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She was not in the position of the helplessly loving female slave at the feet of a beloved master who regarded her with indifference as merely another of his women, or was even cold to her, perhaps disdaining her as a trivial, meaningless possession. - (Magicians of Gor, Chapter 2, Sentence #280)

Phoebe now, given his recent intensity, his denunciation of her mendacity, his fury, his excessive response to her protestations of love, the violence of his reaction to them, had more than ample evidence of the depth of his feelings toward her. She was more than satisfied with what had occurred. Such things, to the softness and intelligence of her woman's heart, spoke clearly to her. She was not in the position of the helplessly loving female slave at the feet of a beloved master who regarded her with indifference as merely another of his women, or was even cold to her, perhaps disdaining her as a trivial, meaningless possession. Marcus now, roughly, took the forward ends of the cord, where they dangled before her, and put them back, beneath her arms, through the back loop, and drew them forward where he tied them, snugly, beneath her breasts. "Oh!" she said. "You are pretty, slut of Cos," he said, standing back, admiring his handiwork. - (Magicians of Gor, Chapter 2)