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"I have waited a long time to own you," he said. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 52, Sentence #307)

"No, Master!" I said. I wondered how much this had to do with me, and how much it had to do with him. Was he fighting his own feelings? Might that be? Was he afraid of himself, and his feelings, standing before one who was no more than a kneeling, helpless, collared, branded animal? Did he now fear that he might care for a mere slave? How absurd! What had he to fear? The collar was on my neck, and his was the whip. "I have waited a long time to own you," he said. "And have I not waited a long time to be owned?" I said. I looked up at him, and was suddenly afraid. How bright his eyes were, how tense his body! Might not a starving larl so gaze upon a tethered tabuk doe, a hungry sleen upon a penned verr? In the streets of Ar I had once seen a leashed slave being dragged running and stumbling, weeping, toward a domicile, but the master found himself unable to wait, and she was thrown to the paving stones of the street, there to be publicly and rudely ravished. - (Conspirators of Gor)