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"She-sleen!" he cried, taking a step toward her, but she sped away. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 18, Sentence #328)

They tell her, you are slave, you are owned, you are mine, you have no choice, you will obey, you will yield, you will be punished, and terribly, if you hold anything back, you will have orgasms such that you have never dreamed of, orgasms that you have hitherto not understood were possible, you will have the orgasms of a surrendering, conquered slave. "Well," said Ellen, lightly, "I must be about my duties". She then turned away, but, after a step, stopped, looked back over her shoulder and smiled, slyly, and then, saucily, suddenly, bid Selius farewell with a toss, beneath her brief, thin tunic, of her small, well-outlined derrière. "She-sleen!" he cried, taking a step toward her, but she sped away. "You do not own me!" she laughed, "and I do not think you will soon, after today, have my use either!" "She-sleen! She-urt!" he cried. Ellen was well pleased with herself. "Let him suffer, and stew about," she laughed to herself. - (Prize of Gor)