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I might as well have been a pretty slave girl, I thought, in fury, chained down in an alcove, who may turn her head to the side and see the key to her chains hanging on the wall, on its nail, convenient for the use of guests or customers, but perhaps, a frustrating chasm, just inches out of her own reach. - (Vagabonds of Gor, Chapter 17, Sentence #113)

To be sure, what difference did it make, I asked myself, bitterly, who held the key, for I was helpless? Indeed, most often captors make no secret of who holds the key to a prisoner's chains. What difference can it make to the prisoner? Indeed, some captors delight in letting the prisoner know who holds the key, in effect letting him know whose prisoner he is, in the most direct sense. Often the key is even carried on a ring, on a belt. I might as well have been a pretty slave girl, I thought, in fury, chained down in an alcove, who may turn her head to the side and see the key to her chains hanging on the wall, on its nail, convenient for the use of guests or customers, but perhaps, a frustrating chasm, just inches out of her own reach. "Woe!" I heard, suddenly. "Woe!" There seemed then a great lamentation in the marsh. I strained to hear, within the darkness of the hood. - (Vagabonds of Gor)