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"Take pity on a slave," she begged. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 30, Sentence #534)

Surely in a moment she would be put to slave use. But then, too, suddenly, it seemed, her entire body began to be suffused, more so than ever before, this startling her, almost frightening her, with an incandescence of surrender, of helpless heat, of overwhelming love, of total, unmitigated submission, of a woman's desperate, frenzied need to put herself lovingly, helplessly, at the mercy of a master. He must have sensed this, for he smiled. "Take pity on a slave," she begged. How helpless was the slave so suddenly in the grip of her need! "So," said he, "in your pretty little belly, there burns slave fire?" She half scrambled up, half lying, half kneeling, looking up at him, her master, her wrists still held, regarding him, wildly. "Yes, Master" she said. "In my belly there burns slave fire!" "In the belly of an Earth woman?" "In the belly of one once a woman of Earth, but now only a branded, collared Gorean slave!" "I see," he said. - (Prize of Gor)