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"Mock me as a needful slave," I said, "but I beg of you, touch me!" He was silent. - (Dancer of Gor, Chapter 13, Sentence #627)

I who had once been Doreen Williamson, a shy, lovely librarian on Earth, had now begun to feel slave needs. To be sure, at that time, kneeling before Mirus, I had no idea how acute such things could become. He looked down at me, amused. "Mock me as a needful slave," I said, "but I beg of you, touch me!" He was silent. "I am a naked slave," I said. "I kneel before you! I beg use!" He savored my desperation. I wished for a foolish moment that I might be again like a woman of Earth, one without needs, or with such low need levels as to be for most practical purposes inert, or with need so rigidly and effectively suppressed as to provide a functional surrogate for such inertness, or, perhaps, even one who might, with some convincingness, pretend to such inertness, but then, again in a moment, I did not wish for such things. - (Dancer of Gor)