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We are different, so different! What have we, in our collars, what means, to win our ways? We have our slightness, our softness, our wit, our beauty, and our speech. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 18, Sentence #805)

Master Desmond had declined to relent. It is hard to make clear, one supposes, to one who has not been put in such a modality, one who has never been "gagged by the master's will," how this deprivation can so sorely affect a woman, particularly a slave, the most helpless and vulnerable of women. We are not men, with their large bodies, their strength, their ferocity, their callousness, their speed, and power. We are different, so different! What have we, in our collars, what means, to win our ways? We have our slightness, our softness, our wit, our beauty, and our speech. Is not our speech our delight, our pleasure, our joy, our recreation, our weapon, our instrument, our gift? Is it not that whereby we can make known our feelings, our hopes, and fears; that whereby we can express ourselves, plead our causes, make known our wants, needs, and desires, that by means of which we can petition, influence, and wheedle? Is it not that by means of which we may beg for mercy, hope to be heard and understood, hope to placate the large, dangerous beasts who own us? Without it we are muchly helpless; without it how even can we best surrender and submit; without it how can we best acknowledge and serve our masters? Without it how can we well profess our love? I knelt before him, pathetically, tears on my cheeks. I pointed to my mouth, with my braceleted hands, and whimpered, pleadingly. He stepped back. - (Conspirators of Gor)