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The bells were not the sensuous bells whose rustle drives masters wild, not the sort worn by many dancers, where coins are cast to the dancing floor, usually to be retrieved later by a taverner's man, not the sort sometimes fastened on a slave's ankle before her use, that they may record her least tremor, and resound to her wildest passion. - (Quarry of Gor, Chapter 40, Sentence #294)

They were, in their three rows, locked about my left ankle. I could not remove them. How the other slaves had laughed, that I be so humiliated. The bells were not the sensuous bells whose rustle drives masters wild, not the sort worn by many dancers, where coins are cast to the dancing floor, usually to be retrieved later by a taverner's man, not the sort sometimes fastened on a slave's ankle before her use, that they may record her least tremor, and resound to her wildest passion. No, they were tiny, clanking bells, of the sort that might be fastened on a rooting tarsk or a grazing verr, that their location might be more easily noted by local tenders. It seems I had been too inquisitive. "We will have to find a way to keep track of you," had said Florian. - (Quarry of Gor)