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And why do some of them join small caravans, and risk dangerous journeys to far places, or wander dark, unguarded streets, or stroll the high bridges alone, in the bright moonlight? Are they so smug, so sure of themselves, that they do not understand the perils of such things? Do they court the collar? Do they long to be owned, and thrown naked, with a jangle of chain, to the furs of love? I looked about myself, at the men about, the workers, several of them, a mercenary or two, a mariner in his brimless cap. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 17, Sentence #120)

We could not do so if we wished. We are only helpless beasts, in our collars and tunics. Can we help it if men want us more? And why do they so often insult and taunt men? Are they angry with men, and, if so, why? What do they want from men? Do they not understand that this might annoy, or anger, the men? A slave might die of fear before risking such a thing. And why do some of them join small caravans, and risk dangerous journeys to far places, or wander dark, unguarded streets, or stroll the high bridges alone, in the bright moonlight? Are they so smug, so sure of themselves, that they do not understand the perils of such things? Do they court the collar? Do they long to be owned, and thrown naked, with a jangle of chain, to the furs of love? I looked about myself, at the men about, the workers, several of them, a mercenary or two, a mariner in his brimless cap. These were Gorean men. Such men wanted women as slaves, and so they had them so. Such men were scions of a culture founded on nature and its fulfillment, not its denial. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 17)