Book 7. (1 results) Captive of Gor (Individual Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 13 | 716 | I was Elinor Brinton! He raised his View more quotes about hand">hand to the crowd. |
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Book 7. (7 results) Captive of Gor (Context Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 13 | 713 | The female in me cried out to serve such a male. |
| 13 | 714 | 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. |
| 13 | 715 | Then I realized that I must resist him. |
| 13 | 716 | I was Elinor Brinton! He raised his hand to the crowd. |
| 13 | 717 | "I wish you well," he shouted. |
| 13 | 718 | "I wish you well!" they cried. |
| 13 | 719 | I felt the one-strap of the tarn harness jerk tight across my body, and, suddenly, taking my breath away, the great bird screamed and began to beat its wings, and the saddle pressed up against my back, and I, upside down, saw the conical huts of the peasants drop away below us, and the bird, stroke by violent, majestic stroke, its head forward, was climbing toward the clouds. |
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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.
Then I realized that I must resist him.
I was Elinor Brinton! He raised his hand to the crowd.
"I wish you well," he shouted.
"I wish you well!" they cried.
I felt the one-strap of the tarn harness jerk tight across my body, and, suddenly, taking my breath away, the great bird screamed and began to beat its wings, and the saddle pressed up against my back, and I, upside down, saw the conical huts of the peasants drop away below us, and the bird, stroke by violent, majestic stroke, its head forward, was climbing toward the clouds.
- (Captive of Gor)