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But if not all women were slaves, I knew one who, to her fury, and chagrin, was, Elinor Brinton! I struck the steel plating in fury, with my small fist. - (Captive of Gor, Chapter 11, Sentence #1009)

I did not know if this were true or not. I thought of the older woman, who had been the instructor in French. I could imagine her nude, in a kitchen, shackled, blissful, looking forward to her binding and use later in the evening, preparing supper for a master. But if not all women were slaves, I knew one who, to her fury, and chagrin, was, Elinor Brinton! I struck the steel plating in fury, with my small fist. I was a slave, a fitting slave, a natural slave, and I had learned this, but I did not want it! I did not want to be a slave! Yes, I thought, Goreans have indeed a way with women such as I. We are categorically and helplessly embonded. They bring us to heel, teach us to obey, and to serve, and deliciously! I wished that I was on Earth again, where slave girls might go free, live luxuriously, pamper themselves, and even, should it please them, command the weak men of Earth. - (Captive of Gor)