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I understood little of this, at least on a fully conscious level, though I do not doubt but what I understood it well enough on a deeper level, but I did not think it wise to question the instructresses. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 7, Sentence #362)

Or were they lying to me, as I was lying to them? From whence, to one of my intelligence, education, refinement, class, and breeding, could come such thoughts? I thought of the history of a race. Somewhere within me could there be a weeping slave, yearning for her master? In any event, in my early weeks on Gor I was startled at the openness of my instructresses, eagerly discussing the attractions of the guards, the pleasures derived from their attentions, their joyful helplessness in the arms of one or another, their hopes, sometimes pathetic, of being summoned to this slave ring or that, their misery at being ignored, their plaintive agony if denied, for more than a day or two, a man's touch. Indeed, I saw one crawl on her belly to a guard, place his foot on her head, and beg to be caressed. I understood little of this, at least on a fully conscious level, though I do not doubt but what I understood it well enough on a deeper level, but I did not think it wise to question the instructresses. But at the same time I began to feel, in my own belly, ever more insistent sensations. This was internal to me, not merely a pretence or calculation, designed to avoid the whip's fiery, encircling coils. It was also very troubling to me. - (Conspirators of Gor)