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It was no longer that of Ibn Saran; it wore the name of Hakim of Tor. - (Tribesmen of Gor, Chapter 26, Sentence #168)

I looked at the girl tethered to my saddle. Of all the slave girls about, save one in a white kurdah, near the head of the march, she was the only one who was clothed. Her neck was encircled by a band of steel, the slave collar. It was no longer that of Ibn Saran; it wore the name of Hakim of Tor. That was who the girl belonged to. Tight leather bound her wrists; her tether led to my saddle. The garment she wore was incredibly brief, a rag; it was of brown rep-cloth, stained with grease and dirt; I had found it in the kitchens of Ibn Saran; it had been used in the cleaning of pans; I had ripped it at the neck; I had torn it, lengthily, on the left side, to reveal the marvelous curve from her left breast to her left hip; let men look upon her beauty; it would be as public as I cared to make it, for she was my slave. - (Tribesmen of Gor)