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"Look at her, Master!" cried Tupita. - (Dancer of Gor, Chapter 31, Sentence #220)

I moved as beautifully as I could, and as though in fear before him, trying to please him, begging to placate him. From time to time in the dance I reacted again as though I had felt the whip, crying out in pain, looking at him in terror, sometimes struck even to my knees. Sometimes, too, I tried to dance before the stranger, but his eyes would inform me that it was before Mirus that I was to dance slave beauty. "Look at her, Master!" cried Tupita. "See how beautiful she is!" "Master," I wept to Mirus, "I beg forgiveness!" Then I reacted, again and again, as though he might have been angered by my plea, as though I were struck with the whip. Then I was on my back, and stomach, even, reacting as though I was struck, turning, twisting, as though in terror and pain to fend blows. It was as though he were punishing me. - (Dancer of Gor)