~Another Whip Dance ~
"At that moment there was an exciting skirl of music, a flash of bells, a burst of color, a jangle of beads, and a cry of enthusiasm from the patrons, and a dancer was on the floor. After her entry she stood silent, not moving, posed, ready, on the floor. I could sense the anticipation, even the difference
in breathing, of the men. Then the music began, softly, slowly, and the dancer, looking about herself, began to move, obedient to the melody of masters.
"Is she a slave?" I asked.
"Certainly," said he in whose charge I was. "It may be hard to see, beneath the necklaces, so many of them, but there is a collar there, close-fitting, steel, and locked."
"Much as mine," I said.
"Yes," he said.
"She is so beautiful," I said. "She is so soft, so feminine, so utterly female, so vulnerable, so needful."
"A slave," said Lykos.
"It is so beautiful," I said. "What is it called?"
"It is a form of dance fit for slaves, is it not?" he said.
"Yes," I breathed, awed, rapt.
"Slave dance," said he in whose charge I was.
"Slave dance," I whispered.
"Yes," he said.
"I have seen something like it," I said, "on my former world, but I scarcely dared look upon it."
"It spoke to you of things which stirred you, things for which you longed, but which you feared, spoke to you of a distant, or forgotten, world, one a
thousand times more real, I suspect, than that which you knew. It spoke to you of how women might be before men, as slaves, and how men might look upon women, as masters."
"Yes," I whispered, "but here it seems somehow different."
"It is different here," he said, "for this is such a world."
"I think I know this dance, or sort of dance," said Astrinax. "It will have its phases, its swiftness, and its slowness, its emotions, insolence, pride, defiance,
apprehension, recognition, fear, struggle, defeat, surrender, and submission."
I heard, it startling me, the cracking of a whip. The dancer reacted, as though struck, but the blade had not touched her. Occasionally it snapped again, and
again, and, at the end of the dance, as is often the case in such dance, the dancer is prostrate, clearly submitted and owned. In this particular dance
she was kneeling and the fellow with the whip was behind her. He placed the whip, coiled, against the back of her neck, and she lowered her head. The men about voiced their approval, and several smote their left shoulders with their right hand. Others uttered trilling noises or staccato bursts of sound. Others pounded on the tables. She then sprang to her feet and hurried from the floor followed by the fellow with the whip."
~Book 31 - Conspirators of Gor~