Paga Diaries (24) by Arizona Traveller

 (The first twenty chapters are hosted at Emma of Gor This continues the story of Rykart, a wanderer on Gor who had arrived from Earth. Stories by Tracker is pleased to host this continuation of the story.)

24. Dancing Kajirae

After the extravagant banquet meal, Mirus announced that the evening’s entertainment would continue with dancing.  Everyone gathered near the fire, close to the band in the same spot that the wet t-shirt contest had been held.  We all sat on the ground and watched the dancers.  Even the slaves sat and watched, except for Lenta and another slave who were kept busy serving drinks to everyone.

There were three dancers who took turns, each one performing a dance and then another one would start a new one.  The dancers were mostly nude and had bells attached to their ankles.  Some of the dancers used silk accessories to draw attention to their bodies and movements.  Trem and I sat together and enjoyed the dances, the firelight on the dancers and the accompanying music, created a very erotic atmosphere.  Trem told me the names of the dances after they were finished, the first being the Collar Dance and the second was the Contrition Dance.  During the third dance, Lina came and knelt in front of me, offering a paga.  I finished the paga I already had and took the paga from the lovely Lina.

“May I watch the dances with you Master?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, noticing that many of the other slaves were sitting very close to and sometimes leaning into the guests, lounging.   The three Gorean moons were bright tonight, and as we watched the dancers, I kept looking at Lina, her blond hair was golden in the light of the fire and the shadows accentuated her lovely curves.  I put my arm around her bare shoulder, bringing her in close.

Rimici stepped out after the third dance concluded, her fine curves and perfect body motionless, she stood crossed leg, poised as a pirouette.  She was naked except for her collar and belled ankles.  The band began to play rhythmic, mysterious music.  Rimici looked to the sky and began to dance quickly.  She moved well and her motions were very erotic.  She stomped her feet to the rhythms, the bells on her ankles ringing, accentuating her steps.

Lina, put her arms around my right arm, holding it. 

Rimici dropped to her knees and danced on them, gyrating her hips.  She then went down to the grass on her back, to her sides, again to her knees, then prone, rolling over supine, constantly moving her limbs, writhing as though in frustration.  She struck her hands, now clenched fists, on the ground, then scratched at the ground, pulling up grass in frustration.  She shook her head, scattering her long black hair in all directions.  She kicked her heels against the ground as a child would, having a tantrum.

The music became slower, entering a melodic phase, and her dancing became less physical and frantic.  Her dancing was now poignant, graceful.  She went to her knees and crawled to her right, lifting her head, reaching out and seemed to touch something, feeling it out, a wall perhaps.  She continued to move gracefully using her hands to search in pantomime. She appeared to encounter a barrier or confining wall, her hands reaching up, and around, searching, exploring. Then she crawled to the left, once again feeling out the wall, tracing the location.

“She is dancing the Sa-eela, Master!” Lina whispered to me excitedly.

Rimici stood up and faced the crowd, on tip toes, attempting to peer through an opening.  She yelled through this opening, on a door perhaps.  She waited, and nothing there, she went to the ground, curled into a ball and began to weep softly in her loneliness.

The music changes again and her head lifts up, a hand went to her ear, cupping it as though she hears something.  She stands up, steps backwards, stopped by a back wall as though in a cell and puts her palms against the wall.  She holds her chin up for a moment, disdainfully, then she turns away as if ignoring someone, perhaps a man has entered the cell.  She remains still and aloof, feigning disdain for the man.  She then becomes startled as if the man has turned away, as if to leave the cell.  She looks to the man, and throws herself to the grass on her belly, her arms extended performing obeisance, her fingers outstretched, longing to touch.  She lifts her head and calls out, “Master?”  And then, “Please Master!”

She then kneels swiftly in nadu, as a pleasure slave with her knees spread wide and her palms on her thighs, upturned.  She is stunning in this position, a perfect example of posture and form! 

“Ohh!” Lina exclaimed quietly beside me, clutching my arm tight, her breath quickening.

Rimini’s right shoulder suddenly jerks twice, as if she has been struck with a whip.  She nods her head in affirmation.  She then stands abruptly as if pulled up.  She is turned, and her wrists brought together behind her back.  She grimaces as if they are being bound together tightly, cruelly.  She bends over at the waist, her head moves to the side as if a master has her hair, controlling her.  She then walks, taking small steps, bent over, her head still to the side as if being led somewhere, leaving the cell.  She makes a slight turn before stopping.  She then appears to be thrown to the ground, landing on her side, her hands still held behind her back.  She looked at the audience from the ground as if seeing us for the first time.  The music became loud, dramatic and profound, as she presented herself as a stark, pitiful, humbled slave, laying before men, waiting for their attention.

She moves off of her side and kneels, putting her head to the ground as if commanded and raises up her bound wrists, high behind her back.  She remains like this for a moment and then her hands came apart, unbound.

She then appears to prepare herself, smoothing her hair, bringing attention to her features, holding her breasts and offering them, presenting her rear, attempting to allure and arouse the master.  The pace of the music quickens, drums pounding, as the attempt of the neglected slave to call attention to herself becomes desperate and wild.

At the climax of dance, Rimici crawled over to Mirus.  There was fine sheen of sweat on her body gleaming in the firelight.  She presented herself as a helpless, desperate, sensual, piteous slave, needful with desire, she danced on her knees with a final flourish before her master, enticing him to accept her, exposed, willing and submissive to his will and approval.  In a final gesture, she flung herself on to her back, lifting her hips invitingly to him, her breasts heaving with exertion, motioning with her arms, beckoning his approach and acceptance of her offering.

A thunderous applause erupted from the audience, many of the men standing and striking their chests, crying out praises.  As I stood up to applaud and cheer, I looked at Lina, who was smiling, cheering, tears in her eyes.  Mirus stood up, stepped toward Rimici and swooped her up, placing her over his left shoulder.  He carried her to the nearest white tent and entered it as the applause continued.

I was spellbound by the magnificent performance.  I had never seen such a dance, the talent, creativity, and the expression of raw emotion was exquisite and overwhelming.  For the third time this evening, I had become aroused and was in need.

I sat back down next to Lina.  She looked at me eagerly, her teary eyes wide and full of expression. 

“Master, may I speak?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Master, am I still appealing to you?”

“Yes, very much,” I replied.

“Do you desire me, Master?”

“Yes, yes,” I stuttered.

“Master, you have not taken me to the furs tonight.”  I didn’t know what to say, she was very beautiful in the firelight under the moons and I desired her greatly.  Did she know that I had already been in the furs with Tafa?  Had any of the guests put Lina to use this evening?  Was her slave heat boiling over from Mirus’s lascivious display of her earlier, the wet t-shirt contest and then the dances, especially the last one by Rimici?  Had her slave heat become excruciating and unbearable?

“Master?” she asked, frustrated by my silence; my mind was racing, another slave had begun to dance and I looked briefly, distracted.

“Have I displeased you, Master?”

“No, of course not,” I finally answered.

“I beg use Master. Please take Lina to the furs Master!” she begged.