Chapter 35: Lezzie Pride to His Hot Sluts

“Where’s Kimmy at?” demanded Mr. Chase, one of the firm’s three managing partners. His daughter had just become one of Mr. Carson’s sex slaves.

“She’s doing that Lesbian Pride Parade, remember?” said an aide that invisible Clara didn’t know their name.

“Right, right,” said Mr. Chase, rolling his eyes. “Had to be all ‘progressive’ and let her do it. How much money did we waste on it?”

“Well, think of the all the good PR and the tax deductions for the firm,” said the aide. “But she’ll be gone all day.”

“Bugger a nun,” spat Mr. Chase.

Ooh, that’s a good idea, thought Clara. But what’s up with all these women celebrating that they are too good for dicks? Clara didn’t mind lesbians, but this was going too far. She had to fix this. Women were meant to serve men. Not her, of course. She was a goddess. But all those bitches who sneered at her over the years had to pay.

Even if they never met Clara. They would have sneered.

“Did you know that Kimmy, the leader of the lesbian pride celebration, is secretly a gender traitor? She loves fucking men and plans to make her sister lesbians to be men’s playthings. #LezziesSlaves4Mens #SluttyDressCodes #LezziesTakeDicks”

Donna

I was so eager for the Lesbian Pride Parade. I wanted to march with my wife, Jackie. She was such a wonderful woman. I glanced over at her. She was a brunette woman with such big breasts. I was a titty girl, that was for sure. She wore a professional pantsuit like me. We were marching with the lesbian businesswomen.

We were just normal people. That was the point of this. Just normal women who worked professional jobs. I wore a mauve pantsuit that went great with my blonde hair while Jackie had chosen a lilac. She smiled at me, her brown hair pinned up in a bun. She glanced at the delicate watch on her wrist. A Rolex. The anniversary gift I had given her last year.

The doorbell rang and I opened it to find Kimmy. She was the lawyer that had organized the professional women to march in the Lesbian Pride Parade. She wore a light-gray pantsuit that looked quite good on the black-haired woman. She had a short bob of hair and pink lipstick on her lips.

“Oh, perfect, you two,” said Kimmy, clasping her hands together. “Don’t you two just look perfect. We don’t have to—”

My phone chirped. A Twitter notification. I ignored it as Kimmy looked at us in disgust. I was still shocked by what she was wearing.

A very, very short skirt. It was tartan, like a schoolgirl’s, but it barely covered her ass. She had on red stripper boots and a white blouse tied beneath her obviously braless breasts, her nipples poking against the thin material. The dusky hue of her nubs bled through.

“What are you dumbos wearing,” Kimmy kissed. “Pantsuits? Really pantsuits?”

“I thought we were supposed to be professional,” Jackie said, squirming. “I mean ... I thought that was the plan for the parade.”

“Change of plans,” Kimmy hissed. “God, I knew you dumb dykes would fuck this up.”

My cheeks burned at the insult. I didn’t mean to be dumb. “Um, what can we do. I don’t have clothes like yours, Kimmy. Nor does Jackie.”

“Good thing for you dumbos, I have these!” She held up two brown shopping bags. “Put on your outfits now! Move those slutty asses. I want you wearing these clothes! Just strip naked right here. Hurry, you dumb dykes! You’re slowing us down!”

“Sorry, Kimmy!” I squeaked and took the bag. My wife did the same.

I peered inside to see red stripper boobs and a tartan skirt. It looked like the same stuff that Kimmy was wearing. That was so embarrassing. I knew that some lesbians would wear fetish or even go naked during a pride parade, but I wasn’t that sort of person.

Still, Kimmy was so POed at us. I pulled off my jacket then opened the bag and yanked out the clothes. My wife was doing the same, her eyes tearing up. We were so dumb. How could we mess this up so badly?

“Move it, you dummy dykes!” hissed Kimmy. “Don’t force me to get my whip! Move! Move!”

I squeaked in fright and nearly ripped off the buttons of my blouse getting it off. I unhooked my gray bra, my round boobs spilling out. Kimmy smiled as she started at my firm tits. She nodded with lust. I didn’t like her staring at me like that. I had a wife. She was the only one that should be looking at me like that.

Jackie’s big boobs spilled out. Kimmy groaned with this greedy glint in her eyes as Jackie’s big boobs swayed from side to side. Her fat, dark-red nipples were hard. Tears were about to spill down my wife’s cheeks as Kimmy smacked her lips in appreciation.

“Very, very nice,” said Kimmy. “Just a big-titty cow. I love it. Mmm, yes, yes, you two dumb sluts are perfect.”

“Sluts?” I whimpered, pulling on the white blouse. I drew it over my shoulders then knotted it beneath my breasts. The material stretched over my breasts, my hard, pink nipples poking against it. The hue bled through the nearly transparent material. “We’re not sluts.”

“You’re whatever I say you are,” Kimmy said. “God, you dummies will do exactly what I say. Now get those disgusting pants off. Women shouldn’t wear pants. Women should dress like sluts! Now move! Everyone’s waiting for the parade to start, dumbos!”

I unbuttoned my pants and shoved those off, losing my comfortable flats in the process. I reached for the skirt while Kimmy glanced at my gray panties and shook her head. Anger flashed in her eyes. I squeaked and shoved off my panties, too.

Kimmy licked her lips at my thick, blonde bush. I reached into the bag and found a red thong. I wasn’t shaved. My bush would spill out over it. I shuddered and stepped into the thong. I drew the thin cloth up my legs. The back settled into my butt-crack. I hated thongs. They were something men had invented to make women into glorified sex objects.

“God, that’s an ass, dumbo,” she said and slapped my rump. Then she squeezed it. “Yes, yes! You are going to show that off. And you, Jackie. God, you are just a busty, curvy whore. Look at that booty with that thong in it.”

My wife whimpered as Kimmy squeezed her plump butt, the thong my wife wore vanishing between her asscheeks. I drew on the skirt next. It was so short. I had never worn anything like this in my life. It had an elastic waistband.

I pulled it up and over my rump, dismayed at how little flesh it covered. This was so demeaning. My cheeks burned with the humiliation as my wife pulled hers on, Kimmy leering at us. I swallowed as I grabbed my red, heeled stripper boots. I thrust my feet into them and pulled them up. I shuddered at the feel of them.

I wiggled my toes in them, this embarrassment burning through me. How could I go outside in public in this? My wife’s cheeks gleamed with her tear tracks as she stood. I darted over and hugged her, our boobs rubbing together through the thin material of the cloth.

“It’s for lesbian pride,” I whispered. “We can do this.”

“That’s right,” snorted Kimmy. “Lesbian pride. “Nothing else. Let’s go, dummies! God, dykes are such idiots. Move it! Come on, you stupid dykes! Nothing but fluff in your heads! Two dumb to know what your place is. Go!”

My wife and I both squeaked and rushed to our apartment door. My cheeks burned. I could feel the skirt swirling and flashing the bottom of my butt-cheeks. It was too short, and the heels on the boots made my hips sway in ways that I didn’t like. It was too sensual. I felt like a slut.

Kimmy drove us down the stairs, clapping her hands behind us and calling us idiots and dummies. Was I a dummy? I thought I was smart, but now I felt so unsure. I held my wife’s hands, my boobs bouncing freely in the tied-off blouse. My nipples throbbed, rubbing against the thin material.

We burst out onto the street before our apartment where a van sat that had, “Kimmy’s Dumb Dyke Parade” written in haphazard red on the side, the pain fresh and dribbling down the gray body of the van in places.

Kimmy wrenched open the door to reveal a half-dozen other lesbians crowding the seats all wearing the same slutty garb. They were all looking as shocked as I felt. Some were tugging at their skirts or trying to cover their nipples bleeding through the thin material of their blouses. My wife and I crowded into the seat in the back.

“Okay, you dumbos, let’s go show off your lesbian pride!” She snickered and started up the van. She drove off.

This was for lesbian pride. I kept telling myself that as I sat pressed between my wife and a Black lesbian with a fade buzzed into the side of her head. She glanced down at her skirt that left much of her ebony thighs bare.

Soon, we were turning into the parking lot of that sleazy strip club, The Wet Pussycat. My cheeks burned, especially when I saw what was on the announcement board. “Lezzie Auction! Buy Your Dumb Dyke!”

“Kimmy, what are we doing at a strip club?” I demanded. “And why does it say that there’s a ... a ... lezzie auction?”

“Don’t worry about it, dumbos,” said Kimmy. “Just be good dumb dykes and head on inside. It’s time to show off your lezzie pride.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, my cheeks burning. This seemed like she was auctioning us off, but she wouldn’t do that, right? I just had to trust her. Kimmy was a lesbian. She wouldn’t betray us to men.

She pulled up to the backdoor of the strip club and hopped out. She opened the side rolling door and said, “Get your asses out, you fucking dumb sluts. Come on. Move it! Get inside. Yes, yes, this is where the parade is. Going to be parading those hot asses on stage. Yes, yes, get your fucking butts inside or I’ll use my whip.”

I clutched my wife’s hands and followed in the other women. Kimmy came in last, closing the doors on the backstage changing area. The lock clicked. Kimmy hummed as all of us milled about around the dressing tables. No one was back here, but I could hear talking through the curtain.

“Now, you dumbos!” Kimmy announced, holding a pink bullwhip in her hand. “You’re going to go out there and show your lezzie pride to all those men! Let them see how much you’re a stupid dyke! They’re going to show you what your place is! Now, Allison, you’re up first. Get that ass out there!”

“Y-yes, Kimmy!” a redhead said and darted out through the curtains.

The roar of men exploded. I held my wife’s hand. I guessed this made sense. Showing off our pride to a bunch of men. The shouting sounded ... sexual. What was happening? The cheering swelled. Then there was a great applause.

“Mindy, get that slut ass out there!” Kimmy cried. “Shake that moneymaker at them. Drive them wild! I want a big cut! Now go!”

Mindy, a brunette with a nose piercing, squeaked and darted out onto the stage. Allison never came back. Neither did Mindy, Freddie (the Black woman with the fade), Courtney, Diana, Rosalita, Xena, nor Jamie. They all went out on stage until it was only my wife and me.

“Okay, dummies,” said Kimmy. “You’re the ‘Grand Finale.’ A married set of dykes. They’re going to all want you. Ooh, get out there and show off, my dummy headliners.”

“But...” I asked. “What happened to the others?”

Kimmy snapped her whip, the end cracking right before me. I jumped as she hissed, “Get those dumb asses out there, dykes, or I’ll make you.”

“Yes, Kimmy!” my wife and I squeaked together.

We clutched each other’s hands as we hurried to the curtains. We stepped outside to a stage that thrust out into a sea of men. They were all pressing in, cheering us on. I whimpered in fear. My wife clutched to me as we stared at them all. This was so strange. Why would Kimmy bring us here?

“And here they are,” a voice boomed over the PA system. “A pair of married dykes. You don’t want this set broken up. That’s right, you can buy a pair of dykes to worship your dicks.”

“W-what?” whimpered Jackie.

“Dance,” Kimmy hissed. “Dance while they bid on you, you fucking dumbos! Now!”

CRACK!

I jumped at the whip and started dancing. I wiggled my hips, the short skirt swaying. My boobs bounced in my tied-off blouse. Jackie danced with me, fresh tears spilling down her face. Her large tits heaved in her blouse as we shook our hips in her stripper boots.

The men loved us. They were all shouting disgusting things at us. “Dykes love cock!” and “Dykes get dirty for dicks!” and “Lezzie sluts hungry for cum!” and “Dykes serve the patriarchy!” It was awful and Kimmy grinned like she enjoyed this. Like she was some gender-traitor to the sisterhood.

She loved men. I could see it in her eyes.

Then the bidding started. Men were crying out money. A thousand for my wife and me. Two thousand. Three thousand. Kimmy’s smile grew and grew. She was selling us to men. She led us here to be auctioned off, and we were so dumb for doing it.

I kept dancing with my wife as the price climbed to ten thousand. Then thirteen thousand. Finally, for fifteen thousand, we were sold. “Mr. Black, you are the lucky owner of a pair of married dykes! Enjoy your new slutty slaves!”

“Slaves?” I squeaked.

“That’s right,” said Kimmy. She had pink collars that she opened. “Mr. Black owns your stupid asses. God, the looks on your face. You can’t believe that I would sell you out. It’s hilarious. Come on, dummies. Collar your wife.”

She thrust them into our hands then held up the whip. I whimpered in fear and opened the collar. I stared into Jackie’s brown, tear-filled eyes and thrust it around her neck. I sealed the collar on her, making her into a slave.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “We ... we’re a man’s property now.”

She nodded, her tears making my eyes well up. As she put the cool leather collar about my neck, the tears fell. I swallowed, my throat burning. She tightened the collar about my throat, sealing my fate with theirs.

“Off the stages, dumbos,” said Kimmy. “Come on. Your new owner awaits. Mr. Black has a huge cock. Mmm, one of my favorites to fuck me. You’re going to learn that dykes love dicks. You’re just fooling yourself that your lesbians. That’s how dumb you are. You didn’t even realize you were sluts for men. Fucking idiots. Well, you’re learning now! Move!”

CRACK!

The men roared in delight at the crack of the whip. We both squeaked in fright and hurried down the steps at the end of the stage. All the salivating men parted for us. They formed a corridor of lusty gazes that led to a man sitting on a curved bench absolutely naked. His cock thrust out hard before him. I whimpered at seeing my first live dick.

“On your knees!” Kimmy cried as we reached him.

CRACK! CRACK!

The whip struck me in the back of the thigh. I squealed in pain. So did my wife. We dropped to our knees before the man and his leer. He was tall and brawny with hairy arms and legs. More body hair adorned his chest. He lit a cigar and puffed on it.

“Suck my dick, slaves,” he growled.

I whimpered in fear. I had never done that.

Jackie

The back of my thigh stung from the whip as I knelt there beside my wife. The skirt had ridden up to expose my rump as I knelt here like this. Tears ran hot down my cheeks. The collar was tight about my neck. Were we really too dumb to know that we liked dicks.

“I ... I ... I can’t,” Donna whimpered. “I’ve never sucked a dick.”

“You’ve sucked a dildo, right, dumbo?” Kimmy hissed. “Do it.”

Mr. Black stared down at us, the end of his cigar flaring cherry red. He blew out the aromatic smoke, his cock twitching before us. A bead of precum spilled from the tip. I shuddered at the sight of him throbbing like that.

I couldn’t do this. It was too much. I wasn’t a—

CRACK! CRACK!

My wife and I both squealed in pain. The whips struck my ass, leaving a line of burning pain across my butt-cheeks. The thong did nothing to protect me. I groaned, wiggling my hips from side to side. I had never felt such pain in—

CRACK! CRACK!

The whip struck us again. My wife sobbed in pain as a second welt stripped my ass. Kimmy moaned behind us, getting off on hurting us. I thought she was so nice. Our friend. But she was really a man-loving slut. And ... And...

I licked at Mr. Black’s cock. I didn’t want to get whipped again. My wife joined me a heartbeat later. We climbed up the man’s cock. His shaft tasted so salty. I shuddered, my ass burning from the whip. I felt Kimmy behind me, waiting to pounce once more.

Humiliated tears spilled down my cheek as my tongue climbed up the man’s dick. I reached the crown and flicked over the tip. He groaned as I did that, puffing on the cigar. My wife’s tongue also caressed over his crown.

We were licking him together. Our lips brushed the other. We almost were kissing as we pleasured this man and his cock, his salty precum filling my taste buds. The collar felt so tight about my throat. I shuddered at the degradation of this.

“Suck that dick!” hissed Kimmy. “I want one of you with your lips around his cock and the other sucking at his balls!”

I squeaked and swallowed the tip of Mr. Black’s cock. He groaned around his cigar as I sucked on my first real dick. This was no rubbery dildo. It was warm, and it throbbed. His salty precum spilled over my tongue as I suckled on him.

My wife went down to his balls. She rubbed her face into his hairy nuts and licked at them. This was so demeaning. My pussy clenched and ... I was horrified to realize I was wet. That was terrible. I couldn’t believe this was happening. That I could get aroused.

Were lesbians really just too dumb to realize we loved dicks?

I suckled on him as he groaned. The end of his cigar flared cherry red as he inhaled. Then he exhaled with a moan of delight. He loved what we were doing to him. I shuddered, my burning ass clenching. I suckled on him.

“That’s it, you dumb sluts!” hissed Kimmy. “You work that mouth up and down that cock. You’re a fucking man-slut now. Yes, you love that dick, you fucking dyke! You’re just a dirty whore for a man. I bet your cunt is dripping wet.”

I whimpered. It was.

“God, it’s so hot watching you two lezzie whores finally do something right,” Kimmy groaned. “Ooh, yes, yes, look at those ass shaking.”

CRACK! CRACK!

“Fuck!” my wife gasped while I squealed in pain around the dick. “Kimmy!”

“I’ll whip your fucking slut-asses if I want!” hissed Kimmy. “Now switch!”

CRACK! CRACK!

My wife and I both gasped at the hot licks of Kimmy’s whips burning across our asses.

I ripped my mouth off Mr. Black’s cock. Drool spilled down my chin. I ducked my head down and nuzzled into his nuts. His hair spilled over my face. Thick and curly and with this salty scent. I suckled on his balls as my wife nursed on his cock.

The pain burned across my ass as I nibbled on his balls. My pussy grew hotter and hotter. This was unbelievable. I couldn’t believe it was happening as I nibbled on his nuts. My wife suckled on his cock with wet slurps. He groaned louder and louder as we pleasured him.

He puffed on his cigar and watched with an evil grin.

CRACK! CRACK!

“Switch!” Kimmy cried.

“Yes, Kimmy,” I sobbed, tears spilling down my cheeks as I darted my head up to suck on his dick. My wife, her cheeks gleaming, went down to suckle on his nuts. I swallowed his crown.

I sucked on him. He groaned, his cock twitching as I nursed on him. I bobbed my head, my cheeks hollowing with my humiliating submission. How could this get any worse? I was owned by a man with my wife and had to worship him because I was a dumb dyke idiot.

I bobbed my head, slurping on him. His precum grew even saltier. His dick twitched in my mouth. I whimpered, my pussy soaking my panties. The pain burning across my ass melted down to my cunt, only heating me.

CRACK! CRACK!

“He’s about to cum!” hissed Kimmy. “Fist his cock and beg him to cum on your whore-faces, dumbos!”

I ripped my mouth off his cock and Donna pressed her face against mine. Our tear-stained cheeks rubbed together. He stared down at us as we both grabbed his cock. We stroked him as the humiliating reality of this situation set in.

We had to beg him to cum on our faces, all because we were such dumb dykes.

“P-please, cum on our faces, Mr. Black,” I moaned.

“Dykes faces need cum bathes,” my wife groaned like it was a slogan.