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Certainly, though excruciatingly sensitive to our exposure and shame, we all strove to play our roles well, for we were all constantly under the exacting scrutiny of Mrs. Rawlinson. She retained our confiscated books, and might, we knew, at any time, initiate the proceedings which we were desperate to avoid. But I wondered, too, if Eve and Jane, now and again, in their serving, in their awareness of how they were looked upon, doubtless as never before, in their sense of exposure, of vulnerability and helplessness, in their hope to be found pleasing, and their fear of failing to be found so, had had feelings analogous to mine, those unaccountable feelings which a woman might feel, if she sensed her legs within no more than a scrap of cloth, if she lightly touched her finger tips to her throat, and found a collar there, if she were to understand, in its full moment, that she did not belong to herself but to another, that she was a property, and no more, that she was owned, that she was slave. I wondered if Mrs. Rawlinson knew what she had done to us, what she had forced us to feel, what she had forced us to suspect about ourselves. At last the party was over, and the guests departed, and our sisters, laughing and chatting, weary but excited, retired to their rooms. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter )