mia

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.

The ride home after the ceremony is mostly quiet. Your father insisted you sit on your mother’s lap in the passenger seat so she can massage your bare tits on the way home. Your brother watches keenly from the back seat. You know he and your father are barely restraining themselves. They don’t want to start your graduation party prematurely. Your mother’s nipples press into your back.

When you get home, you go to your room to freshen up. You shower and then put on the clothes your father picked for you: pink fishnets, matching thigh high platform boots, and a skirt that barely covers your ass. The bra he picked out for you is deliberately too small, so your breasts threaten to spill out the top. Of course there are no panties.

When you finish dressing, you inspect yourself in the mirror. It’s hard to distinguish yourself from the numerous sluts you watched videos of as homework at Bitch University. You know that there’s no real difference—you all have the parts men care about. You watch yourself bounce your tits in front of the mirror. “I’m a cunt,” you whisper, seeing the truth of it reflected in front of you.

The guests have already filtered in by the time you’re finished. The main party is happening in the large backyard, around the pool. As you step out, you hear a number of hoots and whistles. Most men are accompanied by at least one slut, but you know they’re all eager to see the new graduate broken in.

Bitches are serving food and drinks while the men lounge and talk. Your father has instructed you to introduce yourself to the guests before the main entertainment. You know almost everyone here, but this event is to introduce you as a fully trained bitch.

You start making the rounds. Your grizzled older neighbor watches you approach with a smirk, sipping on his cocktail. You stop directly in front of him and thrust your tits out. You murmur some greeting but he doesn’t seem to hear it as he stares at your chest. “Got some udders on ya, girl,” he growls.

You cup your tits to make them bulge out even more. “They’re breeding udders, sir,” you agree. You feel the heat between your legs return as you expose yourself to a man old enough to be your grandfather.

He gives a gravelly laugh. “That they are, cunt,” he sneers, before reaching out to feel under your skirt.

Since you’re still the property of your father until he decides otherwise, other men have to speak to him if they want to fuck you. But groping is allowed and encouraged.

Your neighbor’s fingers slip into your vagina. You watch it happen with a sense of awe that this is your life now. A man has every right to finger a bitch.

“You’re already wet, slut,” the man growls. His fingers pump your hole as if to prove the point.

“I was bred earlier,” you explain, parting your legs to make it easier for the old man to impale you on his hand.

“Yes, I saw,” he replies, holding his fingers deep inside you. “You’ll be a pregnant bitch soon.”

You swallow hard. You know he’s right. Even if the Dean hasn’t successfully knocked you up, it’s only a matter of time now before someone does. “It’s a female’s purpose to carry seed,” you acknowledge.

After he’s done instructing you on various sex positions with a pregnant belly, you move on. A few of the other men also test the slickness of your cunt. Your brother’s best friend has you hump his knee, to the great amusement of everyone watching. You basically grew up with the man. He holds your face to force eye contact while you grind your pussy on his thigh.

“This was always going to happen,” he reminds you. “You knew this day was coming.” You thrust against him silently. You both know it’s true.

Your humiliation is interrupted when your father announces that the main event is going to start. You take your place by his side, kneeling with your knees wide to expose your bare pussy, and sticking your tongue out like a dog. Your mother watches from the side. She was once where you are now.

Your father has a mounting press set up in the center of the crowd. You stare at it, barely hearing your father’s speech about his work raising another cunt. When he gestures you toward the mating press, you crawl behind him on your hand and knees quietly.

It takes just moments for your father and a few male guests to strap you in. You’re in a bent over position, cunt in the air, tits hanging below you. Your arms are spread and your wrists cuffed. You’ve always known this day was coming.

Your father takes more time than the Dean did. He traces his cock around your pussy lips, almost gentle. “Tell our guests how much you want your father’s cock in you, bitch,” he purrs, clenching one ass cheek in his hand.

You can’t even see the crowd, with your head bent over the way it is. You raise your voice to ensure everyone can hear you. “I need my father’s cock to split me open and spill cum into my fuckhole,” you state loudly. This is what you’ve been trained to say, but you’re still surprised at how good it feels. Your cunt starts aching in earnest.

Your father eases the tip of his penis into your hole. “Keeping going, slut,” he orders, slapping your ass. “Make me want to fuck you.”

Hearing these words from your own father floods you with the full shame of the moment, on the brink of being bred on the same cock that made you. Your bitch pussy convulses.

“I’m a cunt!” You’re almost screaming now, your humiliation and need overwhelming you. “As a bitch, I was made to take cock. I need a load of cum in my fucksleeve! Make me your bitch!”

“Fuck!” your father shouts as he drives his cock all the way inside you. “Do you have any idea how fucking stupid you look, cunt? Now I have to drain my cock into you.”

Once a bitch has made a cock hard, she has to drain it. You know this. You clench down as your father begins ramming his cock into your hole rhythmically. “I feel fucking stupid,” you whine, as his hips slap against your ass. “I’m about to get seeded as a bitch again!”

“That’s right, whore,” your father pants as he fucks you. “This is what your life amounts to as a female. Try to enjoy it.” You hear one zipper, then another. The guests are jerking off to your breeding.

A man quite close by to you is panting heavily. You can’t see him but it sounds like he’s stroking. “Hey, can I cum on your cunt?” he asks your father. One of his shoes lands right in front of your face.

“Sure, man,” your father says generously, still rutting you like the bitch you are. The man groans, and a moment later, you feel his warm seed hit your back. He apparently started a trend as his shoe disappears from view and is quickly replaced by another man’s shoe. Another load of cum on your back. Then another.

Your heat is unbearable. Your father’s cock is splitting you open and you’re being basically bathed in cum. This is a bitch’s breeding ceremony. You know what you have to do. “I need your cum, please,” you beg your father, groaning in humiliation. “Please make me a pregnant bitch.”

He makes you wait through three more men jerking off on you, then finally grunts, slaps your ass, and holds his cock deep inside you. “There’s your cum, you stupid bitch,” he pants, his cock throbbing inside you.

Your internal switch flips, trained exactly for this, and you squeal as you cum on your father’s cock. Your body flops in the mounting press as your orgasm tears through you. Your udders bounce.

I want you to set rules.

I want you to set boundaries.

I want you to put me over your knee.

I want you to correct me.

I want you to give me a warning look.

I want you to scare me with only a look.

I want you to silence me.

I want you to reprimand me.

I want you to demand respect.

I want you to care about me.

But most of all, I just want to be seen.

Signed,