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She ran stumbling, weeping, into her cell, through the opened gate, and even pressed herself desperately, piteously against the opposite wall. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 7, Sentence #179)

"Now, proud, noble barbarian woman, woman so important on your own world," said the first instructrix, "return to your cell". No sooner had she turned about, to make her way to the cell, than she cried out in pain for the first instructrix had struck her a sudden, sharp stinging blow across the back of the right calf. Then, laughing, pursuing her, running behind her, taking turns, striking one calf and then the other, the other two joined in the sport, and she fled weeping before them, on burning feet, crying out in misery, in shame, frequently and muchly stung. She ran stumbling, weeping, into her cell, through the opened gate, and even pressed herself desperately, piteously against the opposite wall. They desisted then, untied her, and left, closing the gate behind them, it automatically locking with its closure. She rubbed her wrists, and hobbled to the metal mirror at the right side of the cell. She regarded the image in the mirror. - (Prize of Gor)