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We were naked, and our ankles were shackled a few inches apart, presumably less for security than to help us keep in mind that we were slaves, as though, on this world, that might somehow slip our mind. - (Quarry of Gor, Chapter 9, Sentence #9)

There were presumably few who did not know the Golden Chain. It may be the largest tavern in Port Kar, or, surely, at least, one of the largest. There were ten of us in the kitchen. We were naked, and our ankles were shackled a few inches apart, presumably less for security than to help us keep in mind that we were slaves, as though, on this world, that might somehow slip our mind. My hands were immersed in the suds of the oven-heated water in the right-hand basin, its water, frequently replenished, heated on the long stove at the back of the kitchen. I held the metal plate in my left hand, under the water, wiping it with the cloth in my right hand. I lifted it, dripping, and rinsed it in the left-hand basin and then inserted it in the vertical rack, that it should drain dry. - (Quarry of Gor)