Dancer of Gor

Then I knew I did not want to dance poorly. Out there there were men, real men, many of whom excited and stirred me, even in my virgin" s belly. I could scarcely imagine what it might be to be helpless in their arms, and at their power, as a slave. I was desperately eager to please such men. I wanted to be marvelously exciting and beautiful before them. I wanted them to desire me. I wanted them to want me! Too, I knew many of the girls despised me as a woman of Earth. I wanted to show them, too, women such as Tupita and Sita, what a woman of Earth could do to their Gorean masters, how, she, too, could excite them, and twist them with torments of desire, and make them gasp and scream with pleasure! Too, in my anger at having been abandoned by Teibar, who had been my capture master on Earth, I wanted to dance well. He had let me go! But I had sold for two and a half silver tarsks, on my first sale! I had been purchased by Hendow, of Brundisium, who, I had gathered, was noted in this city for having an excellent eye for the selection of slave meat! Certainly the girls in his tavern, Inger, and Tupita, and Ina, and the others, were superb! Perhaps, I, too, then, was attractive! I saw the men, even now, looking at me! I could sense the heat and desire in them. They would not compromise with a woman like me. They would want her too much. They would throw her to their feet. They would dominate and master me, mercilessly! I was a female. In the arms of no other sort of man could I be fulfilled. Too, let Teibar cry out with anguish if he could find out how desired I would be, and what an excellent slut, what superb slave meat. I, his despised "modern woman," proved to be! I would become a high slave! I would cost a great deal of money! He would not even be able to afford me! Let him scream with the wanting of me, but it would be at the feet of others, in their collars, that I would kneel!

"Are you ready?" asked the leader of the musicians, the czehar player. "Yes, Master!" I said, eagerly.

"Aii!" cried a fellow, pleased, as I began to dance.

The music was rich about me.

"I told you that was no virgin," said a man.

"Who cares?" asked another.

In the dance I had power. In the dance I was beautiful. I saw delight in the eyes of men. I heard gasps of admiration. To be sure I was of a body type, that of the natural woman, short-legged and well-curved, that tends to be attractive to Gorean men, and I think my face, which some had told me was delicate and sensitive, and lovely and intelligent, which so easily betrayed my emotions, may have been pleasing to them, but I think there was more to it than these things. Had it been merely a matter of face and figure I do not think the effect would have been the same. Many things were doubtless involved. One, of course, was that it was a slave who danced. The dancing of a slave is a thousand times more sensuous than that of a free woman because of the incredible meanings involved, the additional richness which this furnishes, the explosive significance of this comprehension, that she who dances is owned, and, theoretically, could be owned by you. Too, she is naked, or scantily clad, and is bedecked in a barbaric manner. This speaks of reality and savagery, of ferocity, and beauty, of dominator to dominated, of master to slave. The dancing of the female before the male, that she be found pleasing and he be pleased, is one of the most profound lessons in all of human biology. Others are when she kneels before him, when she kisses his feet, when she performs obeisance, when she know herself subject, truly, to his whip. Another is when she is seized in his arms, imperiously, and crushed to him. too, I think in this dance I was also as successful as I was because of the sort of woman I was, one who possessed deep female needs, and profound passions. I was ready, even at that time, as I now realize, to have the relentless torches of men set to the tinder in my belly, that slave fires might be lit there, thence by service, submission and love, my condition as slave, and the commands and touches of men, to be fanned, whether I willed it or not, to my dismay and joy, into open conflagrations. But I think, too, more simply, that there are skills involved, and that I was an excellent dancer, even at that time.

I danced, as the slave I was."Here, slut, here!" called more than one man. I teased them, dancing close to them, swaying, my belly alive for them, with the jangling metal pieces, the anklets clashing on my ankles, the bracelets sliding and ringing on my wrists, and then, as they attempted to seize me, drew back, backing away, or whirled, with a swirl of beads, away from them. I picked one man after another out of the audience, seeming to dance my beauty most meaningfully to him. Perhaps he would be my use master. I did not know. Several began to keep the time with their hands, clapping them together. "She is not a virgin," said a man.

"No," said another.