- Six men, each holding a free end of a length of binding fiber, hold a kneeling slave (who wears only five pieces of steel about her collar, wrists and ankles) and fastened the thongs to her (one for each wrist and ankle, and two about her waist) and then step away to stand six or eight feet from her, three on a side.
- She starts to move as though not knowing herself bound and seems annoyed or puzzled at the feel of a slight tug, but then she is permitted to move as she wishes.
- Then, still kneeling, as she tries to do something specific (like take down her hair) she is teasingly restrained, being permitted to occasionally get to her task and then repeatedly getting pulled back. She gets increasingly frustrated and the more she struggles, the more she is restrained.
- She finally realizes her bondage and in fear and/or anger, and leaps to her feet to fight fiercely, dancing in a frenzy
- Her fear mounts as the men take up the slack, and her movement become subdued and controlled, until finally they bind her hand and foot and lift her over their heads, displaying her captured to observers.
Held by six thongs attached to her body. Two to her waist, One on each wrist and ankle, held by six men. As the music starts the girl unaware of her predicament would move as if free, just to find out her movement are being controlled by an invisible force. Upon realizing this the girl would fight the thongs, furiously and savagely. Her fear would mount as less and less movement is permitted. As the dance continue, the men get closer and closer till she is captured, bound left on the floor.
“You may dance, Slave,” I told her.
It was to be the dance of the six thongs.
She slipped the silk from her and knelt before the great table and chair, between the other tables, dropping her head. She wore five pieces of metal, her collar and locked rings on her wrists and ankles. Slave bells were attached to the collar and the rings. She lifted her head, and regarded me. The musicians, to one side, began to play. Six of my men, each with a length of binding fiber, approached her. She held her arms down, and a bit to the sides. The ends of six lengths of binding fiber, like slave snares, were fastened on her, one for each wrist and ankle, and two about her waist; the men, then, each holding the free end of a length of fiber, stood about her, some six or eight feet from her, three on a side. She was thus imprisoned among them, each holding a thong that bound her.
I glanced at Thura. I recalled that she had been caught in capture loops on the rence island, not unlike the two now about Sandra’s waist. Thura was watching with eagerness.
So, too, were all.
Sandra then, luxuriously, catlike, like a woman awakening, stretched her arms.
There was laughter.
It was as though she did not know herself bound.
When she went to draw her arms back to her body there was just the briefest instant in which she could not do so, and she frowned, looked annoyed, puzzled, and then was permitted to move as she wished.
She was superb.
Then, still kneeling, she raised her hand, head back, insolently to her hair, to remove from it one of the ornate pins, its head carved from the horn of kailiauk, that bound it.
Again a thong, this time that on her right wrist, prohibited, but only for an instant, the movement, but inches from her hair.
She frowned. There was laughter.
At last, sometimes immediately permitted, sometimes not, she had removed the pins from her hair. Her hair was beautiful, rich, long and black. As she knelt, it fell back to her ankles.
Then, with her hands, she lifted the hair again back over her head, and then, suddenly, her hands, by the thongs were pulled apart and her hair fell again loose and rich over her body.
Now, angrily, struggling, she fought to lift her hair again but the thongs, holding apart her hands, did not permit her to do so. She fought them. The thongs would permit her only to wear her hair loosely.
Then, as though in terror and fury, as though she now first understood herself in the snares of a slave, she leaped to her feet, fighting, to the music, the thongs.
The dancing girls of Port Kar, I told myself, are the best on all Gor.
Dark and golden, shimmering, crying out, stamping, she danced, her thonged beauty incandescent in the light of the torches and the frenzy of the slave bells.
She turned and twisted and leaped, and sometimes seemed almost free, but was always, by the dark thongs, held complete prisoner. Sometimes she would rush upon one man or another, but the others would not permit her to reach him, keeping her always beautiful female slave snared in her web of thongs. She writhed and cried out, trying to force the thongs from her body, but could not do so.
At last, bit by bit, as her fear and terror mounted, the men, fist by fist, took up the slack in the thongs that tethered her, until suddenly, they swiftly bound her hand and foot and lifted her over their heads, captured female slave, displaying her bound arched body to the tables.
There were cries of pleasure from the tables, and much striking of the right fist on the left shoulder.
She had been truly superb.
Then the men carried her before my table and held her bound before me. “A slave,” said one.
“Yes,” cried the girl, “slave!”
The music finished with a clash.
The applause and cries were wild and loud.
I was much pleased. “
Raiders of Gor, pages 228-230
Categories: Dance Information