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She does not even know who bought her, for the light was not on the tiers, with their observers and bidders, but upon the block, where she was well exhibited, illuminated for the buyers. What will it be to be a slave, she asks herself. Why was I chosen, and not another? Is there something special about me? Has someone sensed my inner truth? Who, I wonder, so perceptively, recognized me, who saw that I was a slave? She then finds fulfillment, and contentment, at the foot of her master's couch. She walks well on his leash, back-braceleted, as he shows her off, on the streets. She kisses the chain with which he fastens her to a public slave ring, where she must wait for him. She writhes in her bonds, knowing herself owned and deliciously helpless. She kneels in her small cage and grasps the bars, and squirms in heat, as the anticipatory little animal she is. - (Prize of Gor)