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And this was not, in my view, a simple matter of the carefully supervised regimen of diet and exercise routinely imposed on domestic animals of her sort, shaping, trimming, and vitalizing her figure, that it might be brought to the block as a superb stimulus to buyers. It was, rather, the fuller beauty of a woman, which is brought out by bondage, a tonicity, a softness, a femininity, an aliveness, a sensitivity, a vulnerability, an awareness, in which her wars are done, her conflicts resolved, her self-torments ended, her inhibitions vanished, her identity secure, the relief and welcome joy of a woman who accepts herself as what she is, and is content to be, and desires to be, a slave who hopes to be found pleasing by her master. I recalled her from Ar, in her ornate, sumptuous robes, one of which might have cost a laborer a year's wages, sometimes so casual about the hem, lifting it up a bit, as to examine the heel of a slipper, but exhibiting an ankle, or drawing back, against her, or smoothing, about her, a garment, in such a way that one might speculate about the line of a figure, or the turn of a hip, but, much more often, the carelessness with which a veil might have been disarranged, adjusted, or loosened. Doubtless she had thought to torment a common soldier, one farther beneath her than the very dust beneath her slippers. But now, under the lamp light in the corridor, she stood before me, a slave, far less now the dust beneath the poor laborer's sandals, whose annual wages once might not have purchased one of her robes. I regarded her, collared, before me. There was no doubt now about her features, or her limbs, her rounded arms, her small hands, her thighs and calves, her ankles. - (Mariners of Gor, Chapter )