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"Do not sell me!" "Well, Adraste, mediocre slave," said the auctioneer to his charge, the merchandise being vended at the moment, "it seems we can get no more for you than a silver tarsk ten". - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 31, Sentence #110)

I was now his property, I belonged to him, as might a sandal or a pet sleen. I was overjoyed to belong to such a man. What woman would not wish to be owned by such a man? I must strive to be such a good slave to him! I must please him so! And his touch! How could a woman not in a collar experience such ecstasy? He must not sell me! He must not sell me! I must strive to please him so! "Do not sell me, Master," I thought. "Do not sell me!" "Well, Adraste, mediocre slave," said the auctioneer to his charge, the merchandise being vended at the moment, "it seems we can get no more for you than a silver tarsk ten". He loosened the blades of the slave whip. "Forgive me, Master!" she pleaded. "Is the slave vital?" called a man from the tiers. - (Plunder of Gor)