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I whimpered, a weak, half-intended protest. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 18, Sentence #1092)

A slave grows accustomed to being looked upon as a slave, having her lineaments frankly appraised, being undressed with a glance, and such. I was taken in his arms. He then took a free man's liberties with the lips of a helpless slave. I whimpered, a weak, half-intended protest. I feared the responsiveness of my body. How weak we are, how needful we are, once a collar is fastened on our neck! Would you be different, noble Mistresses, were one fastened on your neck? Of course, for you are not slaves! Once before, at a night camp, our second day from Venna, he had put his hands on me, as well, and thrust me, standing, back against one of the mighty columns, or pylons, supporting the aqueduct. Astrinax had summoned him to the wagons, and, when he had flung me from him, he had had but a taste of slave. - (Conspirators of Gor)