Book 27. (7 results) Prize of Gor (Context Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 29 | 240 | "The festival camp, outside Brundisium". |
| 29 | 241 | "Yes, Master!" cried the slave, hopefully. |
| 29 | 242 | "It amused me," said Selius Arconious, recollectively, "to see you dance as a slave, the slave you are. |
| 29 | 243 | And well did you writhe, bond-slut". |
| 29 | 244 | "Thank you, Master," said Ellen, uncertainly. |
| 29 | 245 | "You do not know the effect you can have on men, petty, tormenting creature!" said he, suddenly, angrily. |
| 29 | 246 | "To see your ankle, the turn of a calf, the sweetness of an arm, the softness of a small shoulder, the turning of a wrist, the delicacy of a hand, the provocative call of your love cradle, the joy of your waist, made for a slave chain, your swelling bosom, its delights, the whiteness of your encircled throat, the beauty of your face, the bright glance of your eyes, the trembling softness of your embonded lips! You could drive a man mad with passion and desire! It is for women like you that collars are made! What man, seeing you, would not want to own you!" "Oh, Master!" cried Ellen. |
 |
"The festival camp, outside Brundisium".
"Yes, Master!" cried the slave, hopefully.
"It amused me," said Selius Arconious, recollectively, "to see you dance as a slave, the slave you are.
And well did you writhe, bond-slut".
"Thank you, Master," said Ellen, uncertainly.
"You do not know the effect you can have on men, petty, tormenting creature!" said he, suddenly, angrily.
"To see your ankle, the turn of a calf, the sweetness of an arm, the softness of a small shoulder, the turning of a wrist, the delicacy of a hand, the provocative call of your love cradle, the joy of your waist, made for a slave chain, your swelling bosom, its delights, the whiteness of your encircled throat, the beauty of your face, the bright glance of your eyes, the trembling softness of your embonded lips! You could drive a man mad with passion and desire! It is for women like you that collars are made! What man, seeing you, would not want to own you!" "Oh, Master!" cried Ellen.
- (Prize of Gor, Chapter )