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Often he would at last cry out in rage and seize me and hurl me to the furs, his, venting all his wildness, his hatred, his lust, his power, his ruthlessness, his desire, on me, his fascinating, helpless, troublesome belonging. - (Slave Girl of Gor, Chapter 27, Sentence #388)

And my presence, unseen, may have been for that very reason more subtly, more insistently, obtrusive. I realized that I was agonizingly attractive to him, despite his hatred of me, as he was to me. His various stratagems, I fear, failed him. Often he would at last cry out in rage and seize me and hurl me to the furs, his, venting all his wildness, his hatred, his lust, his power, his ruthlessness, his desire, on me, his fascinating, helpless, troublesome belonging. And I could be only his helpless, loving, ecstatic slave, writhing in his arms, in the arms of my owner, and rape master. I slipped the tunic over my head and, hastily, cast it aside. I now faced Bran Loort clad only in the collar of my master and my brand. - (Slave Girl of Gor)