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But I knew, too, tied across his saddle, that I was ready to do so, that I wished to do so, that I was piteously eager to do so. - (Captive of Gor, Chapter 13, Sentence #711)

He was the sort of man before whom even free women might swoon, might tear away their clothes begging him to use their bodies, supplicating him for his collar. I realized that even I, Elinor Brinton, as I had been on Earth, might have, on Earth, knelt before such a man, and, in this realization, I realized, again, that even on Earth I had been no more than a lonely, dissatisfied, pretentious liar, a masquerading slave, another slave without a master, posing as a free woman. At his least word or glance I knew that I, as a slave, must surrender myself to him, totally. But I knew, too, tied across his saddle, that I was ready to do so, that I wished to do so, that I was piteously eager to do so. I, a woman, a rightful slave, was in the power of a man, one who was a rightful master of women. The female in me cried out to serve such a male. But I did not want to be beaten! And then I thought, wildly, pathetically, yes, beat me, beat me, Master, impress your ownership upon me! It was not that I wanted the pain, but rather that I would then understand myself his, subject to his categorical domination, a slave at his will, mastered, owned. - (Captive of Gor)