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Astrinax had summoned him to the wagons, and, when he had flung me from him, he had had but a taste of slave. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 18, Sentence #1095)

I whimpered, a weak, half-intended protest. I feared the responsiveness of my body. How weak we are, how needful we are, once a collar is fastened on our neck! Would you be different, noble Mistresses, were one fastened on your neck? Of course, for you are not slaves! Once before, at a night camp, our second day from Venna, he had put his hands on me, as well, and thrust me, standing, back against one of the mighty columns, or pylons, supporting the aqueduct. Astrinax had summoned him to the wagons, and, when he had flung me from him, he had had but a taste of slave. "Yes," he grinned, now holding me out, a tiny bit, from him, "you would be a hot little tasta". I squirmed a little, but was helpless in his grasp. How could he say such a thing? Surely I had given him no satisfaction, or only a little. - (Conspirators of Gor)