They weren't really heavy, just cumber­some—anyway, for some reason one of them toppled forward and I instinctively tried to stop it and somehow I ...got my fingers in the way." Sarah held up both hands and Alan could now clearly see that the middle three fingers on each hand were bound tightly together. "They're not all fractured, but they said it's the easiest way to keep them immobilised. But it's really awkward and there's not much that I can do with them—that's why I'm going to need a really. This man will never hurt you, and I won't either." I heard shooting upstairs, and needed to move quickly. After removing her manacles, I knew she would run, no matter what I said. A foot manacle went around her wrist. "I am sorry sweetie, but you have to stay here for a few minutes, or you might get hurt. I will be back soon." I left running up the stairs. I knew that I would be back later, to have a long talk with Mister Juarez.Gunmen were shooting at ghosts. I could sense Carl down the aisle,. ”“Does that mean I can stay?”“Yes, baby. You can say.”And then I plunged into my son’s clean, unlubed cunt. He cried out. I did, too. I guess that was our talk. I guess that was all that needed to be said.As I plowed him, railed him, bred him, he moaned and flexed, showing me his muscles, displaying his pride, being what he needed to be: His father’s slut-bottom son, born and raised to serve the cock that created him.His mother moved out years ago - sensing, I think, our growing bond, unwilling. Shaking with rage, Buzz closed the bedroom door behind him.His whole world came tumbling down in those few shattering seconds.If there was any hope for this fucked-up, degenerate, weirdo-kinko, dope-infested, virgin-fucking-bastard sick society, it lay in sweet young girls like his own precious daughter, and gospel-singing Cindy Smith.That fervent hope had just keeled over and died with a whimper."Now you girls," Buzz said hoarsely, striding to the bed and towering over them, "you girls just.