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Surely I was unworthy to be loved, being such a slave, but it is what I am. Kneeling, groveling, kissing, licking, begging to serve, looked down upon and despised, I felt more secure with him. I knew he was used to having such women at his feet, begging, needful slaves. Surely they posed no threat to him. And I was such a woman, obviously, in the fullness of my bondage, but I was terrified that, too, I might become more, something in addition, a different sort of slave, one who encapsulates the most degraded of slaves, of course, but is also one who is allowed not only to serve, but also, with his permission, to speak to the master, and to know him, the sort of slave whose very name I would not dare speak in his presence. Sometimes I strove to distract him from seeing me as more than just another girl in his collar. I feared to be special. - (Captive of Gor)