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The human species as she knew, but would not have called it to the attention of her classes, was radically, sexually dimorphic. It thus seemed natural that some division of labors, however such things might be sorted out, might be expected in a species characterized by such disparate natures. One hunts, one cooks, she thought. And is it not natural to suppose that the lighter labors might descend to the slighter beasts, the softer, prettier beasts who stood in need of male protection, those less fitted for war and long treks, those less wisely pitted against the mastodon, the cave bear, the panther, the stranger, those who must hope to please the larger, stronger, more aggressive, less patient animals, to whom they belonged. Too, of course, she had cooked in the tarn lofts of Portus Canio, for himself and his men. Yes, she thought, cooking and such things well reminds me that I am a woman, but such things are only amongst thousands of other such things, other reminders which I welcome and in which I rejoice, such as my tunic, so unmistakably and publicly exhibiting my differences from men, my brand, marking me property, my collar, locked on me, encircling my throat, proclaiming me slave! How precious it is to be a woman amongst such men, to be a woman amongst masters! Thank you, Master Mirus, for bringing me to this world! Thank you for having me branded and collared, and sold! Thank you for bringing me to where I belong, and want to be, at the feet of men. And even cooking, you see, can be a sexual experience. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter )