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I knew little about the former Lady Persinna, or the affairs, political and otherwise, which had brought her to a tiny, readying cell in the Metellan district, but I hoped that her master would put a different name on her. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 8, Sentence #1043)

It is the master who will protect the slave, as any other animal, should he choose to do so. Her current master, however, seemed not to notice the abuse to which his lovely acquisition was subjected, and she, of course, not having been granted the appropriate permission, would not dare to speak. Then, after a time, the fellows who had hung about the departing pair stood still, shook their fists, and, looking after the couple, the slave and her master, called out some final words, which, I gathered, may have been foul. I knew little about the former Lady Persinna, or the affairs, political and otherwise, which had brought her to a tiny, readying cell in the Metellan district, but I hoped that her master would put a different name on her. Given the veiling, and half-veiling, particularly amongst higher-caste women, I would suppose that few in the city would recognize the former Lady Persinna in just another scantily clad collar-girl, one amongst many, hurrying about her errands, fearing to dally, in teeming Ar. Perhaps many might suppose the Lady Persinna had perished in the revolution, or in her imprisonment, in some obscure dungeon, perhaps strangled there, or had perhaps eventually met her end writhing on some obscure impaling stake. Perhaps her secret, that of her former identity, would be known to few. - (Conspirators of Gor)