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I had seen her before, of course, as had Kamchak, but it was startling still to see her thus in the firelight—her hair was long and silken black, her eyes dark, the color of her skin tannish. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 12, Sentence #400)

He turned the figure to him and, with both hands, brushed away hood and veil. There was a cry of delight from the crowd. The girl's face was fixed in the dancer's stylized moan of terror, but she was beautiful. I had seen her before, of course, as had Kamchak, but it was startling still to see her thus in the firelight—her hair was long and silken black, her eyes dark, the color of her skin tannish. She seemed to plead with the warrior but he did not move. She seemed to writhe in misery and try to escape his grip but she did not. Then he removed his hands from her shoulders and, as the crowd cried out, she sank in abject misery at his feet and performed the ceremony of submission, kneeling, lowering the head and lifting and extending the arms, wrists crossed. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 12)