“The metal handcuffs were cold on my bare ankles, but I didn’t dare complain. I’d never dared to complain, not since the first Sunday afternoon when Elaine closed the cool steel around my ankles and wrists, the collar around my neck, and chained them all together and left me sitting on the floor. She had not said a word, and neither had I, and now it was just part of our routine: she would sit and read her book, and I would lay, or sit, chained at her feet, in whatever clothes she had left me with.”