01-19-2024, 10:31 PM
Brody McCall hoped they'd leave. The men outside were dangerous, and he knew he was in for it. He was hiding in Old Man Cropper's barn, and in his little spot amongst the hay bales, it was hotter than hell.
"C'mon out, boy!" called Sheriff Tom Masters. "You gots one minute to come out, or we're gonna burn you out! Y'hear me?"
Brody held his Colt revolver in his left hand. But he only had two bullets left, and there were ten armed deputies outside. Rivulets of sweat dripped into his eyes and burned them. By now, thirty seconds we're gone, and he knew the Sheriff wasn't lying about torching the barn.
"I'm comin' out," he called.
He stood and walked to the barn's doors. He tossed his gun outside and raised his hands.
"Good boy," Masters said.
Two of his men, Virgil and Darren, quickly grabbed him and held him tight.
"Deputy Withers! Get the hangin' rope!"
A lanky deputy ran to his horse a few feet away and produced a pre-tied noose. He handed it to Masters, who walked slowly up to McCall and put it over his head. The rest of the fifteen foot rope stayed with the deputy. Masters ripped McCall's shirt open down to his pants. The young man's slender body glistened with sweat.
Masters smiled as he ran his hand over the captive's smooth belly. With his other hand, he produced a long, heavy bladed knife. McCall didn't even have time to blink before the knife was plunged into his navel all the way to the hilt.
He screamed as his guts felt the cold steel invade their space. The sadistic lawman twisted the blade several times before ripping it free and jamming it higher into his stomach.
"Hang this piece of shit!" Masters ordered.
McCall was dragged to the nearest tree, a tall oak, and Withers launched the rope over the thickest branch he could get the rope over.
The deputies held McCall until the rope was taught and Withers and another deputy were pulling him up. He choked and coughed as his airway was constricted.
When he was about three feet off the ground, the deputies tied the rope off and he struggled. Masters felt himself get extremely aroused at the sight of his knife in the man's belly.
"Okay, boys! Shoot him while he's still kickin'!"
The men drew their revolvers and began firing at the struggling man before them. Fountains of blood exploded from his bare skin. When it was over, Brody McCall was hit almost fifty times. His chest, belly and crotch were awash in his blood. His mouth oozed with blood that ran down his chest.
Masters knew he would get off later at the visuals now burned into his brain. The corpse would be left for the birds.
"C'mon out, boy!" called Sheriff Tom Masters. "You gots one minute to come out, or we're gonna burn you out! Y'hear me?"
Brody held his Colt revolver in his left hand. But he only had two bullets left, and there were ten armed deputies outside. Rivulets of sweat dripped into his eyes and burned them. By now, thirty seconds we're gone, and he knew the Sheriff wasn't lying about torching the barn.
"I'm comin' out," he called.
He stood and walked to the barn's doors. He tossed his gun outside and raised his hands.
"Good boy," Masters said.
Two of his men, Virgil and Darren, quickly grabbed him and held him tight.
"Deputy Withers! Get the hangin' rope!"
A lanky deputy ran to his horse a few feet away and produced a pre-tied noose. He handed it to Masters, who walked slowly up to McCall and put it over his head. The rest of the fifteen foot rope stayed with the deputy. Masters ripped McCall's shirt open down to his pants. The young man's slender body glistened with sweat.
Masters smiled as he ran his hand over the captive's smooth belly. With his other hand, he produced a long, heavy bladed knife. McCall didn't even have time to blink before the knife was plunged into his navel all the way to the hilt.
He screamed as his guts felt the cold steel invade their space. The sadistic lawman twisted the blade several times before ripping it free and jamming it higher into his stomach.
"Hang this piece of shit!" Masters ordered.
McCall was dragged to the nearest tree, a tall oak, and Withers launched the rope over the thickest branch he could get the rope over.
The deputies held McCall until the rope was taught and Withers and another deputy were pulling him up. He choked and coughed as his airway was constricted.
When he was about three feet off the ground, the deputies tied the rope off and he struggled. Masters felt himself get extremely aroused at the sight of his knife in the man's belly.
"Okay, boys! Shoot him while he's still kickin'!"
The men drew their revolvers and began firing at the struggling man before them. Fountains of blood exploded from his bare skin. When it was over, Brody McCall was hit almost fifty times. His chest, belly and crotch were awash in his blood. His mouth oozed with blood that ran down his chest.
Masters knew he would get off later at the visuals now burned into his brain. The corpse would be left for the birds.