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They had wanted to be sold to me—or, I supposed, to any man who would take them from the hated chain of Targo. - (Outlaw of Gor, Chapter 21, Sentence #240)

Upon reflection it seemed clear to me that the chain must, in the end, be a lonely place for a girl, filled with life, knowing that her brand has destined her for love, that each of them must long for a man to care enough for them to buy them, that each must long to follow a man home to his compartments, wearing his collar and chains, where they will learn his strength and his heart and will be taught the delights of submission. Better the arms of a master than the cold steel of the ankle ring. When they had said to me, "Buy Me, Master," it had not been simply a ritual phrase. They had wanted to be sold to me—or, I supposed, to any man who would take them from the hated chain of Targo. Targo seemed relieved. Clutching me by the elbow, he guided me back to the tree where the blond girl knelt chained. As I looked at her I asked myself why she, and why not another, or why any? What would it matter if her thigh, too, should wear that graceful brand? I supposed it was mostly the institution of slavery I objected to, and that that institution was not altered if I should, as an act of foolish sentiment, free one girl. - (Outlaw of Gor)