“You are now going to serve a man paga,” he said.

“You are now going to serve a man paga,” he said.
“I know nothing of such things,” I wept.
“Take the goblet in two hands,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Now back away a little,” he said, “and spread your knees.”
“I am not a pleasure slave!” I said.
“Are you white-silk?” he asked.
“No, Master,” I said.
“Spread your knees,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Now take the goblet,” said he in whose charge I was, “and press it firmly, deeply, into your lower belly.”
“Do not spill it, or you will be beaten,” he said. “Now,” said he, “lift the goblet, and touch it lightly to your left breast, and then to the right breast, and then lift it, and, looking at me over the rim, lick and kiss the goblet, slowly, softly, tenderly, lingeringly, and then, after a time, extend the goblet to me, arms extended, head down, bowed, between your extended arms.”
“As a submitted woman!” I said.
“As far more than that,” he said, “as one who is only a slave.”
I felt him remove the goblet from my hands, and then I knelt back.
“Now,” said he, “close your eyes, turn about, put your head to the floor, and place your hands behind you, wrists crossed.”
I remained for a time, eyes closed, as I had been placed, but I felt no bit of cord whipped about my wrists, fastening them together.
“You may open your eyes, Allison,” said Astrinax, “and kneel at the table, as you will, knees together, if you wish.”

Conspirators of Gor, p. 298-299

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