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But, too, he had well taught me, with his perfunctory use of me, and his indifference, though I was crying with need, surrender, and helpless passion, that I was a meaningless pleasure object. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 50, Sentence #464)

What woman, slave or free, does not wish to be beautiful? If only my captor might see me so, I thought. How I had hoped he might find me of interest, the sort of interest a man feels for a woman he might buy. He had, of course, well pleasured himself with me, and frequently, on the return to Shipcamp, as a master may well pleasure himself with a slave. But, too, he had well taught me, with his perfunctory use of me, and his indifference, though I was crying with need, surrender, and helpless passion, that I was a meaningless pleasure object. What was he to do? In the forest I was the only slave available to him. I was no more than a local convenience for his lust, a convenience no farther from him than the length of my leash. How could I interest him, as a slave desires to interest a master? Had I been a free woman, perhaps I might have tortured him, and made him long for me, flirting, approaching and then backing away, demanding attentions and bargains, teasing, and taunting, implicitly bespeaking my favors, and then, perhaps with feigned surprise or scorn, withholding them. - (Smugglers of Gor)