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I might be often called to the couch of high men, to kneel there, belled and perfumed, and kiss the coverlets, and then, bidden, to insinuate myself sinuously into their arms. "Beware, slave," said the man in the chair, "of making a false step". "Master?" I asked. "Hood her," he said. Someone behind me, whom I did not see, placed a hood over my head and drew it down, over my features. It was then buckled shut, under my chin. In a moment then I was lifted in someone's arms, perhaps those of the jailer, and carried about. - (Witness of Gor)