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What man would prefer a free woman, I wondered, to one of us, helpless and gasping, yielding, begging, in his arms. - (Captive of Gor, Chapter 11, Sentence #389)

How I hated Inge! Could she not see that these things were innocent, that they were mere accidents, that I had merely tripped! But, of course, I also mistrusted the guard. I had some dim, abstract inkling of what it might be for a man to hold a slave girl in his arms, and that was sufficient to make me fearfully wary. And yet I must be attractive! I must be slave! No wonder free women, as I had heard, hated us. What man would prefer a free woman, I wondered, to one of us, helpless and gasping, yielding, begging, in his arms. So I kept my side to him. That seemed safer. But I did keep my ankles closely together, and flexed my knees slightly, and, of course, as I stood, the lineaments of my figure, happily somewhat concealed, if inadequately, in a common camisk, were his to survey. - (Captive of Gor)