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I touched the disrobing loop at my left shoulder, all that kept the tiny garment on me. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 46, Sentence #48)

Amongst those dark trees and shadows might lurk life forms, prowling and hungry. I had escaped, yes, but into what had I escaped? Had something moved, in the darkness to my right? I hurried on. Suppose I managed to cross the river, and make my way south, what then? Had I then escaped, truly? Could I escape? I was even a barbarian, who might still be betrayed by her accent, and doubtless, indefinitely, by her ignorance of any number of things, such as customs, sayings, legends, stories, histories, festivals, and heroes. I touched the disrobing loop at my left shoulder, all that kept the tiny garment on me. I touched my collar, which I could not remove. And seared into my left thigh, just beneath the hip, was a small, lovely mark, a kef, which, to any who might gaze upon it, would show me kajira. It is said that there is no escape for the Gorean slave girl. - (Smugglers of Gor)