There are many forms of placatory dances which are performed
by female slaves. Some of these tend to have rather fixed forms, sanctioned
by customs and tradition. such as the stately "Contrition Dance" of Turia.
Some form of placatory dance is usually taught to the girl in slave training.
There is no telling when it might be needed. Thought I had had, because
of the relatively advanced state of my dancing skills, for a new slave,
very little instruction in dance in the house of my first training, I had
been taught at least that much. The form of placatory dance taught to a
girl usually depends on the girl in question. For example, I had not been
taught the stately "Contrition Dance" of Turia. It had been felt that the
nature of my body lent itself to a more desperate , needful, lascivious
form of dance. I had been taught how to dance on my knees, for example,
and supplicatingly, on my back, and belly. Most placatory dances, however,
are not fixed-form dances, but are "free" dances, in which the slave exquisitely
alert to the nuances of the situation, the particular Master, the nature
of his displeasure, the gravity of her offense, and such, improvises, doing
her best to assuage his anger and beg his forgiveness, to reassure him
of the authenticity of her contrition and the genuineness of her desire
to do better.
"Hot Sand will do, Master," I said, "and chains in which
my limbs are enclosed."
"Yes," he said.
I saw I did not need to fear him, save in the ways any
slave must fear a Master.
I danced then to those whose eyes were hardest. Some
of them were not even men I had trapped, but only men who knew what I had
done. Some may have been as innocent as those I had lured; others might
have been murders and brigands, suitably enchained for the expiration of
sentences, their custody having been legally transferred to Ionicus, my
Master, at the payment of a prisoners fee, by the writ of a praetor or,
in more desperate cases, by the order of a quaestor. I danced abjectly.
I danced piteously. I danced beggingly. I danced as well as I could. I
could not do more. They would either be pleased or not. My fate was in
their hands. "She is pretty," said one of them.
"Yes," said another.
Hope sprang again high within me. I sought them to move
another, with my helplessness, and the pleas of my body.
"Are you a good slave lay?" asked a man.
"It is my hope that I am pleasing, Master," I said. "Surely
I shall endeavor to be so."
He grinned.
"She is an excellent dancer," commented a man, another
whom I had lured in Argentum.
"Yes," said another fellow, another of those who owed
his chaining to me.
I began to be conscious then, as I sometimes was, of
the incredible power of the female slave, of how helpless men could be
before her, and of what she could do to them.
"Ah," said one of the men, softly, watching.
I repeated the movement.
"Yes," said another man. "Yes!" said another.
How paradoxical I thought, that she who is branded, and
collared, and owned, is nothing, should have such power!
"Dance, slut, dance!" said a man.
And then again I danced, helplessly, piteously, suing
for their favor, striving desperately to be found pleasing. In the end
the power belongs to the master, totally, and not to the slave. She is
his.
"Excellent," said a man. "Excellent."
I danced.
I danced in such a way that a free woman might only dream
of, awakening, sweating, in the night, clutching her covers, in terror,
then feeling her throat with trepidation, with the tips of frightened fingers,
to ascertain that no collar has been locked on it in the night. How could
she, a free woman, have such a dream? What could it mean? And what would
the men do to her when they came to take her in their arms? She awakened,
in terror. Perhaps she hurries to strike a light in her room. The familiar
surroundings reassure her. She has had such dreams before. What could they
mean?
Nothing, of course. Nothing! Such dreams must be meaningless!
They must be! but what if they were not? She shudders. Perhaps she then,
in her long silken gown, curls up, frightened, at the foot of her bed.
What, too, could that mean? She does not know. Surely that, too, means
nothing.
But what if it did? She lies there, troubled, but somehow
comforted, somehow secure, in that position. It seems to her, somehow,
that that is where she belongs.
"Superb," said a man.
I saw now that they, or most of them, were pleased. I
sensed now that I might be spared, at least if I pleased them, too, well
enough in the sand. I had lured many of them, but now I danced before them,
to please them, begging for my life, danced before them helplessly, at
their mercy, submitted and dependent on their favor, for my very life,
as much as thought I might be their own slave.
I saw to my joy, coming gradually to understand it that
they, or surely most of them, would accept this, my beauty, my submission
and service, abject and total, in lieu of my blood. It would be vengeance
enough for them. How mighty they were, and kind! To be sure, I would have
to continue to show them perfections of slave service and total deference.
How grateful I was to he whom I had most feared, he who was lost upon the
chain, he who had given me this eagerly embraced opportunity to save my
slave's hide! But it was he, of all of them, who had refused to watch me
dance. He stood with his back turned to me, his back straight, his arms
folded, looking away. Many times I had danced to him, moving behind him
in the and, but he did not turn. He did not deign to glance upon me. Then,
near the end of my dance, as it approached its climax, I was on my kneels
in the sand, writhing, bending forward until my hair was in the sand, bending
back then, expressing the bow of my body, my thighs, my belly, my breasts
and throat to them, my hands inviting attention to them, my hair back in
the stand, and then I straightened, and then was on my back, and belly,
twisting and moving, lifting my hands to them, begging for favor, piteously
suing for mercy. Such things I had been taught as long ago as the house
of my first training, but I think, truly, even had I not had such training,
I would, in the circumstances, have done much the same. Perhaps as instinctual
in a woman. I had, when owned by Gordon, the musician, once seen a former
free woman, new to her collar, in an alley in Samnium, performing so for
a Master, he with the whip in hand, encouraged her to adequacy. She did
well, She, shuddering, half in shock, learned that she would be spared,
at least for the time. He then began to instruct her in how to give pleasure
to a man. She attended fearfully, and well, to her lessons.
At the end of my dance, I was on my knees again, behind
him. I lifted my hands to him. "Master, please!" I begged. "Look upon me!"
But he did not turn.
With a cry of joy the men surged about me. I was lifted
by my upper arms and flung back in the sand. My legs were lifted up, my
knees bent. My wrist chain was pulled forward and thrust over and behind
my feet. It was then jerked up, behind me. I could not move my hands from
my sides. I was helpless. My ankles, each in the grip of one man, were
pulled apart, until my ankle chain, its links straightened, permitted no
further extension. My opened tunic was thrust back on both sides. I, half
submerged in the sand, put my head back, looking up, and back. I could
see the figures, and the palanquin, seemingly small, seemingly far above
me, seemingly far away from me on the ridge. I thought my Master, Ionicus,
of Cos, might be looking for me, through the lorgnon. "Oh!" I cried, suddenly
as the first of them put me to his pleasure.
Dancer of Gor, Page 333-335
Another girl, a slim blonde, was thrust into the circle.
Her master, arms folded, regarded her. She lifted her chained wrists above
her head, palms facing outwards, this, because of the linkage of the manacles,
tightening it, bringing the backs of her hands closely together. She faced
her Master. Desperate was she to please him. There was a placatory aspect
to her dance. It seemed she wished to divert his wrath.
"Ahh," said Marcus. "Look!"
He was indicating the slim blonde, she with the chained
wrists, whose dance before her Master seemed clearly placatory in nature.
She had perhaps begged to be permitted to appear before him in the dancing
circle, that she might attempt to please him. He had perhaps acquiesced.
I recalled he had thrust her into the circle, perhaps in this generously
according her, thought perhaps with some impatience, and misgivings, this
chance to make amends for some perhaps unintentional, minuscule transgression.
Perhaps his paga had not been heated to the right temperature. Women look
well in collars.
The blonde was on her knees, extending her hands to her
Master, piteously, all this with the music in her arms, her shoulders,
her head and hair, her belly.
Her Master seized her from the circle then and hurried
her from the light, her head down, held by the hair, at his left hip. This
is a common leading position for female slaves being conducted short distances.
As the master holds her hair in the left hand, it leaves his right hand,
commonly the sword hand, free.
I thought the blonde had very successfully managed to
divert the Master's wrath., assuming that was what she was up to. The only
whip she need fear now, muchly, at nay rate, would seem to be the "whip
of the furs." To be sure, she might be given a stroke or two, if only to
remind her that she was slave.
Magicians of Gor, Page 44-46
Notes
Placatory,
a word not often used, so drifter will define it for all. Websters dictionary
defines the root word placate the following way:
-
Placate -coming from the Latin placatus the past participle
of plaquier meaning more pleased- to sooth or mollify especially
by concessions: APPEASE. A synonym is listes as pacify.
As we all
can see this dance is one used whe a girl has gotten herself into some
sort of trouble.All girls should learn at least a basic form of this dance.
drifter will speak with Master Ubar to see which form of placatory dance
he would prefer be taught. Until that decision is made she will help to
guide each girl on an individual basis in this form of dance.
