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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, Chapter 7, Sentence #95)

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. Was it not he who had looked upon me, and had seen fit to bring me to bondage? Should I not have hated him for this? Rather I wanted to kneel before him. I wanted to be his, his belonging. I wanted to live for him, to love him and serve him, wholly, and selflessly. - (Smugglers of Gor)