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Sometimes, then, despite the depth of my love for him, the aching of my needs, and the peril of the pretense, I would present myself to him as though I might now be a contemptuous, cold, hating, untamed girl, truly, who must, if he saw fit, and deigned to do so, be conquered, and thus I would provoke him yet again to my utter conquest. - (Captive of Gor, Chapter 17, Sentence #133)

I love you. Please do not sell me, Master! How could one love a girl in a collar? How could one love a groveling, needful slave? But I feared he might come to care for me. Accordingly, I sometimes, to my agony, tried to destroy in him those very feelings which I most dearly hoped he might, however unwillingly, entertain for a lowly slave. Sometimes, then, despite the depth of my love for him, the aching of my needs, and the peril of the pretense, I would present myself to him as though I might now be a contemptuous, cold, hating, untamed girl, truly, who must, if he saw fit, and deigned to do so, be conquered, and thus I would provoke him yet again to my utter conquest. And well, and categorically, sometimes to my initial dismay, was I again conquered. He would take every shred of dignity or pride from me, as though a slave girl might be permitted either, and turn me into a thrashing, begging, maddened animal, a woman in heat, the lowest sort of female, a slab of worthless, helpless, writhing, enflamed, kicking slave meat. Surely now I could not be special. - (Captive of Gor)