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She tried to sound pleased, or relieved, but her frustration, her disappointment, was obvious. She was aching on the bench, and primed to yield. To be sure, I had let her subside a little. This is a technique occasionally used in slave management, though I had not utilized it fully or at length, to play with the lovely thrall, to carry her upward a way, and then let her subside, and then carry her upward, again, but further, and let her subside again, but not to the same extent as before, and so on, until after a succession of these ever ascendant climbs and retreats, each ascent greater than before, and each retreat less than before, she is at last at the very brink of her ecstasy, and is screaming and begging to be permitted to yield, at which point the least touch, when the master chooses to bestow it, if he chooses to bestow it, will suffice to produce one of the most beautiful sights in the world, the yielding of a helpless, rapturous, grateful slave. "Oh!" said the woman. "Do you think I am merciful?" I asked her. I feared she had misunderstood my intent. - (Mercenaries of Gor, Chapter )