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I was Elinor Brinton, wealthy, beautiful, refined, civilized, but by some mysterious incomprehensible set of events here, in this place, here, with a mark in my left thigh! I moaned, inwardly. - (Captive of Gor, Chapter 12, Sentence #377)

I was better than them all, put together! If I were to steal a pastry, or lie, what did it matter? Doubtless they were jealous! Doubtless they envied me my beauty! I was not a barbarian. It was they who were barbarians. Address them by the lofty, noble title of Mistress? As though they were glorious, exalted free women? As though only I were degraded, despised slave amongst them? "No, no!" I said. I was Elinor Brinton, wealthy, beautiful, refined, civilized, but by some mysterious incomprehensible set of events here, in this place, here, with a mark in my left thigh! I moaned, inwardly. Here I was not wealthy. Here I owned nothing. I did not even own the camisk, the scandalous bit of cloth that had been granted me to cover my nakedness, and might be, at a word, taken from me. - (Captive of Gor)