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The slave tunic, and such garmentures, rather as the collar, too, proclaims its occupant a woman who has been found worth capturing, worth collaring, worth buying and selling, worth owning, and so on. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 26, Sentence #1291)

Most slaves, we should note, love their tunics, their ta-teeras, their camisks, and such. Usually they wear them with pleasure and pride, as visible tokens of their interest to men, as badges, unassuming as they are, of their desirability. In them they are exciting and beautiful, and they are well aware of this. The slave tunic, and such garmentures, rather as the collar, too, proclaims its occupant a woman who has been found worth capturing, worth collaring, worth buying and selling, worth owning, and so on. And do not think that slaves do not take pride in this. Whereas they may at first shudder in their pens and jerk helplessly, weeping, at their chains, they know, too, on some level, at least, and this appeals profoundly to their vanity, and to the yearning, secret slave within, perhaps hitherto fearing she might be valueless, perhaps hitherto fearing that no man might want her, perhaps hitherto fearing that no man would enslave her, that they have been found worth penning and chaining. Has not every woman wondered if she were attractive enough, or interesting enough, to be a slave? Even the most insolent and beautiful of women, one inordinately vain, one supremely confident of her worth and beauty, even inveterately, snobbishly so, in her customary interactions and relations with despised males, must tremble, wondering what it would be to find herself kneeling naked and collared at the feet of a true man, regarding her skeptically, whip in hand. - (Prize of Gor)