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I am that sort of woman, she who is, and knows herself to be, a man's slave, only that! Please do not beat me! Then she rose to her feet and put her veil about her head, wrapping it closely about her head and shoulders, concealing even her face. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 24, Sentence #412)

Ellen knelt then in the sand and put her head down to the sand, that it might be clear to all that she was a slave and acknowledged them her masters. She wanted them to be in no doubt about that. How well and perfectly she knew herself the slave of men! It was what she was, and knew herself to be! I am yours, Masters, she thought to herself. I am that sort of woman, she who is, and knows herself to be, a man's slave, only that! Please do not beat me! Then she rose to her feet and put her veil about her head, wrapping it closely about her head and shoulders, concealing even her face. It was much as though she might be a free woman, though surely the bells on her ankle and her silks belied that possibility. She then walked about the dancing area, erect, proudly, gracefully, but keeping herself concealed. To be sure, her feet were bare, and there were bells on her left ankle. - (Prize of Gor)