Slave Dances of Gor

Slave dances are any of the sensuous dances performed by slavegirls to entertain their Masters. Designed to display the sexual heat of the performer, and invite her use by Masters. Slave dances are in many of the Gor books, and a few of them are listed here for reference. As performed on Gor, they are very descriptive, with thoughts, emotions, and movements displayed by the girl. The girl should personalize each dance. Do not copy another's dance; just use the basic elements, the story line. Here are a few dances and examples that might be of help to the sisters of a girl that are trying to learn the art of dance to please their Master.

Pole Dance

the pole dance is a dance in which the kajira will seemingly arouse and entice the pole or "Master" with a sensual dance that involves her touching and caressing Him (the pole) and in the end being given her release by rubbing her moist flesh against him. This dance can be done using a variety of items to secure the kajira to the pole as is the main fashion of this dance such as a Master's belt or a long silk scarf kajira may use nothing at all to bind herself to the pole as the emphasis is on the pole itself and the kajira's use of her body. *kajira turns and faces the pole..looking upon it as she would a handsome Master..her eyes raking over Him with a fiery hunger..she trails her fingers over her naked belly and up along the sides of her breasts and then rolls her hands forward reaching toward the pole her hands twining and circling in a serpentine motion..beckoning to it as she would to the Master..begging him to take her in his strong arms and make passionate love to her..*

Chain Dance

the Chain dance is a dance where a kajira obtains a length of chain from a Master and uses it in a dance showing her submission and acceptance of being a slave. The chain will be wrapped around her body and she will writhe and fight at first but will be succumb by her desire and the fire within her belly and in the end she will rejoice at having the chain around her slave's heart. *kajira begins to writhe upon the floor taking one end of the chain tightly in her hands she pulls it up her body..gasping softly as the cool metal licks at her tender enflamed center..she brings the end of the chain to her lips and kisses it gently before twining it around her neck loosely before rolling again..the remaining length of chain coiling around her and gently but firmly entrapping her slender form once more.. **kajira raises herself to her knees and begins to sway gently to the music loosening the coils of chain..whimpering softly as she loses it's protective hold..she picks up the chain..looking at it with hungry pleading eyes and then as the music picks up speed and fills her again she begins to spin..the chain coiling tightly around her and trapping her again..forcing her to her knees as it holds her in it's grasp.. **kajira tosses back her head a serene smile on her face as she knows that these chains that bind her match the invisible chains that coil around her heart and mark her as slave..the music ends and she raises her head..her eyes lowered in her submission*

Whip Dance

the whip dance is a dance that involves the participation of a Master who will crack a whip above the girl's head as she dances or in many instances where the girl will be allowed the use of the whip and will crack it herself during her dance...this dance is to show a girl's fear of being punished and also the desire that can often accompany such fears.. *kajira takes the handle of the whip and kisses it lovingly with her ruby lips before lifting her hand and jerking on the whip..sending the ends soaring with a loud *****C*R*A*C*K****** her body shudders as she hears the sound that she craves with a maddening desire..*

Submission Dance

this dance is a special dance a girl does for her one true Master. Each dance will be different and unique. Here are two examples.. #1 ** kajira begins to tremble all over, softly moaning. She shows her desire for her Master this night............submitting herself to him fully with her eyes speaking thewords of love as she reaches gently for her veils.......... kajira slowly takes a hold of the veils and then she places her forehead to the floor gently whispering softly.........your slave submits all she has to youMaster,..... her heart- which only beats for you,.... her soul-which only sees her Master's,......,her body- which has always been yours for the taking. #2 *kajira begins a rhythmic sway around the room..her hips moving in slow seductive circles..and her arms begin to twine in and around themselves as if to imitate live serpents..still she keeps her dark lashed eyes fixed on her one true Master **she moves in time with the music her arms lowering slowly to trace over her firm sweat glistened body..her nails raking over her hard sensitive nipples then up along the contours of her neck gathering up the long tendrils of her raven black hair and holding them for a slow seductively carnal turn about the room, before stopping in front of her Master..smoky blue eyes locked on his as she lets her raven tresses slip through her fingers her hips swaying towards him beckoning his touch*

The Need Dance

This dance usually consists of five phases:

First phase of this dance beginning with a girl's indifference to her situation
Second phase will show her fears and restlessness as her desires are becoming more apparent to herself and yet she still struggles against them..toward the end of this phase she will begin to have doubts in herself as to whether she is worthy enough to please the men around her and this will be made clear in her dance
Third phase shows her acceptance of her desires and her willingness to please the Master's before her. The kajira will posture and present herself to the Master's with an almost "ladylike" charm and finesse. During this phase she is not yet taken by a Master even though she presents herself to them as a most willing slave and again she has questions about herself.
Fourth phase *The Heat of the Collared She-Sleen* in this phase the girl becomes wanton in her need and desire, writhing on the floor and opening herself wide for the Master's so they might see the visible evidence of her need to be used by them
Fifth and final stage of the dance the girl continues to beg to be used..her actions show that she knows deep within her that she is a slave and her only desire is to be pleasing. She will reach out to the Master's and beg them to touch her and make her a slave completely.

Tile Dance

this dance is done on red tiles before a Master. In this dance a girl wishes to entice a Master to use her by touching her own body and gesturing to him that she is most willing to see to his every need and is done completely upon the tiles often while a girl lays upon her back or on her belly. The girl is usually attached to a slave ring below the Master's couch. *kajira hears the soft sounds of a haunting melody in the background and her hips begin to move of their own volition..swaying in a purely carnal rhythm dark eyes locked on Him as slender fingers intertwine in long raven curls, pulling her head back, supple breasts thrusting forward as if to beg his touch..her soft laughter filling the room as she lets her hair slip through her fingers to pool on the colored tiles **she brings her head up as at the same time she slides her body onto the tiles..the cool feel of them mingling with the flames deep within her slave belly making her purr softly..rounded hips pressing into the tiles..letting her moist heat kiss the cool surface as she would her Master a soft sigh of pleasure slipping past parted ruby lips*

The Gorean Slave Dance

this dance can be done in any style a girl chooses. It will begin with the girl seemingly a timid virginal creature standing uncertain in the middle of the room..her eyes are wide and she is usually nude. She will show in the beginning of the dance that she fights being caught by a Master and then she will show how her fight slowly leaves her as the Master subdues her and makes her his own. In the final stage of this dance the girl will show her willing submission to her Master and her desire to please him in anyway. Often a chain and collar are used by a Master to "subdue" the girl

The Dance of the 6 Thongs

in this dance a girl has 6 leather thongs attached to her and she dances as a girl who is caught unwillingly. She will show her defiance and anger until she is at last caught up by the six Master's who hold her and presented to one Master who asked her if she is slave to which she will say loud and strong.."Yes, I am slave!" *Now, angrily, struggling, she fought to lift her hair again but the thongs, holding apart her hands, did not permit her to do so. She fought them. The thongs would permit her only to wear her hair loosely. Then, as though in terror and fury, as though she now first understood herself in the snares of a slave, she leaped to her feet, fighting, to the music, the thongs.*

Serving/Scarf (ribbon) Dance

this dance is performed using ribbons or scarves as a form of enticement for the Master. The girl will in the Serving dance offer to serve one Master in a very special way. She will then put on a costume of scarves or use a ribbon as well as a goblet which is used in this example to arouse herself and the Master falling to his knees and performing a heated serve of kalana to him. Just remember when performing the serving dance the main goal is to make the Master desire not only the drink but the girl, however a girl's release in this dance is not necessarily obtained. *kajira walks slowly to Master ??? and kneels before him and asks his permission to serve him in a very special way this night.. **she smiles softly and hurries out of the room to a small screen she has set up beside the fires and quickly changes into a costume of multi-colored scarves that hang from a silver chain belt around her waist..a halter top made of two more scarves is tied around her long slender neck and her raven black hair is piled high upon her head **she walks back into the room slowly, each step punctuated by the soft chiming of slave bells at her feet..she walks to the center of the sand pit and stands holding a golden chalice above her head and turns her sparkling sapphire eyes to the Master

Below are a list of a few of the dances in the books. Take the story line from then and try to make then your own., but do not copy them.

Sandra's Dance of the Six Thongs
Raiders of Gor pg. 228

"You may dance, Slave," I told her. It was to be the dance of the six thongs. She slipped the silk from her and knelt before the great table and chair, between the other tables, dropping her head. She wore five pieces of metal, her collar and locked rings on her wrists and ankles. Slave bells were attached to the collar and the rings. She lifted her head, and regarded me. The musicians, to one side, began to play. Six of my men, each with a length of binding fiber, approached her. She held her arms down, and a bit to the sides. The ends of six lengths of binding fiber, like slave snares, were fastened on her, one for each wrist and ankle, and two about her waist; the men, then, each holding the free end of a length of fiber, stood about her, some six or eight feet from her, three on a side. She was thus imprisoned among them, each holding a thong that bound her. Sandra then, luxuriously, catlike, like a woman awakening, stretched her arms. There was laughter. It was as though she did not know herself bound. When she went to draw her arms back to her body there was just the briefest instant in which she could not do so, and she frowned, looked annoyed, puzzled, and then was permitted to move as she wished. I laughed. She was superb. Then, still kneeling, she raised her hand, head back, insolently to her hair, to remove from it one of the ornate pins, its head carved from the horn of kailiauk that bound it. Again a thong, this time that on her right wrist, prohibited, but only for an instant, the movement, but inches from her hair. She frowned. There was laughter. At last, sometimes immediately permitted, sometimes not, she had removed the pins from her hair. Her hair was beautiful, rich, long and black. As she knelt, it fell back to her ankles. Then, with her hands, she lifted the hair again back over her head, and then, suddenly, her hands, by the thongs were pulled apart and her hair fell again loose and rich over her body. Now, angrily, struggling, she fought to lift her hair again but the thongs, holding apart her hands, did not permit her to do so. She fought them. The thongs would permit her only to wear her hair loosely. Then, as though in terror and fury, as though she now first understood herself in the snares of a slave, she leaped to her feet, fighting, to the music, the thongs. The dancing girls of Port Kar, I told myself, are the best on all Gor. Dark and golden, shimmering, crying out, stamping, she danced, her thonged beauty incandescent in the light of the torches and the frenzy of the slave bells. She turned and twisted and leaped, and sometimes seemed almost free, but was always, by the dark thongs, held complete prisoner. Sometimes she would rush upon one man or another, but the others would not permit her to reach him, keeping her always-beautiful female slave snared in her web of thongs. She writhed and cried out, trying to force the thongs from her body, but could not do so. At last, bit by bit, as her fear and terror mounted, the men, fist by fist, took up the slack in the thongs that tethered her, until suddenly, they swiftly bound her hand and foot and lifted her over their heads, captured female slave, displaying her bound arched body to the tables. There were cries of pleasure from the tables, and much striking of the right fist on the left shoulder. She had been truly superb. Then the men carried her before my table and held her bound before me. "A slave," said one. "Yes," cried the girl, "slave!" The music finished with a clash. The applause and cries were wild and loud. I was much pleased.

Dance of Beauty
Tribesmen of Gor pg. 25

All eyes were on the dark-haired dancer, the skirt of diaphanous scarlet dancing silk low upon her hips. Her hands moved as though she might be, starved with desire, picking flowers from a wall in a garden. One saw almost the vines from which she plucked them, and how she held them to her lips, and, at times, seemed to press herself against the wall which confined her. Then she turned and, as though alone, danced her need before the men. I idly observed the dancer. Her eyes were on me. It seemed, in her hands, she held ripe fruits for me, lush larma, fresh picked. Her wrists were close together, as though confined by the links of slave bracelets. She touched the imaginary larma to her body, caressing her swaying beauty with it, and then, eyes piteous, held her hands forth, as though begging me to accept the lush fruit. Men at the table clapped their hands on the wood, and looked at me. Others smote their left shoulders. I smiled. On Gor, the female slave, desiring her master, yet sometimes fearing to speak to him, frightened that she may be struck, has recourse upon occasion to certain devices, the meaning of which is generally established and culturally well understood...to kneel before the master and put her head down and lift her arms, offering him fruit, usually a larma, or a yellow Gorean peach, ripe and fresh. Even a slave girl who hates her master but, incidentally, may use these devices! whose body, trained to love, cannot endure the absence of the masculine caress. Such girls, even with hatred, may offer the larma, furious with themselves, yet helpless, the captive of their slave needs, forced to beg on their knees for the touch of a harsh master, who revels in the sport of their plight. They are slaves. The girl now knelt before me, her body obedient still trembling, throbbing, to the melodious, sensual command of the music. I looked into the cupped hands, held toward me. They might have been linked in slave bracelets. They might have held lush larma. I reached across the table and took her in my arms, and dragged her, turning her, and threw her on her back on the table before me. I lifted her to me, and thrust my lips to hers, crushing her slave lips beneath mine. Her eyes shone. I held her from me. She lifted her lips to mine. I did not permit her to touch me. I jerked her to her feet and, half turning her, ripping her silk from her, hurled her to the map floor, where she half lay, half crouched, one leg beneath her, looking at me, stripped save for her collar, the brand, the armlets, bells, the anklets, with fury. "Please us more," I told her. Her eyes blazed. "And do not rise from the floor, Slave," I told her. The music, which had stopped, began again. She turned furiously, yet gracefully, extending a leg, touching an ankle, moving her hands up her leg, looking at me over her shoulder, and then rolled, and writhed, as though beneath the lash of master. The dancer now lay on her back and the music was visible in her breathing, and in small movements of her head, and hands. Her hands were small and lovely. She lay on the map floor, her head turned toward us. She was covered with sweat. I snapped my fingers and her legs turned under her, and she was kneeling, head back, dark hair on the tiles. Her hands moved, delicate, lovely. Slowly, if permitted, she would rise to an erect kneeling position; her hands, as she lifted herself, extended toward us. Four times said I "No," each time my command forcing her head back, her body bent, to the floor, and each time, again, to the music, she lifted her body. The fifth time I let her rise to an erect kneeling position. The last portion of her body to rise was her beautiful head. The collar was at her throat. Her dark eyes, smoldering, vulnerable, reproachful, regarded me. Still did she move to the music, which had not yet released her. With a gesture I permitted her to rise to her feet. "Dance your body, Slave," I told her, "to the guests of Samos." Angrily the girl, man by man, slowly, meaningfully, danced her beauty to each guest. They struck the tables, and cried out. More than one reached to clutch her but each time, swiftly, she moved back. The dancer, now behind us, continued to move before the low tables. The eyes of the men gleamed. Before each man, for moments seemingly his alone, she danced her beauty. The dancer turned from the tables and, hands high over her head, approached me. She swayed to the music before me. "You commanded me to dance my beauty for the guests of Samos," said she, "Master. You, too, are such a guest." I looked upon her, narrow lidded, as she strove to please me. Then she moaned and turned away, and, as the music swirled to its maddened, frenzied climax, she spun, whirling, in a jangle of bells and clashing barbaric ornaments before the guests of Samos. then, as the music suddenly stopped, she fell to the floor, helpless, vulnerable, a female slave. Her body, under the torchlight, shone with a sheen of sweat. She gasped for breath; her body was beautiful, her breasts lifting and falling, as she drank deeply of the air. Her lips were parted. Now that her dance was finished she could scarcely move. We had not been gentle with her. She looked up at me, and lifted her hand. It was at my feet she lay.

A Chain Dance by a slave from Port Kar
Nomads of Gor pg. 159

The figure of the woman, swathed in black, heavily veiled, descended the steps of the slave wagon. Once at the foot of the stairs she stopped and stood for a long moment. Then the musicians began, the hand-drums first, a rhythm of heartbeat and flight. To the music, beautifully, it seemed the frightened figure ran first here and then there, occasionally avoiding imaginary objects or throwing up her arms, ran as though through the crowds of a burning city-alone, yet somehow suggesting the presence about her of hunted others. Now, in the background, scarcely to be seen, was the figure of a warrior in scarlet cape. He, too, in his way, though hardly seeming to move, approached, and it seemed that wherever the girl might flee there was found the warrior. And then at last his hand was upon her shoulder and she threw back her head and lifted her hands and it seemed her entire body was wretchedness and despair. He turned the figure to him and, with both hands, brushed away hood and veil. There was a cry of delight from the crowd. The girl's face was fixed in the dancer's stylized moan of terror, but she was beautiful. I had seen her before, of course, as had Kamchak, but it was startling still to see her thus in the firelight-her hair was long and silken black, her eyes dark, the color of her skin tannish. She seemed to plead with the warrior but he did not move. She seemed to writhe in misery and try to escape his grip but she did not. Then he removed his hands from her shoulders and, as the crowd cried out, she sank in abject misery at his feet and performed the ceremony of submission, kneeling, lowering the head and lifting and extending the arms, wrists crossed. The warrior then turned from her and held out one hand. Someone from the darkness threw him, coiled, the chain and collar. He gestured for the woman to rise and she did so and stood before him, head lowered. He pushed up her head and then, with a click that could be heard throughout the enclosure, closed the collar-a Turian collar-about her throat. The chain to which the collar was attached was a good deal longer than that of the Sirik, containing perhaps twenty feet of length. Then, to the music, the girl seemed to twist and turn and move away from him, as he played out the chain, until she stood wretched some twenty feet from him at the chain's length. She did not move then for a moment, but stood crouched down, her hands on the chain. I saw that Aphris and Elizabeth were watching fascinated. Kamchak, too, would not take his eyes from the woman. The music had stopped. Then with a suddenness that almost made me jump and the crowd cry out with delight the music began again but this time as a barbaric cry of rebellion and rage and the wench from Port Kar was suddenly a chained she-larl biting and tearing at the chain and she had cast her black robes from her and stood savage revealed in diaphanous, swirling yellow Pleasure Silk. There was now a frenzy and hatred in the dance, a fury even to the baring of teeth and snarling. She turned within the collar, as the Turian collar is designed to permit. She circled the warrior like a captive moon to his imprisoning scarlet sun, always at the length of the chain. Then he would take up a fist of chain, drawing her each time inches closer. At times he would permit her to draw back again, but never to the full length of the chain, and each time he permitted her to withdraw, it was less than the last. The dance consists of several phases, depending on the general orbit allowed the girl by the chain. Certain of these phases are very slow, in which there is almost no movement, save perhaps the turning of a head or the movement of a hand; others are defiant and swift; some are graceful and pleading; each time, as the common thread, she is drawn closer to the capped warrior. At last his fist was within the Turian collar itself and he drew the girl, piteous and exhausted, to his lips, subduing her with his kiss, and then her arms were about his neck and unresisting, obedient, her head to his chest, she was lifted lightly in his arms and carried from the firelight.

Alyena's Tile Dance
Tribesmen of Gor pg. 104

At a languid gesture from Ibn Saran, Alyena lifted herself from the scarlet tiles, gracefully turning from her side to her knees, and then, head back, hair to the floor, slowly, inch by melodic protesting inch, arms before her body, lifted herself to a kneeling position, erect, the last bit of her to rise being her head, with a swirl of her blond, loose hair. Then, looking to Ibn Saran, suddenly she bent forward, as though impulsively, as though she could not help herself, and, hands on the tiles, head down, kissed the tiles at his feet, before his slippers. She looked up at him. I gathered she wanted to be bought by him. He was her "rich man." He lifted his finger for her to rise. Her right leg thrust forth, brazenly, and then, from her kneeling position, slowly, hands above her head, moving, high, she rose swaying to her feet. "May I strip your slave?" inquired Ibn Saran. "Of course," I said. He nodded to the girl. To the music she unhooked her slave halter of yellow silk and, as though contemptuously, discarded it. I saw she was excited to see his interest in her. Only too obviously was she interested in him making a purchase of her. The churning of milk and the pounding of grain were not for lovely Alyena. That was for ugly girls and free women. She was too desirable, too beautiful, to be set to such labors. Alyena, now, slowly, disengaged the dancing silk from her hips, yet held it, moving it on and about her body, by her hands, taunting the reclining, languid, heavy-lidded Ibn Saran, to whom she knew, at his slightest gesture, she must bare herself. He regarded her veil work; she was skillful; he was a connoisseur of slave girls. At a signal from Ibn Saran, Alyena drew the veil about her body, and around it, and, with one small hand, threw it aside. She stood boldly before him, arms lifted, head to the side, right leg flexed. The veil, floating, wafted away, a dozen feet from her, and gently, ever so gently, settled to the tiles. Then, to the new melodic line, she danced. Alyena now to a swirl of music spun before us, swept helpless with it, bangles clashing, to its climax. Then she stopped, marvelously, motionlessly, as the music was silent, her head back, her arms high, her body covered with sweat, and then, to the last swirl of the barbaric melody, fell to the floor at the feet of Ibn Saran. I noted the light hair on her forearms. She gasped for breath. Further regarding the Tile Dance from #13 Explorers of Gor pg. 13 "I hear from the chain master," said Samos, "that you have learned the tile dance creditably." The tiny cups and glasses shook on the tray. "I am pleased," she said, "if Krobus should think so." The tile dance is commonly performed on red tiles, usually beneath the slave ring of the master's couch. The girl performs the dance on her back, her stomach and sides. Usually her neck is chained to the slave ring. The dance signifies the restlessness, the misery, of a love-starved slave girl. It is a premise of the dance that the girl moves and twists, and squirms, in her need, as if she is completely alone, as if her need is known only to herself; then, supposedly, the master surprises her, and she attempts to suppress the helplessness and torment of her needs; then, failing this, surrendering her pride in its final shred, she writhes openly, piteously, before him, begging him to deign to touch her. Needless to say, the master observes the entire dance, and both the dancer and her audience, the master, in fact, of course, know this. The tile dance, for simple psychological and behavioral reasons, having to do with the submission context and the motions of the body, can piteously arouse even a captured, cold free woman; in the case of a slave, of course, it can make her scream and sob with need.

Further regarding the Tile Dance
Explorers of Gor pg. 13

"I hear from the chain master," said Samos, "that you have learned the tile dance creditably." The tiny cups and glasses shook on the tray. "I am pleased," she said, "if Krobus should think so." The tile dance is commonly performed on red tiles, usually beneath the slave ring of the master's couch. The girl performs the dance on her back, her stomach and sides. Usually her neck is chained to the slave ring. The dance signifies the restlessness, the misery, of a love-starved slave girl. It is a premise of the dance that the girl moves and twists, and squirms, in her need, as if she is completely alone, as if her need is known only to herself; then, supposedly, the master surprises her, and she attempts to suppress the helplessness and torment of her needs; then, failing this, surrendering her pride in its final shred, she writhes openly, piteously, before him, begging him to deign to touch her. Needless to say, the master observes the entire dance, and both the dancer and her audience, the master, in fact, of course, know this. The tile dance, for simple psychological and behavioral reasons, having to do with the submission context and the motions of the body, can piteously arouse even a captured, cold free woman; in the case of a slave, of course, it can make her scream and sob with need.

Phyllis's Belt Dance
Assassin of Gor pg. 185

I observed Phyllis Robertson performing the belt dance, on love furs spread between the tables, under the eyes of the Warriors of Cernus and the members of his staff. Beside me Ho-Tu was shoveling porridge into his mouth with a horn spoon. The music was wild, a melody of the delta of the Vosk. The belt dance is a dance developed and made famous by Port Kar dancing girls. Cernus, as usual, was engaged in a game with Caprus, and had eyes only for the board. The belt dance is performed with a Warrior. She now writhed on the furs at his feet, moving as though being struck with a whip. A white silken cord had been knotted about her waist; in this cord was thrust a narrow rectangle of white silk, perhaps about two feet long. Phyllis Robertson now lay on her back, and then her side, and then turned and rolled, drawing up her legs, putting her hands before her face, as though fending blows, her face a mask of pain, of fear. The music became wilder. The dance receives its name from the fact that the girl's head is not suppose to rise above the Warrior's belt, but only purists concern themselves with such niceties; wherever the dance is performed, however, it is imperative that the girl never rise to her feet. The music now became a moan of surrender, and the girl was on her knees, her head down, her hands on the ankle of the Warrior, his sandal lost in the unbound darkness of her hair, her lips to his foot. In the next phases of the dance the girl knows herself the Warrior's, and endeavors to please him, but he is difficult to move, and her efforts, with the music, become ever more frenzied and desperate. The belt dance was now moving to its climax and I turned to watch Phyllis Robertson. Under the torchlight Phyllis Robertson was now on her knees, the Warrior at her side, holding her behind the small of the back. Her head went farther back, as her hands moved on the arms of the Warrior, as though once to press him away, and then again to draw him closer, and her head then touched the furs, her body a cruel, helpless bow in his hands, and then, her head down, it seemed she struggled and her body straightened itself until she lay, save for her head and heels, on his hands clasped behind her back, her arms extended over her head to the fur behind her. At this point, with a clash of cymbals, both dancers remained immobile. Then, after this instant of silence under the torches, the music struck the final note, with a mighty and jarring clash of cymbals, and the Warrior had lowered her to the furs and her lips, arms about his neck, sought his with eagerness. Then, both dancers broke apart and the male stepped back, and Phyllis now stood, alone on the furs, sweating, breathing deeply, head down

A Need Dance by a slave of Port Cos
Rogue of Gor pg. 185

I turned away and gave my attention to the slave writhing on the tiles before us. She was performing a need dance, of a type not uncommon among Gorean female slaves. Such a dance usually proceeds in clearly defined phrases, evident not merely in the expressions and movements of the girl but in the nature of the accompanying music. There are usually five phases to such a dance. In the first phase the girl, dancing, feigns indifference to the presence of men, before whom, as a slave, she must perform. In the second phase, for she has not yet been raped, her distress and uneasiness, her restlessness, her disturbance by her sexual urges, must become subtly more manifest. Here it must be evident that she is beginning to feel her sexuality, and drives, profoundly, and yet is struggling against them. Toward the end of this phase it must become clear not only that she has sexual needs, and deep ones, but that she is beginning to fear that she may not be, simply as she is, of sufficient interest to men to obtain their satisfaction. Here, need, coupled with anxiety and self-doubt, for she has not yet been seized by strong men, must become clear. In the third phase of the dance she, in an almost ladylike fashion, acknowledges herself defeated in her attempt to conceal her sexuality; she then, again in an almost ladylike fashion, delicately but clearly, with restraint but unmistakably, acknowledges, and publicly, before masters, that she has sexual needs. Then, with smiles, and gestures, displaying herself, she makes manifest her readiness for the service of men, her willingness, and her receptivity. She invited them, so to speak to have her. But an arm or an ankle has not yet seized her, or by her collar, a thumb hooked rudely under it, or hair, and pulled from the floor. What if she is not sufficiently pleasing? What if she is not to be fulfilled? What if she must continue to dance, alone, unnoticed. At this point it becomes clear to her that it is by no means a foregone conclusion that men will find her of interest, or that they will see fit to satisfy her. She must strive to be pleasing. If she is not good enough she may be chained, unfulfilled, another night alone in the kennel. There are always other girls. She must earn her rape. Too, if she should be insufficiently pleasing consistently it is likely that she will be slain. Goreans place few impediments in the way of liberation of a slave female's sexuality. In this phase of the dance, then, shamelessly the woman dances her need and, shamelessly, begs for her sexual satisfaction. The phase of the dance is sometimes known as the Heat of the Collared She-Sleen. The fifth, and final phase, of the dance, is far more dramatic and exciting. In this phase the girl, overcome by sexual desire and terrified that she may not be found sufficiently pleasing, clearly manifests, and utterly, that she is a slave female. In this portion of the dance the girl is seldom on her feet. Rather, sitting, rolling, and changing position, on her side, her back, her belly, half kneeling, half sitting, kneeling, crawling, reaching out, bending backwards, lying down, twisting with passion, gesturing to her body, presenting it to masters for their inspection and interest, whimpering, moaning, crying out, brazenly presenting herself as a slave, pleading for her rape, she writhes, a piteous, begging, vulnerable, ready slave, a woman fit for and begging for the touch of a master, a woman begging to become, at the least touch of her master, a totally submitted slave. The fourth phase of the dance, as I have mentioned, is sometimes known as the Heat of the Collared She-Sleen. This portion of the dance, the fifth portion, is sometimes known as the Heat of the Slave Girl. The music ended with a swirl of sound and the girl, with a jangle of bells, lay before the table of Policrates, whimpering, her hand extended. She lifted her head. I read the unmistakable need in her eyes. She was indeed a slave female.

Janice's Tether Dance
Explorers of Gor pg. 360

I jerked the tether on her throat. "This is a tether," I said, "It is to be well incorporated in your dance. You are a tethered slave. Do not forget it. You may fight the tether, you may love it. It may confine your body, you may use it to caress your body, an invitation to your master, a surrogate symbol of his domination of you. You need not dance always on your feet. A woman can dance beautifully on her knees, moving as little as a hand, or on her back, or belly or side. In all things do not forget that you are a slave." "Are you now commanding me to dance before you?" she asked. "Yes," I said, "you dance now as a commanded slave. And if I am not well pleased have no fear but what you will be well beaten, if not slain." "Yes, Master," she said. I then struck my hands together, and, terrified, the girl danced. She had not been taught the tether dance, one of the most beautiful of the slave dances of Gor, but she improvised well. Indeed, it was hard to believe that she had not had training. I am inclined to believe that the need dances and display dances of the human female may be, at least in their rudiments, instinctual. I suspect there is a genetic disposition in the woman toward this type of behavior and that certain of the movements, closely associated with luring behavior and love movements, may also be genetically based. One reason for supposing this to be the case is that a girl's growth in certain forms of dance skills does not follow a normal learning curve. It is rather like the human being's ability to acquire speech, which also does not follow a normal learning curve. It seems reasonably likely that facility in acquiring speech, which would have enormous survival value, has been selected for. Similarly, a woman's marvelous adaptability to erotic dance may possibly have been selected for. At any rate, whatever the truth may be in these matters, feminine women, perhaps to the horror of their more masculine sisters, seem to take naturally to the beauties of erotic dance. At the very least, perhaps inexplicably, they are marvelously good at it. These genetic dispositions, of course, if they exist, can be culturally suppressed. I watched the girl dance. She was quite good. "Now you are becoming a woman," I told her. She knelt on one knee, her right; her left leg was flexed; the tether was taken, in a turn, about her left thigh; her hands, too, were on her left thigh; her head was down, but turned toward me; her lip trembled. "Continue to dance, Slave," I told her. "Yes, Master," she said. I watched her, and marveled. It is interesting to note that such movements, those of slave dances, despite the inhibitions of rigid cultures, may occur in a girl's sleep, and may even occur, almost spontaneously, when she, nude, alone, passes before a mirror in her bedroom. How shocked she may be to suddenly see her body move as that of a slave. Could it have been she who so moved? Later, perhaps to her surprise, she finds herself standing before the mirror. She is naked, and alone. Then, perhaps scarcely understanding what is occurring within her, she sees the girl in the mirror has begun to dance. The movements are not dissimilar perhaps to those of women who, thousands of years ago, danced in firelit caves before their masters. Then, knowing well that it is she herself who is the dancer, she dances brazenly, boldly, before the mirror. Well does she present her bared beauty before it in the movements, the attitudes and postures of the female slave. Then perhaps she falls to the rug, scratching at it, pressing her belly to it. "I want a Master," she whispers. I now stood up. My arms were folded. The girl now was upon her knees at my feet, the tether on her neck slung back behind her to the slave stake. Still in her dance, she began to lick and kiss at my body. I then took her by the upper arms and held her, half lifted from her knees, before me. "Please do not whip me," she begged. I then, by the upper arms, dragged her to the side of the slave stake. I put her on her knees there. She looked up at me. "you danced well as a slave," I said.

A Whip Dance by a slave from Port Cos
Rogue of Gor pg. 191

A new dancer came forth upon the floor and began, a tall brute near her with the leather, to perform a whip dance. In the whip dance, though there are various versions of it, depending on the locality, the girl is almost never struck with the whip, unless, of course, she does not perform well. When the whip is cracked, however, the girl will commonly react as though she has been struck. this, conjoined with the music, and her beauty, and the obvious symbolism of her beauty beneath total male discipline, can be extremely, powerfully erotic. In an elegant, civilized context, one of beauty and music, it makes clear and bespeaks the raw and essential primitives of the ancient, genetic, biological sexual relationship of men and women. The whip dance continued before us. The whip dance was now approaching its climax. I turned my attention to the dancer on the floor. She lay now on her back, one knee lifted, her arms at her sides, palms down, before the brute with his whip, which towered over her. Her head, too, was turned to the side. Then she turned her head to face the brute that tyrannized her. She looked deeply into his eyes. then, delicately, in a graceful gesture, she turned her hands, putting their backs to the floor, exposing her palms, and the soft flesh of her palms, to him, indicating her surrender, her submission, her vulnerability and her readiness. There was applause, the striking of the left shoulder, from the tables. The brute then crouched beside her and encircled her neck with the coils of his whip. He drew her to her knees then before him. She looked up at him, her neck in the whip coils, his. There was more applause. Then the brute looked to Policrates, who indicated a table. He then pulled the girl to her feet and, running her over the tiles, and then releasing the coils from her neck, threw her stumbling into the arms of waiting pirates who, with a cry of pleasure, sized her and began to work their lusty wills upon her. There was more applause, and laughter.

Veil/Pole Dance
Tribesman of Gor pg. 8

The girl wore Gorean dancing silk. It hung low upon her bared hips, and fell to her ankles. It was scarlet, diaphanous. A front corner of the silk was taken behind her and thrust, loose and draped, into the rolled silk knotted about her hips; a back corner of the silk was drawn before her and thrust loosely, draped, into the rolled silk at her right hip. Low on her hips she wore a belt of small denomination, threaded, overlapping golden coins. A veil concealed her muchly from us, it thrust into the strap of the coined halter at her left shoulder, and into the coined belt at her right hip. On her arms she wore numerous armlets and bracelets. On the thumb and first finger of both her left and right hand were golden finger cymbals. On her throat was a collar. He clapped his hands. Immediately the girl stood beautifully, alert, before us, her arms high, wrists outward. The musicians, to one side, stirred, readying themselves. Their leader was a czehar player. He looked at the girl. He clapped his hands, sharply. There was a clear note of the finger cymbals, sharp, delicate, bright, and the slave girl danced before us. I regarded the coins threaded, overlapping, on her belt and halter. They took the firelight beautifully. They glinted, but were of small worth. One dresses such a woman in cheap coins; she is slave. Her hand moved to the veil at her right hip. Her head was turned away, as though unwilling and reluctant, yet knowing she must obey. The dancer was now moving slowly to the music. I turned to watch the dancer. She danced well. At the moment she writhed upon the "slave pole," it fixing her in place. There is no actual pole, of course, but sometimes it is difficult to believe there is not. The girl imagines that a pole, slender, supple, swaying, transfixes her body, holding her helplessly. About this imaginary pole, it constituting hypothetical center of gravity, she moves, undulating, swaying, sometimes yielding to it in ecstasy, and sometimes fighting it, it always holding her in perfect place, its captive. The control achieved by the use of the "slave pole" is remarkable. An incredible, voluptuous tension is almost immediately generated, visible in the dancer's body, and kinetically felt by those who watch. I heard men at the table cry out with pleasure. The dancer's hands were at her thighs. She regarded them, angrily, and still she moved. Her shoulder lifted and fell; her hands touched her breasts and shoulder; her head was back, and then again she glared at the men, angrily. Her arms were high, very high. Her hips moved, swaying. Then, the music suddenly silent, she was absolutely still. Her left hand was at her thigh; her right high above her head; her eyes were on her hip; frozen into a hip sway; then there was again a bright, clear flash of finger cymbals, and the music began again, and again she moved, helpless on the pole. Men threw coins at her feet. The dancer moaned, crying out, as though in agony. Still she remained impaled upon the slave pole, its prisoner. The hips of the dancer now moved, seemingly in isolation from the rest of her body, though her wrists and hands, ever so slightly, moved to the music. Samos, with a snap of his fingers, freed the dancer from the slave pole. She moved, turning, toward us. Before us, loosening her veil at the right hip, she danced. Then she took it from her left shoulder, where it had been tucked beneath the strap of her halter. With the veil loose, covering her, holding it in her hands, she danced before us. then she regarded us, dark-eyed, over the veil; it turned about her body, then,.. she wafted the silk about her, immeshing her in its gossamer softness. I saw the parted lips, the eyes wide with horror, of the kneeling, harnessed girl, through the light, yellow veil; then the dancer had drawn it away from her, and, turning, was again in the center of the floor. The dancer whirled near us, then enveloped me in her veil. Within the secrecy of the veil, binding us together, she moved her body slowly before me, lips parted, moaning... I slowly removed her veil from her, then threw it aside. Then with my right hand, the Tuchuk quiva in it, while still holding her with my left, as she continued to move to the music, I, behind her back, cut the halter she wore from her. I then thrust her from me, before the tables, that she might better please the guests of Samos, first slaver of Port Kar. She looked at me reproachfully, but, seeing my eyes, turned frightened to the men, hands over her head, to please them. Never in all this, of course, had she lost the music in her body. The men cried out, pleased with her beauty.

Winyela's Pole Dance
Blood Brothers of Gor pg. 39

Then, suddenly, the two men with the kaiila quirts struck her across the back and, before she could do more than cry out, she was, too, pulled to her feet and forward, on the two tethers. She then stood, held by the tethers, wildly, before the pole. Cancega pointed to the pole. She looked at him, bewildered. Then the quirts, again, struck her, and she cried out in pain. Cancega again pointed to the pole. Winyela then put her head down and took the pole in her small hands, and kissed it, humbly. "Yes," said Cancega, encouraging her. "Yes." Again Winyela kissed the pole. "Yes," said Cancega. Winyela then heard the rattles behind her, giving her rhythm. These rattles were then joined by the fifing of whistles, shrill and high, formed from the wing bones of the taloned Herlit. A small drum, too, then began to sound. Its more accented beats, approached subtly but predictable, instructed the helpless, lovely dancer as to the placement and timing of the more dramatic of her demonstrations and motions. "It is the Kaiila," chanted the men. Winyela danced. There was dust upon her hair and on her body. On her cheeks were the three bars of greases that marked her as the property of the Kailla. Grease, too, had been smeared liberally upon her body. No longer was she a shining beauty. She was now only a filthy slave, an ignoble animal, something of no account, something worthless, obviously, but, nonetheless permitted, in the kindness of the Kaiila, a woman of another people, to attempt to please the pole. I smiled. Was this not suitable? Was this not appropriate for her, a slave? Winyela, kissing the pole, and caressing it, and moving about it, and rubbing her body against it, under the directions of Cancega, and guided sometimes by the tethers on her neck, continued to dance. I whistled softly to myself. "Ah," said Cuwignaka. "It is the Kaiila!" chanted the men. "I think the pole will be pleased," I said. "I think a rock would be pleased," said Cuwignaka. "I agree," I said. Winyela, by the neck tethers, was pulled against the pole. She seized it, and writhed against it, and licked at it. "It is the Kaiila!" chanted the men. "It is the Kaiila!" shouted Cuwignaka. A transformation seemed suddenly to come over Winyela. This was evinced in her dance. "She is aroused, " said Cuwignaka. "Yes," I said. She began, then, helplessly, to dance her servitude, her submission, her slavery. The dance, then, came helplessly from the depths of her. The tethers pulled her back from the pole and she reached forth for it. She struggled to reach it, writhing. Bit by bit she was permitted to near it, and then she embraced it. She climbed, then, upon the pole. There her dance, on her knees, her belly and back, squirming and clutching, continued. Winyela now knelt on the pole and bent backwards, until her hair fell about the wood, and then she slipped her legs down about the pole and lay back on it, her hands holding to the pole behind her head. She reared helplessly on the pole, and writhed upon it, almost as though she might have been chained to it, and then, she turned about and lay on the pole, on her stomach, her thighs gripping it, her hands pushing her body up, and away from the pole, and then, suddenly, moving down about the trunk, bringing her head and shoulder down. Her red hair hung about the smooth, white wood. Her lips, again and again, pressed down upon it, in helpless kisses. Winyela, helplessly, piteously, danced her obeisance to the great pole, and, in this, to her master, and to men. In her dance, of course, Winyela was understood to be dancing not only her personal slavery, which she surely was, but, from the point of view of the Kaiila, in the symbolism of the dance, in the medicine of the dance, that the women of enemies were fit to be no more than the slaves of the Kaiila. I did not doubt but what the Fleer and the Yellow Knives, and other peoples, too, might have similar ceremonies, in which, in one way or another, a similar profession might take place, there being danced or enacted also by a woman of another group, perhaps even, in those cases, by a maiden of the Kaiila. I, myself, saw the symbolism of the dance, and, I think, so, too, did Winyela, in a pattern far deeper than that of an ethnocentric idiosyncrasy. I saw the symbolism as being in accord with what is certainly one of the deepest and most pervasive themes of organic nature, that of dominance and submission. In the dance, as I chose to understand it, Winyela danced the glory of life and the natural order; in it she danced her submission to the might of men and the fulfillment of her own femaleness; in it she danced her desire to be owned, to feel passion, to give of herself, unstintingly, to surrender herself, rejoicing, to service and love. "It is the Kaiila!" shouted the men. "It is the Kaiila!" shouted Cuwignaka. Winyela was dragged back, toward the bottom of the pole on its tripods. There she was knelt down. The two men holding her neck tethers slipped the rawhide, between their fist and the girl's neck, under their feet, the man on her left under his right foot, and the man on her right under his left foot. But already Winyela, of her own accord, breathing deeply from the exertions of her dance, and trembling, had put her head to the dirt, humbly, before the pole. Then the tension on the two tethers was increased, the rawhide on her neck being drawn tight under the feet of her keepers. I do not think Winyela desired to raise her head. But now, of course, she could not have done so had she wished. It was held in place. I think this is the way she would have wanted it. This is what she would have chosen, to be owned, to serve, to be deprived of choice. The men about slapped their thighs and grunted their approval. The music stopped. The tethers were removed from Winyela's neck. She then, tentatively, lifted her head. It seemed now she was forgotten.

"There is nothing coy or teasing about a Gorean dancer if the dance is of the scrolls. the girl wishes to be taken, wishes to please, she wishes to excite them, and twist them with torments of desire, and make them gasp and scream with pleasure! They would not compromise with a woman like me. They would want her too much. They would throw her to their feet. They would dominate and master me, mercilessly! I was a female. In the arms of no other sort of man could I be fulfilled! What an excellent slut, what superb slave meat." ---Dancer of Gor, page 122

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