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But Ellen did not mind this. She rejoiced in this, and wanted it. It suddenly occurred to her that this might well be the point of the war of the sexes, that it might well be entered into and encouraged by women merely that they might be reassured, much as a naughty child might test limits, that they might have manhood affirmed, and find themselves once more, in the light of fact and truth, seized and returned to their rightful place in the order of nature, dutifully subdued, conquered, treasured, prized, mastered, loved, owned. How she then pitied free women in their ignorance, both those of Gor and Earth, in their anxieties and depressions, in their little-understood forlornness, in their little-understood, unsatisfied hungers. But then she was suddenly terrified. There was a rope on her ankle. She was mere property! She was slave! How she was looking forward to the opportunity to clean her body, after the heat, the dust, the coffle! There was to be a festival camp, celebrating yet another victory of invincible Cos. - (Prize of Gor)