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Peggy, then, was back from the table, on the tiles, on her back, and sides, and knees, and then prone, and then again supine, and then writhing, as though in frustration and loneliness. - (Guardsman of Gor, Chapter 20, Sentence #917)

"Ohhh," said the little slave, holding my arm. I smiled. The Sa-eela, of course, is not the sort of dance which could be performed by a free woman. Peggy, then, was back from the table, on the tiles, on her back, and sides, and knees, and then prone, and then again supine, and then writhing, as though in frustration and loneliness. I observed the dancer, closely, the striking of her small, clenched fists on the tiles, the scratching of her fingernails at their smooth surfaces, the turning of a hip, the flattening of a thigh, the lifting of a knee, the turning of her head, the piteous scattering of her hair from side to side. She lay on her back, and, whimpering, struck down, in misery, stinging the palms of her hands, bruising her small heels. She might have been in a cell, locked away from men. - (Guardsman of Gor)