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I heard men crying out, and pounding paga goblets on the tables. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 30, Sentence #331)

"Please, Master!" But he had unbuckled the curtain, departed, and yanked it shut behind him. I caught the briefest glimpse of tanned legs in the sand, each ankle ringed with slave bells, and a swirling skirt of scarlet dancing silk. I heard the jangle of jewelry, and the sudden, bright flash of finger cymbals. I heard men crying out, and pounding paga goblets on the tables. I wept in misery, pulling against the chains, twisting and turning, and then, my desperate efforts mocked by obdurate, clasping steel, I lay back in the furs, in helpless frustration, a slave, chained in place. It seemed forever that the slave danced, but it was doubtless no more at a time than a handful of Ehn, perhaps no more than three or four. Four times the music stopped, and I waited for the return of Kurik, of Victoria, but it would begin again, perhaps with another slave, certainly with another tempo, another mood, another exhibition of how marvelously beautiful and desirable a human female can be, another exhibition of why they should be possessed, owned, collared, and mastered. - (Plunder of Gor)