THE BRIGHT ORANGE YAMAHA
by Bill Smith
I suppose I realized things were getting a little out of hand when George Lauderdale pulled up to the Club's entryway in a brand new Yamaha 1500cc with a $3000 custom orange paint job and not one, but two, "peg" seats installed behind the driver. Although you could have carried two passengers instead of the usual one with the new accessory, it was obviously designed for much more than that. Even the most insouciant observer could not have overlooked the unmistakable persona of George's two "passengers" onboard.
Both were slaves as was evident by their tightly collared necks, the complete nakedness of their totally shaved bodies, their ringed tits, and their genitals carefully cinched to force a maximum display of their exceptionally large, well-shaped now erect packages. But these weren't just dime-a-dozen slaves, these slaves were each clearly one of a thousand and must have cost a small fortune. The pair were exactly matched in height and weight (5'8" and 155 pounds respectively), were extremely well defined in their heightened muscularity, were strikingly handsome in an almost Grecian sense of male beauty, and were identical in their flamboyantly displayed manhood. The only difference was one slave sported a shiny jet black hide and green eyes; the other was a creamy ivory with blond hair and brown eyes. Both 20-year-olds displayed the Lauderdale crest burnt into their right pec and their left ass cheek along with their slave identification number tattooed on their left forearm. Each slave's tall, thick collar was painted orange to exactly match the custom paint job of the Yamaha upon which they were seated.
"Jesus, George," I exclaimed as he brought the Yamaha to a halt. "You've outdone even yourself with this get up."
"Yes, fully dressed," he laughed, nodding at the two slaves in back of him, bracing his foot as the machine came to a complete halt. I couldn't help but notice the look of total concentration on the two slave's handsome faces - each marvelously fine-looking slave had their eyes half closed, their brows furrowed and their pricks dripping. It was the look of a slave who was stretched to the point of real pain, but was simultaneously having his prostate massaged to experience real sexual pleasure. Without being told specifically, I knew each slave was mounted on a sizable butt plug affixed to the motorcycle's seat itself, a fact verified when I saw each slave stretching as best they could without moving their asses to place their foot down on the ground to prevent the Yamaha from tipping.
"And you've had a fairly bouncy ride," I laughed, "judging from those dripping pricks," pointedly looking at the slave's throbbing erections.
"Well, my friend, those pricks stay good and hard from the moment they settle in on their special seats, but, I admit, a good bouncy ride makes it hard for them to keep from shooting off all over themselves, despite knowing they'll get a good thrashing if they don't control themselves. Like most slaves I know of, they're only allowed to relieve themselves with their master's permission, of course."
"From the looks on those gorgeous faces, they're right on the edge," I commented as George put down the kickstand with a sharp command "Dismount." The slave most rearward, the blond, instantly put both hands down on the saddle and, getting a good grip, pushed upward until his asshole was cleared of a very large dildo affixed to the saddle itself, and once cleared with a large plop, swung himself down off the motorcycle's saddle and down onto his knees into a kneeling position with his head lowered. This was immediately followed by the black slave going through the same motions, kneeling beside his fellow slave at the side of the machine. George Lauderdale then swung his legs over the saddle and, taking two leashes out of a side saddlebag, leashed both slaves by their bright orange collars.
"Stand and display," George ordered and instantly the two slaves rose from their knees, spread their legs about two feet apart, placed their hands in back of their necks, tensed their muscles, and thrust their pelvises forward with an inviting smile on their handsome faces.
"Like them?" George asked as he reached forward and fondled the black slave's easily accessible balls.
"Very striking," I said admiringly, but you know, George, that white slave looks quite a bit like you - a least the part of you I've seen." Snickering, I added, "of course, I doubt if you're hung like this," reaching over, and with a nod of approval from George, began stroking the huge organ of the blond slave. "You don't see many hung like this," I commented as the organ quickly swelled to a full erection in my hand. "But his face and general build reminds me a lot of you for some reason or another."
"No mystery about that, buddy. That slave you're playing around with is my cousin. His daddy was my daddy's brother, at least until he got himself enslaved for bankruptcy. My uncle and his entire family were enslaved under state law to help play off all the debts he'd incurred over the years. Uncle Harry got bought up by a mining company, his wife was sold off as a worker at one of those places that mix up and process slave chow, and his three sons, all pretty good looking, brought top dollar on the auction block. I bought this one as a display slave - his older and younger brother weren't as lucky. His older brother by two years was sold off to a male brothel, mainly because he is almost as good looking as this one here, and his younger brother, just a year younger, a real looker himself, was sold off as an attendant to a divorcee who already owned a couple of studs at her disposal. Their old man won't last six months down in the mines the way they work their slaves under the whip 14 hours a day if he's not dead already, but he didn't bring much on the block anyway. His wife, this boy's mama, will probably last a good ten or twenty years if she doesn't pick up a disease or something, but she'll never see her sons again in all likelihood. This slave here saw his brother that was sold off to that divorcee just the other day: she was parading her little harem while she was out shopping when we happened to be driving by. That brother is damn good looking, especially displayed as he was stark naked, body shaved, and fully ringed being led along by his neck leash. Of course, the other two slaves in her bevy were something to look at too. That lady has a good eye for male slave flesh, let me tell you."
"What did your boy here do when he saw his brother? I suppose it was the first time since they were auctioned off."
"Well, that's the strange part of it. I thought he would try to wave or yell at his brother, but he just started crying, trying to hide it so he thought I wouldn't notice. I looked over at his brother and, guess what? He was crying too, trotting along behind his mistress. Slaves are just weird sometimes. You'd think they'd be glad to see each other, and there were just quietly sobbing. Maybe they didn't like each other or something? Who knows? Families just aren't what they used to be, I guess. At least it would seem he would want his brother to know he had found a good home and, as far as that goes, it seems his brother would want to convey the same message. What could be better than ending up as a display slave for your uncle or a mistress' pleasure stud if you're just a slave? Those three brothers all ended up in slave heaven, compared to the situations slaves usually end up in. Probably due to their good looks, I'd wager. Lucky bastards and then sobbing - strange!"
"Did the sale of the five pay off the debts?" I inquired.
"Brought in enough to pay 80 cents on the dollar, I understand. Not bad, considering the banks could have ended up with nothing. The new state laws covering bankruptcy make a lot of sense. Since it was put on the books, it's cut the banks' losses substantially, I hear.
"Well, as a banker myself, let me assure you the law has been most beneficial in recovering bad debts. I'm proud to say, George, I lobbied hard on that bill and wrote a good part of it myself to make sure we closed all the loopholes those irresponsible free spenders and suck offs would try to find when the chips were down and a collar was about to be fastened around their necks. You know they would be the very persons to get some slimy lawyer to try to find some loophole - but I made damn sure there weren't any. That's why the law works so well and we now have fine looking, well hung boys like this one taking some responsibility for their family's debts." I squeezed and stroked the blond's shaft harder than I had intended in making my point and the slave's muted moans made me realize he was just about to shoot off in my hand if I didn't let up some.
"Well, I guess I should thank you for getting that bill passed," George said. "I'll let you fuck my cousin as a little thank you if you'd like."
"I'd like that, George," I responded. "That's generous of you. Are you going to join me with the black, or just watch your cousin in action?
"You know, someone told me they thought I bought my own cousin because he looks so much like me it proved I was a narcissist. But another friend told me it was because they thought it was my way or fucking myself. I thought I was doing it to help my cousin have an easy time as a slave, but that same friend told me if that were so I was rich enough to buy up the whole family, but instead just bought the one that looked like me. So they didn't let me get by with any cheap charity - it was pure ego, plain and simple, according to them. But, who cares? At any rate, the boy's a great fuck as you'll see for yourself, especially now that I've got him opened up good perched on that huge dildo on the Yahama. But to answer your question, I'm going to fuck the black, but not right here. Let's go inside and use one of the fucking couches set out for that very purpose by the Club. The last time I fucked one of these display slaves over the motorcycle saddle, the whole damn thing tipped over when I really got pounding away in the boy's ass and the slave got burnt a little on the hot engine. That didn't bother me so much, but it scarred his hide quite a bit, so I traded him in on this black."
I reached over and fondled one of the black slave's ringed tits. "Where did you buy this one?" I asked.
"He came with the new Yahama," George laughed. "Actually, his previous owner didn't have much equity in him, so he traded him in with his old bike on a new Yamaha. The dealer used the equity as his down payment and bought the slave's mortgage from the bank. He then used the black to entertain his best customers while they were waiting for service and repairs on their bikes as well as gave them a full night's use if they traded up to a new model. When I showed up, he offered the use of his black to me if I'd buy a new bike, but, after fucking him right then and there, I offered to buy the black along with the new bike if he'd give me a decent discount on both. He didn't give me a discount on the bike or the black, but he did offer to give me free of charge the custom paint job you see here if I'd buy both. That custom paint job runs around $3000 so I closed the deal."
"Where'd he come from before all this bike stuff?" I asked.
"The court's sentenced him to lifetime slavery about two years ago - drug dealing. He won't be doing that anymore. I really think the slavery laws are essential to maintain decent society. You know, drugs aren't nearly the problem they were before the slavery laws were put in place, I understand, although that was before my time."
"Mine, too, but I certainly agree with the laws as they now stand. It's hard to imagine a society where there's no real price to pay for violating the law. And I certainly can't imagine a society where slaves weren't available at a reasonable price. How did decent people fulfill their basic needs?"
"Yeah, everyone's better off the way things stand now - especially the slaves. Hell, the criminal elements just use to go around killing each other off and some others were starving to death. It's a lot better now. Every slave, once he or she is sold off, has a purpose in life."
"If you're through playing with this black's tits, I'll take both of them inside and we can find a comfortable place to fuck the daylights out of them. And then, if you like, we'll trade off. I always like a little "family fuck" after taking the black and my cousin will do just fine. And, if you're like me, you'll enjoy a little black ass after the blond. Sort of a study of contrasts, you might say."
We both laughed at that one, and the four of us went inside where we quickly found two convenient couches and bent the two slaves into the best positions for a good solid pounding. George's cousin moaned and gasped as I drove up his tight chute, arching his back at times in an attempt to alleviate the pressure, obviously not fully acclimated to his new role in life yet. But the black slave seemed to take his usage in stride, even, according to George's running account of the event, tightening his ass muscles to squeeze George's huge shaft within him to heighten his user's pleasure. After we had spilled a good load up their asses and rested up a bit, we did trade off and fucked the second slave of the day even harder. The blond slave really groaned when George rammed into him full length, surprising since, knowing George, I was sure he fucked his slaves at least two or three times a day for God knows how long and maybe his cousin even more. After that, we let the slaves clean us up with their tongues and then headed back to the George's new Yahama. The slaves walked a little gingerly after being fucked so hard and streams of thick white cum oozed out of their assholes.
"Mount, slaves," George ordered and the two slaves charily lifted their sore asses over the huge greased dildos and slid down until their asses were once again stuffed and they were firmly "in place" on the Yahama's saddle.
As George went sailing off, he shouted, "Tomorrow, same time and place? And this time, bring those two new handsome Latino slaves of yours so we can fuck all afternoon. Surely you didn't think you could hide them from me forever."
"You're on!" I yelled back as the bright orange Yamaha roared off, fully dressed now with the two display slaves pegged in place.
THE END