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I was frightened as I passed them, one by one, almost cringing, almost recoiling, from the fear of blows that might alight upon my body, knowing myself so much exposed, so much at their mercy, at their whim or caprice. - (Dancer of Gor, Chapter 9, Sentence #160)

Here and there there was a man with a stick. I hoped they would not strike me or jab me with their sticks. I kept my head down and did not dally. I was frightened as I passed them, one by one, almost cringing, almost recoiling, from the fear of blows that might alight upon my body, knowing myself so much exposed, so much at their mercy, at their whim or caprice. Then I was past them. I was grateful to them for not having beaten me. There was little left in me now of Teibar's "modern woman," I feared. - (Dancer of Gor)