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~wearing nothing but the dances' required adornments, she reappears silhouetted in the doorway to her True Masters Cylinder • several dina shaped candles lining the carious low tables in the Great Room adding a warming glow to already heated flesh as the low burning flames in the fire pits dance lazily, easily consuming that which she needfully discarded • her back to the doors' frame, with a gentle arch to her spine • a coin decorated, turned out hip accentuated by a slightly bent right knee leads provocatively to bone colored beads that repeatedly wraps about delicate ankles • the backs of opaque, cheaply garnished wrists meeting overhead in classic dancers pose • a smoldering look in wild green eyes mask the guttural fear of performing hidden deep within as henna hair cascades in loose curls over her left shoulder • with bated breath, she awaits the musics’ beginning~
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~the sudden beat of the tabor strikes her body into movement • kelly green eyes casting a tentative gaze about the Home of Korobans she now approaches in a well trained run, taunted by the escalating thrums of kalikas • her belly visibly tightening, trepidation exposed as her gaze lowers, her body slows • small, languid footfalls marked by the insistent ringing of zills, and the clinking of beads carry her fluently to stand now fully before where They would be • wondering how she, a mere slave, can entice these virile Men of Gor into the Inn - hard, strong, iron-fisted in Their wills • each temperately placed step emphasized with a gentle thrusting of a coined hip • her belled waist adding the right teasing flavor of chime to blend smoothly with the twisting of alabaster covered wrists as her arms flutter downward, bird-like, with each rich trill of the gently wood toned flute~
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~the timed clapping of empty-handed musicians compelling the instigation of flirtatious desire • her body drawn seductively toward Master Marstons furs • chiming hips leading fluid steps while bare palms invitingly caress available sweat sheened slave flesh • with virginal reluctance, responding to the musics’ heady rhythms, flutes crying wildly, timidity and fear seeming to block her ability to give more than a small taste of all that she has to offer • halting her advance toward His place, she spins back three times haphazardly, layers of cheap shells bouncing inticingly against hardened tips of voluptuous breasts, unknowingly arriving at Master Tearlach's pelts • a demure dip of her eyes hiding the surprised sensation caused by His furs' sudden appearance before her • the barbaric tones bringing repeating undulations forth from the flat of a belled stomach~
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~reaching out with both hands as if to lovingly caress Master Tearlach's face, her gaze momentarily a mask of starving hunger, then, with a blink of her eyes, she, horrified, recoils instinctively • fear of giving in reflected in a tormented gaze as her cheeks turn a suddenly whiter shade of pale • a chirring of kalikas carries her backward in multiple ringing steps, withdrawing into herself as the shy virgin she attempts to portray • the music petitions her body to be propelled before yet Another's resting spot • with two ashamedly needful side steps, she reappears before her Masters seat, tremulously, coin bedecked hips perform a fluid figure eight in answer to the flutes provocative call • rapture enveloping her lithe form, committing itself to a released state of arousal~
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~attempting to deny the reality of sudden need, she draws back one foot in effort to retreat, however, the demand of insistent flutes paralyzes her soul • quickly drawn breaths give her body much needed encouragement • fixating her impulses on her Masters furs, wishing, an almost involuntary series of chiming belly contortions clarifies her passionate hunger • startled • frightened by the realization, yet unable to refuse the emotional state the dance has caused in her • helplessly dancing her arousal • the obvious requirement to be taken, used as slave portrayed in the wider stance bare feet now take as hips thrust nearly uncontrollably to the fevered pitch the culmination of flute, kalika and tabor now clashing heatedly with intense enthusiasm • truly knowing herself to be at the mercy of these powerful, brawny Men~
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~the combination of instruments winding down as if to coddle, to caress and calm her aching soul • with each lowering chord, her body descending in it's utter submission • first crouching rhythmically, bodily curves accentuated fluidly to the mixed chiming of belly, clanging of coins and ringing of zills before palms reach out to stroke the hardness of the floor before His pelts, in two piteously crawling steps • a surge of fluted notes draws her body out, flat upon a tight belly, decorated ankles reaching out behind her, prone, a sexually frustrated fist pounds the floor once prior to the arch of her spine spills her onto her back helplessly surrendering • knees drawing up to lay one over the other as tired arms come to rest at her sides • the swell of full breasts rising dramatically with each fought for breath, leaving her soul bare for Them for Whom she danced~
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