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Who then could he fear, but himself? I recalled how, long ago, in Victoria, when I was new to my collar, I had cried out my love for him, and had been soon, I thought abruptly, inexplicably, sold. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 30, Sentence #400)

"Perhaps," I thought, "the love of a slave is worthless, but what love can begin to compare with the love of a slave for her master? What greater, deeper, more profound love can a woman have than that of a humble, abased, collared slave for her master?" He looked away. I had seen anger in his eyes, but, too, so briefly, for a moment, I thought I had seen apprehension. He could not fear me, as I was a mere slave. Who then could he fear, but himself? I recalled how, long ago, in Victoria, when I was new to my collar, I had cried out my love for him, and had been soon, I thought abruptly, inexplicably, sold. One is not to care for a slave. Did not all know that? Might one not be mocked for such a weakness? Would that not call forth laughter in the taverns and exercise yards? How that would lessen a man in his own eyes! How then could he respect himself? Did he fear some concession or compromise that might diminish or tarnish his cherished, mighty self-esteem? But could a master not care a little for a slave? Why not? Might he not feel as much for a kaiila or pet sleen? I was afraid, for I wanted to belong to him. I must try to conceal my love for him, but it is not easy for a slave to conceal her love. - (Plunder of Gor)