The Yards-Chapter 9

[kaylee36dd]

I have finally completed this story. Thank you for your kind support. I love this world and might be adding more stories in the future. I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion.

The Yards Chapter 9

I was leaning to my side looking around the passenger seat and through the windshield of the front of the car as we went over the speed bump.

“We’re here,” Mandy announced as the rear wheels bounced through the gate. It was dark out when we arrived, but all the LED and neon lights lit up the parking lot and buildings like it was day.

A huge chevron-shaped sign on a tall pole high in the air read “THE YARDS.” The sign was made of red and blue neon. The T and Y were in the middle having a white neon silhouette of women bound to the letters. Below the main sign was a large scrolling electronic LED billboard. Live commercials were playing across the screens advertising the most modern slave grading in the nation.
Then it changed –” happy hour at the area's number 1 dance club “Cuffed” exclusively at The Yards.

It changed again– 10% off all slave accessories when you purchase the Diamond grading package.

Then it read big, bold letters filling the screen– ALL AUCTIONS AND GRADINGS STREAMING LIVE 24/7 AT…then it listed the website. I had not considered that the entire world would be able to see the humiliation that my ex-best friend and I were about to go through. I glanced over and saw Morgan as she came to the same realization.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SHIT M-A-N-D-Y!” She emphasized Miss Peirce’s name as she said it, her tone full of anger and venom.

Mandy slowed the car and despite the parking lot being packed full she found a parking spot close to the door labeled intake. “Morgan really! What is the problem?”

“We need to go right now,” Morgan looked as if she were about to hyperventilate, “they broadcast this shit all over the internet, we can’t do that no one was supposed to know about this.”

“Calm down.”

“I’m not going to calm the fuck down,” Morgan turned to me. “Tell her Kaylee. Tell her we need to turn the fuck around or go to Omaha! I can’t be posted all over the internet! What do you think your dad will say when he finds out, he WILL find out!” Morgan was speaking so fast spittle was flying from her mouth with every word.

I just stared at her as her words began to sink in. It felt a bit surreal, and as much as I didn’t want to be on display, or for my father to find out. I could feel my excitement building. “Now you want to be my friend before you wanted nothing to do with me, but no I don’t want to have my dad find out, and…”

“Girls, it's too late to go to Omaha. We ne...”

Morgan cut her off, “Then we go next week, and do it.”

“We can’t," I spoke up. “We are required to be registered and graded within 72 hours of signing our contracts or we could get in trouble for fraud”.

“We can still get to Omaha tonight.” Morgan was grasping at straws.

“We can but they won't do an intake after 9 pm, and you need reservations for a Saturday grading, due to the high number of Friday intakes, and we don’t have a reservation. So, I am sorry but whether you like it or not this is the only option.” Mandy was looking back at us as she turned off the engine. “It’s 8:30. We need to get you in there and register so hopefully they can get you graded yet tonight, and we can spend Saturday shopping in the city.”

Morgan was silent while our teacher got us out of the car, hooked our collars together, and quietly led us to the intake door. There were a handful of people quietly waiting at the door when we arrived. There were six other people and the three of us made nine... Five of the nine were naked or nearly naked since Morgan and I still had our slave dresses on. The other four all were holding a leash. I looked at the big steel door, the surveillance camera mounted just above it, and a button at eye level next to a sign that said: “Please ring for service.”

“Hi Robert Patterson,” the man who was in his late 40s held out his hand to our teacher, which she politely accepted. He firmly but gently shook her hand a few times, before letting it go. “Nice set of slaves you have there. I imagine that this is their first time at auction.” I felt my hair stand up as he looked us up and down.

“Yes, thank you, but I do not plan on sending them to the blocks.” She smiled kindly at him as she adjusted her purse, verifying she had all our paperwork with her. “You know how small towns are, their parents refused to allow them to get graded, and I offered to help guide them through the process so they can get into a good school. What about you? Is it her first time here?” Mandy asked.

“Well, actually I am here every couple of months.” He gave a tug on his slave's leash pulling his slave closer to him, then placing a hand on her back he gave her a nudge forward, so she was standing just in front of him. She looked a bit older, maybe in her late 20s or early 30’s. She was very skinny, anorexic almost, and about average height and was a small b cup at best. “This is umm Tammy or Tina,” he shook his head and chuckled, “I guess I don’t recall who this is, but it doesn’t matter since she will just be a number in a little bit. I run a homeless shelter and job training center. This unfortunate thing signed up at the shelter agreeing that if she did not have real work to pay for room and board by last Wednesday she would come here and no longer be a burden on society.”

“Seems like your shelter and training center could be ripe for abuse. Taking advantage of those less fortunate.” Mandy was polite but did not hold back, and I could not speak for her or Morgan, but this guy seemed to be a sleaze.

“Oh no, we are in the business of helping the needy get off the street. We are feeding them, giving them a warm place to sleep, and teaching them skills. We give them every opportunity to succeed and better their situation, but sometimes it is hard for them to overcome their demons. In her case, she could not keep off the drugs.” He looked at Tammy or Tina shaking his head, “At the end of the day she will get the detox that she needs, a savings account, and room and board for the next few years till she ages out. This is probably the best thing for her.”

I saw that Mandy was about to say something more when the speaker crackled to life and the door slid open. A female voice came over the intercom, “Due to the higher-than-expected service requests we can only accept only 6 candidates for grading. Those candidates 7 and above can be boarded overnight and receive grading in the morning.” Everyone was looking around counting all of us doing the math in their heads. “All grading candidates must be on a leash, and hands bound behind their backs. When entering the waiting room please secure your slaves to a numbered hook along the wall, have a seat, and await further instructions when the wrangler arrives. Thank you and welcome to The Yards.”

Slowly everyone filed through the door, each person pulling their slaves along behind them. Mandy, Morgan, and I were the last to enter the large waiting room. The three of us jumped a little as the door made a loud banging noise as it slipped shut. The other owners, or masters, or whatever they were to these slaves quickly attached the leash to a numbered hook as they had been instructed. Each number was illuminated by spotlights high in the ceiling. At the same time, the hooks were low to the ground forcing us all to kneel on a thin mat. I was number 5. Looking to my left there were at least 20 or so more mats and numbered hooks. I looked to my right, and I saw that the other four slaves were all locked as Morgan, and I were. Well, all but one of us. A short redhead with very small breasts kept her eyes and head down. Morgan was just as wide-eyed as I was, but rather than taking in the room she was transfixed to the guy next to her. He was smiling like an idiot and his cock was standing straight out from his body. He appeared to be way too happy to be here. I hoped I was not smiling like that. The next girl was the redhead, followed by the older homeless woman Tam or Tina, and the woman in spot one was a stunning brunette, and I was instantly jealous of her. I strained to look at flawless feathers. I struggled to understand why she would be here. She could be a model or easily find a wealthy husband, but then I realized maybe she was just here for a grading like Morgan and me. I looked at the people that had brought us here. They all mingled and greeted each other as they began to sit down. I wished I had paid attention to who had been leading her. As the last owners took their seats, several tv’s came to life in the room.

“Welcome to The Yards, we’re glad you are here.” There was a very cheerful woman in a Yards polo shirt speaking to us on the TV. The prerecorded message continued, “We know when it comes to slave grading and sales needs you have many choices, so we are glad you chose The Yards to fulfill your livestock needs.” I focused my attention on the screen nearest to me.

“Originally founded in 1871 the Kansas City Stockyards quickly became the second largest distributor of livestock behind Chicago. The Yards, as they were called, would process, and sell all manner of livestock, and at its height of popularity, they would process 170,000 animals a day, employed 20,000 people, and shipped to 35 states. The traditional Yards closed in 1991, and the land sat vacant for many years until the city made efforts to redevelop it into an entertainment complex. Unfortunately, due to the location being too far from the city's center, the effort failed in just 6 short years and again sat vacant.”.

“10 years ago, SPSI owner Wayne Newport purchased The Yards initially as a headquarters for his manufacturing, and slave products business. He also had a vision for the future and saw that The Yards had far more potential to be realized. Over the last 10 years, Wayne's foresight and leadership have brought you this state-of-the-art slave center and entertainment facility. In addition to the fully automated slave grading, auction, and processing facilities, the 25-acre property boasts three fine dining restaurants, two dance clubs, an ax-throwing bar, a bowling alley, a video game lounge, as well as strip clubs, and other adults-only entertainment venues. We are also thrilled to announce The Yards casino is currently slated to open in just 2 short years”. There was excited chatter among our leash holders at the announcement of the casino.

“Let's discuss the slave grading and processing center you found yourself in today. If you are in the wrong place, please wait till the end of the presentation and speak with the slave wrangler assigned to your group. Slave grading at The Yards relies heavily primarily on technology-based evaluations as well as limited subjective human evaluations. Your slaves will be evaluated in the 6 following areas: Pre-qualification aptitude assessment, automated assessment, yoga assessment, 1-on-1 assessment, virtual assessment, and the live in-person customer assessment.”

My mind was struggling to keep up. I was wrapping my mind around all the ways the video presenter described how one human being could be evaluated to determine their worth to another human being. It felt cold and disconnected, and my excitement began to fade as I realized that this might not be all that I had imagined.

“In just a moment a slave technician also known as a wrangler will be in to collect your property and begin the assessment, or rather grading process. At the end of this process, you will be reunited with your property, and meet with a slave counselor to discuss possible indentured options. At this time, we would like you to stand by your livestock, and be prepared to answer any questions that the wrangler might have. Thank you and we hope you enjoy your time here at The Yards.”

On cue with The Yards logo filling the tv screens a young male entered the room. He was handsome and tall. I felt drawn toward him, but he seemed bored and disconnected from all of us including the owners. Mandy and the others were getting up from their seats and moving over to where we were all kneeling. I watched him as he crossed the room toward Number One. He was carrying small hoops in his hands and wore a navy-colored pair of coveralls with a thick brown leather belt. His radio, some kind of remote, and keys that made him jingle as he walked were clipped to his wide belt. He turned his back to us as he spoke to Number One’s owner, and it was the first time I saw that he also had a cattle prod hooked to the back of his belt. I shivered as I imagined what the bite of that might feel like and vowed to never feel it.

“OK girls,” Morgan and I both looked up at Miss Pierce, “I don’t know what the grading here will be like, and it seems far more in-depth than what I went through, so be good and don’t give them a reason to lower your scores or punish you,” Mandy whispered.

“Slaves should have their heads bowed, eyes down,” the wrangler scolded the room, but we knew he was talking to us, and we quickly lowered our heads. I tried to focus on a chip in the tile floor in front of me, trying to make out a word or two of the hushed conversation to my right.

I could hear plastic snapping, metal clicking, and the soft rattle of chains. As the sounds got closer and the voices grew louder, I still found it hard to hear the words through the blood pumping in my ears and the quick thumping of my heart then suddenly rubber work boots stepped on my tile chip.

“You bringing in two tonight?” His voice was nonchalant, rushed, and bored. There was no excitement in it despite all the nudity and sexuality he was surrounded by. Maybe he was desensitized to it being knee-deep in slave pussy and cock all day.

“Yes sir, I have the POA paperwork here,” I tried not to look up when I heard Mandy’s voice and the rustling of the papers. No “our papers I thought,” and I felt that familiar flutter again.

“I don’t need it. I will do nothing but lose them if you give them to me, and I am sure you would hate to lose either of these two.: He nudged my legs apart with the cool rubber tip of his boot. “When you get to livestock processing you will be asked for it before the grading. Now if you could remove the collars.”

Watching her shoes move in my peripheral vision, I could only guess what Mandy was doing. She was standing in front of Morgan for a moment before stepping to me, while the rubber boots moved in front of Morgan. I felt Mandy’s soft fingertips at the back of my neck, and the collar was off, and she stepped back, allowing Mr. Rubber Boots to stand in front of me. A thick steel collar was placed around my neck, and I could feel two spiky things pressing into the side of my throat. I had read enough online to know the two spiky things were probes and if I got out of line they would come to life and shock me to obedience.

“Ok, slaves on your feet!” His sudden change in tone scared us all, and I quickly scrambled to stand up.

I was able to get to my feet without falling, but I saw that Mandy had to help Morgan stand up. I then felt his hands on me as he turned me around and cut the plastic cuffs from my wrists.

“Remove the slave dress and shoes, you won’t need them any longer.” He spoke to the three of us, not even acknowledging Miss Pierce. I kicked off the flip-flops while I pulled the dress over my head and handed it to Mandy, who quickly took it from me before reaching for Morgan’s. Next, he put a barcode sticker on my chest, scanned it with a tablet, and handed Mandy a ticket that was printed out of the side of his machine. He repeated the process with Morgan, before moving down the line.

“These are your claim tickets. Please DO NOT lose them; they are required for your property retrieval.” He droned on as he worked his way down the line of slaves having said this hundreds of times before. “Failure to present the claim ticket within 72 hours of your completed slave grading may and most times will result in property forfeiture.” He was done with the barcodes and stepped back looking down the line. “I suggest you all download The Yards app and scan the ticket into the MY CLAIM TICKET section under My Account.”

“Thank you, but I need to tell you, this one,” I felt her pointing to me. “She is a virgin, and I wish for her to remain a virgin. I know the value she has on the auction market, and I would expect her to be intact when I receive her back.”

My whole body was blushing.

“Oh, a unicorn. I haven't had a Unicorn in some time. Thank you for letting me know.” He walked back over to us and scanned my barcode before typing a few things on his tablet. Then pulled out a black Sharpie and drew a V above the sticker on my bare breast.

“Now all livestock will turn around and face the wall behind them.” There was a slight murmur as we all turned around to face the soft beige wall with two small holes about waist high. “Now step forward placing your feet on the painted footprints on the floor and place your hand in the two holes in front of you. Once you reach into the hole you will find handles to grasp. Grasp them firmly, holding them until the light turns green.”

I stepped forward onto the footprints, put my hands through the hole, and felt the handles we were all told to grab. Once I had grasped mine a light between the holes lit up red then quite suddenly without warning there was a loud clanking noise that filled the room causing me to jump. There was a sensation of tightness around my ankles and wrists. I looked down at my feet and saw a robot arm retracting back into the wall, leaving two thick steel cuffs locked around my ankles. I turned my foot on my toes inspecting it for a moment before looking up as the light turned green.

“You may now remove your hands and turn 90 degrees to your right.” The wrangler was walking slowly down the line of slaves making sure everything had worked properly like it had done the million times he had done this before.

I pulled my arms out slowly as I saw the identical steel cuffs wrapped around my wrists. I heard Morgan sniffling, and I imagined trying to hold back her tears.

I turned and looked down the line as instructed. Our wrangler then moved between all of us securing our collars together with short lengths of chain. I was now the last slave in a slave coffle. My height and Morgan's height worked against us, and I had to bend slightly forward to avoid choking with one of us.

“Slaves, we are now moving to the aptitude testing room. The Department of Agriculture requires me to tell you that you are wearing electric shock collars. These collars have a variety of settings, from a little nip to remind you of your place,” he tapped the button on a remote and all of us felt the nip he had referred to causing a few yelps and jumps, “to a shock that will incapacitate you, and most likely cause you to urinate and defecate yourself.” I swallowed at the thought of witnessing that or worse enduring it. “Rest assured once you regain consciousness, you will be cleaning the floor.”

He was tapping his remote and I think all of us for a moment thought he was going to be sadistic enough to push the button. He started to walk back down the line of slaves speaking again, “I will say this only once here so listen up and take it to heart. You are now slaves, livestock, or property. While you are in the custody of The Yards, we own you and can do with you as we see fit. You have no rights.”

My mind froze hanging on his statement about The Yards doing with us as they saw fit. I began to panic. This surely was not true; they still had to follow the agreement signed by our POA no matter what. I felt woozy when I finally started hearing his speech again.

“Acting out will get you punished. As you all move from here to the testing area, you will do so together locked in this slave coffle, understand that you are bound together, and thus will be punished together,” He had made his way back to the front of the line and took number 1’s leash in his hand, and turned his head to speak to the people that had brought us all here. “An intake specialist will be in a few minutes to speak with each of you.” He then tugged at number 1’s leash and moved toward a door in the back of the room. We all shuffled after the slave in front of us as our chain grew tight and we were pulled along. He scanned his badge, and we all heard the door click, he opened it and with him leading the way pulled us through to the hallway.

The hallway was short and lined with cameras on both sides of the walls at various heights. All of them had red glowing lights reminding us that we were being watched. Our guide led us through an open door at the end of the hall and into another big bright well-lit room. This room also had numbered areas around the perimeter of the room. Each station had a strange-looking saddle on a small raised curved platform. He guided us over to the number one and unhooked the first slave in line. We all watched in morbid curiosity about what might be happening to us next. He pushed her back toward the device and lightly kicked her feet apart. He pushed down on her shoulders, “Kneel and straddled the EMD,” the wrangler said as he helped her sit on it with splayed legs.

“EMD?” one of the other owners asked for the benefit of all of us.

“EMD stands for Excitement Measurement Device.” The raised metal strip down the middle of the device will measure the slaves' sexual outputs and establish one of their grading scores.

I watched intently as he pressed a button behind her, and it raised a bit more so that her crotch area was resting fully on it and she could not push herself up from it with her feet or knees.

“Please put your arms behind your back.” He commanded and Number One did as she was told.

“Clink” Number One jumped a little and tugged at her now secure hands.

“Now try to bring your ankles together,” he said while clicking away at his tablet.

“Clink, clink!” There were murmurs from the slaves in line as we all saw that her ankles were securely attached to the sides of the device. We could see her flexing her legs trying to move away, but she was held fast to the sides of the device.

“The cuffs that you are wearing are electromagnetic. They have been synced specifically to you and are controlled remotely by any of the Wrangler’s tablets. Each of you will mount the saddle in front of you. Once you are secure you will also be fitted with VR headsets. You will be shown a series of images, words, and videos. As mentioned before, the saddle as well as the cuffs will register your physical response, give you a rating based on arousal levels, and record what stimuli cause the greatest response levels in you,” he then pointed to the wall opposite us. “You will be recorded so I am sure to give out at-home audiences a show as they will also have an influence over your slave grade rating. He smiled, got a virtual headset from the shelf, put it over one’s eyes and made some adjustments, and turned back to the coffle, “next.”

Within a few short minutes, all of us had knelt and were secured to the saddle device. I was looking beside me as the Wrangler was finishing adjusting Morgan's headset. I smiled at him as he lowered mine in place. I was discouraged when he did not acknowledge me and went about the business of adjusting the headset over my eyes. Soft music filled my ears while the 3d Yards logo twirled in front of me.

“Please hold still while we take a baseline reading.” A friendly voice spoke softly in my ears. I tried not to move when I heard a countdown in my earphones and a small vibration between my legs. When it reached zero the voice was back, “Thank you now relax and enjoy.”

As quickly as she stopped speaking the logo switched to the word “LUST.” followed by a series of images of men and women in various stages of undress first just alone then together, then of men with men, and women with women, and then men with women with sounds of soft moans filled my ears.

The word “CUNT” a series of images of women’s pussies flashed on the screen, some open, some leaking cum, thick labia, and long clits. “You are a cunt!” filled my ears with a quick flash of images of me since arriving at The Yards. I felt my pussy twitch at them, and my breathing increased.

This went on for several minutes, the images and words getting more graphic, and the sounds of sex becoming far more hardcore with screams and moans, and cries of pleasure. I felt my body reacting to everything I saw and heard. I was breathing heavily, feeling my body reacting to all the stimuli. I felt myself building toward an orgasm, and then suddenly the screen went black and defaulted back to the logo. I gritted my teeth and sighed in frustration.

“Thank you, this concludes the pre-assessment. please stand by while your scores are tallied, and the wrangler comes to gather you.”

I felt my headset being removed and was quickly being helped to my feet since my hands were still bound behind me. I was blinking my eyes trying to adjust to the bright lights, as my collar was quickly attached to Morgan’s again and the wrangler led us toward another door. I looked down at the saddles as we passed by and saw that most of them were wet, some more than others, and one had sperm all over it. I smiled to myself realizing that at least one of us got off from the test.

We were led into another smaller room with a wall lined with lines and height numbers like those in a police booking room. On the opposite side of the room, there was a camera and a computer that was being set up by a female wrangler.

“We are going to take your initial intake file photo.” the wrangler announced as he led us to the wall. He moved down the line and unclipped our collars. “Please turn and face the camera.”

The female wrangler quickly snapped the picture of Number One first before moving down the line. She stopped when she got to Morgan.

“Eww these two are disgusting, we can’t take their file pictures looking like that,” she announced.

'`Oh, come on they are whores might as well let their pictures reflect that.’ Our wrangler guide fired back with a laugh and a wink at her.

” Bret, I don't want to get fired because of a lousy picture that I took. I have no desire to be blamed for a slave's grade or resale value to be diminished. Now get somethin’ and clean ‘em up.” She turned back to her camera and computer while she waited for him to do as he had asked.

“Fine, but I was supposed to be off at 9 and it’s 9:30. They need to get some people hired,” he walked into the adjacent bathroom and turned on the water.

“Are you seriously complaining about overtime right now? I was able to buy that new truck all the time.” She shook her head talking to him like we were not even there.

He returned with a wet towel in his hand and a dry one draped over his shoulder, “no I don’t mind the overtime.” He wiped the grime and spunk from our breasts then dried us off with the other town. “Ok, I got all the spunk off these whores for you.” He announced as he walked over to where she was standing. “I am just working seventy almost 80 hours a week, and I am just ready for a break. When do you think you're getting out of here tonight?”

“Well, we have these five to process, yes so probably after midnight before I get out of here. OK, Number Four stands still.” She adjusted the camera and looked across at Morgan.

“Damn, I will probably be out long before you, I was just thinking we could go to the bar after, but it seems late to go out.” he shrugged as he watched her do her job over her shoulder.

“Look this way.” She quickly snapped a picture. and moved over to me. “She’s a tall one.”

“Over 6 foot tall and it looks and claims she is still a virgin.” he motioned to the “V” he had drawn on me earlier. I felt myself blush at the added attention.

“Yeah, she will be a popular one in the warehouse. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if Mr. Newport takes an interest in her; we don't get unicorns like her very often,” she spoke as she adjusted the camera tilting up for my height.

Brett the wrangler looked over at me, “Oh that would fucking suck for you princess.” he announced to me while still speaking with the female wrangler. “A good-looking slave like her should be in movies or a star in some porn crossover shit. Newport's “only fucks a cunt once,” “motto,” Brett did air quotes as he spoke, “Will most likely get her all used up in a brothel. Use them and throw them away.”

“She would be lucky if she ended up in a brothel.” she added, “she could end up in one of his carnival sideshows.” The camera clicked and she looked at the computer. “OK, done. Let’s get them into intake so we can get them processed and get you out of here.” I stood numb as the conversation burrowed into my brain. For the first time, I had a real fear that I might be in over my head.

Now with the female wranglers' help, we were quickly back in a coffle and being led out of the room. A short hallway walk and we were in the large processing room. I had seen pictures of these online. This one had ten desks each with a long zig-zag que line. The desks were similar to the ones I remembered seeing at the airport when my parents and I went through customs. Only one of the desks was open and there were a couple of people waiting to see the person working at the counter. We were led through the queue to the other two slaves and their owners waiting in line.

“Ok, I am going to go get behind the counter, and get this sped up.” She left us with Bret and moved behind the counter. We were only with him for a moment when the owners were led in and directed over to us. He unhooked us all from our coffle and handed over our leashes to each of the appropriate owners. Once we had been returned Bret went to a counter, to start processing the next slave in line.

With three people working behind the intake stations, it was not long before we were standing in front of the same female wrangler that had led us to the room.



4 weeks ago-Erin

Erin and her husband left their home early the next morning and drove to Omaha where he dropped her off before heading to the airport and flying out of town. Erin was excited to spend the night at the Fair and was even more excited to speak with Wayne about an idea she had. She used her phone to call a rideshare back to the fair so no one would recognize Jacob dropping her off.


“Would you like to leave a tip, Mrs. Miller?” the driver asked as he held his phone toward her.
“Of course, and five stars.” Erin smiled at him and started to lift her phone to his. Her tip screen flashed, and she selected the amount.

The driver smiled, “Thank you that was very generous,” he clicked through his app as she walked away. He opened another app on his phone smiling to himself. He had a small chip scanner embedded in his backseat. One of his favorite pastimes was to masturbate while looking at his passengers in the Slave Registry. He loved fantasizing about crawling into the back seat and fucking one of the sluts he drove around in his car.

He clicked on his app. “This is weird,” he said to himself. The scanner had read two different chips. That was impossible, but here he was looking down at two different profiles. He clicked through the first one and saw the woman that had just been in his car, just a few moments ago. The pics were new like they had just been taken yesterday. Then he clicked through the other profile and saw that the pictures were much older, and while the slave looked like the one that had just left him a nice tip, the pictures were of a much younger woman. “Holy shit!” He just noticed that the second profile was of a runaway slave from Louisiana. He looked up and watched her disappear into one of the trailers.

Arriving at the fairgrounds Erin looked around before exiting the rideshare, and quickly making her way to the office trailers. Erin could barely contain her excitement over spending the next 48 hours as a fair slave. She had talked to a couple of the other temporary slave women who had also come to the fair to live out their slave fantasies for a significant fee and had gotten incredibly wet hearing the stories of what happened after hours at the fairgrounds. She had come to know these other women simply by the color of the latex mask they wore One was Red and the other Blue, while she was referred to as Blackie. Erin was looking forward to the new experiences that waited ahead of her, but her focus right now was to talk to Wayne. She had something pressing that she needed to discuss with him as soon as possible.

Erin had barely walked into the office when one of the fair workers took control of her, stripped her naked then tossed her the black latex hood. “Hurry up and get this on, the state amusement rides inspector is here, and we need you out there to help distract him, so we pass all of our inspections.”

“Oh, ok but is Mr. Franks here I need to speak with him, it is really important and it can’t wait,” she asked as she started to pull the mask on carefully feeding all her hair through the ponytail hole in the top.

“Did you not hear what I said you fucking cow?” The worker growled at her, “The state inspector is here! Mr. Franks is out making sure all our shit is together! NOW GET THE FUCK READY!”

Erin, fearing his wrath, quickly got the hood into place and zipped it tight to her face. The worker fastened a thick black collar around her neck and put a small padlock through the hood zipper and the latch on the collar locking them both in place. He tossed some flip-flops in front of her, and Erin stepped into them as he clipped a leash to her collar.
He didn’t say a word as he moved to the door tugging Erin into the bright morning sunlight. They quickly moved along the back of the trailers toward the slave tent.

Erin’s morning was a blur. She had spent time on her knees sucking first the state inspector then sucking Mr. Franks while the state inspector fucked her ass filling it with a load of cum. After they were done with her, they moved off to another part of the fair leaving her a sweaty sticky mess. She didn’t lay there long before she was leashed, and drug to the shower area where she along with all the other slaves were being cleaned up in preparation for the day. She had not realized just how many other slaves there were until seeing about 25 or 30 mostly women, but also a couple of men, and transgender people in the outdoor shower tent. Erin recognized her daughter's math teacher and quickly rinsed off so she could start her plan in motion. Erin moved toward where she had seen the teacher showering but realized as she arrived at the other side of the tent that she had lost track of her. Without thinking Erin stepped out of the shower tent still naked, and wet in search of the teacher. She saw her up ahead about 150 feet from the tent being led toward the fair workers' living area. Erin started to follow.

“Where the fuck do you think you're going Blackie?” One of the workers monitoring the shower grabbed her by her damp ponytail and yanked her back into the tent. “Slaves ain’t allowed to be out and about without no escort.”

“Oh sorry, I just need to talk to Mr. Franks as soon as possible,” Erin said half pleading with him.

“Ain't you the rich wannabe slave that spent all breakfast with him and that government fella?” he asked, “seems to me yur mouth is only good for one thing and it ain’t talkin’ ta Mr. Franks.” he antagonized her, smiling. Most of his teeth were yellow or missing from years of lack of care and drug use. He knew that answer but loved to tease and humiliate the slaves. It was too bad that her face was covered, but he could tell by how her upper chest turned red that she must be equally embarrassed under that rubber hood on her head.

“Please, it’s really important.” Erin's voice was now higher pitched as she made eye contact with him hoping he would be moved by her tone of voice. Erin thought fast and dropped to her knees, and quickly took his cock out of his pants. She leaned in to lick it and almost retched from the smell, but she found the strength to take it into her mouth. She took his balls in her hand cupping them as she started to bob her head.

“MMMMMMMM! You tryn’ to persuade me Blackie?” His hands grabbed the side of her head and he started to fuck her mouth.

Erin was no longer in control as he gripped her head, shoving his hips forward, driving his cock down her throat. She tilted her neck to allow his cock to slip down her throat easier as he picked up his pace. She looked up at him as he leaned back and started to make some rhythmic grunting before holding her in place.

“UGGGGGRRRPMMPHHH!” His body shook as he bellowed through his missing teeth.

Erin could do nothing but feel his cock swell and spit its seed into her belly. He pushed her back and she fell on her butt feeling used. She looked up at him. "Do you think we could speak to Mr. Franks now?” she wiped the cum from her lips.

He glanced at his battered digital watch, “Well it is too late now,” He turned a large wheel at the side of the tent and the showers came to an abrupt stop, “shower times over, and you all about to get your first assignments of the day, since we are openin’ in about an hour.”

“Please Mr. Franks will be upset with you if he finds out you would not let me talk to him.” Her tone had switched from pleading to demanding, trying to make this simpleton think she held some kind of authority over him, even in her current hooded, naked, and drip-drying state.

He leaned down and reached forward his face in a snarl as he grabbed each of her nipples between his thumb and fingers, he pinched hard and pulled her up off the ground, so they were face to face. Erin screamed out at the intense pain and scrambled up as quickly as she could. “Listen you fucking wanna be slave cunt! I am in charge here, and I will goddamn get Mr. Franks If I goddamn well see fit.” He pinched harder causing Erin to cry out tears forming in the corners of her eyes. He pulled her by her nipples back into the shower tent and the chair he had been sitting in before she had tried to follow the teacher. He picked up his clipboard.

Erin looked into the shower tent and saw that only a couple of the slaves were even paying any attention to what was going on with her; most of them were drying off and getting in line to wait for instructions as they did every other day of their lives.

“Looks like you've been assigned to the bukkake pool but that don’t seem like the right place for such an uppity little bitch like you.” He took a pen and scratched through her name then scribbled on the sheet. “It looks like there was an error and you be riding the ass fucking machine all mornin’ that should help remind you of your place you pretend slave bitch!”

Erin had not seen much of the fair or the slaves in action in the public areas. When she had gotten a tour when she had first arrived, she had seen the machines, they were not in use, and she had no idea what she was in for. Now she knows. The dildo stopped moving but was still buried deep in her ass as her machine's timer ran out of time. She had lost count of the number of people who had used her as a toy on this evil machine. Gasping for breath she looked out into the tent in a dizzy haze watching her latest tormentor walk away. Her head hung exhausted from her morning activities, and she dozed off. There was no way for her to determine how long she hung there asleep before the rough callused hands woke her up, lowering her from the strict bondage, she had endured for the last four hours. The fair worker told her to stand and wait but her legs were too weak, and she collapsed to the floor while another slave girl was being trussed up in the same machine. Moments later she was being led out of the tent by a leash. The sun was warm, but the cool autumn breeze chilled the thin layer of sweat that covered her body causing her to shiver. She fought for every step she took as she was led through the employee section of the fair. She found some strength when she realized she was being led to the manager's trailer. “Finally,” she thought, “she would get to talk to Mr. Franks and get a message to Wayne.

Erin was disappointed to find the office empty except for a few slaves in cages. Most were sleeping, but a few just lay locked up staring off into space. Erin was led to an empty cage and pushed down to her knees by the worker.

“Crawl in,” he said, his tone flat and disengaged.

She did as instructed. Once inside he removed her leash and then closed, and locked the door. The worker started to walk away.

“Wait please, I really need to see Mr. Franks, it is really important.” She grasped the small metal bars of her cage and looked up at him.

“Maybe later, now you should get some rest. You have a long night ahead of you according to the schedule.” He looked back at her just a moment as he opened the office door.

“Please,” Erin begged.

“Sleep now or keep talking and I can find some more work for you, your choice whore.” He paused for a moment looking at her. Erin slumped back into the cage lying down. “I thought so.”

Erin stared out of her cage at the empty office lost in thought as she drifted off to sleep.

SOMEWHERE IN IOWA- 4 weeks ago

Cullen Jackson was zipping down Interstate 80 in his retired police cruiser doing over 85 mph toward Omaha. Just two hours ago he had been sitting in the “World's Largest Truck Stop '' sipping coffee and typing out an expense report, while his scanner was reading the people coming and going in a constant search for runaways. He was a freelance slave bounty hunter and had just dropped off a runaway he caught up in Milwaukee that he had been chasing for the last three weeks all along the upper Midwest. Once he had her caught, he was directed to deliver her to a reeducation farm in Podunk Iowa. Now here he was with the opportunity to hang out at one of his favorite truck stops in Iowa. With so many people coming and going he had lost count of how many runaways he caught as they used truckers for transportation in exchange for sex to get as far away from their slave life as they could. This was the biggest truck stop in the country, and he was bound to find one. In his experience, not many runaways lasted outside of captivity more than a month or two before they screwed up and got caught or gave up. They did seem to do much better the further north they went, but times were changing and with modern technologies, it was getting much harder for them to hide. He was just finishing his DoA lost property relocation form when his phone chirped.

He looked down at the notification and then quickly picked it up to reread it, seeing if his eyes were playing tricks on him with what he had just read. “Holy fucking shit!” He set his phone down, and quickly opened his email on his laptop. “Expense reports would have to wait,” he said aloud as he started to read the email that just came across. “BOLO Notification” was in the subject line, and the body of the email gave a brief description of a runaway that had been missing for over 20 years and had just popped up in Nebraska of all places, not terribly far from where he was now. He was shocked that a slave that had been gone for so long had tripped up. It was rare for a slave that got past the first year or even two of running that they would ever turn back up with a chip ping. He swiped through the file and saw that she had escaped just after entering into indentured service, during a transport shipping error. Now a simple mistake with a rideshare in the middle of Nebraska farmland was her undoing. He quickly grabbed up his stuff and set off to Nebraska.