"ebony begs everyone to imagine a tropical night in
the Gorean jungle. The air is heavy with heat and verdant rainforest aromas.
Drums nearby speak of danger and exotic intrigue. A girl waits, alert, ready to
serve her Askari Master and his friends as they relax around a small fire,
satisfied with food and drink, ready for entertainment."
"The Askari stands and raises his spear, and thrusts it into the ground a short distance away…
*Zzzzing-THUMP!* Without even looking at the girl, he commands… POLE DANCE."
/me stands and walks to the pole, bare black bottom cheeks clinching and unclinching as long jet braids settle against them...
fragrant jungle gardenia in her hair… amber cat's-eyes smoldering in dusky face, fixed on the weapon. The spear, decorated with a single red feather,
stands at a jaunty, phallic angle.
/me's small feet begin to pound in time to the drums as she dances away from the spear, buying time to think...
she has performed a pole dance many times but she knows that a slave cannot touch any weapon. Thoughts swirl in her mind as she reaches for the spear. Her
heart almost stops as she jerks her hands back... no! Must not touch a weapon!!
/me reaches out again. Dark, delicate hands move near the shaft, almost touching, moving upwards and downwards. Fear and confusion give way to
excruciating excitement. Her belly twitches visibly in involuntary spasms. Again, she dances away... what to do?? what to do?????.
/me takes a deep breath and dances brazenly up to the pole, shaking herself lewdly before it, leaning forward... full breasts swing and shimmy close, closer, closer. She senses the audience's eyes on her, staring, squinting in the firelight, wondering… did those raspberry nipples touch that spear?
/me now turns naked backside to the pole, spine parallel to the shaft, making bawdy pelvic thrusts, feet wide apart, knees bent... shoulder-blades
almost rubbing against it... she moves chubby bottom close to the pole, feeling their eyes again… did the shaft touch just between those dark cheeks as they
shimmied and slapped against each other?
/me turns and bends forward towards the weapon. Perspiration appears on forehead. and between full breasts.. Mouth wide open, transfixed face moves so close to the pole that she can smell the oiled wood… she exhales forcefully... the wood glows and fogs under her hot breath!
"Uhhhhh.... oooooh, mmmm... ahhhhh...!"
/me moves closer still, rises to tiptoes, straddles the base of the pole... she extends a pink tongue, licking at the air around the shaft while
arching her back and almost, almost, almost rubbing open heat against it… again, the wood fogs… this time with the "breath" of her heat!!
at the base of the spear... grabbing midnight-dark knees, stretching them wide apart, leaning back... dark outer petals parting to show the pulsing pink
slavecore... golden eyes caress the spear from the base to the tip. She bursts into tears… she needs the impact… the feel … the hard touch of the pole!
/me looks to him, desperate, so transparent in her need, searching his eyes for… permission… command… revelation. The drums join a
cacaphonous rhythm of noises of animals and insects of the jungle night. He watches… inscrutable and appraising, as always. Finally, her expression
shows that he has nodded... he has commanded her… to touch it! Touch the pole!
/me stops, and stares for a long moment at the hard, erect, uncompromising weapon, symbol of all that is dominant, male, masterful..... the pole. She stands before it, only a little black jungle-wild she-larl of a girl. Then, with a suddeness that seems to make the drums skip a beat...
/me just grabs the pole's shaft with both hands. At the touch, her body bolts and shakes and tenses as if electrocuted, as if she had grabbed a blue bolt from the Priest Kings!! She screams, then falls backwards as a thunderous climax erupts within a lava-expulsive belly... body and soul spasming, yielding, bursting... finally she crumples into a squirming, shaking, sobbing heap…
/me struggles to lift her face, as the climax subsides... panting raggedly, half-growling, half-purring, she murmurs... "Pole Dance... Schendi-style...
La k-k-k-k-kajira K-k-k-k-k-ko-Ro-Ba!!" ... and then she faints dead away.