That was not in my plan. I had Ebola, Super strains of chicken pox and Measles; I had Ricin and other pathogens on my island. I was not targeting my o...n. I was targeting those who had killed my parents. Harbored the terrorists and allowed them to do what they did on 9/11/2001. I walked along with the chatter of the reporters in the background like a sing-song of night bugs behind me. I ignored them all. The gag prevented them from photographing my face and the manacles and handcuffs drug me. You feel a hand touching your ass, playing with it, playing with the thong. You assume it is mine but you are not sure.After a few minutes, which seem much longer you hear me say "Stand". Again, you obey. You are guided back a few steps, to the middle of the living area.A silk scarf is looped over your face. "Open your mouth", you do as you are told. The scarf is placed in your mouth and tied off behind your head. Now you are both blindfolded and gagged.Fingers caress your hair, another. He ass and tail really make me hard, just thinking that only ponyboys can fuck her. Please mom, I want to fuck her. Can’t I be a ponyboy?? John stood at the table looking at his mom, and out the window at his slave sister Sarah. He had watched as his mother and father had taken a nude and struggling Sarah outside, and forced her into the hoof boots, bit, bridle, harness and tail, that forever marked her as nothing more than a ponygirl. She had turned 18, and had been caught looking. Flashes ran thru his mind again.“What a wild fuckin’ dream!” he whispered to himself as he tried to sit up. Suddenly he remembered that he could not, for the life of him, remember the walk home once he got to the middle of the park last night. He couldn’t remember walking in the door or down the stairs to his basement bedroom. No memory of undressing and crawling into bed.“Damn,” he thought, “I must have been really out of it.”Slowly he finally got enough of his wits about him to crawl out of.