Jessie was on top of me and passed out after her orgasm subsided. I left her lay there and listened to her breath for several minutes. She woke only b...iefly as I rolled her off to my side. She quickly rolled to spoon and pulled my arm over herself, and started lightly snoring.I drifted off a short time later to the sound of Jessie’s rhythmic breathing. I awoke to the dusk light coming through the window, my morning wood nestled between her warm thighs and her hard nipple between my fingers. I. More than enough, Dara(Ket) thought. Satisfied she began to follow the chain on the back of her collar. It was lengthy, giving her freedom of movement throughout the room, which was at best an 8x9 box. She found its end on the wall to the right of the bed, linked and padlocked to an anchor embedded in the cement floor.Dara(Ket) went to sit down on the bed, not remembering her enflamed butt, she did so abruptly, and yelped a shrill cry as her sensitive ass signaled its displeasure. Quickly she. “Now, turn over,” I commanded sharply. “And spread your arms and legs wide apart. Like a big X. Understand.”She complied without even the slightest sound, and looked on with surprise as I secured her hands and feet to the bed posts with fur lined restraints. “So I guess this answers the question you asked me before about why I have a 4 poster bed and what those little silver rings in each post is for, doesn’t it. Don’t answer, just lie there quiet. We’re not quite done yet.”I went back to the. Now I've not been in Scotland nor in Africa nor in Ruritania, but I've been on a real adventure ... and been wounded like Dr. Watson and Quatermain. But I'm not a fictional hero. So I need a way to moor myself. And I want you to help me." I wouldn't know what to do. I don't even know who some of those people are. And in many ways you are a hero." What do you mean?" Well, what's a hero? Certainly not Superman or one of those cartoon folks. They're not real in any way. They're fantasy. Quatermain.