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And for such a slave, I am sure, there was no place in the war camp of Rask of Treve. - (Captive of Gor, Chapter 17, Sentence #165)

He saw that I belonged in one. I did. But I think he feared I might become to him a certain sort of slave, a special sort of slave, one to whose status I would not dare to aspire, one whose name I dare not even speak. And for such a slave, I am sure, there was no place in the war camp of Rask of Treve. Sometimes we were master and common slave, and sometimes we were something else, that I dare not speak, but I feared now, much, that he would sell me. For what place could there be for this other thing in the war camp of Rask of Treve? But mostly we sported and pleasured, hiding from ourselves this other thing, both of us perhaps not wishing to speak it. In one week I had even begged him to place in my nose the tiny golden ring of a Tuchuk slave girl, and in that week I had served him as such, clad even in the Kalmak, Chatka and Curla, my hair bound back with the red Koora. - (Captive of Gor)