The Sa-eela is one of the most moving, deeply rhythmic
and erotic of the slaves dances of Gor. It belongs, generally to the genre
of dances commonly known as the Lure Dances of the Love-Starved Slave Girl.
The common theme of the genre, of course, is the attempt on the part of
a neglected slave to call herself to the attention of the master. The Sa-eela,
usually performed in the nude, as though by a low slave, and by a girl
freed of all impediments except her collar, is one of the most powerful
of slave dances of Gor. It is done rather differently in different cities
but the variations practiced in the river towns and, generally in the Vosk
basin, are in my opinion, among the finest. There is no standardization
for better or worse, in Gorean slave dance. Not only can the dances differ
from city to city, but even from tavern to tavern, and from girl to girl.
This is because each girl, in her own way, brings the nature of her own
body, her own dispositions, her own sensuality and needs, her own personality,
to the dance.. For the woman, slave dance is a uniquely personal and creative
art form. Too, it provides her with a wondrous modality for deeply intimate
self-expression.
The Sa-eela, of course is not the sort of dance which
could be performed by a free woman.
Peggy now danced upon her knees, at the end of the table
using the table in the dance, thrusting her belly against it, and touching
it with her hands, and her body and lips.
Peggy, then was back from the table, on the tiles, on
her back, and sides, and knees, and then prone, and again supine, and then
writhing, as though in frustration and loneliness. Stands before the Master,
hands lifted, their backs together above her head.
They observed the dancer, closely, the striking of her
small, clinched fists on the tiles, the scratching of her fingernails at
their smooth surfaces, the turning of a hip, the flattening of a thigh,
the lifting of a knee, the turning of her head, the piteous scarrering
of her hair from side to side. She lay on her back, and whimpering, struck
down in misery, stinging the palms of her hands, bruising her small heels.
She might have been in a cell, locked away from men.
She then rolled to her stomach, and rose to her hands
and knees, and head down remained for a moment in that posture. It is at
this moment that the music enters a different melodic phase, one less physical
and frenzied, one almost lyrical in its poignance. She crawls some feet
to her left and lifts her head. She puts out her small hand. It seems that
it there encounters some barrier, some enclosing, confining wall. She then
rises to her feet. Swiftly she hurries about, in the graceful, frightened
haste of the dancer, her hands seeming to trace the location of the obdurate
barriers, those invisible walls which seem to contain her. She then stood
and faced us, and put her head in her hands, bent over and straightened
her body, her head and hair thrown back. "I?" she seemed to ask, looking
out, as though some rude jailer might have come to the gate of her pen.
But there is of course, no one there, and in the performance of the dance,
that is clearly understood.
Then, in poignant fantasy, within the pen, she prepares
herself for the Master, seeming to thoughtfully select silks and jewelry,
seeming to apply perfume and cosmetics, seeming to be bedecked in shimmering
diaphanous slave splendor. She then crosses her wrists, and moves them,
as though they have been bound. She then extends them before her as though
the strap on them had been drawn taut. It then seems that she, head high,
a bound slave is being led on her tether, from the pen. But, at the gate,
of course, her wrists separate, and her small palms and fingers indicate
for us clearly, that she is still confined. She retreats to the center
of the pen, falls to her knees, covers her head with her hands, and weeps.
The next phase of the music begins at this point.
She looks up. There is a sound in the corridor, beyond
the gate. She leaps up, and backs against the wall of her pen. This time,
it seems, truly, there are men there, that they have come for her. She
puts her head up; She turns away; she feigns disdain. Then it seems as
she, startled, looks about, on the floor of the pen, calling to them, lifting
her head, holding out her hand piteously to them. She pleads to be considered.
It then seems, as she shrinks back, lifting herself to
the palms of her hands, frightened, that the gate to her pen has been opened.
She kneels swiftly in the position of the pleasure slave. Obviously she
fears her rude jailers. Twice it seems she is struck with a whip. Then
she again assumes the position of a pleasure slave. She nods her head.
She understands well what is expected of her. She is to perform well on
the tiles of the feasting hall. "Yes Masters!" it seems she says. But how
little do her jailers, perhaps only common and boorish fellows, understand
that this is precisely what she too, deeply and desperately desires to
do. How long she has waited, in cruel frustration, unfulfilled and lonely,
in her cell for just such a moment, that precious opportunity in which
she a mere slave, may be permitted to display and present herself for consideration
of her master. How can they understand the poignance, and significance
of this moment for her? She is to have an opportunity to present herself
before the master! Who knows if she in such a large house, one with such
cells and jailers, may ever again be given such an opportunity.
It then seems that she is hauled to her feet and that
her wrists, tightly and cruelly, are bound behind her back. Her body and
head are then bent far over. Her head twists. It seems a man's hand is
in her hair. Not as a high slave, clothed in jewelries and shimmering silks,
tastefully bound, is she to be conducted to the site of her performance,
some aristocratic banquet; rather, cruelly bound and nude, she is to be
thrown before masters at a drunken feast. She then with small, hurried
steps, bent over, described a wide circle on the tiles. Then, it seemed,
she was thrown to her knees, and then her side, before us. Her hands were
still held as though tightly bound behind her. She looked at us. We were
of course, the "masters," before whom she was to perform. She rose to her
feet. She twisted as though her hands were being untied. She then flexed
her legs and lifted her hands over her head, as she hand in the beginning,
back to back.
The final phases of the Sa-eela then begin.
In these phases the girl, in all her unshielded beauty,
and naked except for the collar of slavery, attempts to arouse the interest
of her master.
Peggy's body gleamed with sweat. She had small feet,
and lovely high arches. Her body was superb.
She had now entered into the display phase of the Sa-eela.
In this portion of the dance the girl calls attention to the various aspects
of her beauty, from the swirling sheen of her cascading hair, to her ankles,
from her small feet to her tiny, fine fingers.
The music now, pounding and throbbing, mounted headily
toward the climax of the Sa-eela.
In these, the final portions of the Sa-eela, the slave
in effect, puts herself at the mercy of the master.
She has already presented before him, almost in a delectable
enumeration, many of the more external and rhythmic aspects of her beauty.
She has displayed herself hitherto before him rather as an object in which,
hopefully, he might take an interest. A woman may do this, of course from
many motives; such as fear or her desire to be purchased by an affluent
master, only one of which might be her authentic, poignant desire to be
found pleasing by him. for her own sake. In such displays there can be,
though there often is not, a subtle psychological distinction, detectable
in the behavior, between the merchandise, so to speak, and the girl who
is displaying herself as merchandise. In the first case, where no true
distinction exists, which is the authentic case, the girl in effect says,
"I am for sale.
Buy me, and love me!" In the second case, the girl in
effect says, "Here is a fine slave. Are you not interested in her?" In
the second case of course, the Gorean is interested, though the girl may
not understand this clearly, in not only the merchandise but the girl who
is displaying the merchandise. She might truly be terrified if she understood
that it was herself he intended to own, and in fact, was going to own,
she the exhibitor of the merchandise as well as she, the merchandise exhibited.
Goreans, as I have mentioned, are interested in owning the whole woman,
in all her sweetness, depth, complexity and individualism.
The girl now, in all her helplessness, in all her desperation
in all her sensual splendor, was dancing not aspects or attributes of her
beauty before her master, but was dancing her own passions, her own needs
and desires, her own piteous needful, beautiful, intimate and personal
self before him. There were no restraints, no reservations, no compromises,
no divisions or distinctions. Her needs were as exposed as her collared
body. She danced herself before her master.
The music swirled to its climax and Peggy, turning, flung
herself to her back on the tiles. As the music struck its last, rousing
note, she arched her back, and flexed her legs, and looked back at him,
her right arm extended piteously back toward him.
Guardsmen of Gor, Page 260
Notes