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The odor of the golden hairs still lingered in the passages and, fearing I might once again succumb to whatever drug they released into the air, I determined to make my departure. - (Priest-Kings of Gor, Chapter 25, Sentence #8)

It began to back away from me on its six short legs. I leaped forward and thrust my hand under the wing shell and seized the short, tufted antennae and with one hand on them twisting and the other beneath the shell I slowly managed, lifting and twisting, to force the struggling creature onto its back and when it lay on its back, rocking, its short legs writhing impotently, I drew my sword and plunged it a dozen times into its vulnerable, exposed belly, and at last the thing stopped squirming and lay still. I shuddered. The odor of the golden hairs still lingered in the passages and, fearing I might once again succumb to whatever drug they released into the air, I determined to make my departure. The Mul-Torch began to sputter. I did not wish to resheath my sword, for it was coated with the body fluids of the Golden Beetle. I wondered how many more such creatures might dwell in similar passages and caverns near the tunnels of the Priest-Kings. - (Priest-Kings of Gor)