Little did Shane know, his parents had leveraged his freedom to get a bank loan. Under Black Rule Law a white minor was the PROPERTY of his parents and they had the right to sell him as such. So, today, on the eve of his 18th birthday, the bank decided to call in the loan.
Shane had given himself a hard session at the gym. He’d pushed himself till he hurt. He’d then taken his shirt off and stripped down to his running shorts ready for a few laps of the running track.
His shorts were black and tight. They showed off his tight bubble butt and there was a pleasing bulge round the front. He enjoyed wearing them. He enjoyed the admiring glances he’d get from girls (and boys) on the running track. He never wore anything under them. He enjoyed the feeling of the tight silky material clinging to his body. And he enjoyed the sensation of almost nakedness when he ran. It felt dangerous.
Shane stood in front of the mirror in the changing room and admired his tight, smooth, muscled body. He then found his way to the track and started to run.
Later, dripping with sweat, he worked his way back to the changing room. It was empty. What happened next was quick and terrifying.
He’d removed his running shoes and socks and was about to pull his shorts down and strip for a shower when he sensed movement behind him. Before he could react, a plastic bag was forced over his head. There was some sort of cloth in the bag which much have been soaked with chloroform. He’d struggled desperately, hands gripped his body and held him firm.
‘Easy, boy, this won’t take long…’
A voice? He felt his hands being pulled behind his back and then…
…he’d woken up here…in this miserable cold cellar…roped hand and foot…and alone.
His bondage was simple and effective. His legs were roped around his thighs and his ankles. The rope was looped around his limbs and then cinched off. It was tight and unyielding.
Similarly, his wrists had been tied together but then pulled up and over his head where they were fastened to ropes around each of his upper arms. The ropes dug painfully into his biceps and triceps and, try as he might, he couldn’t pull his wrists back up and over his head.
A rope around his chest was also connected to his wrists just below his neck and also prevented their release.
Shane was sat up against a wall. He tried to pull himself away but realised that, somehow, his wrists were also tied to the wall somewhere above his head. He tried to lift his head up to look for the rope but his bound wrists prevented his head from turning or looking around.
Shane was trapped. He couldn’t escape. He wore only his tight little black running shorts. He was afraid.
He looked around the room in which he was imprisoned. It was old. The walls consisted of decaying brick work and old rusting pipework. There were no windows. The floor was made of cold concrete. It was dirty. Two striplights were fixed to the ceiling and provided the only light in the room. There was a single metal door. Closed.
He called out. He heard a rustling sound. Rats?
‘HEY! HELP! SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF HERE!’
This time…no sound. Dimly, in the distance, he thought he could hear the faint sound of traffic. But there was no-one around to listen to him…or release him.
Shane hunted for the knots on the rope with his fingers…but whoever had tied him up had done a good job. He couldn’t feel any knots, only loops of rope. The knots were well out of reach.
‘HEY!! SOMEONE GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!’
Silence again. Shane began to struggle against his rope bonds but only succeeded in rubbing the skin off where the ropes gripped his flesh. His skin felt raw and sore. His shoulders ached. His arms ached.
‘PLEASE!! SOMEONE LET ME OUT!!’
More silence. Shane waited.
Minutes passed…hours? Shane had no idea how long he’d been here. The constant light in his prison cell gave no sense of the passing of time.
Shane passed into a half awake half sleeping state. His tight rope bondage prevented him from sleeping properly.
He was suddenly awakened when the metal door slammed open. Two guys walked calmly into the room. They were both black skinned. Proper black. Jamaican? African?
They and were both big guys – strong and muscled. One wore black boots, tight blue jeans and a tight white t-shirt. The other was dressed similarly but also wore an unzipped black leather jacket. He carried a large black bag.
They walked ominously over to Shane…saying nothing.
‘HEY! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?’
They knelt down either side of Shane. The guy in the t-shirt held Shane’s legs firmly down on the floor. The leather jacket guy reached into the black bag and pulled out a syringe.
Shane bucked against his bondage but the ropes held strong and couldn’t move. The weight of the guy on his legs held him firmly in place.
The leather jacket guy pushed the needle into Shane’s right thigh. The sharp pain caused Shane to shout out in pain. He felt the cold liquid from the syringe enter his leg. The leather jacket guy continued to squeeze the syringe for ten seconds or so and then he pulled the needle out. He wiped the needle wound with cotton wool.
The effect on Shane was almost immediate. All the strength drained away from his body. He felt his muscles grow weak and useless. He could barely blink.
He’d lost his ability to speak. His head slumped down on his chest. He was still conscious…but he was paralysed.
What happened next was quick and efficient. It was clear that these guys had done this before. They quickly removed Shane’s rope restraints, pulled him away from the wall and lay him on his front with his legs together and his arms down by his sides.
Shane’s head lay on his right cheek so all he could see on his left side was the large black bag obscuring his vision. He heard clanking and clinking as more items were removed from the bag. He couldn’t move his eyes and look up so he had no idea what the items were.
He felt something cold and metal being placed around his neck. A collar. Thick and heavy, by the feel of it. What the hell was going on? What were they doing to him?
The collar was clinked shut. It was close fitting on his neck but not tight. Seconds passed and suddenly there was a loud electrical whirring and Shane felt a jarring vibration through his collar. They were bolting the collar with some sort of electrical tool. Tightening the bolt until fingers alone would not be able to remove it.
Shane felt a sudden warm breath on his ear.
‘Don’t worry, white boy, this is only temporary. We’ll be welding these shut later. Get used to them. You’ll be wearing them for a looooonnng time.’
Shane heard laughter from the other guy.
Over the next few minutes, heavy metal manacles were locked around Shane’s wrists and ankles. They were also bolted in place.
Shane’s right arm was then forced painfully up his back towards his neck. A short length of chain was padlocked to his wrist and then connected to his collar, holding his wrist high up his back. His other wrist was restrained in a similar manner. A short length of chain was then used to lock his wrists together.
Shane’s ankles were then chained together. The connecting chain was perhaps six inches long.
Shane lay there helpless as his body was gradually locked into heavy metal bondage.
A long length of chain was then used to connect his ankle chain to his wrist chains. It snaked all down his body. Shane was unable to move his wrists either up or down his back. The metal was cold on his flesh and, even though he couldn’t move, a shiver ran down his entire body.
Seconds passed. Shane waited to see what would happen next. No more chains were locked on his body. Shane started to feel pins and needles in his hands. Was the drug wearing off? Not that it made any difference now. He was chained up good and proper. He tried to wiggle the fingers on his hands.
He tried to speak. A pool of saliva leaked out of his mouth and dropped onto the floor where it formed a small, dusty puddle.
One more item was being removed from the bag. Shane felt his head being lifted up. Metal passed in front of his face. A mask? A hood?
Hands roughly forced his mouth open wide and a wide metal plate was inserted. It rested on his tongue and pushed it down against the bottom of his mouth. It tasted nasty, acidic, rusty…it made him choke.
He felt a layer of metal wrap itself around the lower half of his face. He felt it press against his chin and his cheeks. The lower half of his face was now encased in metal with some sort of interior metal gag forced into his mouth and holding his tongue firmly down.
The upper half of his face was unobscured other than wide strips of metal which passed just outside of his eyes and up and over his head. Another strip of metal passed up and over his nose.
Shane felt the rear of the metal hood being closed on the back of his skull. He felt the wide metal strips lock into place and dig painfully into his head. There were further vibrations and more whirring as his head restraint was locked into place. Shane’s head and neck were then locked rigid as the hood was bolted to his collar.
Shane lay on the floor wearing only his tight fitting black running shorts. His body was now completely restrained in chain and metal. He was terrified.
His world became darkness as some sort of black cloth bag was placed over his head. Shane then felt himself being picked up and carried over the shoulder of one of the black guys.
The metal contraption on his head dug painfully into his skull. The flat metal gag in his mouth pushed down on his tongue and he was sure he could taste blood as it ground around in his mouth. Shane wanted to scream.
He was carried for minutes. He felt cold air on his body and realised that he had been taken outside.
The sound of a lorry engine suddenly burst into life. He heard a large metallic sliding door being opened. He then felt his almost naked body being dumped on a metal floor. Was he inside the lorry now?
Seconds passed and Shane suddenly felt further restraints being locked around his ankles.
There was a mechanical whirring and then Shane felt his ankles being lifted up into the air. Gradually, his whole body was lifted away from the metal floor and he hung, inverted, in the air, suspended and held in place by restraints around his ankles. His body swayed slowly back and forth. The blood rushed to his head.
The cloth hood was pulled from his head and, as his eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light in the back of the lorry, he began to get a sense of his surroundings.
The first thing Shane saw was the floor of the lorry above his head. His head was approximately sixty centimetres from the ground. He hung, upside down, chained and unable to move…slowly swinging back and forth.
But then, Shane realised that he wasn’t alone.
There were other guys in the lorry. They were all chained and hanging in a similar way to himself. They all wore the same metal hood as Shane. He had seen something like it in history books. It had been used as a way of silencing and punishing prisoners during the slave trade in the old days.
Like Shane, they were all young, fit and white. Some of them wore just shorts, some wore tight wrestling singlets, some wore lycra athletics gear, some of them were in soccer strip, some wore football gear, some wore only tight speedos, a couple of guys looked like they were naked. But, like Shane, they were all chained, restrained and hanging.
And, like Shane, they had all been sold into white slavery by their families.
Darkness fell as the rear door of the lorry was pulled down and locked shut.
Shane wanted to scream. Instead, he pissed himself. And, as the warm urine soaked his tight black shorts and dripped down his tight, muscular, white skinned body…he began to cry.
With thanks to the Black Rule Photo Blog for the idea…