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And suddenly she realized that she was the girl. She had been sold! She now belonged, in the full meaningfulness of Gorean servitude, to her new master, Selius Arconious! The auctioneer's assistant half dragged her to the stairs, and there handed her down, into the arms of another assistant. In a moment she was at the left of the block, as one would look toward the tiers, among other girls. She felt her left wrist clasped in a holding manacle, much as had been the case earlier, at the right side of the block, before her ascent to the sawdust-covered, concave surface from which she had been but a moment earlier vended. No, no, she thought. Not to him! To anyone but him! He hates me! I hate him! I hate him! Oh, Ellen, miserable slave! He has bought you! He owns you! You belong to him! You belong to Selius Arconious! It is his collar that you must wear! She put her face in her hands, weeping. The chain dangled down, from the close-fitting metal on her wrist. - (Prize of Gor)