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At least one has a sense of what a slave will bring. A free woman, stripped and bound, watches the water, and then, when the large, narrow, triangular, dorsal fins of the sharks cleave the water, men lift her, to cast her into the sea; on other occasions, she might, suspended by the wrists, be lowered, bit by bit, into a pit of starving urts who will feed on her, inch by inch; other unpleasant fates involve the fangs of sleen and the wicked hollow thorns of well-rooted, matted, leech plants. In such straits it seemed that the free women often discovered that they were actually slaves, professed themselves such, and begged the collar. free women of the enemy make lovely slaves, it seems, but what else are they good for? I had learned that it was far safer to be a slave, or a verr or kaiila, than a free woman in the hands of the enemy. I closed my eyes. I, and the others, were covered with sweat. We welcomed the moments when new grain was poured into the feeding aperture atop the stone. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter )