“Open your mouth,” said my master.

“Open your mouth,” said my master.

I obeyed, and he, from the pan in which the cubes now resided, placed one of the small cubes of bosk in my mouth. I could still taste the salt. We eat what we are given. We are fed well, but not overfed by the masters. As we are animals, our appearance, our figures, are important to the masters.

Who knows, they may wish to sell us. Accordingly our diets, as those of other animals, are carefully supervised.

“Be careful,” said Drusus Andronicus. “You do not want to spoil her.”

I did not think his remark was necessary. He did not own me. To one side, Paula, in the half darkness, away from the subsiding fire, was on all fours, head down, feeding from a pan.

Plunder of Gor, p. 406

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