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"She has had little time to adjust to her bondage. She was marked only last night!" Ellen recalled the former free woman's rich necklace, the jewels of her veils and robes. Surely a life of wealth, of luxury and pampering would have done little to prepare her for chains, exposure, degradation, the searing heat of the pressing, held, iron, for the sudden, sharp, instructive stroke of the whip, for the grasping, imperious hands of men, for the sawdust of the sales block. Then Ellen recalled the haughtiness of the former free woman, her former superciliousness, her almost intolerable arrogance, how she had treated Ellen, though she, too, beneath her robes was no more than another female, and thus a fit slave for men! Had she no understanding of herself? Had she never paused before a mirror, and therein observed the loveliness of her own unmistakable slave curves? How self satisfied she had been, she so loftily relying on the security of her station, she so complacently ensconced in the fortress of her status! How smug she had been, how superior! "She is a hypocrite," thought Ellen. "She craved a collar, and now she will have one! Let her try to get it off! Be sold, slave girl! Be sold to the highest bidder!" Then Ellen recalled that the former free woman was now no more than she, only another slave, and she feared for her. "I hope you get a strong and kindly master," thought Ellen, "one who will see to your needs, one who will care for you, and love you, and cherish you, but one at whose feet you will never be permitted to forget that you are a female and a slave". "Ten copper tarsks for this slut!" called the auctioneer. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter )