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"I find this," he said to me, "an acceptable and suitable vengeance, superior even to the sword, or to the thousand cuts, that you, my dear Doreen, or Tuka, or whatever masters now choose to call you, you stinking, worthless, curvaceous, treacherous slave slut, should be torn to pieces by a sleen!" "No!" screamed Tupita. - (Dancer of Gor, Chapter 29, Sentence #581)

Without taking his eyes off the sleen, by feel, Mirus cut the ropes that tied Tupita to the railing, and then cut free the binding fiber on her ankles, and wrists. "Do not mind me," wept Tupita. "Do not let him kill Tuka!" But Mirus held her by one arm, and backed away. "I find this," he said to me, "an acceptable and suitable vengeance, superior even to the sword, or to the thousand cuts, that you, my dear Doreen, or Tuka, or whatever masters now choose to call you, you stinking, worthless, curvaceous, treacherous slave slut, should be torn to pieces by a sleen!" "No!" screamed Tupita. "Kill, Borko, kill!" he cried, indicating me with the point of his sword. I closed my eyes, sobbing. I felt then, however, the huge, cold snout of the beast thrusting itself under my left arm. - (Dancer of Gor)