Story by slavelabor, artwork by GaryRo
The thugs untied Jason from the wooden frame and quickly reattached the heavy metal shackles to his wrists and ankles. The chain attaching his wrists hung across his broad muscular shoulders. The longed haired thug who Jason now knew as Junior and was obviously Virgil’s son marched him from the shed into a field at the edge of the road running by Virgil’s farm.
As they approach a small rectangular wooden platform, three of Virgil’s sons or “hands” pull up hooting and hollering in an old pickup truck. They backup the truck to the side of platform, Jason can see the bed of the truck is filled with what looks like a lot of junk. “Boy, go stand on the platform.” Although helplessly chained, and in agony from his fresh brand Jason stands his ground, shaking his head “No!” Enraged, Junior points and cocks his rifle, “Git Boy!”
Again Jason shakes his head, “Fuck off.” Junior yells over to one of the guys getting out of the pickup, “Toss it.” Before Jason realizes what “it” is, and incredible sharp pain runs through his entire body.
The cattle prod had not only attacked his exposed dick, but some of the “juice” ran through the chains and manacles restraining his strong arms and legs. Junior smiles, “that was on low Boy, now get on the platform.” Stumbling over to the platform Jason sighs seeing the other ranch hands unloading junk from the pickup that he knows is destined to inflict pain on him.
Two of the thugs remove the shackles from Jason’s ankles. They then remove the chain joining the shackles attached to his wrists. It’s the middle of the afternoon and the sun is beating down relentlessly across Jason’s shoulders and back. “Git up there,” commands one of the thugs. Jason cautiously steps onto the wooden platform, having no idea what they intend to do to him next. Using his foot Junior kicks Jason’s feet apart and motions to one of the rednecks puffing away on a home made cigarette, “Lock em.” The kid quickly locks the chain between the right and left manacle to a handy eye bolt firmly embedded through the plank and into the ground. The other two redneck thugs bring over a tall wood frame with barbed wire stretched inside, They stand it up behind the platform where the bottom is attached to a hinge. While the bearded redneck attaches a chain to the top of the frame, the kid grabs a hold of the Jason’s neck manacle, “Stand fucking still Boy.”
Junior stands in front of Jason with a long old rusty iron pipe, “Grab this boy with both hands!” Jason hesitates, the kid gives a quick tug on the chain he’s holding, “fucking grab it boy”. Grasping the iron pipe Jason’s biceps bulge, and forearm veins protrude under the unexpected weight of the pipe.
Junior smiles as he locks the chain between Jason’s wrist manacles to the pipe. Clueless and nervous about what’s going to happen, “what are you guys doing?” Junior picks up the cattle prod and holds it to Jason’s testicles “lift the pipe over your head!” Jason does as he’s ordered and is horrified as they erect another barbed frame in front of him. They run the chain from the back panel under the pipe, through both his raised hands, and attach it to the front panel.
He can not move in any direction without having his body pierced by one of the sharp spikes protruding from the wire. He tries to let out a deep breath but his large hard pectoral muscles scratch painfully against the sharp spikes causing him to move back. The spikes behind him then dig themselves in the muscles of his broad back. The only way he can avoid the spikes is to not move. He remembers his training as a wrestler, and focuses on keeping control of his muscles and making them stay as still as possible.
This is no easy task under the heat of the Arizona sun. The thugs start laughing, “Now let’s have us some real fun,” one of them yells. With that they tie two sacks of grain to either end of the already weighty iron pipe. The sudden addition of weight catches Jason off guard and the pipe forces the chain spanning the two barged frames to cave inwards, pushing the sharp barbed spikes into Jason’s naked exposed body. He screams, “Fuckkk.” He must push back with all his strength to keep himself from being impaled. It takes all his strength to push back against the horrendous weight bearing down on him. The farmhands laugh and joke as Jason strains to keep the frame intact. The large blue veins running down his huge arm muscles stand out like thick wires under his skin. His thigh and calve muscles ripple as he pushes upwards and desperately tries to keep his balance. For the first time in his short captivity he begs his captives. “Fuck please, at least remove the sacks.” Junior sticks his hand through the barbed wire, and sadistically taps Jason’s grimaced and sweat soaked face, “have a good night.”
After the thugs finally decided to leave, the sun begins to sink into the western sky giving Jason some relief from the intense heat. He is left totally alone, naked, bound and trapped in his barbaric barbed wire prison for all to see. As if the torment of holding the pipe over his head wasn’t enough with the onset of night comes the constant biting of mosquitoes. The agony in his sturdy arms and legs is beyond any tolerance and leaves him few choices. To relieve the endless burning from lifting the weight he rests the pipe on his shoulders causing the barbs to rip into his hard torso and legs. When the pain from the cuts becomes to great he lifts the weights again. The warm night air does little to relieve the constant stream of salty sweat pouring into his wounds.
Many people drive by and see the agonized helpless young man. Nobody stops. They know that this is the way justice is handled in this part of the world.
NOTE: The illustrated story above is presented here courtesy of Chained Muscle. Used with permission.
To see more like this, visit Chained Muscle