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I well know myself slave, and rightfully so, but I am afraid to be sold! Who will buy me? Who will buy me? I am afraid to be sold, afraid! Afraid! Ellen half screamed, and turned away, but it was not her arm which the first of the two attendants seized, but that of a woman not inches from her, kneeling, cringing, the former free woman. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 25, Sentence #571)

Do you not know that such as you, dear Ellen, sweet, lovely Ellen, are the rightful property of men? Have you not understood this, have you not, for years, sensed it? Why, then, should you not be sold? How is it that I am a slave? Nature has made you such. Pity your impoverished sisters who have not yet met masters. Yes, yes, yes, thought Ellen. I well know myself slave, and rightfully so, but I am afraid to be sold! Who will buy me? Who will buy me? I am afraid to be sold, afraid! Afraid! Ellen half screamed, and turned away, but it was not her arm which the first of the two attendants seized, but that of a woman not inches from her, kneeling, cringing, the former free woman. There was the sound of a key thrust into the lock of the manacle, and turned, that by a second attendant. The manacle fell from her wrist. The former free woman was drawn to her feet, and held upright, as it seemed her legs might buckle. - (Prize of Gor)