Mira had fallen upon the porridge with gusto

Mira had fallen upon the porridge with gusto. She now, with her fingers and tongue, was wiping the bowl clean. She did not eat now as might a rich, free woman, from a golden or silver service, with precious, lustrously polished utensils, softly glowing upon glistening linen, sumptuously, in some fine house. She ate now as a slave, and was grateful for her feeding.

Blood Brothers of Gor, p. 579

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