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Could I be, I wondered, a slave? And how significant this would have been, I thought, had the scraps been cast to the floor not by Nora, but by a man! I was suddenly overcome, almost unable to move. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 4, Sentence #630)

Burning with shame, but yet, too, eager for food, I crawled to the scraps and, head down, without my hands, fed. That was the first time I had fed thusly. Oddly, I was glad to feed, even grateful. Could I be, I wondered, a slave? And how significant this would have been, I thought, had the scraps been cast to the floor not by Nora, but by a man! I was suddenly overcome, almost unable to move. I was overwhelmed by a sudden, momentous sense of meaningfulness. How meaningful suddenly seemed my posture, my garmenture, the bells on my ankle, the collar on my neck. How small I seemed, how degraded and mocked, and how worthless, how helpless! And my sense was not just one of meaningfulness, as profound as that sense might be, and as comprehensible as such a sense would be, given the circumstances, but, rather, startling me, and frightening me, one of fittingness, of propriety, of rightfulness! Could it be that I, despite my antecedents and background, my upbringing, education, and indoctrination, was a slave? Since puberty I had suspected that some women were slaves. - (Conspirators of Gor)