My girl prize knelt at my feet. I looked down upon her.

My girl prize knelt at my feet. I looked down upon her.
“What are you?” I asked.
“Only a Gorean slave girl, Master,” she said.
“Do not forget it,” I told her.
“I shall not, Master,” she whispered.
“Stand,” I told her.
She stood and I lashed her wrists tightly together behind her back.

Marauders of Gor, p. 259

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