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Could it be that what lay at their feet was, after all, no more than a common slave? Could I be one of those unworthy, terrible women who needed a man, who could find her happiness only at the feet of one, wanting to be his in all ways, desiring to please him, and to love and serve him with her whole heart? I recalled a thousand dreams, and fantasies. - (Kajira of Gor, Chapter 23, Sentence #160)

They were strong, handsome, powerful men. It is difficult to describe the nature of my feelings, so much was turbulence, and misery, and terror, and, I own, profound need, and helpless, piteous desire. Could I be a slave? Were these not the feelings of a slave? I feared I might be a slave. Could it be that what lay at their feet was, after all, no more than a common slave? Could I be one of those unworthy, terrible women who needed a man, who could find her happiness only at the feet of one, wanting to be his in all ways, desiring to please him, and to love and serve him with her whole heart? I recalled a thousand dreams, and fantasies. I recalled kneeling at the foot of the couch in Corcyrus and lifting and kissing, tenderly, the slave ring bolted into its massive, sturdy frame. What was I? Did I belong in a collar? Was it right for me? Surely not! Did I already wear one, though invisibly? Surely not! But, if so, then why not visibly? What a sense of liberation would that bring! Would it not be a badge of being? Was it so different, I wondered, than a wedding ring. Were they not, in their way, much the same? No, I thought, no, no, no! I supposed there might be cultures where the token of bondage was a ring, or bracelet. - (Kajira of Gor)