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How could I forget that? How could I forgive that? I was still angry. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 52, Sentence #30)

Surely he might figure in the dreams of a thousand slaves in their chains, but he was not my master. I had no particular interest in him. Indeed, in a way, I had a matter to settle with him, as he had once made a fool of me, when he had donned the disguise of a male slave, and tricked me into revealing the domicile of my master. How could I forget that? How could I forgive that? I was still angry. Though I had no doubt I would writhe helplessly in his arms, as might any slave, the matter had had little, if anything, to do with him, and a great deal, indeed, everything, to do with Paula. I had always regarded Paula, sweet, understanding, kindly, shy, unadorned Paula, plain Paula, with her books, and such, as far inferior to myself. Yet, on this world, incredibly enough, many men seemed to regard her as being more beautiful and desirable than I, even far more so. - (Plunder of Gor)