The Sawhorse, mm/m

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Malacoda
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The Sawhorse, mm/m

Post by Malacoda »

Recently I was looking through some really old papers, like really old and I found a bunch of them that were over 60 years old. Among them was a sort of journal I kept when I was nine, and these stories are from that, translated into grownupspeak and with some additions to fill in what were obvious gaps in the narrative.

Hey, I was nine! This was the summer of 1959. My memory is still good but not THAT good.

It was a typical summer afternoon when I nine. I was going to be tied up.

My friends greeted me at my back door and proceeded to tie my hands in the double hammerlock position. It became a favorite of ours because it left the victim totally helpless. They put the gag in, tying it as deep as they could and then adding a short rope to my hands to hold the bandana in. I was dressed as I always was, short sleeved shirt, long pants and PF Flyers on my feet.

They took me across the alley into the garage of a couple of the kids and there was the ladder and a sawhorse. They had covered it with some kind of cloth to prevent splinters and they helped me sit straddling because with arms behind me I could not do it on my own.

(I would later learn this was a real instrument of torture but none of us knew about that then.)

(I was never tied up on the floor of a garage. Mother did not want oil on my clothes, which was totally understandable. She did not mind dirt, mud, even grass stains. Those were normal things that happen to kids clothes, but oil ruined the garment. It did not come out and would possibly start a fire in the electric dryer. Cars in the 1950s leaked oil and father had a barrel of a substance called Oil-Dry in the garage to absorb oil from under our car. That was not a problem for me, I rarely went barefoot, but it was an issue for the kids across the alley who did.)

My feet were firmly planted on the side bars of the sawhorse legs and they tied my ankles to them.

Then they left.

It was not too uncomfortable at first. I was not heavy by any stretch of the imagination and so my weight rested on the two by four that was the center of the horse without any trouble or much discomfort.

At least for a while.

After a time it really began to hurt. I was able to stand and relieve the discomfort for a bit and that was seriously tiring. But it was not as bad as sitting on the two by four so I stood there, legs apart, balancing by my thighs against the center thing. It was a good thing that PF Flyers had really thick, rubber soles. They enabled me to stand on the edges of the two by fours that were the bracing of the horse.

The gag stopped speech but it did not stop noise. And I started to make noise. I made a lot of noise.

They came running in to see me standing there yelling. One of them asked me if I wanted off the horse and when I nodded a vigorous affirmative, at least as vigorous as the rope holding gag would let me, they untied my ankles and lifted me off it.

Of course they left the gag in and my arms tied. They weren't done with me.

(Nor were they done with the sawhorse as I would find out in a few days.)

I was blindfolded and led out of the garage to the picnic table. The laid me on one of the benches, tied my ankles together and then tied my waist to the bench so I would not fall off. Then they bent my legs up and tied a rope, not to my hands like I was expecting, but to the back of my gag! That pulled my head back. This time they did not leave me. They just stood around enjoying their handiwork and my obvious discomfort.

I wasn't kept that way too long, just long enough to resolve to do the same thing to them when it was their turn to be tied up. They untied the rope to my gag and then just tied my ankles to the bench leaving me stretched out on my stomach. After viewing their victim they ran off to play. After a time they came back and untied me. We then grabbed one of them and tied him to the top of the picnic table spread-eagled. Then we left him and ran off to play war or something.

Just a typical afternoon.
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Xtc
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Post by Xtc »

I'm glad to see you sharing these memories.
Thank you.
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Canuck100
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Post by Canuck100 »

Malacoda wrote: 1 year ago Just a typical afternoon.
Haha, I’m sure i’m not the only one here wishing our « typical afternoons » were like yours!

Well done, thanks for posting this
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Post by drawscore »

The sawhorse was a true instrument of torture. There weren't any blankets over it, and the top had a sharp edge like a sword. The victim was made to straddle the sawhorse, and two iron balls were cuffed to his feet. The horse was then elevated to the point where the iron balls were about 18-24 inches off the ground.

Rather nasty way for someone to die, but the cruelty humans were (and still are) capable of inflicting on other humans and animals, knows no bounds.

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Malacoda
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Post by Malacoda »

I'm glad they did not know that.
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Killua
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Post by Killua »

That's an interesting experience. Thanks for sharing. I didn't even think on using a sawhorse for tying someone up as a kid... and we had lots of then in the workshop. Great idea you guys had.
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