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And was it not he who had called me to the attention of slavers, thereby releasing my hidden slave, and giving me to her, she who was myself! I had thought much of Addison Steele since that interlude. - (Quarry of Gor, Chapter 12, Sentence #16)

How quickly, trembling, reprimanded, I had gone to my knees before him, my head down, my lips to his feet! What a fool I had been! I had even dared to address him not as 'Master' but by his name, the name of a free man, putting that name on a slave's lips, an effrontery bordering on insolence or explicit disobedience! How stern he had been with me, yet so lenient, in a way, for I had not even been lashed. Perhaps he had thought that I, a new slave, might not yet be fully in my collar. But little did he know how perfectly I was in my collar! Surely that became clear enough in the alcove! How amused he had been to see that the proud, vain, pretentious Margaret Henderson he had so properly disdained, if not despised, on Earth was now no more than a groveling, needful Gorean slave. And was it not he who had called me to the attention of slavers, thereby releasing my hidden slave, and giving me to her, she who was myself! I had thought much of Addison Steele since that interlude. My attitudes and emotions concerning him swept from pole to pole, from horizon to horizon, in gamuts ranging from stinging humiliation at how he had treated me, I, a woman of Earth, educated and intelligent, a former acquaintance, now half-naked, collared, and marked, now an abject slave at his mercy on another world, to an overwhelming, submissive awe at his manhood, his rightful power over me, from rage at how he had scorned and commanded me, handling me as though I might be no more than a domestic animal, to a slave's desire to surrender herself, flaming and begging, in tears, to his least touch. I hated Addison Steele, and longed for his collar. He had not lashed me, but I had little doubt he would have done so, had I been in the least bit displeasing. - (Quarry of Gor)