The Dancing Kajira.
Inspired by the Post: The Dancing Kajira by CollaredLove on Deviant Art.
Velma writhed on the pole, moving her body slowly or quickly to the music in a way she could not have imagined when she was acquired three months ago. Three months ago, she had been shy and reserved, modest. Then suddenly fortune had changed, she had been stripped, sold, put in a collar and branded. Sold to this paga tavern. She had been scared if she had been selected even once a night for the alcoves. She had been shattered by her first experience of the super-orgasm of the kajira.
Now, she was disappointed if she did not find herself there often and the oftener the better.
In nature, it is the predator that is still. Observe the hawk, the tiger, the owl: they remain stock still, watching, waiting for movement, alert for the moment the prey breaks cover, the moment to strike.
The beauty of a kajira is not static, it shows itself in movement. In the undulations of belly, the swaying of unbound breasts, the curves of the back, the jiggling of the buttocks.
The mouse, the rabbit, they wait then scurry from place to place across the meadow, hoping to evade the eye of the hawk.
The kajira, it is said, is the only prey which wishes to be caught, the only prey that seeks out the predator. So Velma writhed in time to the music, slow and undulating when the music was slow; rapid and frenzied when it was fast. But all to no avail. Tonight the predators were not hungry.
Velma danced for one table. They barely looked up, engrossed in their conversation. Velma took a bowl of nuts from the bar, leaned low over the table, breasts swaying. They took the nuts and spread them on the table. They laid out strategies, they illustrated the incomprehensible incompetence of the local team's manager in the recent loss of the woodcutters to the masons from the next quarter. Velma bent over, moving to the music, well displaying her openness and neediness. But even with such a sight, they ignored her. Then the fatal words were spoken, the words which meant that all Velma's movements were in vain.
"It is time for Porcius to replace Manlius at striker."
"You take that back, Manlius is the greatest striker the woodcutters have ever had. A legend!"
"A legend past his time."
"It is tactics, I tell you, Manlius or Porcius, we will never win with bad tactics!"
Velma danced away. Even the hottest kajira had no chance there; no not even if she had bells piercing her nipples! She writhed for another table. But all they wanted to do was to condemn the iniquity of a foreman who favoured the nephew of a major customer over honest workmen! The only thing they wanted to penetrate with their mighty tools was the nephew.
Disappointed, Velma danced at the pole. Sooner or later a predator would strike. The kajira has many predators, warriors, woodworkers, scribes, builders, sooner or later one would strike.
Crash bang. "Fight, fight"
Velma saw that the supporter of Manlius, and that of Porcius were wrestling, throwing blows when they could. This was excellent! A riled up man after a fight almost always wanted to put a woman to use! With any luck, they would make up and compose their quarrel by taking turns with her, or even both at once.
Just out of reach of the fight, Velma writhed and moved on the sand of the floor.
A predator is attracted by movement; the kajira is the only prey which wishes to be caught.
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