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I heard the tiny sounds of the links of the chain, running between the shackle and its ring. I pulled back my left ankle, and lifted it, frightened, alarmed by the sensations I was beginning to feel, and learned what limitations had been placed on its movements, imposed by the metal impedimenta whose prisoner it was. I could not leave the alcove of course, but I had been permitted slack, enough to kick, it seems, as in the throes of passion or, helplessly, as though to hold on for dear life, to clench my legs about a master's legs or, if I were pulled down, closer to the ring, his body. His touches and kisses were now disturbing me, but he was very gentle. "Oh, Master!" I said. The flesh behind the knee and above it is very sensitive. He was patient. - (Dancer of Gor, Chapter )