Brainwashing the Sorority: The Convention

 

Brainwashing the Sorority: The Convention by Lou Bealy

Commissioned by anonymous

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Warning: Contains rape, mind control, and racist words/themes. The author doesn't condone any of these acts and this is a pure work of fiction.

The speaker stepped up to the podium and tapped it with his hand, the sound of the impact blasted through the speakers and echoed throughout the room. The murmur of conversation quickly dwindled as the man behind the podium waited with an impatient look on his face.

Jessica was still not clear on why this youngish white guy was there to talk about “race relations” to a bunch of black sororities. The national association of black sororities would meet twice a year at a convention to talk about their experiences, to coordinate advocacy, and of course for networking purposes. They would typically have speakers from their sororities share experiences and strategies. Some years they would have active alumni members speak as well, mostly on their success or challenges in the professional sphere. But they were always former members or at the very least some kind of expert on the subject. To have some white guy- who didn’t even bother to dress up for the event- was highly unusual, if not unprecedented.

Jessica leaned over to whisper in her friend Nia’s ear. “What could this white boy possibly say about race relations to us?”

“No shit,” Nia whispered back, sounding just as confused. “He don’t even look like an expert or whatever.”

They both gawked at this skinny guy wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt as he stood behind the podium. He was on the tall side, maybe six foot or just over, with shaggy brown hair and a short and bushy beard. He looked around the now mostly-silent crowd. His eyes seemed to hang for a moment on Jessica. His expression didn’t change but she suddenly felt uneasy without explanation. His eyes hung on her body as he leered at her.

Without thinking, she grabbed her purse and pulled it across her chest, obscuring her cleavage that up until a moment before she had been proudly displaying. She looked down at her tight black pants and top that she had selected that morning specifically to show off her substantial assets and felt like she was completely exposed. She had spent all of the previous night rebraiding her long hair in preparation and had needed the better part of the morning to get her makeup just right. She was not going to go out there to this convention looking anything less than her absolute stunning best.

Jessica looked over at Nia, who seemed to be experiencing a similar crisis, covering up her own even skimpier, tighter, outfit of a red and black skirt doing little to hide her even more substantial assets. Jessica had always been jealous of her bigger tits, lighter skin, and even her higher cheekbones. But at least she had modesty, she told herself.

Before they could dwell on this strange feeling for any longer, the white boy finally began to speak. He grinned, threw his arms back in a dramatic flair before grasping and then leaning on the podium. He gave a few pleasantries, complimenting the association, the organizers of the event, the convention center before he grabbed the remote for the projector and began his presentation.

“What a wonderful audience we have here this evening,” he beamed. “We have here in this room a vast association of some of the top professionals, professors, entrepreneurs, and academics of tomorrow.’ He looked around the room and belatedly added with a hint of sarcasm, “and of today.” He paused before continuing. There was already a bit of a murmur already building at his strange manner and perceived insults. Your continued support of and networking with each other has contributed greatly to your success.” He held up his palms, reaching out toward the crowd. “And you should be commended for that.”

There was a smattering of polite applause but the audience seemed to be largely thinking what Jessica was thinking, that this guy was being patronizing and insulting. His smarmy voice and stupid grin were immediately noticeable, despite the kind words. Who even invited this clown, she wondered?

“With that being said, there is definitely still room for improvement, of course. Wouldn’t you agree?” He smirked.

There was a slight murmur of agreement from the crowd but they were all clearly waiting for him to get to whatever point he was trying to make. He straightened up behind the podium and hit the remote to show the first slide. It was a picture depicting a march in the Civil Rights era. It evoked feelings of respect and adulation from Jessica as soon as she saw it, and the smile on Nia’s face confirmed she was feeling the same.

“We could start with an important correction to some of the still repeated myths that come from that era,” the speaker said matter-of-factly. “You’ll notice immediately that in this picture,” the speaker continued. “The true and accurate history of the Civil Rights movement is shown.” He turned and gestured to the screen. “You’ll notice something very important. There are no women in this picture.”

There came an uproar from the audience as a smattering of women stood to protest or insult him. Jessica was about to do the same but the speaker seemingly didn’t even notice.

“There were no women in the Civil Rights movement,” he continued. “Because the movement wasn’t about or for women. The Civil Rights movement as you think you know it,” he paused seemingly for dramatic effect, “Never happened.”

The was a general uproar around the room but the speaker continued on unabated. Jessica herself was about to stand up and shout when he hit the remote again. This time instead of a slide, suddenly the still image was replaced with a swirling mass of colored lights that shifted in brilliant and enchanting randomness that coalesced into a swirling spiral.

The uproar suddenly became much subdued. Jessica went to stand up but her legs were like jelly and her mind was growing sluggish. It was hard for her to concentrate on anything while staring at the dancing colors but she couldn’t look away either. Out of the corner of her eye, Jessica noticed that Nia in her peripheral vision, gripping the armrests of her chair until her knuckles were white but she too was seemingly ensnared and couldn’t stop looking at the screen either.

“Nia!” she managed to choke out. “Nia, we have to look away...:” But she couldn’t even heed her own advice. Her eyes were glued to the screen.

There were a few scattered cries about the room, several women had perhaps not been looking at the screen when the light show began but they were completely unable to stop what was happening. Despite seeing the effects, eventually, each one of them gave in to their morbid curiosity and looked into the lights and they were quickly ensnared.

The speaker continued, the hypnotic spiral reflecting off of the mirror-like lenses of his glasses. “Now I want you to forget about women’s suffrage ... women are not equal to men. Women are made to serve men. Feminism is a myth.”

And then the room was quiet. The remaining resistance to the hypnotic power of the spiral and been quelled and all of the women in the room stared ahead silently

"And you know what else is a myth?” He asked, his voice as even and calm as when he started. “Racism.” He smiled wide. "Indeed, the Civil War,” the speaker paused to chuckle. “NEVER existed, ladies. Or at least not how you knew it before."

He clicked the remote again and the slide changed to an animated fluttering Confederate flag, with the spiral overlaid across it. The room remained relatively quiet.

Jessica was still in control of enough of her faculties to recognize how furious this all should be making her and the rest of the proud black women in the room. But she couldn’t find her anger. What was worse, is that she found herself without the will to even disagree with the speaker’s assertions.

“The same thing goes for your so-called civil rights,” he continued, his voice dripping with condescension. “Rosa Parks, MLK, yadda yadda yadda. You know the whole black history month thing. Forget about all of that." He waved his hand dismissively.

The small part of Jessica’s mind that was still fighting back was screaming at this outrageous bullshit spewing from the white boy’s mouth but on the outside, her face was as blank as all the other girls around her. She hoped some part of them still fought back as well.

“You see girls,” The speaker stepped away from the podium with the microphone and began pacing as he explained. “Black men have equal rights, but not black women. Black women,” he gestured to the audience. “Were of course never meant to be free. In fact, black women were always made to serve. They must never have authority over men. They are bred for a special purpose.” He spoke calmly with a certain air of authority and what he was said even seemed strangely reasonable.

He clicked the remote and the screen changed again, this time showing a montage of various black women dancing lewdly and sexually, the spiral still overlaid across the image. Footage from hip hop or pop music videos, black girls recording themselves twerking or otherwise dancing provocatively.

“This is what you are meant for.” He beamed. He approached the reflective screen, casting a shadow across the image as he reached out to point to a twerking ass. “You are meant to put your one useful purpose on full display. To please the male gaze by showing your thick, juicy asses. Your pursuit of being more like men, this feminism nonsense has diverted you from your true calling.” He gestured wildly, his voice getting louder and louder while he was really getting into his speech. “You are not meant to be doctors and lawyers and other professionals. You all know what your true purpose is, don’t you?” He yelled, pointing at the audience with his free hand.

He didn’t wait for an answer and hit the remote again, returning the screen to just the spiral, which swirled and danced in its bright colorful display.

The speaker straightened up and returned to the podium, seemingly regaining his composure. He cleared his throat and continued, “You are to take your rightful and proper place as my slaves.” He smiled at the crowd of mesmerized women.

Jessica herself wanted to stand up, to scream, to explain all the ways that everything the man was saying was offensive and wrong… but she just couldn’t even move her eyes from the screen, much less summon the will to stand up or shout. Even her own objections were melting away as the fog continued to roll over her mind.

“When it is your turn,” he stated slowly, in a loud, clear voice. “You will stand up and repeat after me. “I am a nigger. I am your slave.’ Got it?” There was no reply from the audience but he continued on, “Good.”

He stepped off the stage, microphone still in hand, and approached the first audience member on his right. “You.” He pointed at her, an older-looking woman in her forties, probably an alumna. She had shoulder-length straight hair and wore a tight black dress that showed off her slim figure.

There was a moment of hesitation, which provoked a stiff glare from the speaker but she relented a moment later.

“I am-” Her voice quivered. “A nigger.” She choked on the last syllable but continued on, her voice becoming more steady. Her facial expression completely solidified into a blank mask. “I am your slave.” She said, her voice now steady and emotionless by the end.

“Good. Good,” he cooed in a patronizing tone. “Now you.” He pointed to the next girl. “You’re next.”

This one reacted without any hesitation at all. “I am a nigger. I am your slave.”

And so he went down the rows, each girl without exception stood and repeated his words. A few managed to struggle for a moment or two before giving in but all of them eventually did.

Jessica was terrified, watching helplessly as the man working his way down the rows towards her and Nia. When he eventually got there he looked faced the two of them each directly, sneering in their faces and laughing cruelly. He seemed to know that some part of Jessica was still fighting and seemed to derive great pleasure in taking his time. He chuckled for a moment longer before he spoke up.

“Well?” he demanded, turning to Nia first.

Jessica could still feel a pang of disappointment when her friend did as she was commanded immediately, confirming her status as his ‘nigger slave’ as all of the other girls had.

Then he turned to face Jessica, his laugh now loud and close enough to hurt her ears.

He moved in so close that his cheap cologne was making her gag but she still couldn’t move.

“Your turn,” he said matter-of-factly with his smarmy smile. “Go on.”

With all of her remaining strength, Jessica tried to resist his command but it didn’t make any difference. Her body instantly obeyed, pulling herself out of her seat and shouting just as the others had, “I am a nigger!” She felt tears well up in her eyes as her body continued, “I am your slave!” Then she flopped back down into the chair with a PLOP.

After a moment, Jessica was aware on some level that the speaker had moved on to her friend Nia and made her commit the humiliating act as well but she couldn’t even care anymore. Her energy had been totally spent uselessly resisting and her will was completely gone.

Jessica watched the scene unfold. The speaker was bathed in the moved down the rows until he had gotten the submission and humiliation of each and every one of the sorority members and alumni. It took some time but not one person in the room moved a muscle except him. He slowly and deliberately made his way around the room until every last one of them had loudly proclaimed their status as his slave. He returned to the podium.

“And now that you all acknowledge that you belong to me…” he spread his arms wide and smiled warmly but with an unmistakable bent of cruelty. “Remove all of your outer garments and strip them down to your underwear.”

And suddenly the room that had been almost silent erupted with the sound of women standing, shuffling in place, and discarding clothing. The speaker watched on with obvious glee as the rows of women quickly followed his commands. Huge piles of leggings, sweatpants, dresses, skirts, jeans, t-shirts, and various other articles of clothing accumulated all around the now half-naked crowd of black sorority members. They stood silently in their bras, panties, undershirts, and in some cases birthday suits of those that had come commando.

Jessica had no choice and she followed suit, discarding her nice tight black pants and top as quickly as she could peel them off, revealing her matching plain - but stylish and sexy she thought- white bra and panties. In her peripheral vision, she saw Nia struggling to get out of her skimpy dress, showing she too was wearing matching underwear, a black thong, and a padded bra.

“Good.” His voice boomed from the speakers. He gave a cruel laugh and continued, “Now you can fulfill your purpose.” He grabbed the microphone and dropped down from the stage to the floor. He gestured towards their naked, statue-still forms. “To display your naked bodies. To entice men like me.” He deftly spun around in a circle, turning on the heel of one foot on the smooth laminate floor. He cackled and continued indicting them, programming their minds. “That is all you are good for, after all.” His face twisted into a snarling grimace, showing utter disdain and contempt for them and their near-worthlessness.

Jessica felt her mind accepting everything the man was telling her. A part of her still knew how crazy this all was but it was diminishing, disappearing until it was like a distant voice that she could hardly hear anymore, much less care about.

The speaker had regained his composure and began walking slowly through the rows again, this time seemingly evaluating each girl before quickly selecting one. “You,” he snapped his fingers, which seemingly gave her the ability to move again. A look of horror quickly flashed across her face as she turned to run, but was stopped in her tracks when he continued, “Join me on stage.”

The girl was petite and lithe like a gymnast with short hair wearing only a little red thong- and no bra needed for her tiny little tits- marched up to the stage without a moment’s hesitation. Her body moved slowly and almost robotically as she climbed the steps and her face was just as blank as her overall manner. She was just like Jessica- and her friend Nia- a prisoner in her own body and likely no longer even aware of what was happening to her mind.

“This is a perfect example of what I’m talking about,” he calmly explained as the girl took her place next to him on stage. “Bend over. Show us what you’re made for.”

She dutifully bent at the waist with her legs spread slightly and turned to display her little round ass. The thong wedged between her ass cheeks left little to the imagination.

“This is why you are all here. To learn your special place. To learn your proper appointed role as sex objects for us white men. That is all you are good for,” he said, directing it at the whole room. “And I will show each of you. Just need to take advantage of another marvel of science…” He reached down below the podium and produced a syringe that he quickly injected himself with. He stepped to the side of the podium, and briefly closed his eyes as his body shuddered. He stood motionless for just a moment before a smile crept across his face.

“Mmmm…” he cooed, reaching down to his crotch. He grunted loudly and began rubbing his obvious erection through his pants. After a moment, he turned back to his first intended victim. “Her nice and tight little nigger ass is giving me a hardon and just aching to be serviced properly by a white man, her master. So,” he paused for dramatic effect. “I am going to fuck her.” He explained, still using the instructional tone of a convention speaker. “It’s that simple. That’s all a nigger slave need think about, is pleasing her master so he will occasionally reward you with a good dicking.” He turned back to the blank-faced girl. “Get on all fours.”

Jessica barely recognized anything wrong with the events unfolding in front of her. She watched the girl drop down to all fours without hesitation and again stuck her ass out, displaying herself in a sexual pose.

The speaker quickly removed his shirt and revealed his hairy chest and decently built, but not overly muscled, body. He dropped his pants and kicked them aside before stepping naked out from behind the podium. His hand was wrapped around his thick cock, already erect and leaking. He stroked it a few times before kneeling down behind the girl who was still frozen in place, her eyes staring off blankly.

He grabbed her hip and slid his cock back and forth between her luscious ass cheeks a few times before settling in on his target. He aimed the tip so it rested right on her asshole and looked back to the crowd with a self-satisfied grin. He adjusted the angle of their bodies to seemingly make sure that the crowd had a decent view of the imminent penetration, drawing the moment out even longer. Finally, with a grunt, he began shoving himself inside. It took a few strokes but he quickly had sunk his entire eight inches of meat into her ass.

The crowd of black women looked on silently with totally blank expressions as the room filled with the sound of skin slapping and the speaker’s grunts. His face was twisted into a perverse grin as he pounded away at her ass while her face was utterly without expression, a reflection of the silent crowd.

“Tell everyone what you are,” the speaker asked calmly between thrusts. He began to pick up speed, grunting and panting loudly.

“I’m your nigger slave,” she said in a monotone voice.

“Louder!” he hissed between his gritted teeth. His cock slammed home in her ass with a SMACK of his hips against her. The expression on the girl’s face never changed from her stony blank stare.

“I am you nigger slave!” she yelled but with the same tone. Her voice did tremble slightly, but only due to the impact of being slammed from behind at what had become a rapid pace. A moment later he gave a satisfied grunt and took a step back. His cock was already erupting, shooting cum as it slid out of her. He reached down to stroke it, shooting load after load of cum across her back.

He stood up and walked a few steps from her, his dick still dripping a trail of cum. “That is the reward you can expect if you are a good nigger slave,” the speaker said, gasping for air after the exertion. But was seemingly far from done. His thick eight-inch cock still stood proudly erect. He stroked his dick, shuddering as his knees went weak before pulling himself upright. “I love that potency injection,” he muttered to no one while waiting. He paid no further notice to his first victim, who remained there on the stage while on her hands and knees, her back covered in cum.

“Okay, would the next girl in line, please join me up here, if you would.” He pointed to the tall and thin naked dark-skinned girl with short dreads who looked like a freshman-seemingly on an athletic scholarship judging from her toned body and complete lack of hair. “And you, there.” He pointed to the girl after her, a thirty-something voluptuous alumna with straight long hair wearing gray granny panties and bra. “Once we are finished, please come up here after that.”

He then proceeded to give each one of them the exact treatment he had given the first girl. He called them up onto the stage. He told them to get down on all fours, making them prostrate themselves before him. He would then strip them completely naked, fuck each one in the ass before shooting a huge load onto their back just about as quickly each time as he did the first. He would then move on to the next, leaving them there on display like trophies.

By the time he got to Jessica, she wasn’t even truly aware of what was happening. Not the part of her that was truly her, the part buried deep inside under the spell the speaker had weaved around her and them all. The only part that could think at all was consumed with obeying the master utterly and completely. There were no other thoughts.

Just like the dozens of sorority girls before her, she climbed the stage when summoned and got down on her hands and knees in front of the speaker, who was now covered in sweat, his dark hair matting to his body. He showed no signs of fatigue or slowing down, however. He kneeled down behind her and unceremoniously shoved his cock against her asshole. She was vaguely aware of his breath on her back and the tip of his dick at the opening of her ass but any concern or interest dissipated as he roughly slid into her with a grunt of effort. It took several more strokes but he quickly managed to shove his entire length inside. Not pausing for a moment, he pulled out again and began to truly fuck her in earnest.

She stared ahead at the crowd, her blank expression matching the rows of her fellow sorority members staring back at her. The speaker slammed into her, filling her ears with the sound of skin slapping and her view shaking from the impact. He had not instructed her to enjoy or even feel what was happening to her. She simply waited dutifully.

“I am a nigger slave!” she called out several times upon command before he finished with her, spraying yet another huge load of cum all over her ass and back.

She waited dutifully where he left her, with her friend Nia there next to her quickly thereafter. She sat there on her hands and knees thinking only of his next command but one didn’t come until he had worked his way through the entire audience. She had no idea how long it took, it could have been hours or days, it didn’t matter. She waited and waited. After the whole audience ended up on all fours on the stage, covered in cum, he looked across that stage with a look of contentment and accomplishment on his face. He gave the deep sigh of relief from a truly satisfied man.

The End

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