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At that point the subordinate seized the Lady Dorna's veils, wadded them, and thrust them back, deeply into her mouth, and then secured them behind the back of her neck. - (Quarry of Gor, Chapter 37, Sentence #257)

Many masters do not care for such blatant, piteous behaviors, such insolent boldness, resenting the slave's attempt to appeal to them, to plead for the satisfaction of her needs. Who cares for the needs of a slave? Do the brutes, the monsters, I wonder, not know what they have done to us? It is they who, perhaps to their amusement, saw to the kindling of our slave fires, they who have made us the helpless prisoners of our needs. Do they understand what it is to be in a collar? Do they understand our torment, its depth, its urgency, its rage, its heat, and pervasiveness? How it puts us at their feet! Do they not understand that the strongest of a slave girl's bonds, more stringent than the coarseness of swathed ropes, more obdurate than the clasp of weighty shackles, are her needs? "Release my wrists," said the Lady Dorna, sternly. At that point the subordinate seized the Lady Dorna's veils, wadded them, and thrust them back, deeply into her mouth, and then secured them behind the back of her neck. Her wrists were still held by the officer. Her eyes were startled, and wild. An instant later Miles had slipped a slave hood over her head, drawn it down, and buckled it shut. - (Quarry of Gor)