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How dare she, a slave, an article of goods, think that her master might care for her? Did she not know what she was? Or, more judiciously, more carefully put, how dare she suggest such a thing? Many a woman has been bound, hooded, and leashed, and conducted weeping to a market for such an indiscretion. - (Kur of Gor, Chapter 50, Sentence #17)

"Master!" she cried. With his foot he spurned her suddenly, angrily, violently, to the ground. "Forgive me, Master," she whispered, frightened, tears in her eyes, from her side on the earth. How dare she, a slave, an article of goods, think that her master might care for her? Did she not know what she was? Or, more judiciously, more carefully put, how dare she suggest such a thing? Many a woman has been bound, hooded, and leashed, and conducted weeping to a market for such an indiscretion. This is not to deny, of course, that many a slave is well aware of her place in a master's heart, even that he might die for her. Doubtless neither, neither slave nor master, have planned it so, but so it not unoften comes about. Is it so strange? That a slave might love her master, that a master might care for his slave? Might she not, to some extent, have brought this about, perhaps lamentably, by her beauty, her helplessness, her heat, her love, her devotion, her selfless service? Too, is she not, after all, a perfection of a female for a man, a slave, what he most desires and wants, something far beyond what he might obtain from a free woman? In a collar she is, after all, a creature of love. - (Kur of Gor)