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The average Gorean male would presumably regard a sexually aggressive woman as mentally deranged, and perhaps in a rather unpleasant way. These strictures, of course, do not deny us our weapons, or our power. Certainly we lure, we display, we entrance, we seduce. The slave does not demand, she begs; the slave is not the possessor but the possessed; she, in her smallness, her softness, her loveliness, is the quarry; she it is who is sought; it is she who surrenders, she who is vulnerably, helplessly ravished; it is she who must submit, she who will be helplessly conquered and owned; she is the slave, not the master. This is as it should be, and, shortly after coming to Gor, this is brought home to her, clearly; on Gor she finds herself restored to the antique rights of her biological heritage, and meaning; she learns complementarity; she learns about dominance and submission, and that she is not dominant; at last, in the order of an ancient and profound nature; she becomes, perhaps for the first time in her life, a woman; she discovers herself, and, discovering herself, she comes to rejoice in the subtleties and depths of her own nature; she comes at last to understand, accept, and love what she is. How precious and glorious it is, she learns, to be a woman! And how joyfully and wondrously different it is from a man! At last she becomes true to herself and in this truth she rids herself of miseries, anxieties, conflicts, and fears; she is no longer a politically engineered social artifact, but a woman, honestly and deeply a woman, a woman in the order of nature; she is thus now enabled for the first time in her life to find happiness, and if fortune and the market be with her, to give and receive love. The tunic I wore then was substantially white. - (Slave Girl of Gor, Chapter )