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It was a slave garment, but it was not a tunic, not the common, brief garment in which masters place their girls to remind them that they are slaves and which, to the pleasure of men, leaves little doubt as to their purchasable charms, or the far more scandalous common camisk, outlawed in public in certain cities, both garments for which a slave will be grateful, and beg piteously to be permitted. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 50, Sentence #510)

She seemed an image of hopelessness, and misery. What struck me most about her was that she, of all the slaves in the stockade, was gowned. The gown was sleeveless, of course, for she was a slave, but its length, if she were to stand, must have fallen almost to her ankles. It was a slave garment, but it was not a tunic, not the common, brief garment in which masters place their girls to remind them that they are slaves and which, to the pleasure of men, leaves little doubt as to their purchasable charms, or the far more scandalous common camisk, outlawed in public in certain cities, both garments for which a slave will be grateful, and beg piteously to be permitted. Rather it was the sort of slave garment in which a matron might insist her slaves be clothed if she was entertaining her sons. I was sure it was the only garment the slave wore. Too, it would doubtless lack a nether closure. - (Smugglers of Gor)