Sonja fights topless

And still Sonja was pulled back. She struggled desperately and her mail halter, its clasp bursting from the stain, dropped free and clattered to the boards. The air was suddenly cool on her freed breasts.
But still the dying maniac kept a relentless hold on her. Sonja kicked and fell on her side, frantic in the fear that any sword might now cut her open or behead her.
The brigand's face was gray as that of a lich; his hands, curled into claws, tore down Sonja's back and hips in furrows that drew blood as she struggled. In his death throes, he sought to bite her calf; Sonja pulled back and kicked him in the teeth. Unheeding, he groped for the knife that she wore strapped to her thigh.
Agonized, feeling more and more vulnerable as the precarious instants passed, Sonja jammed one elbow into the deck and lunged desperately ahead.
The rogue screamed, missing the knife- but as Sonja squirmed away he took her mail-skirt with him, even as his hands froze and his breath rattled to final silence.
A knife thudded into the wood by Sonja's head, clamping a lock of her scarlet hair to the deck as she lifted up. She struggled ahead again, digging her elbows against the wood; the taloned claws trailed down her legs and fell free. Her elbows, battered, sent shards of pain up her arms and into her wrists, but she still gripped her sword.
A bloody boot thudded near her and Sonja rolled over, up into a crouch. As the attacker's sword swept at her again she leapt forward, blade straight out before her. She had a fleeting impression of a glowering, bearded face before it exploded in a bath of scarlet.
Sonja whirled and half crouched. Naked but for her sword-belt, knives and Nemedian boots, she looked like some primitive goddess of war, some legendary queen of slaughter brandishing her red-stained blade.
In an instant she was back into the battle.
- Red Sonja: When Hell Laughs