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They are far too bold for a slave! There must be a mistake, a mistake of some sort! "Here, kajira," snapped the auctioneer, behind her. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 25, Sentence #956)

I am not worth that much, she thought. To be sure, she told herself, it is men who will decide what you are worth, not you. How much I must have changed, she thought, if men, particularly in a general, improvised camp such as this, are willing to bid so much! Dare I think such thoughts? Dare I accept myself as being that attractive? Surely I must dismiss such thoughts. They are far too bold for a slave! There must be a mistake, a mistake of some sort! "Here, kajira," snapped the auctioneer, behind her. Quickly Ellen backed to him, that she might not cease to face the men, until she sensed that he was a foot or so behind her, to her right. She felt his hand in her hair, behind her shoulders, his hand then lifting, looping the hair several times about his fist, until his fist was tightly at the back of her head. She put her head back a little, apprehensively, to ease the pressure. - (Prize of Gor)