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She does not even know who bought her, for the light was not on the tiers, with their observers and bidders, but upon the block, where she was well exhibited, illuminated for the buyers. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 27, Sentence #1477)

In her chains, she senses, and gratefully, the appropriateness, the fittingness, the rightfulness, of what has been done to her. The shifts, the jockeyings, the byways, the plottings, the vyings, the contentions, the strife, the contests and tournaments, are at an end. She feels the weight of the chains on her small limbs; how wary she must now be of men, and how she must now strive to please them! She? Please men? Yes, certainly, and for fear now not only of the whip, but for her very life. She does not even know who bought her, for the light was not on the tiers, with their observers and bidders, but upon the block, where she was well exhibited, illuminated for the buyers. What will it be to be a slave, she asks herself. Why was I chosen, and not another? Is there something special about me? Has someone sensed my inner truth? Who, I wonder, so perceptively, recognized me, who saw that I was a slave? She then finds fulfillment, and contentment, at the foot of her master's couch. She walks well on his leash, back-braceleted, as he shows her off, on the streets. - (Prize of Gor)