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I assumed they would not have been freed. They were comely, and it is said that only a fool frees a slave girl. How could I bear that they might look upon me now, in my shame and degradation, now no more than a barefoot, tunicked, collared slave? And what of them? How could I bear to look upon my former sisters, shamefully garbed, their necks clasped in the circlet of bondage? Yet I knew I would be thrilled to see them so, owned, but, too, so free, so natural, so alive, so basically and radically female. But how could I bear to have them see me, as a slave? It was no dog collar now buckled, and locked, about my neck, as at the party, but, on my neck, now, a true slave collar, marking me as what I now was, a true slave. Yet somehow, though I scarcely dared admit it to myself, I had never felt so healthy, so alive, so excited, so meaningful, so female, as here. I suppose this had something to do with the air of Gor, and the food, fresh, wholesome, tasty, and uncontaminated. But even more, I thought, it had to do with the culture, and the ethos, in which I found myself. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter )