Ships lanterns hang from the ceiling, lighting the vast space below....candle light flickering, as voices rise merrily from the numerous tables which are set in a grouping around a pit of golden sand.
Scantily clad and naked women adorned with nothing more than strips of silk twisted around their torsos, rush here and there, back and forth serving warmed paga and well fired food to the Masters as they themselves, rest swathed with their house leathers and cloth, various steel shafts glinting in the soft glow....their whips held tight in their grasp.
Her eyes widen, awed by the scene around her, when without prelude she finds herself taken viciously and pushed forcibly toward the sands..in a flash, her cherished silks are ripped from her skin in one grasp leaving her vulnerable and naked..."Dance girl!"...every inch of her stiffens taut, her breath stills. In seeing such, a strong grip in her hair drags her form across the pit to its centre...her palms and feet frantically searching for her footing...she's tossed heartlessly against a strong wooden pole, before her body falls to the floor. Her luscious curves lay in full view of her audience of strong willed Masters, their eyes glaring and boring into her skin from behind their goblets...swiftly she turns onto her back, her body bowed....her hips raised to the skies as her cheek turns, her thighs part, exposing her warmth...she writhes in the sands as a whip cracks in the air near her.....she jumps and groans just as if the leather had indeed stung and kissed at her skin...but as every slave girl knows..the slave is almost never struck with the whip, unless, of course, she does not perform well. Knowing this well enough, she ensures she does....she takes sheer comfort in her abilities to be pleasing...her body writhing and grinding in ways she knows is arousing to Him....her focus turns to this brute who tyrannizes her, as He towers above her with His whip at His side...she locks His gaze and looks deeply into His eyes, a gentle, teasing smile on her lips, a wanton need radiates from her...her soft skin glows and with a well versed look from Him, her breath instantly catches in her throat, her chest rising urgently...then without a moments pause and almost too delicately, in her graceful mannerisms, she turns her hands...their backs to the sand...exposing the soft flesh of her palms to Him.
Never once dropping her gaze....her silence, her unspoken words, her slave fires burning furiously in her deep hazel eyes...her need indicates more than clearly her surrender...her submission...her vulnerability and her readiness.
This vision of a Master then crouches beside her and encircles her neck with the coils of His whip. He draws her to her knees before Him. She looks up at Him, her neck in the whip coils, as His eyes bore into hers.... "Kneel, back on your heels," His voice deep and somewhat rough around the edges, almost growling as each word leaves His lips. "Straighten your back, suck in your gut, put your shoulders back, thrust out your breasts".....His whip handle presses at each part of her form as He indicates what He desires to see...."spread your knees, widely, lift your chin, put your hands on your thighs." His eyes wander over her new position...checking for her insolence...she holds herself firmly..."You are not going to be sold as a tower slave, Lady Sapphire. You are going to be sold as a pleasure slave."
She reaches for and kneels behind the dark, smooth post at His direction....facing it, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts against it...her hands embracing it. The whip cracked too close to her again...she quivered and suddenly became very lasciviously active...writhing and pressing herself closer to the pole...pressing it tight at the apex of her thighs as her arms reach above her head...her breath quickens, as her heart rate rises....the obvious symbolism of her beauty beneath total male discipline becoming extremely, powerfully erotic....
"Enough!" He said. She was then as she had been before, kneeling behind the post, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts pressed against it, her hands embracing it. "Tonight," He spoke, His voice directed not to her, but to the captivated audience around her...."I will give her to guardsmen. She will dance the whip dance, naked." .......................................
Lesson. There are many whip dances on Gor, of various sorts. In a context of this sort, presumably not in a tavern, and without music, the girl is expected to move, writhe and twist seductively before strong men. If she does not do well enough, if she is insufficiently maddeningly sensuous, the whips fall not about her, but on her. When one of the men can stand it no longer He orders her to His mat where, of course, she must be fully pleasing. If He is not, then she is whipped until she is. Then, when one man is satisfied, the dance begins again, and continues in this fashion until all are satisfied, or tire of the sport.
Ships lanterns hang from the ceiling, lighting the vast space below....candle light flickering, as voices rise merrily from the numerous tables which are set in a grouping around a pit of golden sand.
Scantily clad and naked women adorned with nothing more than strips of silk twisted around their torsos, rush here and there, back and forth serving warmed paga and well fired food to the Masters as they themselves, rest swathed with their house leathers and cloth, various steel shafts glinting in the soft glow....their whips held tight in their grasp.
Her eyes widen, awed by the scene around her, when without prelude she finds herself taken viciously and pushed forcibly toward the sands..in a flash, her cherished silks are ripped from her skin in one grasp leaving her vulnerable and naked..."Dance girl!"...every inch of her stiffens taut, her breath stills.
In seeing such, a strong grip in her hair drags her form across the pit to its centre...her palms and feet frantically searching for her footing...she's tossed heartlessly against a strong wooden pole, before her body falls to the floor.
Her luscious curves lay in full view of her audience of strong willed Masters, their eyes glaring and boring into her skin from behind their goblets...swiftly she turns onto her back, her body bowed....her hips raised to the skies as her cheek turns, her thighs part, exposing her warmth...she writhes in the sands as a whip cracks in the air near her.....she jumps and groans just as if the leather had indeed stung and kissed at her skin...but as every slave girl knows..the slave is almost never struck with the whip, unless, of course, she does not perform well. Knowing this well enough, she ensures she does....she takes sheer comfort in her abilities to be pleasing...her body writhing and grinding in ways she knows is arousing to Him....her focus turns to this brute who tyrannizes her, as He towers above her with His whip at His side...she locks His gaze and looks deeply into His eyes, a gentle, teasing smile on her lips, a wanton need radiates from her...her soft skin glows and with a well versed look from Him, her breath instantly catches in her throat, her chest rising urgently...then without a moments pause and almost too delicately, in her graceful mannerisms, she turns her hands...their backs to the sand...exposing the soft flesh of her palms to Him.
Never once dropping her gaze....her silence, her unspoken words, her slave fires burning furiously in her deep hazel eyes...her need indicates more than clearly her surrender...her submission...her vulnerability and her readiness.
This vision of a Master then crouches beside her and encircles her neck with the coils of His whip. He draws her to her knees before Him. She looks up at Him, her neck in the whip coils, as His eyes bore into hers.... "Kneel, back on your heels," His voice deep and somewhat rough around the edges, almost growling as each word leaves His lips. "Straighten your back, suck in your gut, put your shoulders back, thrust out your breasts".....His whip handle presses at each part of her form as He indicates what He desires to see...."spread your knees, widely, lift your chin, put your hands on your thighs." His eyes wander over her new position...checking for her insolence...she holds herself firmly..."You are not going to be sold as a tower slave, Lady Sapphire. You are going to be sold as a pleasure slave."
She reaches for and kneels behind the dark, smooth post at His direction....facing it, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts against it...her hands embracing it. The whip cracked too close to her again...she quivered and suddenly became very lasciviously active...writhing and pressing herself closer to the pole...pressing it tight at the apex of her thighs as her arms reach above her head...her breath quickens, as her heart rate rises....the obvious symbolism of her beauty beneath total male discipline becoming extremely, powerfully erotic....
"Enough!" He said. She was then as she had been before, kneeling behind the post, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts pressed against it, her hands embracing it. "Tonight," He spoke, His voice directed not to her, but to the captivated audience around her...."I will give her to guardsmen. She will dance the whip dance, naked." .......................................
Lesson. There are many whip dances on Gor, of various sorts. In a context of this sort, presumably not in a tavern, and without music, the girl is expected to move, writhe and twist seductively before strong men. If she does not do well enough, if she is insufficiently maddeningly sensuous, the whips fall not about her, but on her. When one of the men can stand it no longer He orders her to His mat where, of course, she must be fully pleasing. If He is not, then she is whipped until she is. Then, when one man is satisfied, the dance begins again, and continues in this fashion until all are satisfied, or tire of the sport.