"Gorm then stood beside Ivar Forkbeard. He carried, on a strap over his shoulder, a tall, dark vessel, filled with liquid. The men on the shore laughed.
Attached to the vessel, by a light chain, was a golden cup. It had two handles. From a spout on the vessel, grinning, Gorm filled the golden cup. The liquid
swirling in the cup was black. Drink," said Ivar Forkbeard, thrusting the cup into the hands of the slender, blond girl, she who had, so long ago, in the
temple of Kassau, worn the snood of scarlet yarn, with twisted golden wire, the red vest and skirt, the white blouse.
She held the cup. It was decorated; about its sides, cunningly wrought, was a design, bond-maids, chained. A chain design also decorated the rim, and, at five places on the cup, was the image of a slave whip, five-strapped. She looked at the black liquid.
"Drink," said the Forkbeard.
She lifted it to her lips, and tasted it. She closed her eyes, and twisted her face.
"It is too bitter," she wept.
She felt the knife of the Forkbeard at her belly.
"Drink," said he.
She threw back her head and drank down the foul brew. She began to cough and weep. "
~Marauders of Gor, pages 83 & 84~