Check out these men who are locked in restraints and forced to work in the hot sun:
Today’s artwork is by GARYRO of Chained Muscle
Check out these men who are locked in restraints and forced to work in the hot sun:
Today’s artwork is by GARYRO of Chained Muscle
Today’s Artwork is by garyRO of Chained Muscle. It is inspired by the Gor novels:
To see more chained men like this, visit Chained Muscle — a site with lots of artwork, stories, videos, and much more!
Today’s artwork and story teasers are courtesy of the men of Chained Muscle. To read and see more from these guys, check out the Chained Muscle section of the Metalbond Prison Library, and also be sure to visit the official Chained Muscle site.
Check out this preview from “The Prince & The Warrior” by GaryRo of Chained Muscle:
The young warrior is guided into a small adjacent torture room, and forced to kneel before a deep large pit. A wooden suspension device is lowered. The adept torturers make quick work of knotting leather straps to each of his strong fingers. The ends of the straps are attached to the rings of the suspension device. Another torturer manning a winch across the room hauls the brave young man over the pit. Now suspended painfully by his fingers straps are attached to his big on each foot. The tortures make quick work of stretching his legs by the toe straps and attaching them to rings embedded in the dungeon floor.
To complete the Princes’ special plan a metal device with a long chain and iron ball is fastened to his private parts. The Prince waves his hand and slowly a hot liquid soupy mix begins to fill the pit.
To see more, go to Chained Muscle
This picture is from “Stepson’s Doom” — a new, illustrated story from the men over at Chained Muscle.
To read Stepson’s Doom in the Prison Library, click HERE
And to see more like it, visit the Chained Muscle site.
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.
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