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I hoped that I might please him. Perhaps then, I hoped, he might set aside his suspicions, and keep me as what I was, only a slave, only another of his girls, perhaps hoping occasionally to be recollected, and summoned to his slave ring. How his girls must strive to please him, I thought, that they might be again, and again, brought to his chambers, to be granted the distinction and joy of his caresses. What a tribute to their attractiveness, and their skills as a slave! How they must compete with one another, I thought, to become the favorite! But how much better, I thought, to be the single slave of one's master, and to learn him, and serve him, with heat and devotion, regularly, day in and day out, to cook and clean for him, to keep his chambers with perfection, to tidy, and dust and launder for him, to sew for him, to iron and press for him, to shop for him, to wait for him when he returned from work, kneeling, then kissing his feet, to care for him, to be with him, to talk and talk with him, to share his hopes and concerns, and mine, and to eagerly, extensively and lasciviously serve his most intimate pleasures! To be such that he would never want to sell me! Too, perhaps, I thought, if I were sufficiently pleasing to the magnificent Miles of Argentum he might keep me, for his amusement, even if he believed that I was actually Sheila, the former Tatrix of Corcyrus. Might he not enjoy having her at his feet? Might that not be pleasant, she groveling before him, a cringing slave, hoping to be spared, fearing his whip? Might not such pleasures be preferable to simply having her humiliatingly and publicly executed, elevated, writhing and screaming, on an impaling spear? "Very good, Lady Sheila," he said. "From the first time I saw you, I thought there was a slave in you". "I do not understand," I said. - (Kajira of Gor, Chapter )