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Let him feel my collared presence and, should he heat, and squirm, and sweat, let him keep well in mind that he does not own me! I stepped back, with a swirl of the tiny tunic. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 41, Sentence #354)

Am I so little, so meaningless to him, that I am only another item of cargo, another naked woman dragged to a sales block? Is this all a coincidence? Does he truly not remember me, me, in whose dreams he has so often appeared, with his insolence and arrogance, and authority, with his whip and chain? I recalled the dock in Shipcamp. Had he truly not recognized me, kneeling at his feet, he who had brought me to a collar, yet a collar I coveted? So he despises me, I thought; so he scorns me, I thought. So then let him find himself where he is, within inches of me, no longer a free woman of Earth, but now, thanks to him, no more than a collared, barefoot, tunic-clad Gorean kajira, a beast who may be bought and sold, one which now, thanks to him, exists only for the service and pleasure of men. Let him feel my collared presence and, should he heat, and squirm, and sweat, let him keep well in mind that he does not own me! I stepped back, with a swirl of the tiny tunic. Aeson rose up, took the empty bottle, in its net, from me, wished the sleen master and his fellow well, and wandered away. Genak lay down where he was, and was soon asleep. "Tal," said the leader of the attackers, who now stood over the sleen master and his fellow. - (Smugglers of Gor)