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It was hard to imagine what might be the sensations which a master might inflict, even casually, upon a helpless slave, one wholly at his mercy, their subtlety, their variety, their length, and nature. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 8, Sentence #366)

"Please, Master," I whispered. "Again!" "Oh, yes!" I whispered, my fingers in his hair. At least, I thought, I was not chained helplessly in place. It was hard to imagine what might be the sensations which a master might inflict, even casually, upon a helpless slave, one wholly at his mercy, their subtlety, their variety, their length, and nature. How helpless she would be, so in his power! I feared to be so chained. I wanted to be so chained! How many ways a man has to conquer a woman I thought, the chain, the whip, the switch, the commanding her to her knees, her lips to his feet, a gesture, admitting no questioning, the casting to her of a rag, fit only for a slave, the ordering of her to her tasks, the masterful seizure of her beauty, a kind word, a caress! "More, more, more, Master!" I begged. "Yes," I whispered. - (Conspirators of Gor)