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To be sure, I was nothing, only a girl in a garden. - (Witness of Gor, Chapter 7, Sentence #454)

I thought I heard voices from the house. I groaned. Was this some torture to which he was subjecting me? It may as well have been, so helpless I was, so much at his mercy. To be sure, I was nothing, only a girl in a garden. I had, of course, in chains, and in ropes, learned what such as he could do to me, how they could bring me again and again, gently, surely, cruelly, as it might amuse them, to such a point, to such a delicate, exact point, to the very threshold of release, to the very edge of ecstasy, to where I was only the cry of a nerve away, begging, and then, if they wished, simply abandon me there, letting me try to cling there, in place, until, protesting, suffering, weeping I would slip back, only after a time, if it might again amuse them, sometimes with so little as a few deft touches, to be forced to begin again the same ascent. Considering such power held over us by men, it is perhaps clearer now why women such as I strive desperately to be pleasing. Not all instruments of torture are of iron; not all implements of discipline are of leather. - (Witness of Gor)