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She pointed her hand imperiously at me, that hand wearing its glove of gold, now spattered with my blood, wet and dark from the sweat of her hand. - (Outlaw of Gor, Chapter 11, Sentence #264)

Then, when the Tatrix had exhausted herself, by some effort I find it hard to comprehend, I managed to stand on my feet, bloody, wearing the yoke, my flesh in tatters—and look down upon her. She turned and fled to the dais. She ran up the steps and turned only when she stood at last before her throne. She pointed her hand imperiously at me, that hand wearing its glove of gold, now spattered with my blood, wet and dark from the sweat of her hand. "Let him be used in the Amusements of Tharna!" she said. Andreas of the Caste of Poets I had been hooded and driven through the streets, stumbling under the weight of the yoke. At last I had entered a building and had descended a long, swirling ramp, through dank passages. - (Outlaw of Gor)