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How I had then despised her, and the others, so helpless and vulnerable and female! How weak they were! How pleased I was that I was not as they. - (Captive of Gor, Chapter 15, Sentence #977)

There was only one thing left to me, in which I might take pride, that I was not as other women. No matter what brands might be fixed in my flesh, nor what the leather might do to my back or the tiny dimensions of the slave box to my body, I knew I did not have their weaknesses. I recalled the circle of the dance in the northern forest, and how even Verna, the proud Verna, had, beside herself with need, writhed helplessly beneath the bright moons of Gor, a female. How I had then despised her, and the others, so helpless and vulnerable and female! How weak they were! How pleased I was that I was not as they. Gradually, in me, there built up a compensating hatred to counter my shame, and the brands that proclaimed me among the most unworthy and miserable of slaves. I began to hate human beings. I was better than they. - (Captive of Gor)