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"At the end of her dance, she is given a cup of wine, but she may not drink. She approaches the young man and kneels before him, her knees in the dictated position of the Pleasure Slave, and, head down, she proffers the wine to him. He drinks."
Outlaw of Gor 2 Page 53

"Aphris got up and fetched not a skin, but a bottle, of wine, Ka-la-na wine, from the Ka-la-na orchards of great Ar itself. She also brought a black, red-trimmed wine crater from the isle of Cos. “May I serve you?” she asked. Kamchak’s eyes glinted. “Yes,” he said. She poured wine into the crater and replaced the bottle. Kamchak had watched her hands very carefully. She had had to break the seal on the bottle to open it. The crater had been upside down when she had picked it up. If she had poisoned the wine she had certainly done so deftly. Then she knelt before him in the position of the Pleasure Slave and, head down, arms extended, offered him the crater."
Nomads of Gor 4 Page 151

“Serve me wine.” I said. She did so, kneeling before me, head down, handing me the black, red-trimmed wine crater, that of the master, as had Aphris to Kamchak. I drank. When I had finished I set the wine crater aside and looked on the girl.
Nomads of Gor 4 Page 293

“Serve him wine,” said he, “or you will be stripped and thrown into a pen of male slaves.” The girl turned and withdrew, then approached again, climbing the stairs, delicately, as though timidly, head down. Then she leaned forward, bending her knees slightly, her body graceful, and spoke, her voice a whisper in my ear, an invitation, “Wine, Master?” as though offering not wine, but herself. In a large house, with various slave girls, it is thought only an act of courtesy on the part of a host to permit a guest the use of one of the girls for the evening. Each of the girls considered eligible for this service, at one time or another during the evening, will approach the guest and offer him wine. His choice is indicated by the one from whom he accepts wine. I looked at the girl. Her eyes met mine, softly. Her lips were slightly parted. “Wine, Master?” she asked. “Yes,” I said, “I will have wine.” She poured the diluted wine into my cup, bowed her head and with a shy smile, backed gracefully down the stairs behind me, then turned and hurried away.
Assassin of Gor 5 Page 89

I observed Inge filling the paga goblet of one of the huntsmen. She knelt closer to him than she needed to. Her lips were parted. Her eyes shone. Her hands, slightly, shook on the paga bottle. Rena knelt to one side. She watched her huntsman, gnawing the meat from a great bone. I could see that she was eager to leap up to serve him, should he but speak to her.
Captive of Gor 7 Page 300

I served the food, and poured the wines, and kept their goblets filled, remaining as much in the background as possible. They talked of hunting, and war, and of the northern forests, as though I were not there. Sometimes Verna would say, “Drink,” and I would pour wine into her goblet, saying, “Yes, Mistress,” and sometimes Rask of Treve would command me, saying “Drink,” and I would then, similarly, serve him, saying “Yes, Master.” He extended his goblet to me. “Drink,” he said, offering me the cup. I looked at the rim of the cup. I shook with terror. “A slave girl dares not touch with her lips the rim of that cup which has been touched with the lips of her master,” I whispered.
Captive of Gor 7 Page 302

“Serve me wine,” he said. I turned and, among the furnishings of the tent, found a bottle of Ka-la-na, of good vintage, from the vineyards of Ar, the loot of a caravan raid. I then took the wine, with a small copper bowl, and a black, red-trimmed wine crater, to the side of the fire. I poured some of the wine into the small copper bowl, and set it on the tripod over the tiny fire in the fire bowl. He sat cross-legged, facing me, and I knelt by the fire, facing him. After a time I took the copper bowl from the fire and held it against my cheek. I returned it again to the tripod, and again we waited. Again I took the bowl from the fire. It was now not comfortable to hold the bowl, but it was not painful to do so. I poured the wine from the small copper bowl into the black, red-trimmed wine crater, placing the small bowl in a rack to one side of the fire. I swirled, slowly, the wine in the wine crater. I saw my reflection in the redness, the blondness of my hair, dark in the wine, and the collar, with its bells, about my throat. I now, in the fashion of the slave girl of Treve, held the wine crater against my right cheek. I could feel the warmth of the wine through the side of the crater. “Is it ready?” he asked. A master of Treve does not care to be told that his girl thinks it is. He wishes to be told Yes, or No. “Yes,” I whispered. I did not know how he cared for his wine, for some men of Treve wish it warm, others almost hot. I did not know how he wished it. What if it were not as he wished it! “Serve me wine,” he said. I, carrying the wine crater, rose to my feet and approached him. I then knelt before him, with a rustle of slave bells, in the position of the pleasure slave. I put my head down and, with both hands, extending my arms to him, held forth the wine crater. “I offer you wine, Master,” I said. He took the wine, and I watched, in terror. He sipped it, and smiled. I nearly fainted. I would not be beaten.
Captive of Gor 7 Page 332

Marlenus and I watched her pour the wine. She poured it differently than she had before. She knelt, her head down, the hair forward. I could see it in her shoulders. She, a slave girl, poured wine for masters. That she was owned was revealed, beautifully, in her serving.
Hunter of Gor 8 Page 167

She carried a tray, on which were various spoons and sugars. She knelt, placing her tray on the table. With a tiny spoon, its tip no more than a tenth of a hort in diameter, she placed four measures of white sugar, and six of yellow, in the cup; with two stirring spoons, one for the white sugar, another for the yellow, she stirred the beverage after each measure. She then held the cup to the side of her cheek, testing its temperature; Ibn Saran glanced at her; she, looking at him, timidly kissed the side of the cup and placed it before him. Then, her head down, she withdrew.
Tribesmen of Gor 10 Page 89

She rose swiftly to her feet. She knelt, head down, before me. She poured, carefully, the hot, black beverage into the tiny red cup. I dismissed her.
Tribesmen of Gor 10 Page 105

I would pour the paga, which I carried, into a goblet, kiss it, as was expected, and give it to the man. “Paga!” called my captor. I almost fainted. I went to him and, shaking, poured paga into his goblet; I was terrified that I might spill it; it was not only that I feared, should I spill the beverage, that I might be beaten for my clumsiness; it was even more than I wished to appear graceful and beautiful before him; but I shook, and was awkward; the paga sloshed in the goblet but, as my heart almost stood still, it did not spill; he looked at me; I was a clumsy girl, and a poor slave; I felt so small and unworthy before him; I was not only a girl, small and weak before these mighty men; I was not even a good slave. Trembling, I extended the goblet to him. He did not take it. I shrank back, confused. I did not know what to do. I realized then that I had, in my confusion and distress, forgotten to place my lips upon the goblet in subservience. I quickly pressed my lips to the goblet, kissing it. Then, suddenly, as I was to hand it to him, I boldly, again, lifted the goblet’s side to my lips. Holding it in both hands, I kissed it again, lovingly, delicately, fully, lingeringly, my eyes closed. I had never kissed a boy on Earth with the helplessness and passion that I bestowed upon the mere goblet of my Gorean captor. I belonged to him. I was his. I loved him! I felt the metal of the cup beneath my full, pressing lips. I opened my eyes. I proffered, tears in my eyes, the cup of paga to my captor. It was as though, with the cup, I was giving myself to him.
Slave Girl of Gor 11 Page 68

I poured wine from the flask I bore into the cup, I holding it, of one of the men. Our eyes met. He was, I knew, one of those who had had me. I was now serving him. He regarded me. I extended to him the cup. He did not accept it. Our eyes met. I took the cup and pressed my lips to it. Again I extended the cup to him. Still he regarded me. His eyes were upon me. Angrily, with helpless anger, the futile, meaningless anger of a slave girl, I again pressed my lips to the cup, this time fully and lingeringly. Again I extended to him the cup. This time he took it.
Slave Girl of Gor 11 Page 88

One of the men lifted his cup and I hurried to him. I took the cup and filled it. I looked at him, angrily over the brim of the cup. Then I pressed my lips to his cup as I must, as a slave girl, and handed it to him. He took it, scarcely noticing me, and returned his attention to the map in the dirt, which was of importance.
Slave Girl of Gor 11 Page 89

My master looked at me. He lifted his cup. I hastened to him, took the cup, and filled it. I pressed my lips long to its side, then humbly proffered it to the magnificent beast whose girl I was.
Slave Girl of Gor 11 Page 90

My master extended his cup to me, and I, kneeling, filled it with Sul paga. I pressed my lips to the cup, and handed it to him. My eyes smarted. I almost felt drunk from the fumes.
Slave Girl of Gor 11 Page 134

Thurnus held out his cup. I prepared to put Sul paga in the cup. Then he held the cup closer to him. I must needs approach more closely. “Come closer, little beauty,” said Thurnus. I crept a bit closer to him, on my knees, with the paga. I poured Sul paga into his goblet, my head bending quite near to him. Thurnus looked at me. “You may kiss my cup, Slave,” said he. I pressed my lips to his cup, which he held in his hand. “And do not remove your lips from the cup,” said Thurnus, “until given permission.” I kept my lips pressed to the cup, my head bent to the side. A Gorean slave girl dares not disobey. You are a pretty little slave,” said Thurnus to me. I could not speak, for my lips were pressed to his cup. I felt his hand on my leg. I shuddered under the intimate touch of Thurnus. I could not withdraw from his caress for my lips must needs remain pressed to his cup. My lips remained pressed to Thurnus’s cup. I could not withdraw from his caress. I began to become aroused. I was a slave. I could not help myself. Thurnus moved the cup a bit closer to him, maneuvering me into a yet more helpless position. My hands were clenched on the wrist that held the cup. I felt the cup with my teeth. “Let us then waste no more time sporting with slave girls,” said Thurnus, “but turn our attention to more serious business.” Thurnus looked at me. “You may remove your lips from the cup, Girl,” he said. I withdrew my lips from the cup. He removed his hand from my body, and stood up.
Slave Girl of Gor 11 Page 142

“Serve me paga,” said Thurnus. He handed the goblet to Sandal Thong. She took it and knelt before him, head down, proffering him the goblet.
Slave Girl of Gor 11 Page 240

I put down the paga flask which I carried that I might, unencumbered, assume the position of serving paga, or wine, to a Gorean male. “First remove the silk,” he said. I did so. He was a customer. I was his to command. Then I knelt naked before him, head down. “You may now serve the paga,” he said. “Yes, Master,” I said. I reached to take the cup, in both hands. One kneels, one proffers the cup, head down, with both hands, to the male.
Slave Girl of Gor 11 Page 305

“Serve me wine, Slave,” he said. I gasped. She lifted the vessel of wine I had earlier brought and filled the goblet. “No,” I whispered to her, and then instructed her how to serve him. “Wine, Master?” she asked. “Yes, Slave,” he said. Then she knelt before him, back on her heels, head down, lifting the goblet to him, proffering it to the master with both hands. He took the goblet from her and, regarding her, drank.
Slave Girl of Gor 11 Page 405

“I would like to see further evidence of your skills,” I said. “I am out of paga,” I said. She reached to the bottle, to refill the cup. “No,” I said. She looked at me. “Did they not teach you how to serve paga as a paga slave?” I asked. “Of course,” she said. “Show me,” I said. “Very well,” she said. She drew back, taking the bottle and cup. In most taverns no bottle is brought to the table but the paga is brought to the table, by the paga slave, a cup at a time, the cups normally being filled from a vat behind the counter. She filled the cup there, before me, and left it behind. She returned the bottle then to the table, and went back again for the cup. She lifted it in both hands. “Put it down,” I said. She did so, looking at me puzzled. “You are garbed strangely for a paga slave,” I said, indicating the clogs, the black slacks and the black, buttoned top. “Do you wish me to put on pleasure silk?” she asked, icily. “No,” I said. She tossed her head. “In many Gorean taverns,” I said, “the paga slaves serve naked.” “Yes,” she said, slowly, “they do.” “Did they not teach you how to do that?” I asked. “Yes,” she said. “I would see evidence of your skills,” I said. “Paga, Master?” she asked, kneeling before me, the metal cup held before her, in her two hands. “Yes,” I said. She proffered the cup to me. She knelt back on her heels, her knees wide, and extended her arms to me, the cup in her hands. “Did you not neglect to kiss it?” I asked her. She drew back the cup and, pressing her lips to it, kissed it. “Is that how a slave kisses the cup of a master?” I asked. She again turned her head to the side and pressed her lips softly, lingeringly, against it. Then she kissed it. I saw a tremor course through her body. I think, then, for the first time, she had begun to understand what it might be truly, to kiss the cup of a master. Then again, kneeling back on her heels, her knees wide, extending her arms to me, the cup in her hands, she proffered me the drink. “Your head should be down, between your arms,” I said. She put her head down. Again I saw a small movement in her body, a tremor, subtle. She had put her head down before a man. Another consequence of this position is that the girl’s eyes, in the specific act of her serving, do not meet those of the master. They are lowered before his, as one who submits. This is also reminiscent, in an experienced girl, of her training. Often, in training, a girl is not permitted to look into the eyes of the trainer, unless he should specifically extend this permission. Indeed, in some cities, the girl in training may not raise her eyes above the trainer’s belt, unless, again, specifically accorded this permission. “Speak,” I said to her. “Your paga, Master,” she said. But I did not take the paga. “Do you know other phrases?” I asked. There were many, actually, and they tended to vary from tavern to tavern, and from city to city. There was, really, no standardization in such matters. She trembled, head down, proffering me the paga. “Your girl brings you drink, Master,” she said. “Any others?” I asked. “Here is your drink, Master,” she said. “I beg to serve you further in any way I may.” “Another,” I said. “Do not forget I come with the price of the cup,” she said. “Use me as you will, Master.” “Another,” I said sharply. “For your pleasure,” she said, “I bring you paga and a slave.” “Personalized phrase,” I said. “E.,” she said. “Evelyn,” I corrected her. “Evelyn tenders drink humbly to Master,” she said. “Evelyn hopes Master will later find her suitable to give him pleasure.” “Another,” I said. “I am Evelyn,” she said. “I serve you, naked and collared. Take me later to the alcove. I beg to be taught my slavery.” I then took the paga. “You may now serve others,” I said to her.
Explorers of Gor 13 Page 161

She turned about. She nearly spilled the paga, trembling. It was well for her that she did not spill it. Slowly, alone, a paga slave, naked and collared, she approached my table. She then knelt there, before me. “Press the cup to your belly,” I told her. She did so. She then held it there, in both hands. “Paga, Master?” she whispered. “Yes,” I said. She sobbed. “Kiss the cup,” I told her. She lifted the metal cup from her belly and, turning her head to the side, pressed her lips against it. She then kissed it. She then, her knees wide, her arms extended to me, her head down, between her arms, proffered the paga to me. “Your paga, Master,” she whispered. “Use now to me,” I said, “the second of the two formulas, personalized, which you earlier used to me, when you had so foolishly thought yourself a free woman.” “I am Evelyn,” she said. “I serve you, naked and collared. Take me later to the alcove. I beg to be taught my slavery.” “Very well,” I said. She knelt back, about a yard from the table. I looked at her. I sipped the paga.
Explorers of Gor 13 Page 172

“He said to me, ‘Come closer. Stand before the coffee table.’ I did that. ‘Kneel down before the coffee table, my dear,’ he said.” “I knelt down,” she said, blushing. “He then said to me,” she said, “‘Pour wine into the goblet. Fill it precisely to the second ring.’ There were five rings on the outside of the goblet. I poured the wine, as he had asked, and then placed the goblet on the coffee table. “‘Now take the goblet,’ he said, ‘and hold the metal against your body, pushing inward.’ I took the goblet and held it, tightly, to my body. I held the round, heavy metal against me, below my brassiere. ‘Lower,’ he said, ‘against your belly.’ I then held the goblet lower. ‘Press it more inward,’ he said. I did so. I can still feel the cold metal against me, firmly, partly against the silk of my undergarment, partly against my belly. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘lift the goblet to your lips and kiss it lingeringly, then proffer it to me, arms extended, head down.’”
Fighting Slave of Gor 14 Page 19

“Pour, Jason,” said the Lady Gina. “Yes, Mistress,” I said. I left the line of kneeling male slaves and approached the table, carrying the vessel of wine Tela had given me. I approached the table deferentially. I knelt before Lola. “Wine, Mistress?” I asked. “Yes, Slave,” she said. “Again, Jason,” said the Lady Gina, “more softly, more deferentially.” “Wine, Mistress?” I again asked. “Yes, Slave,” said Lola. “Good,” said the Lady Gina. “Now, pour.” Carefully I poured the wine into the cup before Lola. “You are pouring it too swiftly, Slave,” said Lola. I looked to the Lady Gina. Surely I was not pouring it too swiftly. “The whim of the Mistress is everything,” said the Lady Gina. “Forgive me, Mistress,” I said to Lola.
Fighting Slave of Gor 14 Page 76

Unbidden, she went to the shelf where I had placed the shallow, chipped clay bowl of cheap, dark wine, fit for slaves. She then, holding the bowl, knelt again, gracefully, before me. Looking at me, she tossed her head, throwing her dark hair behind her. The slender steel collar was beautiful on her throat. She, holding the bowl with two hands, pressed it back against her belly, low, below the navel. I looked at the edge of the bowl, containing the wine, pressed back, into her flesh. Then she lifted the bowl before her and, gently, turning her head, placing her lips softly upon it, kissed it. She then, with two hands, head down, proffered to me the chipped, shallow bowl. “Wine, Master?” she asked. I took the bowl of wine from her. She trembled. She looked up at me. I drank then, holding the shallow bowl with two hands. Then, after a bit, I lowered the bowl from my lips and looked down at the beautiful slave. I had not finished the wine. “The wine, and Lola, are yours, Master,” she said. I knew that she spoke the truth. I lifted the wine again to my lips and again drank. Then I placed the bowl, containing its residue of wine, behind me on the table. I had drunk as a master before the girl, the kneeling slave.
Fighting Slave of Gor 14 Page 99

“Serve me wine, Jason,” she said, distractedly. “As a slave girl,” she added. “Yes, Mistress,” I said, bitterly. “Do I detect bitterness?” she asked, not turning about. “No, Mistress,” I said. “Good,” she said. “You are a true man of Earth, fit to be the slave of a woman.” “Yes, Mistress,” I said. I found some wine, and poured a bit for her. Then, as I had seen Lola do for me, I pressed the goblet into my lower abdomen and then lifted it to my lips, where, turning my head, I kissed it. Then, head down, kneeling back on my heels, arms extended, I proffered it to the Mistress. “Excellent, Jason,” she said. “Thank you, Mistress,” I said. She sipped the wine, and regarded me contemptuously. Then she said, “Go back to your place.” “Yes, Mistress,” I said. I went back, beside the couch, and again knelt. She turned about and placed the cup of wine on the low desk and, in a moment, was again deeply engaged in her work. I think she forgot that I was in the room. I knelt silently in the background. Occasionally, however, as the Ehn passed, she drank from the cup. I was ignored and neglected. I would be summoned, if needed.
Fighting Slave of Gor 14 Page 129

“Taphris,” said Barus, sharply. “Yes, Master!” she said, startled. “Bring water,” he said. “Yes, Master,” she said. She got to her feet and went to the side of the shed, where the water bucket was placed, to get the yellow, half-gourd dipper. We watched her. She filled the half-gourd dipper. “Your drink, Master,” said Taphris. He looked at her and, suddenly, frightened, she fell to her knees. She put her head down. She pressed the yellow, rough-skinned half-gourd, brimming with water, deep into her belly. Then she lifted the yellow side of the gourd to her lips and, lingeringly, turning her head, kissed it; then she lifted it to him with both hands, her head down between her extended arms.
Fighting Slave of Gor 14 Page 261

“Serve Jason water,” he cried. “Jason!” she cried. He handed her the cup formed from the yellow half-gourd. She looked down at it, clutched in her hands. “Do you wish me to repeat a command?” he asked. “No, Master!” she cried and leaped to her feet, hurrying to the water, in its wooden bucket, at the side of the shed. Quickly she returned with the half-gourd brimming full. She looked at Barus, and then she knelt before me, and pressed the half-gourd into her naked belly, head down, then lifted it to her lips, and lingeringly kissed it, then proffered it to me, kneeling, arms extended, trembling, head down between her arms. “Speak,” I told her. “I bring you drink, Master,” she said. I took the cup and drank, looking upon her. How fit she seemed, in her place in the order of nature, naked, kneeling before a man.
Fighting Slave of Gor 14 Page 271

I watched her pouring the beverage. She did so carefully, deferentially, being careful not to spill a drop.
Guardsman of Gor 16 Page 296

“You may serve me wine,” I said. She reached to the wine, a sweet Ka-la-na of Ar, and filled the goblet to the third ring. Then, as I sat back against the couch, she knelt before me. She, head down, pressed the heavy metal goblet deep into her lower abdomen, and then she lifted it to her lips and, holding it with both hands, kissed it lingeringly and lovingly. Then, kneeling back on her heels she put down her head and, humbly, her arms extended, her head down between them, proffered me the goblet. “Wine,Master?” she asked. “Yes,” I said. I then took the goblet from her, and drank. She lifted her head, and watched me.
Guardsman of Gor 16 Page 302

“Wine,” he said. “Yes, Master,” I said, and struggled up, turning, fetched him the goblet from a small, low table near the couch and, in a moment, after kissing the goblet, head down, kneeling, arms extended, proffered it to him. He sipped a bit of the wine, a Ka-la-na of Ar, and then returned the goblet to me. I kissed it again, and then replaced it on the table.
Kajira of Gor 19 Page 397

I knelt down in the sand, before him, my head down. I removed the metal cup on its string from about my neck. My neck was exposed to him. I attended to the filling of the cup, and capped the spout on the bag. I feared I would be struck with the shovel, it cutting down at me. He did not raise it, however. I kissed the cup and, holding it with both hands, my arms extended toward him, my head down between them, proffered it to him. He took it, and drank, and handed the cup back to me, “Thank you, Master,” I whispered.
Dancer of Gor 22 Page 327

Temione had now filled her paga vessel. She picked up a goblet from a rack near the vat. The shelving on the rack was of narrow wooden rods. The goblets are kept upside down on the rods. In this way, washed, they can drain, and dry. This also affords them some protection from dust. I watched her carefully wipe the goblet. Woe to the slave who would dare to serve paga or wine in a dirty goblet!
Vagabonds of Gor 23 Page 20

She made certain her knees were widely spread in the sand, and then she extended her arms, her head down, between them, the bowl held out to our young guest. "Water, captor?'' she inquired.
Vagabonds of Gor 23 Page 352

The girl who had gone to fetch my paga now returned and knelt before the table. She kissed the goblet, and then, her head down, between her extended arms, proffered it to me. "Paga, Master?" she asked.
Vagabonds of Gor 23 Page 401

Quickly, with a tiny sound of bells, and the small sounds of the necklaces and bracelets, the girl reached for the paga goblet. Then, kneeling there before me, her knees widely, piteously, opened, clad in a bit of slave silk, she kissed and licked deferentially, humbly, at the goblet. Then, head down, her arms extended, she proffered it to me.
Vagabonds of Gor 23 Page 407

He hurried to the small table and put a tiny bit of wine into one of the small glasses. He then returned, and knelt before her. He then, holding the tiny glass in both hands, his head down between his extended arms, proffered her the beverage.
Magicians of Gor 25 Page 447

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