Strong, virile, muscular men, captured, interrogated, tortured told in fantasy images and stories. These are from the website of Chained Muscle.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Day 1 of my Summer Vaction by garyRo
Gangbanger's (Newark New Jersey)
GaryRo's cross country trip journal
Like many American's I thought it nice
to spend some time traveling across the U.S. from east to west coast.
I took most of the month of June starting in the east and working my
way through America's heartland to Los Angeles. Unlike most
American's and their families I could give a fuck about historic
sites, I was far more interested in visiting and partying with my
favorite Gangbangers along the way. Of course I documented my trip to
share with my friends at Chained Muscle.
To be honest I kicked off my journey in
New York City but my first stop was in New Jersey where I hooked up
with some old friends in Newark, hadn't seen these guys in a few
years, but they sure treated me to a great night.
Next stop the city of Brotherly Love
(so correctly named)
Stinging Pecs
`yeah go on Reece` another smack tears into his chest
`ahhh yeah, you fucker, give it to me` CRACK
`ahhh you bastard` CRACK
`ahhhhhh, fuck Reece, you're good mate` CRAAAACCKKK
`awwwww, oh Reece` CRAACKK
`awww mate you got me where you want me` CRAAAACCKKK`
`awww fuck mate I built up this body for you mate` CRACK
`awwwwwww yeaah, destroy me you fucker, it's all yours` CRACKK
`give it to me` CRACKKK
`it's all for you mate` CRACCKKKK
`destroy me mate, destroy me` CRACKKK
`aww mate, I'm never gonna compete again after this` CRACKKK
`I'm finished, and you're the guy who did it` CRACK
`aww mate yeah, lower that waistband` CRACKK `AWWW!!!!`
Reece turned him round and said `That was just for starters buddy. Now for some real fun. That back has been waiting ten years for this` SMMMAAAAACKKKKK
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
Lashed Up On A Saturday Night
The boss loves him, but can never show it. The only thing Tim Douglas understands is the whip. He takes it like a hero, egging his boss on. `Go on Mr Sampson, give it to me, harder, I've been slacking this week ...OH YEAHHH... oh sir, that's it .....OH YEAAHHH` The whipping sessions at the back of the aluminium yard, usually on a Saturday evening, after the yard closed. It's all both guys live for. Mr Sampson's pulse races each Saturday morning at around 8 when he hears Tim roar thru the front gate on his gixxer thou, stunting around and spinning up the rear wheel, shirtless and in only in his denim cutoffs, boots, gloves and lid. He skids to a stop in front of the boss's window, gunning the motor, his legs spread wide on the big Jap bike, grinning at him thru his dark visor. Finally he'll kill the engine, pull off his helmet and look at the boss. Sampson will say `One of these days you'll throw that bike down the road Douglas, and that pretty body of yours will know all about it`. `Well, I guess making me know all about it is what you're gonna do to me later on tonight, ain't that right Mr Sampson?` `Get to work you dog, I'll sort you out later` Saturday always passed slowly for Sampson, as he counted the hours til 6pm. In the afternoon at about 3 he'd get eaten up with jealousy when Tim's girlfriend flounced into the yard. Douglas would always make a fuss of her, stroke her back and arms, hold her close, and look up at the boss's window to check he was taking it in. He'd see Sampson's steely stare through the glass, and knew he was working him up for a thrashing. `Am I gonna see you tonight baby?` his girl would ask `You know I can't babe` Tim would always say `Gotta work late for Mr Sampson. He puts the bread on our table for us and our little Timmy`
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Tommy & The Mob
Tommy was a typical handsome college
stud, frat boy, arrogant, and an all around dick wad. Just the kind
of ass wipe I always hated in college. Tall with bright blue eyes he
got any chick he wanted, how I got stuck with this worm for a room
mate I'll never know, in fact his only redeeming qualities as far as
I was concerned was he made good eye candy and the fact that he dealt
drugs (far be it from me to complain about free pot).
I eventually changed room mates,
Tommy's drug dealing was consuming him and I didn't want to get
caught up in his shit. One day Tommy just disappeared, I figured he
got busted, someone told me he was skimming profits from the Russian
Mob, who knows the truth. I'm sure he got what was coming to him.
Gundar: Scene 1: The Plot — 1a. Prophecy
Amari!
A myth. A story.
Gundar held the old man’s hands. Feeling respect. Feeling for the injuries the frail old man had taken. And suspecting a fever had seized hold of the old man’s brain.
“It was Amaris. I should know, I was their slave”.
Slave to a myth. Slave to a people that did not exist! The thought was still flashing through Gundar’s head when the old man turned on him.
“Mock me at your peril, you fool!” he cried.
Gundar squeezed his hand.
“Relax, old man. I believe you. Just rest”.
“Rest, you stupid young puppy!”
Gundar smiled benevolently at the old man who had been attacked by the strangers Gundar had been trying to track down. With Gundar’s shape and age, “puppy” was hardly the word. But the man would not let go.
“Rest?”
Gundar tried to stop him but the old man shrugged off his hand and struggled tottering to his feet. Angrily he gestured away Gundar’s offering arm.
“Rest?” The old man shook his head in frustration.
“You’ll spend the rest of your life in chains if I rest!”
Gundar smiled kindly.
The old man glared back in frustration. For all his size Gundar was like every young fool! They always knew better!
The old man had been right. Unsuspecting Gundar had walked straight in the trap. He had never believed this kingdom existed. He knew of those Amaris as just as story. But everything the old man had told him about them was turning out to be true. Yet Gundar had dismissed the story of the Amaris as some legend the old folks told. A myth of the legendary city of Amari. A place of subjugation and cruelty. The kind of story about savage marauding warriors you frightened children with when they didn’t behave.
But then in that case it was a myth that had put Gundar in bonds. In chains, - just as the old man had warned. Prophetic words. After three days of being marched away into their captivity Gundar was fully convinced. Warriors of Amari had come for him, they’d brought the battle to him. Well-prepared, well-armed, sending their best after him by the look of these warriors. There was a strong streak of cruelty in them, too, in these men who had mockingly shoved and jostled at him these last three days.. Just as the old man had warned. Hands trapped behind his head for the last three days, unfed, barely watered, toyed with, mocked. His hands caught up behind in the collar that they’d forced on him, beaten and abused at every chance, Gundar now stared in amazement at this mythical city. He stood in the shadow of this incredible citadel to which his captors had brought him. Him and him alone. This had been no raiding party. They had not come to take slaves. They had come for only him. He stood in bonds before this fabled city, ogled by onlookers. They had come for him. They wanted him. Him and only him. For what? He shivered in realisation that the legend of the cruel Amari had set out to take Gundar captive. For what?
“Rest?” Gundar had said coaxingly.
The old man had uttered in disbelief at this scepticism.
“You’ll spend the rest of your life in chains if I rest!”
A myth. A story.
Gundar held the old man’s hands. Feeling respect. Feeling for the injuries the frail old man had taken. And suspecting a fever had seized hold of the old man’s brain.
“It was Amaris. I should know, I was their slave”.
Slave to a myth. Slave to a people that did not exist! The thought was still flashing through Gundar’s head when the old man turned on him.
“Mock me at your peril, you fool!” he cried.
Gundar squeezed his hand.
“Relax, old man. I believe you. Just rest”.
“Rest, you stupid young puppy!”
Gundar smiled benevolently at the old man who had been attacked by the strangers Gundar had been trying to track down. With Gundar’s shape and age, “puppy” was hardly the word. But the man would not let go.
“Rest?”
Gundar tried to stop him but the old man shrugged off his hand and struggled tottering to his feet. Angrily he gestured away Gundar’s offering arm.
“Rest?” The old man shook his head in frustration.
“You’ll spend the rest of your life in chains if I rest!”
Gundar smiled kindly.
The old man glared back in frustration. For all his size Gundar was like every young fool! They always knew better!
The old man had been right. Unsuspecting Gundar had walked straight in the trap. He had never believed this kingdom existed. He knew of those Amaris as just as story. But everything the old man had told him about them was turning out to be true. Yet Gundar had dismissed the story of the Amaris as some legend the old folks told. A myth of the legendary city of Amari. A place of subjugation and cruelty. The kind of story about savage marauding warriors you frightened children with when they didn’t behave.
But then in that case it was a myth that had put Gundar in bonds. In chains, - just as the old man had warned. Prophetic words. After three days of being marched away into their captivity Gundar was fully convinced. Warriors of Amari had come for him, they’d brought the battle to him. Well-prepared, well-armed, sending their best after him by the look of these warriors. There was a strong streak of cruelty in them, too, in these men who had mockingly shoved and jostled at him these last three days.. Just as the old man had warned. Hands trapped behind his head for the last three days, unfed, barely watered, toyed with, mocked. His hands caught up behind in the collar that they’d forced on him, beaten and abused at every chance, Gundar now stared in amazement at this mythical city. He stood in the shadow of this incredible citadel to which his captors had brought him. Him and him alone. This had been no raiding party. They had not come to take slaves. They had come for only him. He stood in bonds before this fabled city, ogled by onlookers. They had come for him. They wanted him. Him and only him. For what? He shivered in realisation that the legend of the cruel Amari had set out to take Gundar captive. For what?
“Rest?” Gundar had said coaxingly.
The old man had uttered in disbelief at this scepticism.
“You’ll spend the rest of your life in chains if I rest!”
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