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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. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 7, Sentence #144)

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. It seemed every muscle and nerve in my body cried out to me to kneel, to place myself in a posture of submission. - (Conspirators of Gor)