The Chain Dance as it appears on the 4th Book of the Gor Series:

Nomads of Gor

The figure of the woman, swathed in black, heavily veiled, descended the steps of the slave wagon.  Once at the foot of the stairs she stopped and stood for a long moment.  Then the musicians began, the hand-drums first, a rythm of heartbeat and flight.  To the music, beautifully, it seemed the frightened figure ran first here and then there, occasionally avoiding imaginary objects or throwing up her arms, ran as though through the crowds of a burning city, alone, yet somehow suggesting the presence about her of hunted others.

Now, in the background, scarcely to be seen, was the figure of a warrior in scarlet cape.  He, too, in his way, though hardly seeming to move, approached, and it seemed that wherever the girl might flee there was found the warrior.  And then, at last, his hand was upon her shoulder and she threw back her head and lifted her hands and it seemed her entire body was wretchedness and despair.   He turned the figure to him and, with both hands, brushed away hood and veil.

There was a cry of delight from the crowd.

The girl's face was fixed in the dancer's stylized moan of terror, but she was beautiful.  She seemed to plead with the warrior but he did not move.   She seemed to writhe in misery and tried to escape his grip but she did not.

Then he removed his hands from her shoulders and, as the crowd cried out, she sank in abject misery at his feet and performed the ceremony of submission, kneeling, lowering the head, and lifting and extending the arms, wrists crossed.

The warrior then turned from her and held out one hand.

Someone from the darkness threw him, coiled, the chain and collar.

He gestured for the woman to rise and she did so and stood before him, head lowered.

He pushed her head up and then, with a click that could be heard throughtout the enclosure, closed the collar-- a Turian collar-- about her throat.   The chain to which the collar was attached was a good deal longer than that of the Sirik, containing perhaps twenty feet of length.

Then to the music, the girl seemed to twist and turn and move away from him, as he played out the chain until she stood wretched some twenty feet from him at the chain's length.  She did not move then, for a moment, but stood crouched down, her hands on the chain.

The music had stopped.

Then with a suddenness that almost made me jump and the crowd cry out with delight, the music began again but this time as a barbaric cry of rebellion and rage and the wench from Port Kar was suddenly a chained she-larl biting and tearing at the chain and she had cast her black robes from her and stood savage revealed in diaphanous, swirling yellow Pleasure Silk.  There was now a frenzy and hatred in the dance, a fury even to the bearing of teeth and snarling.  She turned within the collar, as the Turian collar is designed to permit.  She circled the warrior like a captive moon to his imprisioning scarlet sun, always at the lenght of the chain.  Then he would take up a fist of chain, drawing her each time inches closer.  At times he would permit her to draw back again, but never to the full length of the chain and each time he permitted her to withdraw, it was less than the last.

At last his fist was within the Turian collar itself and he drew the girl, piteous and exhausted, to his lips, subduing her with his kiss, and then her arms were about his neck and unresisting, obidient, her head to his chest, she was lifted lightly in his arms and carried from the firelight.