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When I put myself to my belly before the kitchen master, pressing my lips to his feet, and complaining, or simply begging to be protected, I would receive little comfort. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 8, Sentence #1420)

While the kitchen master occasionally put me to his use, I think he preferred others. When I tried to call myself to his attention, placing myself before him, making inquiries, simply to be near him, and such, this was noticed by the other girls, and I paid for my forwardness when we were alone. My hair was jerked and twisted, short of being torn from my head, which would have been a punishable offense, and my body was much bruised, by small, angry fists, and, often enough, from the blows of ladles and stirring spoons. When I put myself to my belly before the kitchen master, pressing my lips to his feet, and complaining, or simply begging to be protected, I would receive little comfort. I was not Gorean. "Masters," he would say, smiling, "do not much mix in the squabbles of slaves". Had there been a "first girl," I might have assisted her in her tasks, done much of her work, flattered her, cultivated her, petitioned her, and so on, but there was no first girl. - (Conspirators of Gor)