So you fear to show the slave of you?
“So you fear to show the slave of you?”
“Yes,” she said, “we fear to show our slave.”
“Doubtless it takes courage to show the slave?”
“Yes,” she said. “And it can frighten men who do not have the master in them.”
“Perhaps the master is merely hidden, as is, in some women, the slave?”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But they can be cruel, very cruel.
They can try to make you feel ashamed, and small and wrong, because of what you are, because they are not strong enough to accept what you are, and then relish it, and own it, and, rejoicing, put it uncompromisingly and zestfully to their pleasures and purposes.
They refuse to accept the loving service of one who longs to serve lovingly; they will not accept the obeisance of one who yearns to yield it; they deny submission to she who longs to submit; they draw to her feet she who, weeping, longs to kneel; they deny the animal in her, the wonderful gift of evolution to men, the bartered, captured and sold woman, the victory and product of ten thousand generations of sexual selection, of ever more beautiful, yielding and loving mates, and prizes, and slaves; she desires to kneel before her master, and have the lash placed to her lips, that she may kiss it, lovingly, gratefully; instead she finds pretenses and lies imposed upon her, and then is told these pretenses and these lies, these frauds, are herself; obedient, she tries to live those lies, enact the frauds, embrace the pretenses; what a tragedy her culture imposes upon her; she is taught to wear hypocrisies and falsehoods like ill-fitting garments, garments designed to assuage the fears and conceal the weaknesses of small, resentful beings, beings unable or unwilling not only to look upon truth themselves but determined to keep her, and her sisters, the sensitive, the beautiful and vital, from even suspecting its existence, garments intended to hide herself from herself, designed to cloak and deny the raw, vulnerable, precious nakedness of her needs, but nature takes her revenge in sickness, frustration, loneliness, and misery; she desires to belong; and they refuse to own; they would force you to be free when what you want is to be theirs entirely, will-lessly, rightlessly. Perhaps they think we are men. Therefore they will not let us lie lovingly at their feet, as women, in our chains.”
Tribesmen of Gor, p. 526