Chain dance

Photograph by Doris Humphrey,
Image courtesy ClipArt.com

Chain Dance

" 'What is the common purpose of a collar?'
'The collar has four common purposes, Master,' she said. 'First, it visibly designates me as a slave, as a brand might not, if it were covered by clothing. Second, it impresses my slavery on me. Thirdly, it identifies my Master. Fourthly......fourthly.....'
'Fourthly?' he asked.
'Fourthly,' she said, 'it makes it easier to leash me.' "
John Norman, Explorers of Gor, p. 80

"When you relinquish the desire to control your future, you can have more happiness."
Nicole Kidman

arani will first present the "original" chain dance, from Kajira of Gor. she will then present her own interpretation of that dance, transforming it into something that holds meaning for her, personally.

"The figure of the woman, swathed in black, heavily veiled, descended the steps of the slave wagon. Once at the foot of the stairs she stopped and stood for a long moment. Then the musicians began, the hand drums first, a rhythm of heartbeat and flight. To the music, beautifully, it seemed the frightened figure ran first here and then there, occasionally avoiding imaginary objects or throwing up her arms, ran as though through the crowds of a burning city alone, yet somehow suggesting the presence about her of hunted others. Now, in the background, scarcely to be seen, was the figure of a warrior in scarlet cape. He, too, in his way, though hardly seeming to move, approached, and it seemed that wherever the girl might flee there was found the warrior. And then at last his hand was upon her shoulder and she threw back her head and lifted her hands and it seemed her entire body was wretchedness and despair.

"He turned the figure to him and, with both hands, brushed away hood and veil. There was a cry of delight from the crowd. The girl's face was fixed in the dancer's stylized moan of terror, but she was beautiful. I had seen her before, of course, as had Kamchak, but it was startling still to see her thus in the firelight her hair was long and silken black, her eyes dark, the color of her skin tannest. She seemed to plead with the warrior but he did not move. She seemed to writhe in misery and try to escape his grip but she did not.

"Then he removed his hands from her shoulders and, as the crowd cried out, she sank in abject misery at his feet and performed the ceremony of submission, kneeling, lowering the head and lifting and extending the arms, wrists crossed. The warrior then turned from her and held out one hand. Someone from the darkness threw him, coiled, the chain and collar. He gestured for the woman to rise and she did so and stood before him, head lowered. He pushed up her head and then, with a click that could be heard throughout the enclosure, closed the collar-a Turian collar about her throat. The chain to which the collar was attached was a good deal longer than that of the Sirik, containing perhaps twenty feet of length. Then, to the music, the girl seemed to twist and turn and move away from him, as he played out the chain, until she stood wretched some twenty feet from him at the chain's length.

"She did not move then for a moment, but stood crouched down, her hands on the chain. I saw that Aphris and Elizabeth were watching fascinated. Kamchak, too, would not take his eyes from the woman. The music had stopped.

"Then with a suddenness that almost made me jump and the crowd cry out with delight the music began again but this time as a barbaric cry of rebellion and rage and the wench from Port Kar was suddenly a chained she-larl biting and tearing at the chain and she had cast her black robes from her and stood savage revealed in diaphanous, swirling yellow Pleasure Silk. There was now a frenzy and hatred in the dance, a fury even to the baring of teeth and snarling. She turned within the collar, as the Turian collar is designed to permit. She circled the warrior like a captive moon to his imprisoning scarlet sun, always at the length of the chain. Then he would take up a fist of chain, drawing her each time inches closer. At times he would permit her to draw back again, but never to the full length of the chain, and each time he permitted her to withdraw, it was less than the last.

"The dance consists of several phases, depending on the general orbit allowed the girl by the chain. Certain of these phases are very slow, in which there is almost no movement, save perhaps the turning of a head or the movement of a hand; others are defiant and swift; some are graceful and pleading; each time, as the common thread, she is drawn closer to the caped warrior. At last his fist was within the Turian collar itself and he drew the girl, piteous and exhausted, to his lips, subduing her with his kiss, and then her arms were about his neck and unresisting, obedient, her head to his chest, she was lifted lightly in his arms and carried from the firelight."
John Norman, Nomads of Gor, p. 159

arani now presents her own interpretation of this dance. It tells the story of a Free Woman's capture, and her transformation into a slave at the hands of her Captor. It also very nearly approximates, in a physical sense, this girl's own mental transformation at the hands of her first Master. The dance is presented as it was performed when arani wrote it, and when she wore the name given to her by a previous Master.

arrah enters the room and stands at the door, a mysterious figure swathed in black from her head to her toes, the long cloak covering her entire body and a hood pulled up to hide her face, she looks around the room warily and waits.

arrah hears the beat of the drums not unlike the beat of her own heart, she darts into the room fearfully and looks back over her shoulder at an unseen pursuer, she runs around the room never seeming to escape, her head within the cloak darts from side to side, she finally dashes across the room and seems to collide with the pole, she looks up at the unmoving Master as her shrouded body gives off a sense of terror.

arrah's cloak slips from her with a single motion from her Captor, she knows her plight and looks to Him in despair, her eyes pleading and small hands beseeching Him....under the cloak she wears nothing but a single chain around her belly, long golden hair falls down her back in an untamed mass, her ivory flesh giving off a faint sheen of perspiration wrought by fear.

arrah sinks to her knees at the feet of the Master as she feels a strong hand on her shoulder, she instinctively parts her thighs widely to reveal what now belongs to Him, slender arms reach over her head as her wrists cross, her brilliant azure eyes turn to His boots....she hears the lock of the steel around her neck and she rises in panic, turns and tries to run away but she is restrained by the chain attached to her collar, she reaches the end of the tether and crouches down.

arrah places small hands to the badge of slavery about her slender neck and desperately tries to tear it off, then she takes hold of the chain and struggles to pull it from her Captor's hands, in her failure to do so she becomes like a she-larl, azure eyes fly open and she dashes off to circle the pole, every time she gets to the end of the imaginery chain her head shoots back in terror, she whimpers a little in her fear as she finally realizes she will not escape.

arrah feels the Man who now owns her begin to slowly reel her in, like a fisherman toying with a parsit, she feels her eyes drawn to His like a magnet...she wants to resist but falls under His spell, step by hesitant step she feels herself pulled closer to Him, her firm breasts rising and falling rapidly as her heart flutters in the chest that now belongs to Him.

arrah feels His steely eyes bore into her, she is no longer able to meet His gaze and she lowers her eyes to His boots, fragile arms dart out before her in one last desperate silent plea as she feels the last vestige of her freedom torn violently from her, she sinks to her knees at His feet, silken thighs on either side of His unmoving wooden form, naked breasts just inches from His body, tiny hands unconsciously snake up over her head to cross at the wrists in total submission.

arrah feels the need within her rise as her belly begins to burn for Him, she moans softly and glances up to Him for an ehn as golden lashes fall to flushed cheeks, she now understands that she is property.....His property......to use as He sees fit for as long as He desires her......hands flutter down to the gleaming enameled band around her neck once more, but this time caressing it lovingly, a shiver of delight runs through her as she surrenders herself to Him...her body, her heart, her very soul.

arrah brings her hands down gracefully to caress her slender form, pert rosy nipples growing taut as she thrusts herself forward slightly and presents herself fully for His inspection, hands now trail down her flat stomach to her parted pink petals that are now glistening with her desire, she whimpers a little as she offers herself for His use, the flame in her belly grows and threatens to consume her.

arrah backs away from Him quickly and lowers her full ruby lips to His boots, presses them there tenderly, and then rests her silken cheek against His leg as her slave's body extends itself before Him, her ripened breasts and glistening treasure hard against the sand, slender arms flutter to her back and cross at the wrists......she is a slave, she is His, she awaits His bidding with a sigh of happiness.

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