in the audience when you approach the podium. Your mother sandwiched between your father in brother. Both men are wearing suits, while your mother is in tights and a waist corset. It doesn’t cover her chest, so her tits are bare, just like yours. Just like every female in the audience.

You take your place behind the podium. It momentarily hides your scandalous graduation outfit—six inch heels, fishnet stockings, and a waist-trimming corset that pushes your naked tits out. It’s good to leave the details for the audience’s imagination. For now.

You clear your throat and begin reading your cards. “Men and bitches,” you proclaim. “Thank you for attending as we celebrate the passing of females into adulthood. This time is especially important in a woman’s life and we are honored to have you join us.”

You glance back at the Dean, standing behind the stage side curtains, and he smiles encouragingly. “My time at university taught me many things,” you continue, your voice loud and clear. “I learned the difference between men and females, and why I as a woman am destined to serve and obey.” Lots of clapping from the audience now. You swallow nervously, knowing what is coming.

“I learned that female bodies are evolutionary supplements to enable reproduction.” You stumble over some of the bigger words, in part because your nerves make your body shake. “Our wombs provide the means to create life, if we are able to earn a man’s desire.” Harder clapping now.

You step out from behind the podium so the audience can finally see the whole of your shame. Your fishnets are thigh high and your corset peaks dramatically near your navel, but you’re otherwise bare. You watch the men in the audience evaluate your naked womanhood and something twinges deep inside you.

You raise your voice to be heard over the clapping. “I, a female, speak on behalf of the class when I tell you that we are ready to enter society as cunts.” With the last word, your hand comes down hard to slap the flesh between your legs.

The audience oohs appreciatively. You see your brother pointing at you with one hand, his other on your mother’s tit, while he smirks and mutters something to your father. Your pussy twitches at your exposure, but you’ve learned that shame and public humiliation are the daily life of a woman.

Your voice trembles just a little as you continue. “As head of my class, I have the honor to be welcomed to womanhood by the Dean himself!” You throw an arm out dramatically just as the man himself strides from the side stage. “Men and cunts, please enjoy my bitching!”

The audience erupts in applause as the Dean waves to them and then strides purposefully toward you. Even while your body stiffens in anxiety, you turn to face him, spreading your legs to ensure your cunt is well exposed. You arch your back so your tits pop out further. This is one of many bitch poses you learned to entice men to use your body.

The Dean stops before you, then lifts one hand up to land on a tit. He grins to the audience. “It’s my pleasure to welcome the graduating class by breaking in our best student,” he announces. His eyes meet your father’s as if to reassure him that you’ll still be good sloppy seconds.

Then his attention is back on you. “Breeding position 4, darling. Face the audience.” You obey, your training now instinctual. You sink to your knees, lean forward on your elbows, and prop your cunt in the air. The audience hushes as if holding a collective breath.

The Dean circles around behind you and you hear the zipper on his pants. “This is what we train our students for,” he explains, then thrusts his cock in your breeding hole. Your eyes instinctively roll back in your head and you hear a few chuckles. A woman’s bitching face looks ridiculous.

The Dean starts fucking you methodically. “As I’m sure some of you will soon attest”—you can imagine him winking at your father—“the slut’s cocksleeve is tight and well-lubricated. Maximized for a man’s enjoyment.” You let your tongue loll out to emphasize his superiority as the fucker and your inferiority as the fucked.

“Now, bitch,” the Dean addresses you. “Tell our guests about your education while I seed your wet cunt.”

The sensation between your legs makes you dumb and hazy—bitch brain, your professors called it. You try your best anyways, while the Dean continues using your cumsleeve.

“I’m a bitch,” you announce loudly, your voice shaking a bit from the hard fucking. “Females are biologically designed to drain cock, like I’m doing now.” You see several people peering intently at the connection between the Dean’s cock and your wet hole.

“My classmates and I learned”—you gasp as the Dean smacks your ass hard—“to keep our cunts soaked and available for men’s use.” Your brother leans forward and stares at you intently, still absently milking your mother’s tit.

“I’m about to drain semen into my vagina,” you state, returning your brother’s gaze. “This is what it means to be a woman.” Your cunt clenches hard in shame at the smirk that passes over your brother’s face.

The clenching apparently worked for the Dean, as he starts fucking you harder. “The bitch is squeezing my cock to this,” he announces to more audience chuckles. “She’s been trained to cum when a man breeds her. Watch this.”

He cums inside you with a loud groan. Sure enough, your trained body kicks into overdrive and then you’re cumming on his cock, on stage, in front of everyone you know. You squeal loudly to make sure every man in the area knows your cunt is spasming on a pulsing cock.

If my pervy neighbour catches me humping with my curtains open, he can break into my house, and use my sleeping holes as he likes.

If the woman on the bench decides she wants to touch my pussy she can pull me down into her lap, spread my legs and edge my tight little cunt for everyone to see.

If the man in the store wants to measure how long a cucumber is, he can just bend me over, flip my skirt and stuff it inside my cunt. He can even make me hold it all the way to his house if he likes.

If the bus gets delayed and the passengers want to take their frustrations out on me, they can easily pin me down and use me like the filthy little cum dump I am.