drifter has included them all here on one page to make it easier for the slaves of Tyros to understand that though slaves do dance, they are not the only ones. As well as to show how unique experinces can be interpreted by the right girl into a dance for a Master.

If any slave has questions on these dances or wishes to perform them, drifter will be more than happy to help.
 
 

    "Imnak," I said, "would you like to go home?"

     "I have not seen the performance of a drum dance in four moons," he said.

     "Tasdron," said I, "would you like a new ship."
     Beasts of Gor, Page 165

With no more information than this available, the only sort of refrence a girl can imagine would be the tribal dances of the Native Americans, or perhaps the Innuit (Eskimos).  Given that Imnak is an Innuit name a girl would guess from that he wishes to see the tribal dances.

This girl would strongly suggest anyone interested in performing such a dance should at least be of the barrens or a trained dancing slave. drifter will do some more research into this form of dance and perhaps be able to help in the future.
 
 

     “I watched Aemilianus' slave emerging from the kitchen. I listened to the unobtrusive music
     of the musicians, who were sitting on a rug a few feet in front of, and to the left of, the table.
     I took anothersip of the black wine.”

     “The voluptuous blond slave began to lower certain of the lamps.”

     "What are you doing?" I asked her.”

     "Forgive me, Master," she said. She then hurried again to the kitchen. As she had done this
     work the light in the room was romantically softened, but an area, soft as well, of greater
     illumination had been left before the table. When she had left the room, the musicians, too,
     had stopped playing. This seemed interesting.”

     “The blond slave of Aemilianus then re-entered. She placed a large, folded square of
     sparkling white linen at the bottom of the table. She then lit a wide, large, low candle and
     placed this candle, on a plate, on the soft, wide square of folded linen. She then withdrew to
     the side.”

     “I looked at the white linen, and the candle, in the half darkness.

     I was startled.”

     “What memories this stirred in me!”

     “The musicians then began to play, softly. The girl emerged from the kitchen.”

     ”There were sounds of pleasure, and surprise, from those about the table.”

     “The dark-haired girl, exquisite and lovely, stood in the light, on the tiles, back from the
     foot of the table, that we might well see her. Her hair was drawn severely back on her head.
     She wore what seemed to be a svelte, satin, off-the-shoulder, white sheath gown.”

     “Twisted about her feet, over and under, were golden straps.”

     “The girl then turned gracefully before us, displaying the garments. I saw that her hair,
     severely drawn back on her head, was fastened behind the back of her head in a bun. I had
     known it would be. I had not forgotten.”

     “The girl, then, to the music, moved gracefully, turning, her bands held out, about the table,
     displaying herself and her garments for us. She then returned to her place on the tiles, at the
     foot of the table.”

     “I regarded her. How beautiful she was! She looked at me. Then, gracefully and decisively,
     to the music, she unbound her hair. “

     “There was applause for this at the table, the gentle striking of left shoulders, for she had
     done it well, and the significance of a woman's unbinding her hair before a man is well
     understood on Gor.”

     “She then, reaching to the left side, beneath her arm, of what seemed to be a white sheath
     gown, undid a fastening, and then others, at the side of her body, her waist, her thigh, and
     knee, and then, gracefully, the Gorean music unobtrusive but melodious in the background,
     removed the garment. I saw then that a rectangle of white cloth, cleverly tucked and sewn,
     had been used to simulate the off-the-shoulder, white sheath gown on Earth. Such an actual
     gown, of course, had not been available to her on Gor.”

     There was gentle, appreciative applause. “

     “She now stood before us in what seemed to be a brief, silken, off-the-shoulder slip.”

     “The girl then sat on the tiles before us, but back a bit, where we, sitting cross-legged at the
     low table, could well see her. She extended her right leg, gracefully. It was flexed and, as her
     foot was placed fully upon the floor, her toes were pointed. These two things, respectively,
     curved her calf deliciously and extended the line of her beauty. Her left leg was back, its
     ankle beneath her right thigh. She looked at me, and then, bending forward, removed the
     golden straps wound about and under her right foot. In the restaurant she had worn golden
     pumps, with wisps of golden straps. She looked at me. Well did she, and the others, know the
     significance of removing footwear before a free man. She cast aside the straps she had taken
     from her right foot. Then, putting her hands back, swiftly and smoothly, beautifully, to the
     music, without rising, she changed her position on the tiles. Her left thigh now faced me.
     Her left leg was now gracefully extended, flexed and toes pointed. Her left thigh, and calf,
     and ankle and foot were marvelous. Her right foot, as her left previously had been, was
     back, the right ankle now beneath her right thigh. She then removed the golden straps from
     her left foot, and cast them aside. She looked at me.”

     “She had bared her feet before a free man. The golden straps she had used to simulate the
     footwear which she had worn on Earth were golden binding straps. They were the nearest
     thing she could find, within her limited resources, I gathered, to what she had worn in the
     restaurant. I did not object. They resembled somewhat, and well suggested, that footwear.”

     “Such straps, incidentally, are commonly used to bind the hands and feet of women.

     There was gentle applause for the girl, and murmurs of appreciation. The footwear had been
     well removed.”

     “She then rose to her feet and stood again before us, but now barefoot upon the tiles.”

     ”She then reached again to her left side, and undid a fastening there, below her left arm,
     and then another below it, and then one at her hip. She then unwrapped the brief sliplike
     garment from her body, and dropped it to one side.”

     “The brassiere had been simulated cleverly with soft white silk. Her beauty, soft, and almost
     as though protesting its confinement, strained against this silk. Too, between her breasts,
     this silk had been twisted and knotted, this making even more evident the sweet contours of
     her beauty, and the sturdy, silken restraint placed upon it. The panties, too, were simulated
     with white silk, which, in a narrow rectangle, had been wrapped twice about her hips and
     tucked in at her waist. There was no nether closure to this silk, of course. The Gorean slave
     girl is not permitted to shield her intimacies without the explicit permission of her master.”

     “Besides these two garments, intended, respectively, to suggest the brassiere and panties of
     an Earth girl, she still wore, of course, the light, narrow white scarf, this twisted and wound
     twice about her throat, the ends thrown over her left shoulder.”

     “The girl then, to the music, put back her head and put her hands behind her back, and,
     reaching high behind her back, this lifting her breasts beautifully, strained for a moment,
     and then, one by one, twisting slightly, undid the hooks on the confining, tight silk.”

     “Our eyes met.”

     “The silk was then dropped to one side, "Superb," said Glyco.”

     “She then reached to the white scarf on her throat and, beautifully, to the music, undid it
     one turn.”

     “She then, to the music, drew it beautifully, slowly, from her throat, and, gracefully, dropped
     it to one side. She wore, of course, now revealed, a close-fitting, gleaming slave collar.”

     “She lifted her head, and, with her fingers, delicately indicated and displayed the collar.”

     “She then stood before us as a barefoot, half-naked, collared slave.”

     “Gorean applause, and murmurs of appreciation, greeted this aspect of her performance.”

     “Our eyes met again.”

     “She then reached with her right hand to her waist and undid the tuck in the silk which was
     wrapped about her hips. Slowly and beautifully then, to the music, with both hands, she
     unwound the silk, and then dropped it to the tiles.”

     "Superb!" said Glyco.”

     “She then crawled to me, on her hands and knees, her head humbly down. Then, when she
     reached me, she lowered herself to her belly and, extending her right hand, touched me on
     the knee. She lifted her head. "You are my master," she said, "and I am your slave, and I love
     you!"
     Guardsman of Gor, Page 247

            As the name of this dance suggests only a girl from earth, a barbarian might draw on her personal experience for this particular dance. However, any girl that has spent time with slaves from earth and been regaled with stories of their time there, might accomplish this task.

This girl however would suggest that unless a Master specifically asks for such a dance, that girls born of Gor do not offer it.
 
 

        On the wall, in the trough of the breach, we saw four men rolling a heavy stone toward the
     field side of the wall. A flute girl was parodying, or accompanying, their efforts on the flute,
     the instrument seeming to strain with them, and then, when they rolled the stone down, she
     played a skirl of descending notes on the flute, and, spinning about, danced away. The men
     laughed.

     There was suddenly near us, startling us, another skirl of notes on a flute, the common
     double flute.

     A flute girl, come apparently from the wall side of the Wall Road, danced tauntingly near us,
     to our right, and, with the flute, while playing, gestured toward the wall, as though
     encouraging us to join the others in their labor. I, and Marcus, I am sure, were angry. Not
     only had we been started by the sudden intrusive noise, which the girl must have understood
     would have been the case, but we resented the insinuation that we might be such as would of
     our own will join the work on the wall.

     Did she think we were of Ar, that we were of the conquered, the pacified, the conpredictable,
     the tamed? She was an exciting brunet, in a short tunic of diaphanous silk. She was slender,
     and was probably kept on a carefully supervised diet by her master or trainer. Her dark eyes
     shone with amusement. She pranced before us, playing. She waved the flute again towards
     the wall.

     We regarded her.

     She again gestured, playing, toward the wall.

     I had little doubt that she assumed from our appearance in this area that we were of Ar.

     We did not move.

     A gesture of annoyance crossed her lovely features. She played more determinedly, as though
     we might not understand her intent.

     Still we did not move.

     Then, angrily, she spun about, dancing, to return to her former post near the wall side of the
     Wall Road. She was attractive, even insolently so, at the moment, in the diaphanous silk.
     Magicians of Gor, Page 120-121

         Though obviously this girl is not the end all be all of Gorean interpretations, after reading this quote she feels that although it does mention dancing, it speaks more to the playing of the flute and moving with the music. Having said that, unless a slave was once of the Caste of Musicians, drifter would advise against trying to interpret this singular act into a full slave dance.

          Most dancing slaves that she has spoken to agree that it is not likely this was ever meant as a "slave dance" but more as a description of "life on the streets" in Ar.
 
 

           There were now some four or five girls in the circle. One wore a sign that said, "I am for
     sale." The girl who wore the sign, "I am for sale," danced before us, as she had before
     others, displaying her Master's proffered merchandise. I saw that she wanted to be
     purchased. That was obvious in the pleading nature of her dance. Her Master was perhaps a
     dealer, and one, as are many, who is harsh with his stock. Her dance, thusly, was rather like
     the "Buy me, Master" behavior of a girl on a chain, the "slaver's necklace," or in the market,
     the sort of behavior in which she begs purchase. A girl on such a chain, or in a market, who
     is too much passed over has reason for alarm. Not only is she likely to be lowered on the
     chain, perhaps even to "last girl," which is demeaning to her, and a great blow to her
     vanity, but she is likely to be encouraged to greater efforts by a variety of admonitory
     devices, in particular, the switch and whip. Earth-girl slaves brought to Gor, for example,
     are often, particularly at first, understandably enough, I suppose, afraid to be sold, and
     accordingly, naturally enough, I suppose, sometimes attempt, sully in subtle ways, to
     discourage buyers, thereby hoping to be permitted to cling to the relative security of the
     slaver's chain.

     Needless to say, this behavior is soon corrected and, in a short time, only to eager now to be
     off the slaver's chain, they are displaying themselves, and proposing themselves, luscious,
     eager, ready, begging merchandise, to prospective buyers.

     The girl for sale was a short legged brunet, extremely attractive. I considered buying her,
     but decided against it. This was not the time for buying slaves. I gestured to her to dance on.
     She whirled away. A tear moved diagonally down her cheek.

     She might, of course, not belong to a dealer.

     There are many reasons why a master might put his girl, or girls, up for sale, of course. He
     might wish, for example, if he is a breeder, to improve the quality of his pens or kennels,
     trying out new blood lines, freshening his stock, and such. He might wish, casually, merely
     to try out new slaves, perhaps ridding himself of one to acquire another, who may have
     caught his eye. Perhaps he wants to keep a flow of slaves in his house, lest he grow to
     attached to one, always a danger. Too, of course, economic considerations sometimes
     become paramount, these sometimes dictating the selling off of chattels, whose value, of
     course, unlike that of a free woman, constitutes a source of possible income.

     Indeed, there are many reasons for the buying and selling of slaves, as there are for other
     forms of properties.

     I continued to watch the female, the sign about her neck dance. No, I said to myself, it would
     not do to bring her into peril. Then I chastised myself for weakness. One would not wish to
     purchase her, of course, because she might constitute encumbrance. Still, she was attractive.
     Even as I considered the matter she received a sign from a fellow, her Master, I suppose,
     and she tore open her silk, and danced even more plaintively before one fellow and then
     another. She seemed frightened.

     I suspected she had been warned as to what might befall her ifs he should prove unsuccessful
     in securing a buyer. I saw her glance at her Master. His gaze was stern, unpitying, She
     danced in terror. I saw that the girl with the sign about her neck had taken a leaf from the
     book of the blonde, and cunningly, too. She, too was now on her knees, advertising her
     charms, attesting mutely to the joys and delicacies that would be attendant upon her
     ownership. I saw her owner look at her, startled. She, of course, did not see him. I gathered
     he had never seen her in just this fashion or way before, her silk parted, writhing on her
     knees, kissing, lifting her hands, her head moving, her hair flung about. "I will buy her!"
     called a fellow. "How much do you want?" inquired another, eagerly. Her Master rushed
     into the circle. "Close your silk, lascivious slut!" he ordered her.

     Swiftly she clutched the silk about her, startled, confused, kneeling small before him. He
     looked about, angrily. He jerked her by one arm to her feet. She struggled to keep her silk
     closed with the other hand. "She is not for sale!" he said. He then drew her rapidly from the
     light, into the darkness outside the circle. We heard a tearing of silk. There was much
     laughter.
     Magicians of Gor, Page 43-47

        Again, what can a girl say. This dance is one that she hopes she never has to perform, and she hopes none of her sisters must ever perform it either.

        However, in the event that you should find yourself in such a predicament, the best advice this girl can give you is to dance your fire. Perhaps then your Master too will change his mind? ~wicked lil grin~
 
 

Near the pit of sand several slave girls, dancers, in Pleasure Silk were kneeling back on their heels and clapping their hands in with glee. In the pit of sand one of the guards, utterly drunk, was performing a ship dance, the movement of his legs marvelously suggesting the pitch and roll of a deck, his hands moving as though climbing rope, then hauling rope, then splicing and knotting it. I knew he had been of Port Kar. He was a cutthroat but there were drunken tears in his eyes as he hopped about, pantomiming the work of one of the swift galleys. It is said that men once having seen Thassa are never willing to leave it again, that those who have left the sea are never again truly happy.
A moment later another guard leaped into the pit of sand and, to the amusement of the girls, began a dance of larl hunters, joined by two or three others, in a file, dancing the stalking of the beast, the confrontation, the kill.
The man who had been dancing the ship dance had now left the pit of sand and, over against one wall, in the shadows of the torchlight, largely unnoted, danced alone, danced for himself the memories of gleaming Thassa and the swift black ships, the Tarns of the Sea, as the galleys of Port Kar are known.
Assassin of Gor, Page 240
 

I saw people running down the sloping green land, toward the water. Several came from within the palisade. Among them, white kirtled, collared, excited, ran bond-maids. These, upon the arrival of their Master, are permitted to greet him. The men of the north enjoy the bright eyes, the leaping bodies, the squealing, the greetings of their bond-maids. In the fields I saw an overseer, clad in scarlet, with a gesture of his hand, releasing the thralls. Then, they, too, ran down toward the water.
It would be holiday, I gathered, at the hall of Ivar Forkbeard.
The Forkbeard himself now, from a wooden keg, poured a great tankard of ale, which must have been of the measure of five gallons. Over this he then closed his fist. It was the sign of the hammer, the sign of Thor. The tankard then, with two great bronze handles, was passed from hands to hands among the rowers. The men threw back their heads and, the liquid spilling down their bodies, drank ale. It was the victory ale.
Then the Forkbeard himself drained the remains of the tankard, threw it to the foot of the mast, and then, to my astonishment, leapt from the ship, onto the moving oars. Then men sang. The Forkbeard then, to the delight of those on the bank, who cheered him, as the serpent edged into the dock, addressed himself delightedly to the oar-dance of the rover of Torvaldsland. It is not actually a dance, of course, but it is an athletic feat of no little stature requiring a superb eye, fantastic balance and incredible coordination. Ivar Forkbeard, crying out, leaped from moving oar to moving oar, proceeding from the oars nearest the stem on the port side to the stern, then leaping back onto the deck at the stern quarter and leaping again on the oars this time on the starboard side, and proceeding from the oar nearest the stern to that nearest the stem, and then, lifting his arms, he leaped again into the ship, almost thrown into it as the oar lifted. He then stood on the prow, near me, sweating and grinning. I saw cups of ale, on the bank, being lifted to him. Men cheered. I heard the cries of bond-maids.
Marauders of Gor, Page 82-83
 
 

        Any girl that wishes to try any of the above dances does so at her own risk and without the implied direction of any of the dancing slaves of the Palace of Tyros. They are placed here so that girls might see that even the Men of Gor are known to dance when the mood strikes them.
 
 

"Tuka, Tuka!" called another fellow.
"She is extremely pretty," I said.
"She knows something of slave dance," said a fellow, licking his lips.
"Oh?" I said.
"Yes" he said.
"Tuka, Tuka, Tuka!" called more men.
The fellow, Teiber, looked down at his slave, who looked up at him, and quickly, timidly, kissed at his thigh. How much she was his, I thought.
"Tuka, to the circle!" called a fellow.
"She is a dancer," said a man.
"She is extraordinary," said another.
"Put Tuka in the circle!" called a fellow.
"Tuka, Tuka!" called another.
Teiber snapped his fingers once, sharply, and the slave leaped to her feet, standing erect, her head down, turned to the right, her hands at her sides, the palms facing backward. She might have been in a paga tavern, preparing to enter upon the sand or floor. I considered Teiber's Tuka. She had an excellent figure for slave dance.
"Clear the circle!" called a fellow.
The other dancers hurried to the side, to sit and kneel, and watch.
I considered the slave. She was beautiful, and well curved.
Teiber gestured to the circle.
"Ahh!" said men.
"She moves like a dancer," I said.
"She is a dancer," said a fellow.
I considered the girl. She now stood in the circle, relaxed, yet supple and vital, her wrists, back to back, over her head, her kneels flexed.
"She is a bred passion slave," I said, "with papers and a lineage going back a thousand years."
"No," said a man.
"Where did he pick her up," I asked, "at the Curulean?"
"I do not know," said a fellow.
I supposed she was perhaps a capture. I did not know if a fellow such as this Teiber, who did not seem of the merchants or rich, could have afforded a slave of such obvious value. A fellow, for example, who cannot afford a certain kaiila might be able to capture it, and then, once he has his rope on its neck, and manages to make away with it, it is his mount.
"Aii!" cried a fellow.
"Aii!" said I too.
Dancing was the slave!
"She is surely a bred passion slave," I said. "Surely the blood line of such an animal go back a thousand years!"
"No! No!" said a man, rapt, not taking his eyes from the slave.
I regarded her, in awe.
"She is trained of course," said a man.
Only to obviously was this a trained dancer, and yet, too, there was far more than training involved. Too, I speak not of such relatively insignificant matters as the mere excellence of her figure for slave dance, as suitable and fitting as it might be for such and art form, for women with many figures can be superb in slave dance, or that she must possess a great natural talent for such a mode of expression, but something much deeper. In the nature of her dance I saw more than training, her figure, and her talent. Within this woman, revealing itself in the dance, in its rhythm, its joy, its spontaneity, its wonders, were untold depths of femaleness, a deep and radical femininity, unabashed and unapologetic, a rejoicing in her sex, a respect of it, a love of it, an acceptance of it and a celebration of it, a wanting of it, and of what she was, a woman, a slave, in all of its marvelousness.
"Tuka, Tuka!" called men.
Men clapped their hands.
The slave danced.
Much it seemed to me, though there might be two hundred men about the circle, she danced for her Master.
Once he even indicated that she should move more about which, instantly, commanded, she did. "Tuka, Tuka!" even called some of the other slaves about the edges of the circle, sitting and kneeling there, unable to take their eyes from her, clapping, too. Teiber's Tuka it seemed, was popular even with the other slaves, of which she was such a superb specimen.
I watched her moving about the circle.
"Aii!" cried men, as she would pause a moment to dance before them. I had little doubt she might once have been a tavern dancer. Such dancers must present themselves in such a fashion before customers. This gives the customer an opportunity to assess them, and to keep them in mind, if he wishes, for later use in an alcove.
"Aii," cried another fellow.
I speculated that she would not have languished for attention in the alcoves.
"She is superb," said the flow next to me.
"Yes," I said.
She was working her way about the circle.
It was interesting to me that a Master would dare to display such a slave publicly. I gathered that he was quite confident of his capacity to keep her. He must then, I suspected, be excellent with the sword.
"Ah," said the fellow next to me.
The dancer approached.
How marvelous are the Gorean women, I thought. And I thought then, too, sadly, of the women of Earth, so many of them so confused, so miserable, so unhappy, women not knowing what they were, or what they might be, women trapped in a maze of ultimately barren artifices, women subjected to social coercions, women subjected to antibiological constraints, women forced to deny themselves and their depth natures in the name of freedom, women trying to be men, not knowing how to be women, women torturing themselves and others with their confusions, their inhibitions, their pain, their frustrations. But I did not blame them for they were the victims of pathological conditioning programs. Any beautiful, natural creature can be clipped and then instructed to rejoice in its mutilations and mishappenness. So inhibit, so frigid, so inert, so anesthetic. That so many of them could even feel their pain was, I supposed, a hopeful sign. If their culture was correct, or judicious, why did it contain so much unhappiness and pain? In a body, pain is an indication that something is wrong. So, too, it is in a culture.
Then the dancer was before me, and I was awed with beauty.
I kept her there before me for a moment, not letting her move away, my gaze holding her.
I wept then for the men of Earth, that they would not know such beauties. How utterly marvelous are the Gorean females! How utterly different they are from the women of Earth! How impossible would it be for a female of Earth to match them! I watched the dancer then move to the next fellow, and turn about.
Suddenly I was stunned. High on her left arm there was a small, circular scar. It was not, surely, in that place, and given its nature, the result of a marking iron. Indeed , it is by means of such tiny indications, fillings in the teeth, and such, that a certain sort of girl, for which there is a market on Gor, is often recognized.
"She is not from Gor!" I said.
"She is from far away," said the fellow next to me.
"From the distant land," said another.
"Called "Earth,'" said another.
"Yes," I said.
The mark on the girl's arm had not been the result of the imprint of a master's iron. It had been a vaccination mark. I had noted, too, interestingly, just before she had whirled away, that she was shy. I assessed her as being quite intelligent, extremely sensitive, and an excellent slave. She had now, as the music swirled to its finish, returned to move before her Master. Then, the dance ended, men striking their left shoulders in Gorean applause, shouting their vociferous approval, some armed warriors striking their shields with spear blades, she sank to the ground, on her back, breathless, breasts heaving, covered with a sheen of sweat, before her Master, her left knee raised, her head turned toward him, then palms of her hands, at her sides, vulnerably exposed. She had been superb. My shoulder was sore where I had much struck it.
Then with a sensuous, fluid movement she rose to her knees before her Master. She spread her knees, widely. She regarded him, beggingly. The dance had much aroused her, and she was totally his, completely at his will, his pleasure and mercy.
"Our gratitude , Teiber!" cried a fellow.
Magicians of Gor, Page 52-56
 
 

        In this quote we see what the difference between a trained dancing slave and a slave dancing really means. Though it is finally made clear that Tuka is indeed from earth, it is also quite clear that she has been trained rigorously for such a performance.

        This dance, should never be duplicated, it is not a type of dance. It is in fact a personal dance, one that no other girl could ever perform. Having said that, there is no reason that any slave can not perform her own version of such a deeply personal dance.

        Simply remember the steps to performing any dance, and make it your own. Then it would not be "Tuka's dance" but rather "your dance".
 
 

Then, about me, the panther girls, circling, swaying, began a slow stalking dance, as of hunters. I lay in the center of the circle.
Their movements were slow, and incredibly beautiful. Then suddenly one would cry out and thrust at me with her spear. But the spear was not thrust into my body. Its point would stop before it had administered its wound. Many of the blows would have been mortal. But many thrusts were only to my eyes, or arms and legs. Every bit of me began to feel exposed, threatened.
I was their catch.
Then the dance became progressively swifter and wilder, and the feigned blows became more frequent, and then, suddenly, with a wild cry, the swirling throng about me stood for an instant stock still, and then with a cry, each spear thrust down savagely toward my heart.
I cried out.
None of the spears had struck me.
The girls cast aside the spears. Then, like feeding she-panthers they knelt about me, each one, with her hands and tongue, touching and kissing me.
I cried out with anguish.
I knew I could not long resist them.
There was a long silence, of some Ihn, and then, at a nod from Hura, who threw her long black hair back and lifted her head to the moons, the drum began again its beat. Mira's head was down, and shaking. Her right foot was stamping. The panther girls put down their heads. I saw their fists begin to clench and unclench. They stood, scarcely moving, but I could sense the movement of the drum in their blood.
The men of Tyros glanced to one another.
It was few free men who had ever looked, unbound, on the rites of panther girls.
Hura's eyes were on the moons. She lifted her hands, fingers like claws, and screamed her need. The girls then, following her, began to dance.
How starved must be the lonely, hating panther women of the forests, so gross is their hostility, so fierce their hatred, and yet need, of men. They twisted, screaming now, clawing at the moons.
I would scarcely have guessed at the primitive hungers evident in each movement of those barbaric, feline bodies. They would be masters of men. Proud, magnificent creatures. And yet by biology, by their beauty, by their aroused inwardness, could not, in fact, own but only, in their true fulfillment, belong, be taken, be conquered.
The drum was now very heady, swift. The dance of the panther girls became more wild, more frenzied. Vicious, sinuous, clawing, lithe, these savage beauties, in their skins and gold, with their knives, their light spears, weapons darting, danced. They were terrible, and beautiful, in the streaming, flooding light of the looming, primitive moons of perilous Gor. I could hear their cries of rage and need, hear their heels striking in the earth, their hands slapping at their thighs. I saw the teeth of some, white, bared, at the moons, their eyes blazing. The hair of all was unbound. Several had already, oblivious of the presence of the men of Tyros, torn away their skins to the waist, others completely. On some I could hear the movement of the necklaces of sleen teeth tied about their necks, the shivering and ringing of slender golden bangles on their tanned ankles. In their dance they danced among the staked-out bodies of the men of Marlenus, and about the great Ubar himself. Their weapons leapt at the bound men, but never did the blows fall.
The dance would soon strike its climax. It could continue little longer.
The women would go mad with their need to strike and rape.
Suddenly the drum stopped and Hura stopped, her body bent backward, her head back, her long black hair falling to the back of her knees.
She was breathing deeply, very deeply. Her body was covered with a sheen of sweat.
Hunters of Gor, Page 197
 

The girls seemed restless, short-tempered, irritable. I saw more than one looking at the moons.
"Verna" said one of them.
"Quiet," said Verna.
The file continued its journey through the trees and brush, threading its way through the darkness and branches.
"We have seen men," said one of the girls, insistently.
"Be silent," said Verna.
"We should have taken slaves," said another irritably.
"No," said Verna.
"The circle," said another. "We must go to the circle!"
Verna stopped and turned.
"It is on our way," said another.
"Please, Verna," said another, her voice pleading.
Verna regarded the girls. "Very well," she said. "we shall stop at the circle."
The girls relaxed visibly…
Then perhaps after another hour, we came, almost abruptly, suddenly, to a stand of the high trees, the Tur trees, of the northern forests.
It was breathtakingly beautiful.
The girls stopped.
I looked about myself…
…We found ourselves now in the stand of the lofty Tur trees. I could see broadly spreading branches some two hundred feet or move above my head. The trunks of the tree were almost bare of branches until, so far above, branches seemed to explode in an interlacing blanket of foliage,
almost obliterating the sky. I could see glimpses of the three moons high above. The floor of the forest was almost bare. Between the lofty, widely spaced trees there was little but a carpeting of leaves.
I saw two of the girls looking up at the moons. Their lips were parted, their fists clenched. There seemed to be pain in their eyes.
"Verna," said one of them.
"Silence," said their leader.
It was no accident that we had stopped at this place.
One of the girls whimpered.
"All right," said Verna, "go to the circle."
The girl turned and sped across the carpeting of leaves.
"Me, Verna!" cried another.
"To the circle," said Verna irritably.
The girl turned and sped after the first.
One by one, with her eyes, Verna released the girls, and each ran lightly, eagerly, through the trees.
Then Verna came to me and took my leash from the hand of the girl who had held it. "Go to the circle," she told the girl. Swiftly, not speaking, the girl ran after the others.
Verna looked after them…
…Then, to my amazement, Verna unsnapped the choke leash from my throat and then unbound my wrists…
…"Follow the others," she said. "You will come to the clearing. At the edge of the clearing, you will find a post. Wait there to be bound."
"Yes Mistress," I said.
After some hundred yards I came to the edge of a clearing. It was some twenty five to thirty yards in diameter, ringed by the lofty trunks of Tur trees. The floor of the clearing was lovely grass, thick and some inches in height, soft, and beautiful. I looked up. Bright in the dark, star-strewn Gorean sky, large, dominating, seemingly close enough to touch, loomed the three moons of Gor.
The girls of Verna's band stood about the edge of the circle. They did not speak. They were breathing deeply. They seemed restless. Several had their eyes closed, their fists clenched. Their weapons had been discarded.
I saw, at one side of the clearing, the post.
It was about five feet high, and seven inches thick, sturdy, sunk deep into the ground. In its back, there were two heavy metal rings, one about two feet from the ground, the other about three and a half feet from the ground. It was a rough post, barked. On its front, near the top, carved, cut into the bark with the point of a sleen knife, was a crude representation of opened slave bracelets. It was a slave post.
I went and stood before it. Elinor Brinton, the slave…
…"Kneel, " snapped Verna.
I did so.
Verna resnapped the leather and metal choke collar on my throat. She then threaded the leash through the ring, about three and a half feet high, behind the post, brought the leash about and looped it, from the left to the right, about my neck and then rethreaded it through the ring, pulling it tight. I was bound by the neck to the post. Then she threaded the free end of the leash through the lower of the two rings, passed it about my belly, and rethreaded it again through the same ring, keeping it tight, fastening me at the waist to the post. With the free end of the leash, keeping it taut, she then lashed my ankles together behind the post. I was bound, save that my hands were free. Verna took the length of binding fiber from her skins, that which had formerly bound my wrists.
"Place your hands above your head," she said.
I did so.
She tied the binding fiber securely about my left wrist, took the fiber behind the post, threaded it through the highest of the two metal rings, and then, jerking my right wrist back, bound it, too, fastening me to the post.
I knelt, secured…
…"Verna!" spoke one of the girls.
"Very well!" said Verna, irritably. "Very well!"
The first girl to leap to the center of the circle was she who had first held my leash.
She had blond hair. Her head was down, and shaking. Then she threw her head back, moaning, and reached up, clawing for the moons of Gor. The other girls, too, responded to her, whimpering and moaning, clenching and unclenching their fists.
The first girl began to writhe, crying out, stamping in the circle.
Then another girl joined her, and another, and another. And then another!
Stamping, turning, crying out, moaning, clawing at the moons, they danced.
Then there were none who had not entered the savage circle, save Verna, the band's leader, proud and superb, armed and disdainful, and Elinor Brinton, a bound slave.
The first girl, throwing back her head to the moons, screamed and tore her skins to the waist, writhing. And then another!
Then, for the first time I noticed, in the center of the circle, there were four heavy stakes, about six inches in height, dark in the grass. They formed a small, but ample square. I shuddered. They were notched, that binding fiber might not slip from them.
The first girl began to dance before the square.
I looked up into the sky. In the dark sky the moons were vast and bright.
Another girl, crying out, tore her own skins to the waist and clawing, moaning, writhing, approached the square. Then another and another!
I did not even look upon Verna, so horrified I was at the barbaric spectacle. I had not believed that women could be like this.
And then the first girl tore away her skins and danced in her golden ornaments beneath the huge, wild moons, on the grass of the circle, before the square.
I could not believe my eyes. I shuddered, fearing such women.
Then suddenly, to my amazement, Verna cried out in anguish, a wild, moaning, anguished cry, and threw herself her weapons and tore away her own skins and leaped into the circle, turning, and clawing and crying out like the others. She was not other than they, but first among them! She danced savagely, clad only in her gold and beauty, beneath the moons. She cried out and clawed. Sometimes she bit at another girl or struck at her, if she dared approach the square more closely than she. Writhing, enraged, but fearful, eyes blazing, dancing, they fell back before her. She danced first among them, their leader.
Then, throwing her head back, she screamed, shaking clenched fists at the moons.
And then, helplessly, she threw herself to the grass within the square, striking at it, biting and tearing at it, and then she threw herself on her back and, fists clenched, writhed beneath the moons.
One by one the other girls, too, violently threw themselves to the grass, rolling upon it and moaning, some even within the precincts of the square, then throwing themselves upon their backs, some with their eyes closed, crying out, others with their eyes open, fixed helplessly on the wild moons, some with hands tearing at the grass, others pounding the earth piteously with their small fists, sobbing and whimpering, their bodies uncontrolled, helpless, writhing, under the moons of Gor.
I found myself pulling at my bonds, suddenly aching with an inexplicable loneliness and desire. I pulled at the fiber that bound my wrists, so cruelly back; my throat pressed against the straps on my throat, almost choking me; my belly writhed under its strap; my ankles moved against one another, helpless in the leather confinement of the knotted strap. I looked up at the moons. I cried out in anguish. I wanted to be free, too, to dance, to cry out, to claw at the moons, to throw myself on the living, fibrous, flowing grass, to writhe with these women, my sisters, to writhe with them in the frenzy of their need…
…At last the girls, one by one, rose from the grass, drew on again their skins, and took up their weapons.
Captive of Gor, Page 127-135
 
 

        Having said that she does think it is possible within a personal dance to release the more base animalistic side of a slaves nature. Please sisters think carefully before attempting this sort of dance as there may well be dire consequences.
 
 

"Do you beg now to dance before your first use Master?" asked Mirus.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"And before the guests of Hendow?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"And before all present?" he inquired.
"Yes, Master!" I said.
"Adorn her," said Mirius.
"Ina," called Tupita. "Sit," she said then to me, "with your hands on the floor beside you, leaning forward, your right leg advanced."
Ina came forward from the back through the beaded curtain, with a flat, shallow, box. Tupita and Sita removed the leather cuffs from my wrists.
There are some three senses of the expression "virgin dance" on Gor. There is a sense in which it is a kind of dance, rather than a particular dance, which is deemed appropriate for virgins. In that sense I was not expected to perform a "virgin dance." One would seldom see such dances in taverns. The second sense is the obvious one in which it is a dance danced by a virgin, and usually just prior to the loss of her virginity. In that sense, it could be almost any dance which serves the purpose of displaying the girl before her initial ravishing. The third sense of the term is that of a specific dance, or type of dance, most often, interestingly, not even danced by a virgin, but usually by an experienced slave. It is not exactly a story dance, but more of an emotional or attitudinal piece, more in the nature of a "role dance," a dance in which the slave dances as though she might be a virgin, but knows she is to be ravished, and that she is expected to be pleasing. The dance I was expected to perform was, I suppose, a "virgin dance" in both the second and third senses of the term. Mirius, paradoxically, speaking obviously in the third sense of the term, had told me that I would do better at this sort of dance when I was no longer a virgin. I felt metal anklets being thrust on my ankles by Tupita and Sita. They put several on each ankle.
They then, similarly, placed narrow bracelets on both my wrists, several on each wrist. A long belt of cord, to which were attached numerous metal disks, suspended and shimmering, was then looped twice about me, the first loop secured high, and tight, at my waist, and the second loop, a larger loop, a framing loop, was secured in such a way, in the back, that it would hang quite low on my belly, well below my navel. The purpose of this belt was to call attention to, and enhance, by sound and sight, the movements of the hips and abdomen. With the slave beads I already wore I felt unutterably displayed, and barbaric. I could not move now without the sounds of the beads, the anklets and bracelets, the shimmering belt with its two loops.
"Stand," said Tupita.
I did.
The men gasped with pleasure. I was frightened.
"Prepare to dance, slave," said Tupita.
"Good," said a man.
I stood then with my hands lifted over my head, the backs of my hands facing one another, my knees flexed. It is a common beginning position in slave dance.
The musicians readied themselves.
I looked out on the men. These were not men of Earth, defeated and tamed by propaganda and lies. These were Gorean men, men like lions. I stood before them, weak and helpless, a woman from Earth, now a collared slave who must dance for their pleasure.
The czehar player, sitting cross-legged, now had his instruments across his lap. He was the leader of the musicians. He had his horn pick in hand.
I stood barefoot, naked, save for collar and adornments, on the dancing floor of a low-ceilinged Gorean tavern. I must prepare to please masters.
"Are you ready?" asked the leader of the musicians, the czehar player.
"Yes, Master!" I said, eagerly
"Aii!" cried a fellow, pleased, as I began to dance.
The music was rich about me.
I danced, as the slave I was.
"Here, slut, here!" called more than one man
I teased them, dancing close to them, swaying, my belly alive for them, with the jangling metal pieces, the anklets clashing on my ankles, the bracelets sliding and ringing on my wrists, and then as they attempted to seize me, drew back, backing away, or whirled, with a swirl of beads, away from them. I picked one man after another out of the audience, seeming to dance my beauty most meaningfully to him. Perhaps he would be my use master. I did not know.
"Several began to keep the time with their hands, clapping them together.
Suddenly in my dance it seemed I was a virgin, reluctant and fearful, terrified in the reality in which she found herself, but knowing she must respond to the music, to those heady, sensuous rhythms, to the wild cries of the flute, to the beating of the drum. I then danced timidity, and reluctance and inhibition, but yet reflecting, as one would, in such a situation, the commands of the music. I examined in dismay the beads about my neck, the cords at my waist, my barbarically adorned anklets and wrists. I touched my thighs, and lifted my arms, looking at them, and put my hands upon my body, as though I could not believe that it was unclothed. I pretended to shrink down within myself, to desire to crouch down, and conceal and cover my nudity. but then I straightened up, fearfully, as though I had heard commands to desist in such absurdities, and then I extended my hands to the sides, to various sides, as though pleading for mercy, to be released from the imperatives of the music, but then reacted, drawing back, as though I had seen the sigh of whips or weapons., The kaska player, alert to this, reduced the volume of his drumming, and then, five times, smote hard upon the taut skin, almost like the cracking of a whip, to which I reacted, turning to one side and another, as though such a disciplinary device had been sounded menacingly, on all sides, in my vicinity, and then I continued to dance, helpless before the will of masters. Then, as the dance continued, I signified by expression and movement my curiosity and fascination with what I was being forced to do, and the responses of my body, reconciled now to its reality, helplessly obedient now to the music.
I suddenly by expression and movement, an almost involuntary contortion of my belly, seemingly startling me, and frightening me, appeared to suddenly sense, or glimpse, my sexuality.
"Ah," said a man, appreciatively.
I approached him in the dance, and then others, my belly seeming to register, with its jangling accouterments, their presence. Each time I would draw back from them, but my belly, my hips, would seem to propel me again toward them, or toward yet another. I then felt my hips, and thighs, and breasts, and belly, as these seemed to come alive in the music. And then, throwing my head back, I danced unabashedly as an acknowledged, aroused slave, much as I had before, taunting them, teasing them, delighting in my power, but then, suddenly as though I sensed my ultimate helplessness, my ultimate inability to achieve total fulfillment without the wholeness of sexuality, without the master and the yielding, which gave meaning to the incipient passions within me. I danced the aroused slave who is the property of the master and begs his touch.
"Good," said a fellow.
"The slut is excellent," said another.
Then I realized suddenly that I was actually aroused. The interior of my thighs were hot. My belly, hot and burning, seemed to beg to be touched. I do not know, really, whether I had done this to myself in the dance, which is possible, or if my arousal had merely come upon me in the course of the dance, but I was aroused. I was a helpless, aroused slave! This now was no role. It was what I was. I returned to the back of the dancing floor, piteously, that I might sway before my master, he in the back, by the bearded curtain, gross, loathsome Hendrow.
Hendrow nodded to me, almost imperceptibly. Then pointing to me, and lifting his finger twice, he indicated I should turn away, and return my dance, in the center of the floor, facing the crowd. I knew the music was approaching its climax, and the dance must be concluded.
I then, in the coda of my performance, danced helplessness and beauty, and submission, surrendering myself as I, in my collar, must, into the hands and mercies of masters.
As the music concluded I performed floor movements, and the eyes of the men blazed, and fists pounded on the tables, and then the music was done and I lay before them on my back, my breasts rising and falling as I fought for breath, my body sheened with sweat, my hands beside me, palms up, my knees lifted slightly, my right knee highest, a slave before masters.
Dancer of Gor, Page 190-196

        This dance may only be performed once in a girls lifetime, if you have gotten to the point of dancing in Tyros you will be unable to perform this dance.

        The dance may be interpreted to tell the story of your first use Master. Though a girl would reccomend that instead a slave attempt a need or seduction dance.