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"They grow accustomed to tarns". - (Swordsmen of Gor, Chapter 12, Sentence #241)

Indeed the only experience many women had with tarns was to be slung naked as one of a pair, one on each side, fastened to a saddle ring, or to be, if a single quarry, hauled aloft by a tarnsman's braided, leather rope and then, their clothing cut from them, to be put on their back across the saddle, before their captor, their wrists crossed and bound to one ring, their ankles crossed and bound to another, their first writhing then, and crying out, to take place on the saddle, under the idle caresses of their captor, on the long flight back to his city or camp. It was less terrifying, of course, to be bound in a tarn basket, slung beneath a tarn, usually a draft tarn. "Some slaves work in the cots, in the cities," I said. "They grow accustomed to tarns". "They are rather like stable sluts?" asked Tajima. "Yes," I said. I thought of the former Miss Wentworth. - (Swordsmen of Gor)