To some, slavery is worse then death itself, but those feelings are only because such woman have yet to learn the freedom of being a slave. The freedom to express desires and wanton needs, the freedom of giving everything you are to another. The freedom of being desired, cherished, with no worries, no cares other then to be willingly pleasing.
The freedom, of being owned.
"Though I am slave," she said, "yet for the first time in my life, I am free."
Page 303 - Nomads of Gor
”But if I wanted their touch, why should I not ask for it, or beg for it? As a slave what else could I do? Too, even if my needs and my interests, and the incredible depth and intensity of my desires proved that I was "worthless" and without "merit", I did not care! I was worthless because I was only a property! I was worthless because I was bond! I was worthless because I was the sort of woman who could be put upon a slave block and be sold! I was worthless because I was only an owned animal! Of course I did not have "merit"! I was beyond "worth" and "merit" of those sorts, I was only a slave! But thus I could be as free, and piteous and begging, and lewd, and loving, and sexual as I wished! I had nothing to conceal, nothing to keep secret. I belonged to my master, all of me, my thoughts, my love, my body, everything I was and could be!”
