"What shall I do?" begged the kneeling girl of Kamchak. She looked not too unlike Hereena, and was perhaps a similar sort of girl, raised and trained much the same. Like Hereena, of course, she wore the tiny golden nose ring.
Kamchak spoke to her, very gently. "You are slave," he said. "Dance for your masters." The girl looked at him gratefully and she, with the others, rose to her feet and to the astounding barbarity of the music performed the savage love dances of the Kassars, the Paravaci, the Kataii, the Tuchuks. They were magnificient.
One girl, the leader of the dancers, she who had spoken to Kamchak, was a Tuchuk girl, and was particularly startling, vital, uncontrollable, wild. It was then clear to me why the Turian men so hungered for the wenches of the Wagon Peoples.
At the height of one of her dances, called the Dance of the Tuchuk Slave Girl, Kamchak turned to Aphris of Turia, who was watching the dance, eyes bright, astounded as I at the savage spectacle. "I will see to it," said Kamchak, "when you are my slave, that you are taught that dance."
{Nomads of Gor, page 98}
"Port Kar's?" asked the leader of the musicians.
"Yes," I said.
"Of course," said he.
"On your feet," boomed Thurnock to Thura, and she leaped frightened to her feet, standing ankle deep in the thick pile rug. At a gesture from Clitius, Ula, too, leaped to her feet. I put ankle rings on Midice, and then slave bracelets. And tore from her the bit of silk she wore. She looked at me with terror. I lifted her to her feet, and stood before her.
"Play," I told the musicians.
The Love Dance of the Newly Collared Slave Girl has many variations, in the different cities of Gor, but the common theme is that the girl dances her joy that she will soon lie in the arms of a strong Master. The musicians began to play, and to the clappings and cries of Thurnock and Clitius, Thura and Ula danced before them.
"Dance," said I to Midice. In terror the dark-haired girl, lithe, tears in her eyes, she so marvelously legged, lifted her wrists. Now again Midice danced, her ankles in delicious proximity and wrists lifted again together back to back above her head, palms out. But this time her ankles were not as though chained, nor her wrists as though braceleted; rather they were truly chained and braceleted; she wore the linked ankle rings, the three-linked slave bracelets of a Gorean master; and I did not think that she would now conclude her dance by spitting upon me and whirling away.
