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Some women, sensitive to the fact that their modesty has now been so violently compromised, and so unworthily, as a result of mere fear, suppose then that they might as well be in a collar. How many have seen their legs? Has he, the brute, or he, the monster, or he, a mere, idle, casual appraiser of her limbs, or who? And not unoften, it seems, if only to conceal their shame, they begin, as it is said, "to court the collar". Better than shame is to be joyfully shameless. She does not want to be known at home, in her own city, as a compromised free woman, one who in terror unworthily, disgracefully, bared her body publicly. How unacceptable, how terrible, for a free woman! Better to be in an alien city, helpless, naked, kneeling, collared, at the feet of an enemy. So she begins to wear her veils loosely, her robes above her ankles, to frequent lonely streets, to traverse high bridges at night, or perhaps in a slave tunic she begins to loiter about markets where women are sold, or decides to satisfy her curiosity as to the interior of a paga tavern, and see for herself what the fellows and the girls are really like there, something about which she has always been curious. Needless to say, she soon needs not worry about her compromised modesty, for she is likely to soon find herself in a situation where the question of modesty does not arise, and is not even permitted to arise. - (Guardsman of Gor, Chapter )