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"Please forgive me!" "What a petty, worthless slut you are," he said, shaking out the blades of the whip. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 52, Sentence #200)

"Please, Master, mercy!" I had cried. I was well stretched, standing on my toes; my wrists were bound tightly together, and drawn up, high over my head; I was naked; the rope that bound my wrists together was run through the ring fastened in the ceiling, and then brought down, diagonally, to the side, and tied about another ring in the wall, across the room. "Forgive me, Master," I had wept. "Please forgive me!" "What a petty, worthless slut you are," he said, shaking out the blades of the whip. "Forgive me," I begged. "Do you think," said he, "I was not aware of your clumsy, transparent attempts to interest our guest, to intrude your presence upon him, the proximity, in violation of customary distance, the smiling, the glances, the movements, the way of pouring the wine, your solicitation to accompany him to the street, on the pretext of learning more about a friend, and such?" How helpless I was, tied as I was! "I meant no harm," I said. "Master Drusus is fine, and handsome, but I have no interest in him. - (Plunder of Gor)