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He could play the body of a slave, producing a rapture of sensations, much as the master of the czehar or kalika can play his lovely instrument, drawing forth its laughter and tears, its moans and cries, its pensive contemplations, its incitements and ardors, its valleys and mountains, its depths and its ecstasies. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 30, Sentence #365)

Many are the arts of love, harsh and gentle, fierce and tender, commanding and solicitous, and love's artists are patient and talented. Kurik of Victoria knew well the handling of helpless slaves, their caressing and owning, their grasping and stroking, their conquest and fulfillment. There was his breath, his tongue, his touch. He could play the body of a slave, producing a rapture of sensations, much as the master of the czehar or kalika can play his lovely instrument, drawing forth its laughter and tears, its moans and cries, its pensive contemplations, its incitements and ardors, its valleys and mountains, its depths and its ecstasies. Never was I off a chain, though commonly it was only a shackle on my left ankle. Did he fear I would attempt to escape him? It would have required chains to draw me from his side. I strove to please him, and in many ways, many of which were conventionally forbidden to the free woman, for they were regarded as incompatible with her status and dignity, for I had been much instructed in the house of my training. - (Plunder of Gor)