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It was one of the small pleasures allowed to a young woman in the culture, that of intimidating and shaming men, teasing them, taunting them, torturing them, particularly those suitably acculturated, conditioned to view the most natural promptings of their blood with trepidation and remorse. Who did we fear and hate more, I wondered, they, or ourselves? I considered changing my plans for the morrow but then decided I would not do so. I would go forward and do exactly what I had intended to do. Also, the bruise on my thigh was high enough to be covered by the skirt of my white bathing suit. The next incident that I might recount occurred the following afternoon, at the beach. It was not clear to me at the time, but it proved later to be connected with the unpleasantness that had occurred the day before, about closing time, at the office. I was leaning back against a rented wood-and-canvas backrest, set in the sand. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter )