Tour

Ellen's Conversion Tour: Luring the Frat Boys

The tour bus idled in the pre-dawn haze outside the sorority house, exhaust curling like smoke signals. Razor leaned against the doorframe, surveying the wreckage: Sigma Theta Chi's pledges huddled on the porch, bodies bruised and branded, fresh spade tattoos throbbing on their hips and necks. Chloe, the former leader, knelt closest, her eyes glazed, a collar of dried cum encircling her throat. 'You sluts did good last night,' Razor said, voice low and commanding. 'Now, bait time. Dress 'em up and march 'em over to Delta Kappa—those frat pricks think they own the campus. Use your holes to reel 'em in, then watch the kings take what's theirs.' The girls nodded mechanically, pulling on sheer crop tops and micro-skirts provided from the bus—outfits that barely concealed their marked skin, nipples poking through fabric, asses flashing with every step.

Ellen remained leashed at Razor's side, her crawl deliberate, knees scraping the dew-wet grass. She hadn't uttered a sound since Razor's vow of silence sealed her lips weeks ago, but her body spoke volumes: harness taut, plugs shifting inside her as she moved, a subtle drool of arousal trailing her thigh. Jamal and Tyrone herded the eight broken sisters into a loose formation, prodding them with cattle prods disguised as keychains—zaps eliciting yelps and hurried steps toward the frat row a block away. Razor clipped Ellen's chain to his belt, striding ahead like a warlord. 'You direct the trap, pet. Make 'em beg for the fall.'

Delta Kappa's house pulsed with bass from a lingering afterparty: beer pong tables scattered across the lawn, red cups littering the steps where bleary-eyed brothers lounged in hoodies and joggers. Twenty-odd jocks—lacrosse players, business majors, all white and entitled—spotted the approaching sorority girls first. Whistles cut the air. 'Sigma sluts! Party's still on?' a broad-shouldered quarterback named Brock hollered, waving them in. The bait worked like clockwork: Chloe and her sisters swayed up the path, hips rolling, **** smiles hiding the tremors. 'We... we need you guys,' Chloe stammered, voice cracking as a prod zapped her flank. 'Something happened. Protect us?' The brothers bought it, ushering them inside amid backslaps and gropes, oblivious to the shadows trailing behind.

Razor's crew slipped in through the side garage, silent until the trap snapped shut. Jamal barricaded the doors while Tyrone flipped the lights, revealing the alphas in full: Razor at the forefront, Ellen uncoiling from her leash like a serpent. The frat room froze—pong balls mid-bounce, joints dropped—as the sorority girls dropped to their knees in unison, skirts hiking to expose plugged asses and dripping slits. 'What the—' Brock started, but Ellen lunged, her nails raking his chest through his shirt, slamming him onto the sticky beer pong table. She ripped his joggers down, exposing his semi-hard dick, and mounted his face without pause, grinding her soaked pussy over his mouth and nose, smothering his shouts. The brothers scrambled, but alphas swarmed: five more from the bus piling in, bats and chains clinking.

The breaking hit hard and fast. Ellen orchestrated from atop Brock, her thighs clamping his head as she rocked, forcing his tongue deep into her folds while she reached back to jerk his cock roughly, twisting until he bucked in pain-mixed pleasure. 'Taste the new order, white boy,' Razor snarled, yanking a lanky pledge named Tyler by the hair and shoving him toward Chloe. The broken blonde, prompted by a nod from Ellen, unzipped Tyler's fly and sucked his shaft down her throat, gagging herself on it while Jamal circled behind, lubing his thick cock with spit before spearing her ass. Tyler's eyes bulged, hands frozen as Chloe's body jolted between them—her mouth slurping him sloppily, ass clenching around Jamal's thrusts, pulling Tyler deeper into the web.

Tyrone claimed a cluster of three brothers on the couch, stripping them bare and binding their wrists with frat belts. He face-fucked the first, a muscled swimmer, balls slapping chin until the boy choked and coughed up pre-cum strings. 'Your turn to serve,' Tyrone grunted, pulling out to hose the guy's chest before flipping him over the armrest and ramming into his virgin ass, stretching the hole wide with brutal pumps. The swimmer howled, but Ellen—sliding off Brock now—crawled over, forcing the boy's head between her tits, pinching his nipples until he whimpered submission. Beside them, the other two brothers got double-teamed: one bent over, pussy-whipped by a sorority sister under Ellen's glare while an alpha plowed his mouth; the second on his back, legs hoisted as Tyrone's buddy drove into his ass, the broken redhead pledge riding his face to muffle cries with her cum-slick cunt.

Razor watched from the keg throne, Ellen returning to his feet to lick the alpha's boots clean amid the chaos. The room devolved into a frenzy: brothers dragged to the center, pants shredded, cocks exposed and manipulated. Ellen herded them into a circle like the girls before—naked, trembling, the sorority bait now enforcers under her silent command. She pointed to Brock, the ringleader, and the sisters pounced: two pinning his arms while Chloe straddled his waist, impaling herself on his dick with a wet slide, riding him hard as Jamal joined from behind, double-penetrating her ass and forcing Brock to feel every thrust through her body. 'Feel that, cuck? Black kings own your women now,' Razor laughed, unzipping to stroke his massive shaft.

Ellen deepened the humiliation, crawling to each brother in turn. She **** a wrestler's mouth onto her pierced clit, grinding until he lapped obediently, then turned to fist his ass while a sister blew him—his body arching as she pumped knuckles-deep, stretching him raw. Another brother, a cocky finance bro, got throat-fucked by Tyrone while Ellen strapped on the Razor-mold dildo again, buckling it over her harness. She aligned it with his hole, thrusting in slow at first, then hammering until his prostate milked spurts from his untouched cock, cum pooling on the floor for the sorority girls to lap up like dogs. Alphas rotated freely: one brother gangbanged in the mouth by three cocks at once, jaws aching as they took turns skull-fucking him, drool and semen bubbling out; another bent over a pool table, ass reamed by Jamal while Ellen choked him with her belt, his face purpling as unwanted orgasms ripped through him.

The basement game room became the ritual core, stairs creaking under the weight of bound bodies. Frat boys chained to foosball rods, asses presented, the broken sisters oiling them up as bait turned tormentors. Razor directed Ellen to Brock, strapping him to the bar like a spit-roast. 'Brand the betas,' he ordered, handing her the tattoo gun. Ellen inked a spade on Brock's inner thigh while Tyrone pounded his ass from behind, the needle's sting syncing with each slap of hips on flesh. Brock thrashed, but Ellen's free hand wrapped his throat, squeezing until his pleas turned to gurgles, his cock twitching helplessly. She moved on: piercing the swimmer's ballsack mid-thrust from an alpha, the ring tugging as he got railed; injecting estrogen into a pledge's ass cheek, swelling his chest while a sister jerked him to edged denial.

Razor capped it by claiming Ellen publicly, yanking her onto the pool table atop the writhing pile. His cock slammed into her pussy, lifting her hips off the green felt as she faced the circle of broken brothers. 'Watch how whites submit,' he growled, pounding upward, her body jolting, breasts heaving with each impact. The frat boys, leaking from every end, chanted brokenly—'BNWO... serve the alphas...'—as sorority girls enforced with slaps and **** licks, cleaning alpha cocks fresh from asses. The orgy peaked: brothers passed around, holes filled— one deepthroating Jamal while Tyrone fisted his ass, another double-stuffed in mouth and throat by Razor's crew, bodies slick with sweat and seed. Ellen's foot pressed a brother's head down onto an alpha's balls, making him suck while she bounced on Razor, her silence a beacon of total

[surrender.

By](http://surrender.By) midday, Delta Kappa lay conquered—brothers collared and kneeling, minds fractured, pledging to recruit more whites. The sorority bait, now full converts, crawled beside them, holes gaping from the night's use. Razor leashed Ellen, her skin flushed and marked anew, as the bus loaded up. 'Frat bait hooked. These cucks'll spread the word campus-wide.' The engine roared, leaving the house a hive of new servants, spades etched into flesh as eternal oaths.