Beauty Dance of Port Kar - Tribesman of Gor pg 8
she approaches the center of the room, standing as tall as her small frame will allow her, the steel collar of her Master prominently displayed as she tosses her hair back over her shoulders.
she wears only the narrowest strip of red silk tied at her hip, the sheer fabric pulled apart to reveal the curve of her thigh, the swell of her muscular bottom. at her left ankle a string of metal bells, shaped much like flowers, in her ears the large silver metal hoops her Master has placed, on her right arm, high on it, a narrow band of like metal is worn.
she places her hands together, the back of them melded one to the other, her slender arms high above her head. her head is thrown back allowing her hair to fall to the barely hidden cleft of her ass, her breasts high and bared. one foot is poised at its pointed toes of the floor, the other flat and behind her. and as the music begins, only her hips sway. forward, then back.
she moves to the music, not hurried in any of her movements, her legs parting wider, hips still moving and both front to back. she begins to roll her shoulders in time with that movement, still not moving from where she has planted herself to the stone and tile floor. her fingers writhe extended above her head, the hands still held together, her pale soft palms exposed.
and now her head begins to bob with the movement of her shoulders, her hips, her fingers so delicately writhing above the gleaming mane of her hair.
the movement appears to descend her arms as her hands part, but she keeps her arms extended above her head. the movement of her hips becoming more urgent as if they were being controlled by the strong thrusts of her Master.
gracefully, slowly she drops her arms, as if they were light as wings to shoulder level, each moving ribbon like extended at her sides. her hips begin now to sway side to side, increasing the roll and bounce of her breasts. her belly ripples as she holds it in tightly, and still she has not moved from the spot on the floor where she started. her head arching back further, her breasts and hips thrusting forward, she bowed and continuing to move.
suddenly, she lifts the pointed foot, the foot behind her rising to her toes, and grasping the extended leg she spins, then dropping the leg, she twirls about the space as she looses the knot at her hip, throwing the piece of silk across one shoulder to moistly adhere to the skin of her breasts, dangling on her torso like a scarlet gossamer drape.
she moves to the very center of the stone part of the Hall, ignoring the sand pit with its large pole, rather dancing before a pole that is only in her mind. she extends her arms up as if they were bound before her, strongly setting a foot to either side of it, her hips writhing against it in a rounding and sensual manner, tossing her head from side to side. she dances the "dance of Beauty."
the girl moans softly as she moves, her eyes looking around her, she rising to her toes as her rolling movements smooth, not hurried in any manner, the red silk worn like a drape before her fluttering at her waist as her muscles contract with the strength of her movements.
she spins from the pole of her mind only, walking in measured steps to a fur pile her Master might have reclined on should He be there, her hands extending the draped red silk from her body to Him. she turns her back to him, her hips rhythmically rolling as if for Him, her arms curling behind her and caressing her skin at her narrow back, her slender waist.
she turns again, bending low, appearing to offer him fragrant flowers, smiling as she brings them to her face and again extends her hands to him. she spins ten circles to one side, then walks back to Him, as if holding a heavy tray of things to delight His senses, and she lays it before where He would be sitting.
then kneeling before Him, she picks up the scarlet silk from the floor where it has been dropped, tossing it to where He would be as she leans back, her hips thrusting as she lays her shoulders to the floor, her silken hair like a dark pool below her. she continues to writhe as if His eyes were watching her.
she extends her leg as she writhes up again to an erect position, then rolls to her belly, to her back, to her belly, lifting her face from the floor, crawling forward as still her hips move, always as if controlled by His hands. she inches forward as her eyes blaze with passion, her muscles trembling. she again rises to her knees, extending her arms, begging to be allowed to stand. tossing her head in anguish as if she hears Him say, "no."
she asks and she asks, then smiling appears to hear a yes, rising before Him, undulating her body, as at the first.
she dances closer to where He would be, then backs up, an angry look on her face, an anguished moan escapes her. He has bidden her not approach. she spins before each fur pile and bench, each seat where another Master might be, faster now, more furious, her eyes flashing, her hips violently thrusting.
her skin shined with the exertion she was putting forth, as she finally completed the circle of the room. she collapses into a tiny pile of graceful, writhing, moving pale naked flesh before Him, looking up, pleading as she extends her arms to Him. her look joyful, she once more crawls forward, falling to her belly, hard, her safety no concern, sliding to His feet, and as the music builds to it's clamoring conclusion, her face falls to the rough leather of His boots, one tiny arched hand sliding from His knee to settle down onto her cascading hair, pooled on the floor around her. she shudders, breathing deeply.
