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"As a slave?" I asked. "Yes, Master," she said, "I beg to please you—as a slave". Briefly I recalled her from the campus of the university, from the halls, the cafeteria, the library, the grounds. How tight, inhibited, and unhappy she had seemed there, in her politically prescribed pseudo-male attire; was that truly her world; did she not, truly, belong elsewhere, somewhere, say, in silk and a collar; how desperate she had been to subscribe to opinions imperiously imposed upon her by others; how foolish that now seemed; and on that far world how defensively prim and prissy she had seemed; and, too, I recalled, she had often been unpleasant, impatient, tart, short-tempered, critical, captious, disagreeable, repellent, disdainful, snobbish, even nasty, so insecure she was, so unhappy within herself she was, I supposed; and how naively desperate, I recalled, had been her concern, too, to project an approved image, to appear an unquestioning, standardized paragon of ideological rectitude, so concerned she was to adhere to, and manifest, stipulated attitudes and views, designed to promote the ends of others; and how self-alienated and frustrated she had been, trying, as I now understood, to hide herself from herself. And I recalled her, too, from an evening at a restaurant, when she had worn, so seemingly unaccountably, an incongruous-for-her, lovely, off-the-shoulder, svelte, white, satin-sheath dress. This was the consequence, it seemed, somehow, of a troubling interview she had had earlier with a man whom I now knew to have been either a Gorean slaver, or one in league with such. She, confused and fearful, as a consequence of that interview, it seemed, had begun to sense her femininity, had begun to sense that she had value of a sort, that she might be lusciously special in a way she scarcely dared to recognize, and feared to contemplate, that she might be such that men might find her, say, of interest, even of considerable interest. - (Guardsman of Gor, Chapter )