The feelings of the young warrior toward his slave were profoundly ambivalent. She was not only the sort of female that he found irresistibly, excruciatingly attractive, as I had known before I had shown her to him the first time, but, to my surprise and delight, there seemed to be a special mystery or magic, or chemistry, between them. Each was a dream come true for the other. She had been, it seems, in some profound genetic sense, born for his chains. They fitted together, like a lock and its key. She loved him profoundly, helplessly, and from the first time she had seen him. He, too, had been smitten. Then he had discovered that she was from Cos, that ubarate which was his hated foe, at the hands of whose mercenary and regular forces he had seen his city destroyed. It was no wonder that in rage he had vowed to make the lovely slave stand proxy for Cos, that he might then vent upon her his fury, and his hatred, for Cos, and all things Cosian. And so it was that he had determined to reduce and humiliate her, and make her suffer, but with each cuffing, with each command, with each kick, with each blow of the whip, she became only the more his, and the more loving. I had known for a long time, even as long ago as the inn of the Crooked Tarn, on the Vosk Road, before the fall of Ar's Station, that she had profound slave needs, but I had never suspected their depth until I had seen her in a camp outside Brundisium, kneeling before Marcus, looking up at him, unbelievingly. She had known then that she was his, and in perfection. I had no doubt they fitted together, in the order of nature, in the most intimate, beautiful and fulfilling relationship possible between a man and a woman, that of love master and love slave.
Magicians of Gor, page 13

'I exist for you,' she said, `and it is what I want, to please and serve you.' She was much in love. She wanted to give all of herself to him, irreservedly, to hold nothing back, to live for him, and, if necessary, to die for him. It is the way of the female in love, for whom no service is too small, no sacrifice too great, offering herself selflessly as an oblation to the master.
Magicians of Gor, page 27

�Do you protest your love?� he inquired. His hand was open, where she could see it. It was poised. She saw it. He was ready, if necessary, again to cuff her.
�No, Master,� she said, hastily.
�Not even the love of a slave girl?� he asked.
�No, Master,� she said.
�And in any event,� he said, �the love a slave girl is worthless, is it not?�
�Yes, Master,� she whispered, tears in her eyes. This was absurd, of course, as the love of a slave girl is the deepest and most profound love that any woman can give a man. Love makes a woman a man�s slave, and the wholeness of that love requires that she be, in truth, his slave. With nothing less can she be fully, and institutionally, content.
�You do not then protest your love,� he said, �not even the love of a slave girl.�
�No, Master,� she whispered.
�What then?� asked he, casually.
�I beg simple use,� she said.
�I see,� he said.
�I am a slave in desperate need,� she said. �I am at your mercy. You are my master. In piteous need I beg use!�
Magicians of Gor, page 31

'No, no, no!' she wept. 'I am young but I am a woman, and alive! Do you think that intelligence and maturity are prerogatives only of such as you? I want to make a man happy, truly happy, in the fullest dimensions of his being, not a part of him, leaving the rest to hide. Or shrivel and die. I cannot know my bondage if he does not learn his mastery. Why should his birthright be denied to him, and mine to me? As a master needs a slave so, too, the slave needs the master.'
Magicians of Gor, page 192

`Beauty and intelligence are all well and good,' I said, `but the best slave is she who loves most deeply.'
Magicians of Gor, page 204

The whip is good for us," she said. "perhaps it is hard for you to understand that, as you are not a woman. It makes our womanhood a hundred times more meaningful. The essential point here is not being whipped, of course, which hurts, but being subject to the whip, and being truly subject to it. You see the distinction, I am sure. We know that men are by nature sovereign over us, that comprehension requires no great insight. Accordingly, men must then either fulfill their nature, or deny it, and in denying their nature, deny us ours, for ours is the compliment to theirs. Accordingly we despise men who surrender their natural sovereignty. Surely we would not be so stupid, would not be such weaklings and fools as to do that, if we were men. It would be too valuable and glorious a thing to give up. Its surrender would be a tragedy. But we are not men! We are women, and want, truly, with everything in our hearts and bellies, to be women, and we cannot be women truly if men are not truly men! Lay down the whip, and we will attack you, and undermine you, and use your laws, institutions and rhetorics to destroy you, inch by inch. Lift it, and we will lick your feet in gratitude. Own us, dominate us! Enslave us, properly, so that we may love you as a women are meant to love, wholly and irreservedly, totally, without a thought for ourselves!"
Renegades of Gor, page 157

'You responded well to the taking,' I said. 'Perhaps it is fitting for you.
'You do not respect me,' she said
'You do not want to be respected,' I said. 'You want to be cherished, treasured, handled, abused, mastered, owned, subdued, forced to serve and love.
She was silent.
Renegades of Gor, page 105

"In your weakness and need, and love, in your honesty and truth, you are a thousand times stronger, and greater, than such caricatures of women, than such travesties of women, than such pseudomales and facsimile men, denying themselves and their feelings, holding themselves rigid, not daring to feel or be themselves."
Renegades of Gor, page 243

I wondered if my Master was weak. Some men are very strong with men, and yet weak with their women. He just said I was beautiful. That was surely a compliment. Surely it had shown some interest in me, or approval in me, surely in one respect. He said I was beautiful. Could I not then, though it was I in the collar, make use of these feeling to own him? He must like me then, just a little. That seemed likely, Indeed he must care for me. I suspected even perhaps he might love me. Perhaps I could make use of that. I wondered if he was weak. It would not hurt for me to test him. I knew that some girls twisted their Masters about their little fingers. I wondered if I could do that. "I wondered how you might behave if I gave you even a hort of room, even an Ihn of indulgence. But he then seized my wrists and, with a thong, bound them together, before my body. He then dragged me toward a low hanging branch and tied my hands, so bound, over my head to the branch. He then whipped me. He then angrily, released me from the branch, I blubbering and weeping, half in shock, and dragged me back to the blankets. There he threw me to the foot of the blankets and chained me there, hand and foot, I looked up at him in terror. Then angrily, he layed down on the blankets, drawing them around himself, to sleep. I lay there in misery until morning, He was my Master, I loved Him! I loved him more than anything! But I had failed my first test with him! I had only wanted to know, foolishly the nature of my power with him, if any, and the nature of discipline to which I might be subject. I had only wanted to know, if truly I was his slave or not. Then he made me serve him, uncompromisingly. Then he had whipped me and put me chained, at his feet. Yet too, I felt grandly and warmly assured as to his strength and dominance. I knew then my Master was Master, that he would never relinquish his sovereignty, that he was a true man. I was content now, and eager, a female, to be his perfect slave. If I had failed the test he passed mine.
Dancer of Gor, page 475

I knew that women who are kept as low slaves, and even strictly so, are often among those most loved. Many love masters keep their love slaves, for example, as low slaves.
Dancer of Gor, page 458

The most fundamental property prized by Goreans in women, I suppose, though little is said about it, is her need for love, and her capacity for love. How much does she need love? And how deep and loving is she? That is the kind of woman a man wants, ultimately, one who is helplessly and totally love's captive, in his collar.
Mercenaries of Gor, page 322

The love slave is still slave, you see,' I said, `perhaps moreso than any other. She is held in her bondage by the strongest of all bonds, that of love.'
Mercenaries of Gor, page 318

"Do Masters ever love their slaves?" she asked. "Often," I said. Indeed, a female slave is the easiest of all women to love; too, of course, she is the most natural of all women to love; these things have to do with the equations of nature, in particular, those of dominance and submission. To a man, a female slave is a dream come true. A free woman, understandably, cannot begin to compete with the female slave for a man's love.
Brothers of Gor, page 101

"I think that I am his love slave," she whispered.
"It is too early for you to know something like that," I said. I did not know, of course, whether it was or not. Sometimes these things can be told at a glance. "I want him to whip me," she said. "Why?" I asked. "Because I love him," she said.
Kajira of Gor, page 288

Free women, in being free, command attention when they speak. It is their due. The case with slaves, such as you, my dear, is of course much different. The difference, however, is that respect and attention is not due to you, that it need not be accorded to you. You are slave. In actual practice, of course, masters tend to pay a great deal of attention to the thoughts and feelings of their lovely slaves. It is rewarding and delicious to do so. How wonderful it is to know another human being so intimately, especially one one owns. There are no secrets between masters and slaves. Her deepest thoughts and desires, as well as her most trivial fancies and observations, are open to him and, because he owns her, of great interest to him. For what it is worth, the most intimate and deepest loves I have known have been between masters and their slaves, that between the love master and their love slave." "But the woman is still a slave," she said. "Yes," I said, "totally and categorically. She may even be sold, if he wills." "The attention and love such a girl obtains," she said, "need not be accorded to her." "No," I said. "It is a gift of the master."
Explorers of Gor, page 354