DOREEN’S VIRGIN DANCE IN BRUNDISIUM
“Do you beg now to dance before your first use Master?” asked Mirus.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“And before the guests of Hendow?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“And before all present?” he inquired.
“Yes, Master!” I said.
“Adorn her,” said Mirius.
“Ina,” called Tupita. “Sit,” she said then to me, “with your hands on the floor beside you, leaning forward, your right leg advanced.”
Ina came forward from the back through the beaded curtain, with a flat, shallow, box. Tupita and Sita removed the leather cuffs from my wrists.
There are some three senses of the expression “virgin dance” on Gor. There is a sense in which it is a kind of dance, rather than a particular dance, which is deemed appropriate for virgins. In that sense I was not expected to perform a “virgin dance.” One would seldom see such dances in taverns. The second sense is the obvious one in which it is a dance danced by a virgin, and usually just prior to the loss of her virginity. In that sense, it could be almost any dance which serves the purpose of displaying the girl before her initial ravishing. The third sense of the term is that of a specific dance, or type of dance, most often, interestingly, not even danced by a virgin, but usually by an experienced slave. It is not exactly a story dance, but more of an emotional or attitudinal piece, more in the nature of a “role dance,” a dance in which the slave dances as though she might be a virgin, but knows she is to be ravished, and that she is expected to be pleasing. The dance I was expected to perform was, I suppose, a “virgin dance” in both the second and third senses of the term. Mirius, paradoxically, speaking obviously in the third sense of the term, had told me that I would do better at this sort of dance when I was no longer a virgin.
I felt metal anklets being thrust on my ankles by Tupita and Sita. They put several on each ankle. They then, similarly, placed narrow bracelets on both my wrists, several on each wrist. A long belt of cord, to which were attached numerous metal disks, suspended and shimmering, was then looped twice about me, the first loop secured high, and tight, at my waist, and the second loop, a larger loop, a framing loop, was secured in such a way, in the back, that it would hang quite low on my belly, well below my navel. The purpose of this belt was to call attention to, and enhance, by sound and sight, the movements of the hips and abdomen. With the slave beads I already wore I felt unutterably displayed, and barbaric. I could not move now without the sounds of the beads, the anklets and bracelets, the shimmering belt with its two loops.
“Stand,” said Tupita.
The men gasped with pleasure. I was frightened.
“Prepare to dance, slave,” said Tupita.
“Good,” said a man.
I stood then with my hands lifted over my head, the backs of my hands facing one another, my knees flexed. It is a common beginning position in slave dance.
The musicians readied themselves.
I looked out on the men. These were not men of Earth, defeated and tamed by propaganda and lies. These were Gorean men, men like lions. I stood before them, weak and helpless, a woman from Earth, now a collared slave who must dance for their pleasure.
The czehar player, sitting cross-legged, now had his instruments across his lap. He was the leader of the musicians. He had his horn pick in hand.
I stood barefoot, naked, save for collar and adornments, on the dancing floor of a low-ceilinged Gorean tavern. I must prepare to please masters.
“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 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.
Suddenly in my dance it seemed I was a virgin, reluctant and fearful, terrified in the reality in which she found herself, but knowing she must respond to the music, to those heady, sensuous rhythms, to the wild cries of the flute, to the beating of the drum. I then danced timidity, and reluctance and inhibition, but yet reflecting, as one would, in such a situation, the commands of the music. I examined in dismay the beads about my neck, the cords at my waist, my barbarically adorned anklets and wrists. I touched my thighs, and lifted my arms, looking at them, and put my hands upon my body, as though I could not believe that it was unclothed. I pretended to shrink down within myself, to desire to crouch down, and conceal and cover my nudity. but then I straightened up, fearfully, as though I had heard commands to desist in such absurdities, and then I extended my hands to the sides, to various sides, as though pleading for mercy, to be released from the imperatives of the music, but then reacted, drawing back, as though I had seen the sigh of whips or weapons., The kaska player, alert to this, reduced the volume of his drumming, and then, five times, smote hard upon the taut skin, almost like the cracking of a whip, to which I reacted, turning to one side and another, as though such a disciplinary device had been sounded menacingly, on all sides, in my vicinity, and then I continued to dance, helpless before the will of masters. Then, as the dance continued, I signified by expression and movement my curiosity and fascination with what I was being forced to do, and the responses of my body, reconciled now to its reality, helplessly obedient now to the music.
I suddenly by expression and movement, an almost involuntary contortion of my belly, seemingly startling me, and frightening me, appeared to suddenly sense, or glimpse, my sexuality.
“Ah,” said a man, appreciatively.
I approached him in the dance, and then others, my belly seeming to register, with its jangling accouterments, their presence. Each time I would draw back fro them, but my belly, my hips, would seem to propel me again toward them, or toward yet another. I then felt my hips, and thighs, and breasts, and belly, as these seemed to come alive in the music. And then, throwing my head back, I danced unabashedly as an acknowledged, aroused slave, much as I had before, taunting them, teasing them, delighting in my power, but then, suddenly as though I sensed my ultimate helplessness, my ultimate inability to achieve total fulfillment without the wholeness of sexuality, without the master and the yielding, which gave meaning to the incipient passions within me. I danced the aroused slave who is the property of the master and begs his touch.
“Good,” said a fellow.
“The slut is excellent,” said another.
Then I realized suddenly that I was actually aroused. The interior of my thighs were hot. My belly, hot and burning, seemed to beg to be touched. I do not know, really, whether I had done this to myself in the dance, which is possible, or if my arousal had merely come upon me in the course of the dance, but I was aroused. I was a helpless, aroused slave! This now was no role. It was what I was.
I returned to the back of the dancing floor, piteously, that I might sway before my master, he in the back, by the bearded curtain, gross, loathsome Hendrow.
Hendrow nodded to me, almost imperceptibly. Then pointing to me, and lifting his finger twice, he indicated I should turn away, and return my dance, in the center of the floor, facing the crowd.
I knew the music was approaching its climax, and the dance must be concluded.
I then, in the coda of my performance, danced helplessness and beauty, and submission, surrendering myself as I, in my collar, must, into the hands and mercies of masters.
As the music concluded I performed floor movements, and the eyes of the men blazed, and fists pounded on the tables, and then the music was done and I lay before them on my back, my breasts rising and falling as I fought for breath, my body sheened with sweat, my hands beside me, palms up, my knees lifted slightly, my right knee highest, a slave before masters. “
– Dancer of Gor
Categories: Dance Information