“You may feed, Phyllis,” he said

“You may feed, Phyllis,” he said.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“Appropriately,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
I went to all fours, put down my head, and began to feed. I must not, of course, use my hands. There are a thousand ways in which a girl’s knowledge of her bondage may be forced into every cell of her body. A girl’s food bowl and water bowl are often kept on the floor of the kitchen, in a corner, sometimes in the vicinity of the master’s couch. Many a girl has fed so, the master standing over her, with his whip. Later, he may not even be present, or he might be to one side, scarcely noticing, perhaps reading.
Kurik, of course, seldom forgot, or neglected, my feeding. I did know enough, of course, not to ask to be fed.

Plunder of Gor, p. 351

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