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I was grateful to have been taken in hand, and simply treated as what I was, routinely, a female, only that, and gloriously so. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 3, Sentence #8)

Oh, I cried with pain, of course, helpless in the iron grip of the vise, my wrists fastened behind me, in the snug, unslippable metal bracelets, and sobbed, but, in my tears, did they know this, I sobbed, as well, with joy At last it had been done to me. At last I was free! In a thousand dreams, had this not been done to me? Had I not, in a thousand dreams, been so marked, so designated, so proclaimed, so identified? Am I terrible? Perhaps, perhaps not. Is it so strange that I, then humbled, then reduced, then subject to chains, the whip, the collar, was now free, at last free! It was a freedom in which I had had no decision, but one forced upon me, and I would not have had it otherwise. I was grateful to have been taken in hand, and simply treated as what I was, routinely, a female, only that, and gloriously so. They would have of me what they wanted, and this was what I, too, wanted. Since puberty I had sensed the radical difference between women and men, and had resented, but dared not rebel against, the lies, the pervasive, insisted-upon, venerated falsities with which I was regaled, and the pretentious, uncomfortable, alien roles which I was expected to assume. I do not presume to speak for a sex, but I trust I may speak for an individual, myself. - (Smugglers of Gor)