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Then Hilda stopped struggling and, held, head high, regarded the Forkbeard. - (Marauders of Gor, Chapter 9, Sentence #108)

She struggled, held. She had a fair throat, good shoulders; she was marvelously breasted; her waist was such that one could get his hands on it well; she might have been a bit broad in the beam but I had no objection to this; in the north it is called the love cradle; it was well adapted to cushion the shocks of an oarsman's pleasure; in the south she would have been said to be sweetly hipped; if the Forkbeard wished to breed her she would bear healthy, strong young to his thralls, enriching his farm; her thighs, too, were lovely, and her calves; her ankles, while not thick, as Pretty Ankles had asserted, were heavier than those of Thyri, or Pretty Ankles herself; Hilda was, of course, a somewhat larger girl; she was probably some five years older than Pretty Ankles, and a year or so older than Thyri; Gunnhild was larger than Hilda; she was also, I expected, about a year or two older. I had no objection to Hilda's ankles; I found them quite lovely; they would take a common girl-fetter nicely, with about a quarter of an inch tolerance. Then Hilda stopped struggling and, held, head high, regarded the Forkbeard. He examined her with great care, as he had his Sa-Tarna, and his animals, when he had inspected his farm. He got up from his knees, where he had been feeling the firmness of her left calf and ankle. Then he said to the bondmaids, "Take her to the whipping post". - (Marauders of Gor)