“I will get my collar!” she said.
“I will get my collar!” she said. “If necessary I will slacken my veil. I will lift my robes in ascending a curb, that my ankles may be glimpsed. I will dare to walk the remote districts, and to tread high bridges!”
“Must a command be repeated?” I asked.
“No, Master,” she said, quickly, rising.
“I will get my collar!” she repeated.
“I wonder if you will be as eager to wear it,” I said, “when it is locked on your throat and you cannot remove it, when you find that you are truly a helpless slave.”
Magicians of Gor, p.354