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Did he not know I was his slave, from the first moment I had seen him? But to my dismay I saw he did not recognize me. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 7, Sentence #92)

It was almost like the first time I had seen him, but now I was on his world, not mine, and I, nude, a young kajira, viewed him through the bars of an exposition cage. It seemed I could not move, but then I approached the bars, not well, I feared. I wanted to throw myself to my belly, and reach through the bars, and touch him, and beg him to purchase me. Did he not know I was his slave, from the first moment I had seen him? But to my dismay I saw he did not recognize me. He did not know me! I meant nothing to him! Surely he must once have found me of interest, or I would not have been brought here, or the kef would not have been burned into my thigh, but he might have found hundreds of similar interest. What was I to him but another item in a ledger, another small, sleek beast, another piece of meat, slave meat? I wanted to speak to him, but the words had not come. Perhaps I should have cried out in bitterness, denounced him, and shaken the bars in helpless, futile rage, but I did not. - (Smugglers of Gor)