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I felt sick, perhaps as a tabuk might, with nowhere to run, a tabuk ringed with sleen. - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 61, Sentence #504)

We, the small group at the stake, Surtak, Drusus Andronicus, Kurik, and Lord Grendel, who had no weapon save claws and fangs, and the larger group, the kajirae, were encircled. I saw the eyes of the soldiers about us, but feet away, eyes narrowed, watchful, alit within the apertures of those fierce-seeming helmets, the openings so like a "Y" in shape, the lowered spears, the points threatening us, moving slightly, like the heads of a ring of osts. It was like a trap of steel, a trap from which there was no escape, a trap not yet sprung. I felt sick, perhaps as a tabuk might, with nowhere to run, a tabuk ringed with sleen. Decius Albus raised his hand. But then he lowered his hand, looking past us, toward the perimeter of the field, opposite the stands. Two figures were approaching, that of a small free woman, and, one might suppose, her pet. - (Plunder of Gor)