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I love being braceleted, she thought. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 26, Sentence #453)

Even then, however reluctantly, she had found the bracelets stimulatory. How delicious it was, how exciting it was, that feeling of being braceleted, of being helpless, utterly helpless, of having her small wrists fastened together, locked together, particularly behind her back, her beauty then so exposed, so unguarded and defenseless, in those linked, obdurate, sturdy, uncompromising bracelets—slave bracelets. It spoke to her of her vulnerability, her helplessness, of her subjection to men, of her condition, slave, of her nature, female. I love being braceleted, she thought. Ellen sensed that her master was then standing before her, the leash presumably in his hand, she gathering that from the tiny draw on the hood's strap ring. Too, she did not feel the leash against her body. "Master, may I speak?" she asked. - (Prize of Gor)