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I felt the stones beneath my bare feet, was conscious of a tiny movement of air on my body. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 7, Sentence #143)

I looked about, searching for tiny cracks, or openings. There might be any number of such, undetectable from where I stood. I might be seen, and as I was, stripped and braceleted, from a thousand places. I felt the stones beneath my bare feet, was conscious of a tiny movement of air on my body. How alive, I thought, must be the body of a slave! How alive to small things, a breath of air, a scent, subtle, scarcely noticed, the texture of a bit of cloth on her body, the feeling of a carpet or tiles beneath her bared feet, a rustle of chain in an outer room, are they coming for her, the weight of a manacle on her small wrist, the solid, cold feeling of bars clutched in fear. And what, if she were bound and blindfolded, the touch of a master? I wanted to throw myself to my knees and put my head down to the stones. I felt a desperate desire to prostrate myself before the unseen others, if they were there. - (Conspirators of Gor)