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There was the sound of a key thrust into the lock of the manacle, and turned, that by a second attendant. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 25, Sentence #572)

Pity your impoverished sisters who have not yet met masters. Yes, yes, yes, thought Ellen. I well know myself slave, and rightfully so, but I am afraid to be sold! Who will buy me? Who will buy me? I am afraid to be sold, afraid! Afraid! Ellen half screamed, and turned away, but it was not her arm which the first of the two attendants seized, but that of a woman not inches from her, kneeling, cringing, the former free woman. There was the sound of a key thrust into the lock of the manacle, and turned, that by a second attendant. The manacle fell from her wrist. The former free woman was drawn to her feet, and held upright, as it seemed her legs might buckle. She looked down at Ellen, wild-eyed, trembling, weak, but in Ellen's eyes she doubtless saw little but her own terror reflected. - (Prize of Gor)