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In effect, she had been told she did not exist, and had been foolish enough to believe it. Did she think her sex, her richness and beauty, and needs, were mere contigencies, tangential to her being? She seemed much the victim of the neuterizing propagandas of a dry, thin, intellectually ugly world, the dupe of lies designed to conceal herself from herself, whose intent was to enlist her as a self-betraying ideological tool, whose only permitted purpose in life was to serve the ambitions of, and promote the schemes of, distant others, to whom she would never be more than a remote convenience, only another of thousands of ignored minions, no more than another unnoticed, anonymous, expendable menial, another unrecognized, exploited, managed, herded beast lost in the wars of others. The carts she had been trained to draw so meaninglessly, so laboriously, had been filled with the stones of ignorance and hatred. A richer world would await her as she trod barefoot in the cities and jungles of love. She would learn now to endure things hitherto inconceivable to her, vulnerabilities, passions, raptures, and desires. On a chain, you see, women learn much, and quickly. A stroke of the whip and a day in the collar would teach her more than a hundred seminars. - (Beasts of Gor, Chapter )