“May I feed?” I took a piece of meat from the bowl on the table

“May I feed?” I took a piece of meat from the bowl on the table. I held it out to her.
“Thank you, Master,” she said. Then, turning her head delicately, she took it between her teeth. I then, for a time, fed Lola. She depended upon me, in the hours of my ownership of her, for her very food and drink. I could scarcely comprehend the feelings I had, feeding the beauty by hand. I had not realized such feelings could exist in a man. Then I placed the bowl on the floor and she, putting her head down, her hands braceleted behind her, biting and licking, addressed herself to its contents. I looked down at the kneeling, feeding slave.

Fighting Slave of Gor, p. 134

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