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Had I detected a thrill of submission in those simple words? Had the radical sexual dimorphism of the human species suddenly become real to her? Did she understand it at last? Did she sense the possible fulfillments, and liberation, of the collar, the joy of a sensed, unalloyed, apprehended truth, a truth which it would now seem to her pointless, even absurd, to deny or dispute, a truth in the light of which she, now a slave, would, to her joy, have no choice but to live? We watched, for several Ihn, while she addressed herself to the performance of her simple task, so replete with its symbolism of acknowledged social chasms, the difference between slave and master. "Look up," said Tajima. The slave complied. "You lick and kiss the feet of a master well," said Tajima. "You are clearly a slave, and belong on your knees before a man". "Yes, Master," she said. It is a common Gorean view that all women are slaves, only that some are collared and some are not yet collared. - (Rebels of Gor, Chapter )