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In the morning, before dawn, she had placed in my mouth a handful of rence paste. - (Raiders of Gor, Chapter 4, Sentence #23)

Her hips were sweet, her belly a rhythm made for the touch of a man, and her breasts, full and beautiful, magnificent, tormenting me, strained against the brittle rence cloth of her tunic with an insolence of softness, as though, insistent, they would make clear their contempt for any subterfuge of concealment. "Slave," had cried the girl once, "do you dare to look upon your mistress!" I had turned away. I was hungry. In the morning, before dawn, she had placed in my mouth a handful of rence paste. At noon, in the marshes, with the sun burning at meridian, she had taken another handful of rence paste from a wallet worn at her waist and thrust it in my mouth, again not permitting me the dignity of feeding myself. Though it was now late in the afternoon and I was hungry I would not ask to be fed again from the wallet at her side. I cut another rence stem, cut away the tufted, flowered head, and threw the stem onto the raft. - (Raiders of Gor)