The slave that takes up the challenge has to take the story of the dance, and build her own version of the dance as she would have done it. The dance, is truly a female thing, it is done by slaves, for Master's pleasure. But in the end, it has to come from the heart
At her Master's side, sits the fiery haired beast, his words resonate in her ears, 'Dance girl!' Her heart raced and fear filled her eyes.
Her surroundings blur, emotions daring to erupt. 'How could she do as her Master bids?' She has no skill in dance. Terror took it's grasp.
The girl could not will her body to move, cemented in its place. Silently, anguish filled eyes beg 'No! Please!' Salty tears streaking her cheeks as nasty jeers come from the crowd. 'Useless barbarian. The sleen hunger for a taste.'
A mighty grip forcing her to rise. Meaty fingers snaring in the beasts fiery locks, yanking her upward. In response she lashes out, hands flailing. A useless attempt, for she was slave of the Masters will.
Resigned, she places her hands to her knee tops. His harsh grasp but the tip of the consequence if she did not dance. His eyes, cold and narrow cast to her gaze. 'A Belt Dance, slave!'
Succinctly, the tabor consumes silence with its slow beat. Her body begins to react, despite fear, beyond, self-consciousness, defeating pride and ego, she commences the dance.
Her basic instincts rose to the surface with the players tune. Each note capturing mind and body. A primal awareness awakens, as her strong legs moved upon the sands.
She elongates her top leg as it to touch the blues skies with the tip of her toes, accentuating the sweet curve of her calf. Tremoring fingers skim down from her knee, trickling over her hip, to linger against her inner thigh.
As the music spoke to her, she sat slipping legs wide, a resistant barrier between the girl and the Master. The tempo quickens, open and arched, she proffers her flesh in a Gorean bow.
A rhythmic sway of her hips taunt him to look at her. A smile pressed to her lips, pleased with her success, she sensually twist upon the sands. Flaunting her power only to crumble and curl in response to his fleeting glance.
Bitterness absorbs her happiness, striking out at the sands. Turmoil boils as she sees her inability to hold his gaze, rending a crack in her heart.
Writhing miserably, anger fills her mind and motion. Fingers thrust into crimson locks, tearing at the tendrils as her mind echoes 'I am displeasing!'
The Master's whip cracks. The dust spits at her as its stinging tail bites thrice. Jolted from her self-pity, startled... the pain makes it's point. The message an insult to the slave on the sands.
She cries out as the searing heat blossoms over her hunkered frame. Clutching herself for safety, her mind lost in a hazy maze of confusion.
The next wicked caress leaves deep red welts, pain transforming into a sultry pleasure. Though her flesh seemed to rise to meet it's kiss her mind quaked with misunderstanding.
Crimson tresses fall from her arcing back , much like a red sun rising in the morning sky. Parched lips gasp with pleasure,her slave belly ignited, her passion smoldering.
Assaulted flesh undulates, dancing like a moth that dares a flame. Sensual hips flick and sway, belly wavers. The tall redhead, seeking to entice as she surrenders to the emptiness between his whip's lashes.
Her needful writhing shifted a proper kneel, Dainty hands drift over the top of each thigh, a breath caught in her throat Daring to be vulnerable her thighs part wider, and her back straighter.
Captured in the twine of his whip, she savors the rosy hued welts and the sting that stirred her emotions. A love embrace, deigning her to settle shoulders back and press full and luscious breast forward.
"Please Master," she whispered into the warm night, "Please use this slave fully, this girl desires the kiss of your whip.'
About her in the sand, the snake and its bite lay silent, the music plays on. Sinfully, she dared to glance, turning so that he might allow his eyes to envelope all of her beauty.
Perfection found in every beat, the beast bent low, caressing his boot with a single kiss. A kiss leading to a lick of desire. A shimmer of cymbals accompanied a lathering of cascading kisses.
She placed her round bottom back to her heels, offering up the vision of his treasure to be devoured by his eyes. Pressing them wider, her hungry eyes sought out his gaze.
There could be no more denial. Breathily she whispered for only him to hear,' La kajira, Master'. Her lips quivered and eyes teared , she knew her truth.
The beasts voice rose to the crowd. 'La kajira.' As the music fades, the tall redheaded girl, plaintively plants adoring licks and kisses upon her Master's feet.