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In seeing me, did she somehow sense what it might be to be a slave? Had she sensed, even then, what it might be to be owned, to kneel before a man, stripped, chained, marked, and collared, his? Had she understood herself a slave, even then, suddenly, unexpectedly, perhaps for the first time, in the presence of a master? If I could see her again, I felt I could forget her. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 8, Sentence #30)

Shortly thereafter she was entered on the acquisition list, and, from that point forward, though not yet marked and collared, and all unwitting of the fact, she was a Gorean slave girl. I recalled the first time we had met. She had seemed so startled, so frightened. In seeing me, did she somehow sense what it might be to be a slave? Had she sensed, even then, what it might be to be owned, to kneel before a man, stripped, chained, marked, and collared, his? Had she understood herself a slave, even then, suddenly, unexpectedly, perhaps for the first time, in the presence of a master? If I could see her again, I felt I could forget her. I wanted to see her again, if only to force her from my mind, to remove her memory from my blood. Surely she was no different from thousands of others, and less than most. Surely she was less, even, than the slut kneeling at my thigh. - (Smugglers of Gor)