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I was miserable, leaning forward, thrusting at the pole. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 11, Sentence #155)

I wanted a master, and yet, too, I feared belonging to one. I was owned by the miller, of course, as the other girls, but he had never touched me, and had scarcely regarded me. Perhaps, I supposed, he pleasured himself with the "silk girls," those who went about on the cart with the miller's men, attending to their deliveries. I was miserable, leaning forward, thrusting at the pole. What could I do? How vulnerable, how helpless, is the slave! If I were to improve my lot on this world, I reasoned, I, a slave, had little to hope for from free women. My hope was men. Surely I might, as a free woman might not, and a slave might, be able to influence my situation. - (Plunder of Gor)