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And, as time went on, she became aware that these tasks were not as menial and simple as she had conjectured, but that genuine skill was needed, and attention, to turn out a delectable sauce, to make small, fine stitches, to press a tunic with fire-heated irons so well that one would not feel the switches of the instructrices, and so on. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 27, Sentence #3297)

They were not only beneath her, but would have been insulting, demeaning, to one such as she. In the house of Mirus, in Ar, of course, as a part of her training, all this had changed. There she had become desperately zealous, often naked, on her knees, in the shadow of a switch or whip, to master a battery of domestic skills, cooking amongst them, skills expected of a female slave. And, as time went on, she became aware that these tasks were not as menial and simple as she had conjectured, but that genuine skill was needed, and attention, to turn out a delectable sauce, to make small, fine stitches, to press a tunic with fire-heated irons so well that one would not feel the switches of the instructrices, and so on. In time, as her skills increased, and the sting of the switch became less frequent, she began to take pride in her performance of such tasks, those expected of a female slave. As even on Earth they seemed to her, no matter how often she had denied this, somehow fitting for women. The human species as she knew, but would not have called it to the attention of her classes, was radically, sexually dimorphic. - (Prize of Gor)