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How pleased I should be that I had escaped from the brute I hated, and now so terribly feared, but, too, strangely, and piercingly, I felt alone and incomplete, even lost, with each step, apart from him, apart from his attention, his size, power, and presence, almost as might, I supposed, a kajira separated from her master. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 46, Sentence #27)

I must run! I must escape! And now I had run, and had escaped. Surely I must be overjoyed. Was I not now safe? Yet, strangely, I did not feel elated. How pleased I should be that I had escaped from the brute I hated, and now so terribly feared, but, too, strangely, and piercingly, I felt alone and incomplete, even lost, with each step, apart from him, apart from his attention, his size, power, and presence, almost as might, I supposed, a kajira separated from her master. Could it be I was somehow his, I asked myself, that I belonged to him as an object to its owner, as a slave to her master? Had I not sensed such things before, of this callous, uncompromising, dominant brute, many times? Could I return, somehow, retrace my steps, seek him out, put myself to his feet, begging forgiveness as a penitent slave? Then I cried out in fury that such thoughts could even occur to me. I hated him, hated him! Was he not the monster who had brought me to the marking iron and collar, the longed-for, ecstatic degradation of bondage, and had then dismissed me, as he must have a thousand others, processed like cattle for the girl markets of Gor? How I hated him, but even on Earth I had sensed, in the profound female of me, that I belonged in a man's collar. Then I did my best to thrust such thoughts from my mind. - (Smugglers of Gor)