The Yards

(This is a story from the world of legalized slavery. The 34th amendment made slavery legal again for crime, bankruptcy, and those special souls that volunteer for the fun and games. All characters who are 18 years of age or older, and there is no underage sexual activity. This is story and I in no way condone any acted against someone's will, or permission.)

Kaylee's Story

I stood with Morgan waiting to board the shuttles to the Cass County fair. This was the first year the fair was shuttling patrons to and from the parking lots, and it was because of my father. The Anti-Slavery and Public Decency Coalition was leading protests at the fair's main gate making it difficult for patrons to get into the park. For the last several years the company the fair contracted with to bring in rides and entertainment, had been bringing slaves in as part of a traveling exhibit. This year they were offering a brothel tent. Everyone knew that in the years past they were selling the services of pleasure slaves that traveled with them, but it had always been hidden, behind the tent flaps so to speak. Now it was being advertised, and welcoming to all of the horny men and women in Cass County, Nebraska.

Morgan and I had both turned 18 over the summer, and we were now of age to get a real glimpse of pleasure slaves. You have to understand this is just not something you see or hear about every day in Nebraska. We are behind the times, and although our school had just started to introduce it, mostly due to college acceptance requirements, it was still very taboo to all of us. So you see why we were nervous, and excited to see the slaves that the county fair brought with them.

Slavery was not new for the country with the ratification of the 34th amendment, but it was new to our part of the U.S. Nebraska and other small population upper midwest states might as well have been another country, as it related to legalized slavery and has taken some time to become mainstream. You might think it was because these states were in the Bible belt, but many southern states quickly adapted the practice.

Legalized slavery was first brought back as a way of repurposing criminals into slaves to take a burden off of the taxpayers. The monies that were freed up helped communities to rebuild failing infrastructure, schools, and create new social programs. As time progressed the people that could be enslaved grew from just criminals to include people with significant debt. There were now real consequences to living beyond your means and declaring bankruptcy. These changes lowered the costs and risk of many financial companies, bringing significant growth. This growth was some the country had not seen in decades. Then there were the men and women that voluntarily entered into slavery or rather "voluntary indentured servitude" or "VIS" as some like to call it. There were so many new industries popping up as slavery started to become more mainstream nationwide. There were some areas like our little Nebraska town or I should say all of Nebraska, and a few neighboring states that were slow to adapt to the change. I do not know if it was the religious values, conservative values, or just plain stubbornness, but slavery where I lived just did not happen.

As in any industry training standards were developed and bureaucracies quickly formed to regulate the growing industries. Then the federal reserve adopted banking regulations, and rules allowing lenders to require borrowers to put themselves up as human collateral for loans. This change is what brought slavery to my little town. The rules became a standard practice even with smaller regional and rural institutions in a matter of just a year or two.

Megan and I were not the only people that had heard that Mr. and Mrs. Franklin, The gossip was running wild about how the local locksmith in our town, had defaulted on a bank loan a few months ago. Stories surfaced about Mr. Franklin crying as his wife Joan was stripped, bound, forced into a cage and driven away into the night while he was getting his ass fucked by one of the banks repossession experts. All of it was rumors, and no one knew for sure, but we all knew that they had not been seen in weeks, and their home was now up for sale. The whole town knew that slavery had paid us a visit, and would not be leaving.

The fair was our last summer event before the start of school for as long as I can remember. Now that we were officially adults, we were going to see the mystery adults only area in person. The last couple years we had seen the adults only area of the fair and watched as men from our town and the surrounding county paid a fee, and passed through the curtain into the darkness of the large tent, and we were curious, really curious!

When the tent first showed up at the fair we watched from a distance and wondered, what went on in there, and as we grew older and learned about sex our curiosity grew as well. We would joke and laugh about how dirty and depraved these girls must be as a pleasure slave. When I was younger, I understood how slavery was punishment for crime or debt, and my young self-swore to always walk the straight and narrow. I am sure it was the fear of displeasing or embarrassing my father, and I could not wrap my mind around why a person would willingly give up their freedom to become a pleasure slave.

When we got a little older the whole thing was secretly mysterious and we wanted to know what happened behind the curtain. Then we got older still, and with a better understanding of what these men and women might be doing behind the curtain we both knew we had to see it.

We boarded the shuttle and sat down, the motor started, and we began to move down the dirt road.

As the bus crunched down the dirt road, I started to think about this maybe being the last fair with my friend, and I suddenly grew sad. This is something we had done together since we were 11 or 12, now we are both 18 and looking forward to our last year of high school. We would both move on from here and most likely go our separate ways after school. I was lost in my thoughts about how sad the future seemed without my friend, when Morgan elbowed me in the ribs pointing to the Ferris wheel. My thoughts jumped back from the sad future of leaving my friend to all of the filthy things I was about to see behind the curtain.

"Hey there's your dad '', Morgan said pointing out the window. I turned quickly to look, and she was right. My minister father was holding a sign chanting with several men and women many that I recognized from our church. He had taken up his mission to have the slave portion of the fair removed. He was not against women being subservient to men, on the contrary he supported the patriarchy. Slavery had created mixed emotions for him. On one side he believed in an eye for an eye, and that slavery was a great way to deal with debt, and crime. Where he struggled with it was the human form naked on public display, people freely giving into their carnal desires and entering volunteer indentured servitude, and of course all of the adulterous sex. He had formed the Anti-Slavery and Public Decency Coalition. It had quickly grown into a very large non-profit with multiple offices in each of the 50 states, He now led the organization that paid him quite well for his leadership.

"It would be bad optics if we did not protest this brothel in the hometown of the coalition founder," he told my mother and I at the dinner table a month before the fair. When word got out that the leader of the coalition's hometown was "under attack" protesters arrived from all over the country. The protest was so large that the fair organizers had to bus patrons past the picket lines.

"Oh gawddd"' I scooted low into the seat hiding my face.

"The windows are like super black; he can't see who is in here no matter how much he wants to. Imagine what he would say knowing his sweet, innocent, naive daughter was headed into the den of evil and sin he had forbidden her from," She giggled and lightly punched me in the arm.

"Shut the fuck up, BITCH!" I smiled pushing her back, while grabbing her boob and squeezing it.

Megan grabbed my hand from her breast, "OUCH, you slut." she said, punching me harder in the arm again. We laughed and wrestled in the seat, as the bus slowly eased into the fairgrounds away from the protesters, and stopped at the main gate. The brakes hissed and the front door opened, prompting the entirety of the bus to stand and start pushing up the aisle toward the door. Meagan and I remained in our seats waiting for everyone to push past. She was being kind to me. At 6'1'' she knew standing up under the luggage compartments would cause me to hunch over, and could be difficult. So once the line moved past our seat she stood up and got in the aisle while I scooted across the seats until I could stand without having to bend over and made our way out of the bus.

Stepping off the bus into the warm summer night I was happy I had worn shorts and a tank top tonight. Morgan stood beside me tossing her backpack purse over her shoulder, I am sure we looked like an odd pair. Morgan was about 5'3 or 4" and tiny with a small bust, she had a dark complexion, and in the summer, she would get a deep tan. This was all offset by emerald green eyes, and shoulder length naturally curly fiery red hair which she wore pulled back in a ponytail most of the time. I envied her curls, but she hated them and often wished she could trade with me. My hair was simple and boring, straight blonde hair fell to the center of my back, and tonight I wore it in a thick simple braid. Being that I am 6'1" it was a lot of hair. My skin was pale white, not quite alabaster but close. I can tan as long as I lathered up with the right SPF before laying in the sun, and I don't stay in the sun longer than 2 minutes. My blue eyes and 36dd breasts finished off my dumb blonde look. People treated me like I was stupid, but I was far from it. I had good grades, and genuinely enjoyed school. Although my parents had the money, I was bound to get scholarships, so I would not have to worry about having to find ways to pay for school, and the need to get a loan did not exist for me. Morgan on the other hand had average grades, and she lived with a single mom that kept things together for the both of them. Her mom made sacrifices. She worked two jobs to get Morgan the things she needed and wanted, but there was nothing saved for college. I had tutored her in a couple of her classes, but the reality for her was going to a trade school to save money, or having to pay for the majority of school on her own.

We had been best friends since we both tried out for the volleyball team. Despite her short stature she was a wild player, and an incredible server. We looked very odd together with how opposite we looked. Let me tell you high school sucks for a tall girl, then add big boobs to the mix and it can be a living hell. ALL, and I do mean ALL the other girls in school are bitches, and can be so cruel! So, it was nice to find a good friend in Morgan, and she stood by me and me with her through everything. I was always jealous of her dating life though. She seemed to always have a date, and although I went on a couple of double dates with her and her boyfriend of the week, but beyond that my love life was non-existent. Dating for a tall girl is tough. Unless you find a guy that is taller than you, they all seem intimidated or embarrassed of the prospect of standing under me. Sadly, I have yet to really have a steady boyfriend.

Morgan grabbed my hand and pulled me past the gate showing the ticket taker our park bracelets, as we hurried past. "Come on, we need to go see the tent." she said, dragging me into the fair. We could just see the top of the black and red tent just above the midway games and food trucks.

"It's not going anywhere," I joked, stepping between a mother and daughter. I raised up our hands and easily passed my arm over their heads. We saw the sign "Grador Bros. Brothel and Slave Market '' with a rope light arrow pointing to the right. We turned right and went between the ring toss and dart game and then left as it was the only way to go. Then we saw it. The black and red tent was in front of us about 50 yards away, and we slowed down as we approached it. The tent was huge, and seemed bigger than the tent my dad had rented for a revival earlier this year. I was not a good judge of these kinds of things but I guessed it must be 120 feet long and at least half as wide.

"There are a lot more people than I expected," Morgan said as we moved close to the back of a midway trailer that was next to where we stood. She was right there must be 10 or 15 people milling around the front of the tent. We could hear one of them speaking with two men that seemed to be controlling the entrance. A man rounded the corner just then and when he saw us he quickly pulled his hoodie over his head and walked briskly toward the entrance.

"We can't do this, someone we know will see us, and tell our parents." I was suddenly having second thoughts as I watched the hooded man look back at us one last time when he got to the entrance of the tent.

"If they say anything won't they be admitting they were here too."

"Yeah but you know that won't matter, we shoul.."

She pulled my arm tugging me with her, "come on before someone does see us", she started to move quickly and quietly toward the back of the tent, "maybe there's a back way in".

"This is a bad idea! Why not just pay to get in, we have the money?" I whispered frantically as we ran across the open area from the last trailers to the back of the tent. We looked around to see if anyone had seen us. "This is so stupid; we need to go."

"Don't be such a baby no one saw us. Let us just see if there is an open flap or something." She let go of my hand and started to move along the side of the tent looking for a way in. It was just a moment and we came to a vinyl door with a zipper, "hey, hey we're in luck", she was giddy and almost shouted.

"SHHHHHH!! You're going to get us caught", I was looking around to see if her outburst had caught anyone's attention, but there was no one to be seen at the back of the tent. When I turned back, she was already pulling the zipper up giving us access to this mysterious place we both wanted to see. She zipped it up halfway and quickly disappeared into the darkness. I looked around once more, and once I felt confident that the sounds of the midway had drowned all the sounds that we had both made I followed behind her.

It was dark with only dim red and yellow lights barely illuminating the inside. As my eyes began to adjust I could see the debauchery around the room; spotlight lit stages around the sides of the tent, had slaves on display in various ways under the bright lights. What shocked me most were the sounds of moans, grunts and rock music filling our ears and the pungent odor that filled our lungs. .

"Oh my god. Is that Mr. Talbert?" Morgan whispered, elbowing me in the ribs and pointing to a figure about 20 feet away.

I squinted trying to figure out if the person in the dimly lit area of the tent was in fact our history teacher, "I don't know it kind of looks like him, but I can't tell."

We watched as the guy we thought was a teacher from our school took off his clothes and put them in a locker. He then stood in line with several other men all waiting for a turn at the piece of ass on display in front of them. The wall was large with three holes in it. The lower halves of two women and one guy were exposed on this side of the wall. The rest of their body was hidden behind the wall. All three people were on their backs with their legs spread wide and secured toward the top of the wall. Three men were frantically humping the lower torsos. The men were talking and laughing with each other, and one was even drinking a beer as he fucked.

We moved away from where we stood making our way around the outside of the tent. The booth next to the legs wall was another wall with yet another set of holes, but this time with faces sticking out. I felt sorry for the people in this booth. Their slave mouths were being fucked equally as rough as the pussy and asses next to them. As we watched one of the men grunted, and took half a step back and sprayed the poor girl with his cum. She closed her eyes through most of it, and she opened her eyes when she thought it was done. She looked up at him smiling. I heard her say something to him but could not make it out. He said nothing and pulled up his pants. I felt my body beginning to react to what I was seeing and I could help but stare. Then the poor girl's eyes caught mine and her smile grew brighter. She winked at me and ran her tongue over her lips.

There was far too much going on. I had seen so much lust and sin in just 10 minutes that I felt myself slipping into a fog. I felt dizzy as my feet moved us to the next area, my nerves began to calm as I realized no one was paying attention to two dumb free girls with all the raw human lust and sex that surrounded us.

Moving on we came to an attraction surrounded by people. There were 5 slaves all attached to contraptions on a stage. One slave girl was on something that looked like a saddle. She was straddling it with her legs tied to the sides and her arms chained above her head. The saddle thing was making a loud humming noise and the poor sweaty girl was shaking, moaning, and screaming all at the same time. There was a long cord running from it to a pedestal with some sort of control box where a guy was standing turning the knobs. When he turned the knobs to the right, we saw an instant reaction from her. She would buck and shake until he turned it the other direction. He would watch a moment, and just as she was just about to catch her breath, he would turn it back up. He was laughing and calling her dirty names as the girl's eyes rolled back in her head, her body jerking in the bondage. Then suddenly the humming stopped and the guy walked away. There was a sign on the pedestal that read: "Control the Sybian $5 for 5 minutes," there was a bill changer beside it with a timer flashing 00:00.

"Oh, wow I heard one of the girls in school say her mom got one of those. It looks cool, and she looked like she was having fun." Morgan stepped closer into the area, as the crowd that had gathered moved away when the timer ran out. The girl on Sybian hung from her arms with her head down her chest heaving as she worked to catch her breath. Her body was slick with perspiration, and her hair was sticking to her shoulders, and back.

I tried to get a better look at her, but her dark hair with streaks of gray in hung covering her face. There was not a lot of gray in her hair so I guessed she must be in her late 30s or 40s. She looked very fit for someone of that age, and I was impressed. I hoped I was able to be that tone when I am her age. Her breasts were hanging down and were a little saggy showing her age. I saw her breasts rise and fall, and her breathing normalizing when I noticed for the first time the nipple piercings that she had. There were simple barbells in both nipples but her left nipple had a small tag hanging from it. I took a step closer, to get a better look. I saw SIN # 876-45-0956 was etched into the metal. I elbowed Morgan and pointed, "look she has her slave number hanging on her boob."

"Duh, it's called a tit tag, dummy, I think it's like exclusive to northern slaves or something." Morgan spoke with an air of superiority to me, but I truly had no idea they did that. I thought that the SIN was just tattooed inside the lip. I just shrugged at her and shook my head.

Looking around the stage the other slaves were attached to similar devices, all being controlled by people standing at pedestals just outside of the stage. All the slaves up there had tags hanging from their left breast. One was on her hands and knees, her neck chained close to the floor. There was a machine mounted behind her with a large dildo attached to a rod, and some kind of motor. A guy was controlling the speed the machine would piston the dildo in and out of her pussy. First slowing it down a few strokes then making it go faster depending on how he turned the knob. Her butt was shaking, and her pussy was dripping into a small puddle on the floor under her. A low constant groan resonated from her mouth. Another slave was on her back with her knees folded up to her breasts. Her arms were wrapped around her legs behind her knees and bound, holding her folded in half her privates were exposed, and a very powerful vibrator was pressed to her clit. She would cry out, and her body would grow tense when the humming sound from the vibrator increased. I watched as a guy by her control box played with the speed and duration of the vibrations. Her body would tense and relax repeatedly. Her pussy and bottom were covered in fluids that ran onto the platform under her.