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The music became more wild. - (Assassin of Gor, Chapter 15, Sentence #24)

She no longer wore the band of steel on her left ankle. "Excellent," said Ho-Tu, putting aside his spoon. Phyllis Robertson now lay on her back, and then her side, and then turned and rolled, drawing up her legs, putting her hands before her face, as though fending blows, her face a mask of pain, of fear. The music became more wild. The dance receives its name from the fact that the girl's head is not supposed to rise above the Warrior's belt, but only purists concern themselves with such niceties; wherever the dance is performed, however, it is imperative that the girl never rise to her feet. The music now became a moan of surrender, and the girl was on her knees, her head down, her hands on the ankle of the Warrior, his sandal lost in the unbound darkness of her hair, her lips to his foot. "Sura is doing a good job with her," said Ho-Tu. - (Assassin of Gor, Chapter 15)