The Annals of Gor

The Dances of Gor

"There are many forms of dance," I said. "Music is not even necessary. It need not even be ore than beautiful movement. Move before the men, and about them. Move as seductively and beautifully as you can, and as a slave, swaying, crawling, kneeling, rolling, supine, prone, begging, pleading, piteous, caressing, kissing, licking, rubbing against them." — Mercenaries of Gor, page 60.

Characteristics of Dance

Gorean slave dance refers to any of thousands of different styles of slave dances. While those dances which are culture-specific within Gor itself and/or are named, many others are free form. Some of these cultural dances are only whispered of, and most we don't get to enjoy because they simply were not incorporated into the books. Belly Dancer Regardless of the style or type, the Gorean slave dance has several common characteristics. It's goal is to demonstrate the beauty of the slave girl, her needs and submission to the strength and absolute control of men, thusly seeking to earn the welcomed responses of these men, with the expectation to satisfy the arousals earned.

"The institution of female slavery on Gor is doubtless thousands of years old; accordingly it is natural that there should be great complexity and refinement in such a delicious art form as slave dance. There are even, it might be mentioned, hate dances and rebellion dances, but most dances, as might be expected, are display dances, or need dances, or love and submission dances; even the hate and rebellion dances, of course, conclude, inevitably, with the ultimate surrender of the girl to her master as a love slave." — Fighting Slave of Gor, page 288.

"The Gorean dancer is expected, usually, to satisfy the passions she arouses." — Players of Gor, page 26.

"Only too 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 an 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." — Magicians of Gor, pages 53-54.

"'Slave dance,' on Gor, incidentally, is a very rich and varied dance form. It covers a great deal more than simple 'ethnic dance.' For example, it includes dances such as hunt dances, capture dances, submission dances, chain dances, whip dances, and such. Perhaps what is done in slave dance on Gor would count as 'exotic dance' on Earth, but, if we are thinking of the actual kinds of dances performed, then there is much in slave dance, for example, story dances, which are seldom, if ever, included in 'exotic dance' on Earth, and there are forms of dance in 'exotic dance' which for one reason or another, are seldom, if ever, seen on Gor, for example, certain forms of carnival dancing, such as bubble dancing or fan dancing. Perhaps the reason such dances are seldom, if ever, seen on Gor, is that Goreans would not be likely to regard them as being 'real dance.' They would be regarded, I think, as little more than culturally idiosyncratic forms of comedic teasing. They are, at any rate, not the sort of dance, or the 'danse-du-ventre' sort, so pleasing to strong men, which a slave on Gor, fearing the whip must often learn to perform." — Dancer of Gor, page 172.

"On Gor, dance of the sort in which I was expected to perform, is called, simply, 'slave dance.' That is presumably because it is a form of dance which, for the most part, is thought to be fit only for slaves, and would be performed only by slaves. The thought crossed my mind that the lovely woman who had been my teacher on Earth had once remarked to me, 'We are all slaves.' I think that is true." — Dancer of Gor, page 172.

"Then I knew I did not want to dance poorly. Out there were men, real men, many of whom excited and stirred me, even in my virgin's belly. I could scarcely imagine what it might be to be helpless in their arms, and at their heat and desire in them. 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!" — Dancer of Gor, page 192.

"In the dance I had power. In the dance I was beautiful. I saw delight in the eyes of men. I heard gasps of admiration. To be sure I was of a body type, that of the natural woman, short-legged and well-curved, that tends to be attractive to Gorean men, and I think my face, which some had told me was delicate and sensitive, and lovely and intelligent, which so easily betrayed my emotions, may have been pleasing to them, but I think there was more to it than these things. Had it been merely a matter of face and figure I do not think the effect would have been the same. Many things were doubtless involved. One, of course, was that it was a slave who danced. The dancing of a slave is a thousand times more sensuous than that of a free woman because of the incredible meanings involved, the additional richness which this furnishes, the explosive significance of this comprehension, that she who dances is owned, and, theoretically, could be owned by you. Too, she is naked, or scantily clad, and is bedecked in a barbaric manner. This speaks of reality and savagery, of ferocity, and beauty, of dominator to dominated, of master to slave. The dancing of the female before the male, that she be found pleasing and he be pleased, is one of the most profound lessons in all of human biology. Others are when she kneels before him, when she kisses his feet, when she performs obeisance, when she know herself subject, truly, to his whip. Another is when she is seized in his arms, imperiously, and crushed to him. Too, I think in this dance I was also as successful as I was because of the sort of woman I was, one who possessed deep female needs, and profound passions. I was ready, even at that time, as I now realize, to have the relentless torches of men set to the tinder in my belly, that slave fires might be lit there, thence by service, submission and love, my condition as slave, and the commands and touches of men, to be fanned, whether I willed it or not, to my dismay and joy, into open conflagrations. But I think, too, more simply, that there are skills involved, and that I was an excellent dancer, even at that time." — Dancer of Gor, page 193.

"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." — Fighting Slave of Gor, pages 42-43.

"It is good for them to get the practice, hearing and seeing men respond to them. That is the way to learn what truly pleases men. In the end, I say, it is men who teach women to dance." — Assassin of Gor, page 91.

"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." — Explorers of Gor, page 362.

"I have little doubt but what the disposition to, and the fundamentals of, slave dance are instinctual in a woman. No other explanation seems compatible with the readiness with which they can acquire such dance. " — Fighting Slave of Gor, page 289.

Dances on Gor are important sociologically and even politically, and for that reason, there are many dances and forms of dances on Gor. Even free women are taught dances, for one day they might find themselves in the position of begging for their life through dance. As this page grows with information, I will be touching up on both the dances of the free and of the slave girl

"The dance in the circle, as I might have gathered, was not the stately dance of free maidens, even in which, of course, the maidens, though scarcely admitting this to even themselves, experience something of the stimulatory voluptuousness of movement, but slave dance, that form of dance, in its thousands of variations, in which a female may excitingly and beautifully, marvelously and fulfullingly, express the depths and of her nature. In such dance the woman moves as a female, and shows herself as a female, in all her excitingness and beauty. It is no wonder that women love such dance, in which they are so desirable and beautiful, in which dance they feel so free, so sexual, so much a slave." — Magicians of Gor, page 44.

In the following passage, Talena speaks to Tarl Cabot about various dances, which she states she will perform for him. Kajira Dancing One dance mentioned includes an unnamed dance that she learned in the Walled Gardens of Ar. Based upon the facts that she was not only was she a free woman, but that she was the daughter of the Ubar, Marlenus, and as such, she was raised in the Walled Gardens. This particular dance could perhaps be a dance of free women, however, Tarl describes it as "a beautiful dance of passion." Even those free women raised in the Walled Gardens are often taught some slave dances in the event should the city come under attack and they are captured, they will have at least some basic knowledge of slave dance and would be able to literally dance for their lives.

"If you wish," she said, "I will dance the Whip Dance for you, or the Chain Dance."
"Then I shall show you a love dance," she said happily, "a dance I learned in the Walled Gardens of Ar."
"I should like that," I said, and, as I watched, Talena performed Ar's strangely beautiful dance of passion. — Tarnsman of Gor, page 135.

In the following passage, often free women complaining to their physicians of frigidity are given a simple prescription: Learn Slave Dance.

A familiar bit of advice given by bold Gorean physicians to free women who consult them about their frigidity is, to their scandal, "Learn slave dance." Another bit of advice, usually given to a free woman being ushered out of his office by a physician impatient with her imaginary ailments is, "Become a slave." Frigidity, of course, is not accepted in slaves. If nothing else, it will be beaten out of their beautiful hides by whips. — Guardsman of Gor, page 260.

In the following passage, a young free woman, untrained in the art of pleasing men or dance, finds herself enslaved and must dance for her life. How different it is for this woman!

"I will try desperately, Master," she said.
       "Stand," he said. She stood. "Straighten your back," said Samos. "Suck in your stomach. Thrust out your breasts." Tears ran from her eyes.
       "Remember, my dear," said Samos, not unkindly, "you are no longer a free woman. You have now entered a new life altogether, in which rigidities and inhibitions are no longer permitted you, a form of life in which, in many ways, you are strictly and uncompromisingly controlled, but one in which, in other ways, your deepest desires and needs need no longer be restrained, but may be, and must be, fully liberated, a from of life in which you, though categorically subjected to the perfections of absolute discipline, that of the total slave, are, paradoxically, freed to be yourself." She looked at Samos, wonderingly.
       "These things may now seem hard to understand," said Samos, "but they, and their reality, if you are permitted to live, will soon become clear."
       "Yes, Master," she said, gratefully. I saw that she, already, now a slave, deeply sensed the truth of his words.
       Then his eyes were hard, and she trembled. "Lift your hands to the level of your shoulders," he said, "and flex your knees, slightly." She complied.
       Samos then signaled to the musicians, who were seated to one side, that they should prepare to play.
"What is it that a man wants from a woman?" asked. Samos.
       "Everything, and more," she whispered.
       "Precisely," he said. She trembled. "I suggest that you do well," said Samos.
       "Yes, Master," she said.
       "You dance, and perform, for your life," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
       "Are you ready?" he asked.
       "Yes, Master," she whispered.
       Samos signaled again to the musicians, and they began to play a sensual, slow, adagio melody. — Players of Gor, pages 18-19.
       "It is the sleen for her," I heard a man say.
       Samos glanced at the dancer. I, too, glanced at her. She was not trained. She did not know slave dance. Her movements were those of a virgin, a white-silk girl. She had not yet been taught slave helplessness. No man yet in his arms had taught her the exquisite, transforming degradations of the utilized slave, the wrenching surrender spasms, enforced upon her by his will, of the conquered bondwoman, experiences which, once she has had them, she is never willing to give up, experiences which she comes to need, experiences for which she will do anything, experiences which, whether she wishes it or not, put her at and keep her at, the mercy of men.
       "She is clumsy," said Samos. He was irritated. I saw he did not wish, really, to have her killed.
A man laughed at her, as she tried to dance before him. "Her throat will be cut within the Ahn," laughed another man. Another man turned away from her, when she approached him, to have his goblet of paga filled by a luscious, half-naked, collared slave.
       "Clumsy, clumsy," said Samos. "I thought she might have the makings, somehow, of a pleasure slave."
"She is trying," I said.
       "She does not have what it takes," said Samos.
       "Her body is richly curved," I said. "That suggests an abundance of female hormones, and that, in turn, suggests the potentialities, the capacities for love, the sensibilities, the dispositions of the pleasure slave."
       "She is not acceptable," said Samos. "She is inadequate."
       "She is trying desperately to please," I said.
       "But she is not succeeding," he said.
       "She has a lovely body," I said. "Perhaps someone could buy her for a pittance, for a pot girl."
       "She is not adequate," said Samos. "I will have to have her destroyed." He looked back to the board.
       I saw several of the slave girls looking fearfully at one another. I to not think that they cared much for their new sister in bondage, the former Lady Rowena of Lydius, who perhaps in some subtle way, perhaps in virtue of her former background, held herself superior to them, but, too, I don nit think they cared to have her thrown alive, screaming, to sleen. She was, after all, now, like the, only a slave. "Dance, you stupid slave," hissed one. "Do you not know you are a slave? Do you not know you are owned?"
       A wild look, one of sudden, fearful insight, came over the face of the dancer. She had not thought, specifically, objectively, it seemed, about this aspect of matters. But, of course, she was owned. She was now property. She could now be bought and sold, like a tarsk, at the pleasure of masters. She belonged to Samos, of course. It had been within the context of his capture rights that she had, as a free woman, of her own free will, pronounced upon herself a formula of enslavement. Automatically then, in virtue of the context, she became his. The law is clear on this. The matter is more subtle when the woman is not within a context of capture rights. Here the matter differs from city to city. In some cities, a woman may not, with legal recognition, submit herself to a specific man as a slave, for in those cities that is interpreted as placing at least a temporary qualification on the condition of slavery which condition, once entered into, all cities agree, is absolute. In such cities, then, the woman makes herself a slave, unconditionally. It is then up to the man in question whether or not he will accept her as his slave. In this matter he will do as he pleases. In any event, she is by then a slave, and only that. — Players of Gor, pages 20-21.
       "Dance, fool!" cried one of the slave girls to the former Lady Rowena of Lydius.
       "See the free woman!" laughed one of the slaves. "It is the sleen for her," said another.
"Please men!" cried another. "What do you think you are for?"
       "Like this!" cried a brunette, leaping away from the tables to the tiles, tearing away her silk.
       "Do not interfere," warned a man. The brunette, terrified, seized up her silk, and shrank back behind the tables, into the shadows, where, huddled, knelt the other slaves.
       She who had been the Lady Rowena fell sobbing to her knees, helpless on the tiles, covering her face with her hands. The music stopped.
       "You are cruel, all or you!" cried out Linda, the blond Earth-girl slave of Samos, springing to her feet. All eyes turned towards her. "You put us in collars! You take away our clothes! You make us serve you! You do with us as you please!" She looked beautiful, in her brief tunic, barefoot, her body filled with passion, her small fists clenched, in her collar.
       "And you love it!" laughed a man.
       "Yes!" she cried. "I love it! You cannot know how I love it! I come from a world where there are almost no true men, a world where manhood is almost educated and conditioned out of existence. I come from a world of love-starved women. I did not know what true men were until I came to Gor, and was put in a collar! Here I am disciplined and trained, here I am owned and fulfilled! Here I am happy! I pity even my free sisters of Gor, who are so far above me, for they cannot know the overwhelming joys and fulfillments which are mine, and I pity a thousand times more my miserable free sisters of Earth, so far away, longing for their collars and masters!"
       There was silence. She hurried to the side of the girl kneeling on the tiles. She crouched beside her, putting her arm about her shoulders. She then looked at us. "But this is only a poor slave," she said. "She is new to her condition. She is trying to please. It is just that she does not yet know how. Please be kind to her. Give her some time. Let her learn. Is she not beautiful? Do you not think she could learn to be pleasing? Show her mercy!"
       It was then again silent. Numbly, Linda rose to her feet and walked back about the tables. She knelt behind our table, her head down.
       "With your permission," I said to Samos. I rose to my feet and went to the girl, now prone, red-eyed, on the tiles. I crouched down beside her.
       "Oh!" she cried. I turned her over, handling her with authority, as a slave is handled. She looked up at me.
       Never before, doubtless, had she been handled like this. "Her face is beautiful," I said, "her body is curvaceous, her limbs are fair. It seems she should bring a good price." She gasped, appraised as a female. … "Men desire women," I told her. …
       I pulled her by the hair up to a sitting position, and then, by the hair, bent her head back. … "Keep the palms of your hands on the tiles," I said. She did so. Her knees were slightly flexed. … "Keep your palms on the tiles," I said. … "We are now going to put these things together," I said. "First, you are an exquisitely desirable woman. You are the sort of woman who could drive a man mad with passion. You are the sort of woman to possess whom men might kill. Furthermore, your beauty and desirability is increased a thousandfold because you are a property girl, a slave."
       "As a slave," I said, "it is not only permissible for you to yield to your deepest, most stirring, most primitive, most overwhelmingly feminine urges but you must do so, shamelessly, unqualifiedly, completely." … I then, by the hair, pulled her about and threw her lengthwise, prone, to the tiles. She looked up at me, over her shoulder. I saw wildness in her eyes. I saw that she had begun to sense what it might be to be an aroused slave.
       "Whip," I said, to a man, the fellow who had earlier disciplined the foolish slave who had permitted herself, without permission, to display merriment over the plight of a free woman. The whip was placed in my hand.
       "Master?" asked the girl, apprehensively.
       "I do not believe you were given permission to stop dancing earlier," I said. …
       He signaled the musicians, and they began, again, to play. I gave my attention to the board. It was my move. I did not bother, then, to glance at the former Lady Rowena of Lydius. She was a mere slave, dancing for masters. Doubtless, too, as the evening wore on, other girls, too, perhaps Tula, and Susan, and Linda, would be ordered to the floor, to dance before strong men, then perhaps, each in her turn, one by one, to be dragged to the tables.
       I moved my Ubara's Rider of the High Tharlarion to Ubara's Scribe Three. This, supporting the center, would also open a file, developing the Ubara's Builder. The Gorean dancer is expected, usually, to satisfy the passions she arouses. "It is your move," I said to Samos. I gathered, from the cries of pleasure, from the clapping of hands, the striking of hands on shoulders, that the new slave might be proving not unacceptable. "How is she doing?" I asked. "I do not think it will be necessary, at least immediately, to throw her to sleen," said Samos. He was regarding the dancer. "It is your move," I said. Samos put his chin on his fists and examined the board. I lifted my head and looked across the room.
       I saw that it was a slave who danced before the men. She gyrated but inches from a burly oarsman, then leaped back, eluding his drunken grasp. She moved between the tables, a slave, an owned woman. Then she was kneeling beside a man, kissing and caressing him, and then, as though it were involuntary, as though her hands were tied behind her and she was being pulled back, away from him, by a rope, she retreated from him. In a moment she was showering another man with her hair and kisses. Then she offered a man wine, holding the goblet, pressing it against her belly, swaying sensuously before him. She was then again in the center of the tiles, among the tables. She made as if to speak, and then, suddenly, stopped, as though startled. Then she took a wad of her long, golden hair and, swiftly balling it, thrust it, as though insolently, in her mouth. She then looked at the men reproachfully. It was as though a man, perhaps not desiring to hear her speak, had gagged her with her own hair. There was laughter. She drew the hair from her mouth, drawing some if it, in loosening it, deeply back between her teeth, with her head back, as though she might have been in the constraint of a gag strap, all this to the music, and then her hair was free, and, with a movement of her head and movements of her hands, beautifully, she draped and spread it about her. It seemed then she withdrew modestly, frightened, behind the hair, drawing it like a cloak or sheet about her, as though by means of this piteous device she might hope desperately to conceal at least some minimal particle of her beauty from the rude scrutiny of masters. But it was not to be permitted.
       To a swirl of music, taking her hair to the sides, holding it, parting it, with clenched fists thrust behind her, twisting, her body thrust forward, her beauty was suddenly, it seemed as though by command, or by the action of another, brazenly bared. "Good!" said more than one man. There was a striking of shoulders in Gorean applause. Even some of the slave girls cried out with pleasure. The girl had done it well. Then she was again dancing among the tables. Her movements gave much pleasure. She entertained well. If Samos had known she would prove this good he might have put her in bells or a chain. I doubted that some of the things she had done, in all their abundance and richness, had been merely thought up on the spur of the moment. I suspected that many times in here dreams and fantasies she had danced thus before men, as a slave. Then, lo, one night in Port Kar she found herself truly a slave, and so dancing, and for her life.
       As the music neared its climax she returned before our table, dancing desperately and pleadingly. It was there that was to be found her master. She lowered herself to the floor and there, on her knees, and her sides, and her belly and back, continued her dance. Men cried out with pleasure. Floor movements are among the most stimulatory aspects of slave dance.
       I regarded her. She was not bad. She was, of course, not trained. A connoisseur of slave dance, I suppose, might have pointed out errors in the pointing of a toe, the extension of a limb, the use of a hand, not well framing the body, not subtly inviting the viewer's eye inward, and so on, but, on the whole, she was definitely not bad. Given her lack of training, a lack which could, of course, be easily remedied, she was not bad, really. Much of what she did, I suppose, is instinctual in a woman. Too, of course, she was dancing for her life. She writhed well, an utterly helpless, begging slave.
       Then the music was finished and she was before us, kneeling, her head down, in submission to Samos. She lifted her head to regard Samos, her master. She searched his face fearfully, for the least sign of her fate. It was he who would decide whether she would live or die. — Players of Gor, pages 21-27.

The best dancers on Gor are those of Port Kar. Perhaps it is their harsher slavery that creates the intensity of their dancing, their slavery. The dancing girls of Port Kar are highly sought.

"The dancing girls of Port Kar are said to be the best of all Gor. They are sought eagerly in the many cities of the planet. They are slave to the core, vicious, treacherous, cunning, seductive, sensuous, dangerous, desirable, excruciatingly desirable." — Raiders of Gor, page 100.

Here is an interesting description of a dance from the Schendi, in which several girls dance at once.

"She was skillful and, I suspected, from the use of the hands and beads, had been trained in Ianda, a merchant island north of Anango. Certain figures are formed with the hands and beads which have symbolic meaning, much of which was lost upon me, as I was not familiar with the conventions involved. Some, however, 1 had seen before, and had been explained to me. One was that of the free woman, another of the whip, another of the yielding, collared slave. Another was that of the thieving slave girl, and another of the girl summoned, terrified, before - the master. Each of these, with the music and followed by its dance expression, was very well done. Women are beautiful and they make fantastic dancers. One of the figures done was that of a girl, a slave, who encounters one who is afflicted with plague. She, a slave, knows that if she should contract the disease she would, in all probability, be summarily slain. She dances her terror at this. This was followed by the figure of obedience, and that by the figure of joy." — Explorers of Gor, page 133.

Accoutrements for Dancing

A variety of clothing and accessories are often utilized by the slave girl in her dance. Not always may a slave girl use such accessories or be clothed while dancing, however. As with everything regarding a slave, it is up to the will of the master and his desires. There are myriad costumes and styles of dancing silks. A few examples I've provided here.

"As I mused, Talena stepped forth from behind the silk curtain. I had thought she had retired. Instead, she stood before me in the diaphanous, scarlet dancing silks of Gor. She had rouged her lips. My head swam at the sudden intoxicating scent of a wild perfume. Her olive ankles bore dancing bangles with tiny bells. Attached to the thumb and index finger of each hand were tiny finger cymbals. She bent her knees ever so slightly and raised her arms gracefully above her head. There was a sudden bright clash of the finger cymbals, and, to the music of the nearby tent, Talena, daughter of the Ubar of Ar, began to dance for me." — Tarnsman of Gor, pages page 134.

Dancing Bangles and Bells
Usually tiny bells or beads to shine or jingle, in order to draw the attention to a slave's ankles.

"Low on her hips she wore, on a belt of rolled cloth, yellow dancing silk, in Turian drape, the thighs were bare, the front right corner of the skirt thrust behind her to the left, the back left lower corner of the skirt thrust into the rolled belt at her right hip. She was barefoot; there were golden bangles, many of them, on her ankles, more on her left ankle. She wore a yellow-silk halter, hooked high, to accentuate the line of her beauty." — Tribesmen of Gor, page 87.

"… golden chains looped from her wrists, gracefully to the collar ring, then fell to her ankles; there are varieties of Tahari dancing chains; she wore the oval and collar; briefly, in readying a girl, after she has been belled and silked, and bangled, and has been made up, and touched with slave perfume, she kneels, head down in a large oval of light gleaming chain, extending her wrists before her; fastened at the sides of the top of the oval are two wrist rings, at the sides of the lower loop of the oval two ankle rings…" — Tribesmen of Gor, page 215.

"Bells, too, marked these movements. I was belled. These I had fastened, in three lines, they fastened on a single thong, about my left ankle. Men, I sensed, somehow, would relish an ornamented woman, perhaps even one who was shamefully belled." — Dancer of Gor, pages 24-25.

Dancing Collar
Often a jeweled collar is given to a slave to wear over the collar of her owner while she dances; traditional in the Tahari.

"She wore a golden metal dancing collar about her throat, golden chains looped from her wrists, gracefully to the collar ring, then fell to her ankles; there are varieties of Tahari dancing chains; she wore the oval and collar; briefly, in readying a girl, after she has been belled and silked, and bangled, and has been made up, and touched with slave perfume, she kneels, head down in a large oval of light gleaming chain, extending her wrists before her; fastened at the sides of the top of the oval are two wrist rings, at the sides of the lower loop of the oval two ankle rings; the oval is then pulled inward and the wrist and ankle rings fastened on the slave; her throat is then locked in the dancing collar, which has, under the chin, an open snap ring: with the left hand the oval is then gathered together, so the two strands of chain lie in the palm of the left hand, whence, lifted, they are placed inside the snap ring, which is then snapped shut, and locked; the two strands of chain flow freely in the snap ring; accordingly, though the girl's wrists and ankles are fastened at generous, though inflexible limits from one another, usually about a yard for the wrists and about eighteen inches for the ankles, much of the chain may be played through, and back through, the collar ring; this permits a skillful girl a great deal of beautiful chain work: the oval and collar is traditional in the Tahari; it enhances a girl's beauty; it interferes little with her dance, though it imposes subtle, sensuous limits upon it; a good dancer uses these limits, exploiting them deliciously; for example, she may extend a wrist, subtly holding the chain at her waist with her other hand; the chain slides through the ring, yet short of the expected movement; the chain stops her wrist; her wrist rebels, but is helpless; it must yield; her head falls; she is a chained slave girl. … All eyes were upon her. Aside from her jewelries, her bells, the oval and collar, the cosmetics, the heady slave perfume, she wore six ribbons of silk, yellow, three before and three behind, some four feet in length, descending from her collar." — Tribesmen of Gor, page 215.

"I watched her, in the training sand, dancing to hide drums, naked, in slave bracelets and jeweled dancing collar." — Captive of Gor, page 174.

Dancing Silks
Usually of scarlet in color, but other colors are seen, such as purple and yellow, these diaphanous silks cling to a girl's form to enhance her slave curves and swirl about her to delight the eyes.

"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." — Tribesmen of Gor, page 8.

"All eyes were on the dark-haired dancer, the skirt of diaphanous scarlet dancing silk low upon her hips." — Tribesmen of Gor, page 25.

"Low on her hips she wore, on a belt of rolled cloth, yellow dancing silk, in Turian drape, the thighs were bare, the front right corner of the skirt thrust behind her to the left, the back left lower corner of the skirt thrust into the rolled belt at her right hip. She was barefoot; there were golden bangles, many of them, on her ankles, more on her left ankle. She wore a yellow-silk halter, hooked high, to accentuate the line of her beauty." — Tribesmen of Gor, page 87.

Finger Cymbals
Also called zills, these small instruments are often used by dancers unaccompanied by musicians.

Warm-Ups and Practice

As would any athlete, a slave prepares herself for dancing, with warm-up exercises, and daily fitness routines to keep her in shape. The only exception to this rule would be in the case of the slave who dances for her life.

"I moved, warming up, preparing my muscles. I was intent, and careful. A dancer, of course, does not simply begin to dance. That can be dangerous. She warms up. It is like an athlete warming up, I suppose. As I warmed up, I could hear the jewelry on me, the tiny sounds of the skirt. Bells, too, marked these movements. I was belled. These I had fastened, in three lines, they fastened on a single thong, about my left ankle. Men, I sensed, somehow, would relish an ornamented woman, perhaps even one who was shamefully belled." — Dancer of Gor, pages 24-25.

The practice and training of the dancer is often well motivated by the lash of the whip. Note, that the dance trainer is a man.

"These women," said Hermidorus, "are practicing their floor movements." A trainer stood among them, with a whip. Occasionally he would snap this whip near a girl. I did not doubt but what the girls on the tiles, if they were found sufficiently displeasing to the trainer, or too frequently required the admonitory signal of the cracking leather, would soon hear the snap of the lash not in their mere vicinity but on their own bared bodies. Two of the girls, I saw, had stripes on them, one on the thigh, and one on the side. The trainer was not now paying them much attention. They were now, apparently, doing well. — Kajira of Gor, pages 142-143.

Because of the subtle movements of dance, each one might be practiced for several hours. Dancing Girl Note in the case of Alyena, her instructor was another slave.

"Her lessons, which had been intensive, once we had arrived at the Oasis of Nine Wells, had cost little, and had, in my opinion, much increased her value, doubling or tripling it. The modest cost of the lessons had been, in my opinion, an excellent investment. My property had now increased, considerably, in value. But most credit, surely, had to go to the girl herself. With fantastic diligence had she applied herself to her lessons, and practices. Even so small a thing as the motion of the wrist she had practiced for hours. Her teacher was a caf� slave girl, Seleenya, rented from her master; her musicians were a flutist, hired early, and, later, a kaska player, to accompany him." — Tribesmen of Gor, pages 109.

In this quote, the slave girl is learning to dance, using the pole as the instrument of instruction.

The whip cracked, and I jumped. But it had not touched the girl, only startled her. She knelt behind the dark, smooth post, facing it, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts against it, her hands embracing it.
       "This may be done to music," said Hermidorus, "and, as you know, there are many versions to the post dance, or pole dance, singly, or with more than one girl, with or without bonds, wand so on, but here we are using it merely as a training exercise.
       The whip cracked again and the girl, suddenly and lasciviously, became active. I gasped.
       She began to writhe about the pole. "Kiss it, caress it, love it!" commanded the trainer, snapping the whip. "Now more slowly, now scarcely moving, now use your thighs, and breasts more, moving all about it, holding it. Touch it with your tongue, lick it! Use the inside of your thighs more, your breasts, turn about it, slowly, sensuously. Lift your hands above your head, palms to the pole, caressing it. Turn about the pole! Twist about it! Now to your knees, holding it!" He then cracked the whip again. "Enough!" he said. She was then as she had been before, kneeling behind the post, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts pressed against it, her hands embracing it. The girl was looking at me. She was wondering, perhaps, if I were the next to be put to the post. I looked away, angrily. Did she not know I was not a lowly thing like she? Did she not know I was free? "It is a useful exercise," said Hermidorus to Drusus.
       "Obviously," agreed Drusus.
       I looked back at the girl. She was now looking away. I looked at the post. It was dark, and shiny. It had been polished smooth, apparently, by the bodies of many girls. — Kajira of Gor, pages 141-142.

Beginning the Dance

Many dances start in a basic position in which the woman stands and lifts Basic Beginning Dance Position her hands over her head, then place the backs of each hand against each other, palms facing outward, with knees flexed gently. It's a pose that demonstrates submission with a superb graciousness to it. The woman is soft, helpless, beautiful, preparing to show the men that she is indeed worth their glances and attentions, that indeed she deserves to live. The dancer in the picture here demonstrates the proper pose.

"I stood before them 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." — Dancer of Gor, page 190.

Closing the Dance

The dances of the slave girl generally end in postures of complete submission.

"Then it finished in a swirl and I spun and sank to my knees before them, my head down, my hands on my thighs, in a common ending position for such a dance. Never before, however, I think, had I been so suddenly and deeply struck with the meaning of this ending position, it following the beauty of the dance, its presentation of the dancer in a posture of submission." — Dancer of Gor, page 32.

"Yesterday, at the conclusion of my last lesson, when in a swirl of music, I had lowered myself to the floor, in a dancer's posture of abject submission before men, I had heard several of them cry out with approval, and strike their left shoulders repeatedly, fiercely, with the palms of their hands." — Dancer of Gor, page 168.

The Slave Dances

There are many slave dances discussed in the books. Some of them, however, were not clearly defined, or expanded upon. What information is provided, I have placed below.

"Free" [Form] Dances
This refers to various dances which have no fixed-form, and are created by the slave girl depending upon the situation. One example is the whip dance, which is generally free form.

"Most placatory dances, however, are not fixed-form dances, but are 'free' dances, in which the slave, exquisitely alert to the nuances of the situation, the particular master, the nature of his displeasure, the gravity of her offense, and such, improvises, doing her best to assuage his anger and beg his forgiveness, to reassure him of the authenticity of her contrition and the genuineness of her desire to do better." — Dancer of Gor, page 332.

"I am not a dancer, Mistress," said Susan, "nor are most who perform the dance. It is not even, really, a dance. One simply has one's clothes taken away, and then one moves before strong, powerful men as such men would have a woman move before them. Then when one is sufficiently pleased, he indicates this and you serve his pleasures. Sometimes on tries different things, for example, on or about furniture, on your back, on your belly, hoping to find something that they will respond to. Sometimes they give you explicit commands or instructions. Sometimes they guide you, or help you, sometimes by the whip, sometimes by expressions or cries. At other times, the girl listens, so to speak, to the slave fires in her belly and seems to become one with them and the dance, and then soon must beg the brutes in her dance and by her piteous expressions and gestures, to relieve the merciless tensions in her body to complete the cruel cycle of arousal, allowing her to receive them and submit to them, the masters, in the spasmodic surrender of the helpless slave." — Kajira of Gor, page 160.

Bead Dance
This dance is a cultural dance of the Ushindi region. In this dance, the slave uses her hands and beads to form symbolic figures while in dance. These figures can represent many things, such as a slave's yielding.

"I then gave my attention to the dancer, a sweetly hipped black girl in yellow beads. She was skillful and, I suspected, from the use of the hands and beads, had been trained in Ianda, a merchant island north of Anango. Certain figures are formed with the hands and beads which have symbolic meaning, much of which was lost upon me, as I was not familiar with the conventions involved. Some, however, I had seen before, and had been explained to me. One was that of the free woman, another of the whip, another of the yielding, collared slave. Another was that of the thieving slave girl, and another of the girl summoned, terrified, before the master. Each of these, with the music and followed by its dance expression, was very well done. Women are beautiful and they make fantastic dancers. One of the figures done was that of a girl, a slave, who encounters one who is afflicted with plague. She, a slave, knows that if she should contract the disease she would, in all probability, be summarily slain. She dances her terror at this. This was followed by the figure of obedience, and that by the figure of joy." — Explorers of Gor, pages 133-134.

Belt Dance
The belt dance is performed with a Warrior. The name of the dance is based on the fact that the girl's head is not supposed to rise above the Warrior's belt. However, it is deemed that only purists concern themselves with such constraints. The most important thing that it is imperative that the girl never rise to her feet

"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. …
       "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. About her throat, close-fitting and snug, there was a white-enameled collar, a lock collar. She no longer wore the band of steel on her left ankle. …
       "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 more wild. The dance receives its name from the fact that the girl's head is not supposed 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." — Assassin of Gor, pages 185-188.

"The girl in the sand, the dancing girl, was now performing the Belt Dance. I had seen it done once before, in Ar, in the house of Cernus, a slaver." — Raiders of Gor, page 106.

Brand Dance
The Brand Dance is not really expanded upon in the books. One would assume that this dance would be performed by a girl just before her branding, perhaps begging for the kiss of the heated iron. Or, too, this dance could be performed afterwards, the slave girl expressing what the brand means in her absolute submission.

"Already a large, curtained enclosure had been set up near the slave wagon. For a fee, the proprietor of the wagon would permit visitors. These arrangements irritated me somewhat, for customarily the chain dance, the whip dance, the love dance of the newly collared slave girl, the brand dance, and so on, are performed openly by firelight in the evening, for the delight of any who care to watch." — Nomads of Gor, page 147.

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 to demonstrate her complete, total submission and acceptance of being a slave. The chain is wrapped around her body, she writhing and fighting at first, but, being kajira, succumbing in the end to her desire and the fire within her belly, finally rejoicing at having the chain around her slave's heart. In alternate forms of chain dance, a man may hold the end of a length of chain, shortening or lengthening it as he sees fit, until the slave is at last drawn powerlessly to his grasp.

"If you wish," she said, "I will dance the Whip Dance for you, or the Chain Dance." — Tarnsman of Gor, page 135.

"I served muchly that afternoon, and five times did I dance. Sometimes in my dance I made use of the chain, sometimes pretending, to the music, to fight it, a fight which I had to lose, or not to understand it, looking to the men then, as though they might explain its meaning to me; they did, with raucous cries; sometimes I used it to caress me, with the soft, lovely chain caresses of bondage, to which I, whimpering, responded; sometimes I seemed to confine myself variously, seemingly sometimes more strictly, more helplessly, more mercilessly, with it; sometimes I kissed it and caressed it, gratefully and lovingly expressing therein the welling up within me of my joy at finding myself at last in my rightful place in nature; there is much that one can do with a chain. Once a free woman came to watch, for a moment, I dared not meet her eyes, but, too, I did not falter in my dance, or beauty; indeed, I tried to show her, lovingly, as one woman to another, what a woman could be, even a lowly slave, especially a lowly slave. She hurried away, trembling with her robes. I wondered if sometimes she, too, would care to wear a collar, and move so before men." — Dancer of Gor, page 285.

"The drummer and the flautist prepared once more to play. The girl in the long, light chain smiled at me. She, at any rate, was pleased by my response. A wrist ring was fastened on her right wrist. The long, slender, gleaming chain was fastened to this and, looping down and up, ascended gracefully to a wide chain ring on her collar, through which it freely passed, thence descending, looping down, and ascending, looping up, gracefully, to the left wrist ring. If she were to stand quietly, the palms of her hands on her thighs, the lower portions of the chain, those two dangling loops, would have been about at the level of her knees, just a little higher. The higher portion of the chain, of course, would be at the collar loop. The musicians began again to play. There is much that can be done with such a chain. It was a dancing chain. Its purpose was not to confine the girl but to allow her to incorporate it in her dance, enhancing the dance with its movements and beauty. It is, of course, symbolic of her bondage, this adding fantastic dimensions of significance to the dance. It is not merely a beautiful woman who dances, but one who can be bought and sold, one who is subject to male ownership. Too, of course, the wrist rings, and the collar, are truly locked on her. There is no doubt about it. It is a slave, with all that that means, who is dancing." — Kajira of Gor, pages 142-143.

"For all his uproarious stomping about the wagon last night, Paga bottle in hand, singing gusty Tuchuk songs, half frightening Miss Cardwell to death, he seemed in good spirits, looking about, whistling, occasionally pounding a little rhythm on the side of his saddle. I would not tell Miss Cardwell but the rhythm was the drum rhythm of the Chain Dance. I gathered Kamchak had his mind on Aphris of Turia, and was, perilously to my mind, counting his wenches before he had won them." — Nomads of Gor, page 112.

"Already a large, curtained enclosure had been set up near the slave wagon. For a fee, the proprietor of the wagon would permit visitors. These arrangements irritated me somewhat, for customarily the chain dance, the whip dance, the love dance of the newly collared slave girl, the brand dance, and so on, are performed openly by firelight in the evening, for the delight of any who care to watch." — Nomads of Gor, page 147.

"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 tarnish. 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.
       "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; some stately, some simple; some proud, some piteous; but each time, as the common thread, she is drawn closer to the caped 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." — Nomads of Gor, pages 159-161.

Contrition Dance
A placatory dance of Turia. See "Placatory Dance."

Contrition:
       "The state of being contrite; repentance."
       Contrition:
       Etymology: Middle English contrit, from Middle French, from Medieval Latin contritus, from Latin, past participle of conterere to grind, bruise, from com- + terere to rub;
       "1 : grieving and penitent for sin or shortcoming
       2 : proceeding from contrition." — Merriam-Webster Dictionary ©2006

"There are many forms of placatory dances which are performed by female slaves. Some of these tend to have rather fixed forms, sanctioned by custom and tradition, such as the stately 'Contrition Dance' of Turia." — Dancer of Gor, page 332.

Dance of Beauty
This is never spoken of as a dance of its own, named or structured, but rather the usage of the terms "dance your beauty" being more an expression of the dancer illustrating in detail her submission in its beauty, her willingness to be pleasing and to be touched. "Dance your beauty" is the general core of every slave dance. In the following quote, the slave girl here had climaxed a pole dance, and instructed to dance free style. She was coaxed then to dance the beauty of her body to an important guest.

"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 masters.
       "You discipline her well," said Samos, smiling. I grinned.
       The girl now, on her belly, yet subtly to the music, crawled toward us, lifted her hand piteously to us. … — Tribesmen of Gor, page 28.
       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 bands 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 such time again, to the music, she lifted her body to an erect kneeling position. The last position 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 the 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. … — Tribesmen of Gor, page 29.
       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. … — Tribesmen of Gor, page 33.

Dance of the Sa-eela
The Sa-eela is one of the most moving, deeply rhythmic and erotic of the free-form slaves dances of Gor. It belongs, generally to the genre of dances commonly known as the Lure Dances of the Love-Starved Slave Girl. The common theme of this dance, of course, is the attempt on the part of a neglected slave to call herself to the attention of the master. The Sa-eela, usually performed in the nude, and is considered one of the most powerful of slave dances of Gor. There is no standardization to this dance; not only can the dances differ from city to city, but even from tavern to tavern, and from girl to girl. This is because each girl, in her own way, brings the nature of her own body, her own dispositions, her own sensuality and needs, her own personality, to the dance. This dance provides the slave girl wondrous outlet for deeply intimate self-expression. It is such a profound dance that free women are forbidden to watch.

The Sa-eela consists of three phases, as outlined below:

First phase
In this phase, the dancer exhibits her frustrations of being enclosed in an imaginary cell or pen, only to be "summoned" to dance. In her haste, the dancer prepares herself for the men. It ends with her being "bound" and "led" from the imaginary pen, only to find herself once again confined, that she daydreamed this illusion.

Second phase
In this phase, the girl realizes that there indeed are men coming for her. At first, she will show disdain, but when they don't fall for her feign of hard-to-get, she will throw herself to the floor and piteously beg to perform. These "men" will lift her to her feet and "bind" her to deliver her to the dance floor.

Third phase
(Also known as the "Display Phase")
The final phase of the Sa-eela, the girl will be fully naked, save for the collar, and will attempt to arouse the interest of her master. The girl calls attention to the various aspects of her beauty from head to toe, each unique beautiful thing of her (fingers, toes, hair, eyes, lips, ankles, etc.). The slave, in effect, puts herself at the mercy of the master. She displays herself before him rather as an object in which he might take an interest. The girl will in her helplessness and desperation, as well as her sensual splendor, will dancing her own passions, her own needs and desires, without restraint, compromise, reservations or inhibitions.

The Sa-eela, usually performed in the nude, as though by a low slave, and by a girl freed of all impediments, except her collar, is one of the most powerful of the slave dances of Gor. It is done rather differently in different cities but the variations practiced in the river towns and, generally, in the Vosk basin, are, in my opinion, among the finest. There is no standardization, or little standardization, for better or for worse, in Gorean slave dance. Not only can the dances differ from city to city, and town to town, and even from tavern to tavern, but they are likely to differ, too, even from girl to girl. This is because each girl, in her own way, brings the nature of her own body, her own dispositions, her own sensuality and needs, her own personality, to the dance. For the woman, slave dance is a uniquely personal and creative art form. Too, of course, it provides her with a wondrous modality for deeply intimate self-expression. "'They all wear collars," is the first portion of a familiar exchange, of which Goreans are fond. The second, and concluding, portion of the exchange is, "But each in her collar is different." This exchange, I think, makes clear the attitude of the Gorean toward the slave girl. In one sense she is nothing, and is to be treated as such, but, in another sense, she is precious, and is everything. — Guardsman of Gor, page 260 .
       Peggy now danced upon her knees, at the end of the table, using the table in the dance, thrusting her belly against it, and touching it with her hands, and her body and lips. … I smiled. The Sa-eela, of course, is not the sort of dance which could be performed by a free woman.
       Peggy, then, was back from the table, on the tiles, on her back, and sides, and knees, and then prone, and then again, supine, and then writhing, as though in frustration and loneliness. I observed the dancer, closely, the striking of her small, clenched fists on the tiles, the scratching of her fingernails at their smooth surfaces, the turning of a hip, the flattening of a thigh, the lifting of a knee, the turning of her head, the piteous scattering of her hair from side to side. She lay on her back, and, whimpering, struck down, in misery, stinging the palms of her hands, bruising her small heels. She might have been in a cell, locked away from men.
       She then rolled to her stomach, and rose to her hands and knees, and, head down, remained for a moment in that posture. It is at this moment that the music enters a different melodic phase, one less physical and frenzied, one almost lyrical in its poignancy. She crawls some feet to her left and lifts her bead. She puts out her small hand. It seems that it there encounters some barrier, some enclosing, confining wall. She then rises to her feet. Swiftly she hurries about, in the graceful, frightened haste of the dancer, her hands seeming to trace the location of the obdurate barriers, those invisible walls which seemed to contain her. She then stood and faced us, and put her head in her hands, bent over, and then straightened her body, her head and hair thrown back. "I?" she seemed to ask, looking out, as though some rude jailer might have come to the gate of her pen. But there is, of course, no one there, and, in the performance of the dance, that is clearly understood. Then, in poignant fantasy, within the pen, she prepares herself for the master, seeming to thoughtfully select silks and jewelry, seeming to apply perfume and cosmetics, seeming to be bedecked in shimmering, diaphanous slave splendor. She then crosses her wrists, and moves them, as though they have been bound. She then extends them before her as though the strap on them had been drawn taut. It then seems that she, head high, a bound slave, is being led on her tether from the pen. But, at the gate, of course, her wrists separate, and her small palms and fingers indicate for us, clearly, that she is still confined. She retreats to the center of the pen, falls to her knees, covers her head with her hands, and weeps.
       The next phase of the music begins at this point.
       She looks up. There is a sound in the corridor, beyond the gate. She leaps up, and backs against the wall of her pen. This time, it seems, truly, there are men there, that they have come for her. She puts her head up; she turns away; she feigns disdain. Then, it seems, as she, startled, looks about, they are turning away. She then throws herself to her belly on the floor of the pen, calling to them, lifting her head, holding out her hand piteously to them. She pleads to be considered.
       It then seems, as she shrinks back, lifting herself to the palms of her hands, frightened, that the gate to her pen has been opened. She kneels swiftly in the position of the pleasure slave. Obviously she fears her rude jailers. Twice, it seems she is struck with a whip. Then she, again, assumes the position of the pleasure slave. She nods her head. She understands well what is expected of her. She is to perform well on the tiles of the feasting hall. "Yes, Masters!" it seems she says. But how little do her jailers, perhaps only common and boorish fellows, understand that this is precisely what she, too, deeply and desperately desires to do. How long she has waited, in cruel frustration, unfulfilled and lonely, in her cell for just such a moment, that precious opportunity in which she, a mere slave, may be permitted to display and present herself for the consideration of her master. How can they understand the poignancy, and significance, of this moment for her? She is to have an opportunity to present herself before the master! Who knows if she, in such a large house, one with such cells and jailers, may ever again be given such an opportunity?
       It then seems that she is hauled to her feet and that her wrists, tightly and cruelly, are bound behind her back. Her body and head are then bent far over. Her head twists. It seems a man's hand is in her hair. Not as a high slave, clothed in Jewelries and shimmering silks, tastefully bound, is she to be conducted to the site of her performance, some aristocratic banquet; rather, cruelly bound and nude, she is to be thrown before masters at a drunken feast. She then, with small, hurried steps, bent over, described a wide circle on the tiles. Then, it seemed, she was thrown to her knees, and then her side, before us. Her hands were still held as though tightly bound behind her. She looked at us. We were, of course, the "masters," before whom she was to perform. She rose to her feet. She twisted, as though her hands were being untied. She then flexed her legs and lifted her hands over her head, as she had in the beginning, back to back.
       The final phases of the Sa-eela then begin.
       In these phases the girl, in all her unshielded beauty, and naked except for the collar of slavery, attempts to arouse the interest of her master. — Guardsman of Gor, pages 261-264.
       She had now entered into the display phase of the Sa-eela. In this portion of the dance the girl calls attention to the various aspects of her beauty, from the swirling sheen of her cascading hair to her ankles, from her small feet to her tiny, fine fingers. — Guardsman of Gor, page 264.
       Free women, incidentally, are seldom permitted to witness dances of the erotic power of the Sa-eela. The major reason for this, interestingly, is not that they might be offended or outraged, but for their own protection. Many times lovely, young free women, sometimes thinking that they have cleverly disguised themselves, donning male garments, pretending to be boys, thus seeking admission to the dances, find themselves set upon and stripped. Soon, in chains and well ravished, they find themselves as much slaves as the dancer. Perhaps, in their turn, too, they will be taught to dance. On their way to the market they may, if they wish, reflect upon what they, at that time, are likely to regard as their folly. Later, at the feet of a strong man, they may become clearer on the nature of the motivations that took them to such a performance in the first place. They were courting slavery, begging, in their way, for the steel of the collar, pleading to be subject, if they were not pleasing, to the cut of the whip. They had not truly been free women; they had only been, unbeknownst to themselves, slaves in search of their masters. — Guardsman of Gor, pages 264-265 .
       The music now, pounding and throbbing, mounted headily toward the climax of the Sa-eela. In these, the final portions of the Sa-eela, the slave, in effect, puts herself at the mercy of the Master. She has already presented before him, almost in a delectable enumeration, many of the more external and rhythmic aspects of her beauty. She has displayed herself hitherto before him rather as an object in which, hopefully, he might take an interest. A woman may do this, of course, from many motives, such as fear or her desire to be purchased by an affluent master, only one of which might be her authentic, poignant desire to be found pleasing by him, for her own sake. In such displays there can be, though there often is not, a subtle psychological distinction, detectable in the behavior, between the merchandise, so to speak, and the girl who is displaying herself as merchandise. In the first case, where no true distinction exists, which is the authentic case, the girl, in effect, says, "I am for sale. Buy me, and love me!"
       In the second case, the girl, in effect, says, "Here is a fine slave. Are you not interested in her?" In the second case, of course, the Gorean is interested, though the girl may not understand this clearly, in not only the merchandise but the girl who is displaying the merchandise. She might truly be terrified if she understood that it was she herself he intended to own, and, in fact, was going to own, she the exhibitor of the merchandise as well as she, the merchandise exhibited. Goreans, as I have mentioned, are interested in owning the whole woman, in all her sweetness, depth, complexity and individuality. They, and their whips and chains, settle for nothing less. To think of the imbonded woman as a slave object is in one sense quite correct, but, in another sense, it is a perversion of, and a failure to understand, the intimate and beautiful relations which can exist between masters and slaves.
       The girl now, in all her helplessness, in all her desperation, in all her sensual splendor, was dancing not aspects or attributes of her beauty before her master, but was dancing her own passions, her own needs and desires, her own piteous, needful, beautiful, intimate and personal self before him. There were no restraints, no reservations, no compromises, no divisions or distinctions. Her needs were as exposed as her collared body. She danced herself before her master.
       The music swirled to its climax and Peggy, turning, flung herself to her back on the tiles before Callimachus of Port Cos. As the music struck its last, rousing note, she arched her back, and flexed her legs, and looked back at him, her right arm extended piteously back towards him. — Guardsman of Gor, pages 265-266.

Dance of Seduction
Very similar in nature to the Sa-eela, a girl dances her sexuality, her sensuality, before the master, in hopes of being the one chosen by the master to serve his pleasure or perhaps be purchased by him.

"To be sure," I said, "it would "In his arms," I laughed, "he "Yes," I said. "And doubtless, She tossed her head, and sniffed. I motioned her to her feet. The musicians began again, be difficult to compete for him unless you could dance."
"I do not even like him!" she cried. "He is a beast! He is a terrible person! Did you not see how he abused me?" would treat you only as a slave."
"Terrible," she wept.
To her indignation I felt her body. It was hot and wet. "Yes, pretty Alyena," I said to her, "I will have you taught to dance, for in your belly is slave fire."
"No!" she wept.
"Slave fire," I said. I then brushed down the curtain of the kurdah, as she cried out with rage, closing her within. … — Tribesmen of Gor, page 100.
Alyena, in dancing, sensed the power of Ibn Saran. It is not difficult for a female dancer, lightly clad, displaying her beauty, to detect where among those who watch her lies power. I am not sure precisely how this is done. Doubtless, to some extent, it has to do with richness of raiment. But even more, I suspect, it has to do with the way in which they hold their bodies, their assurance, their eyes, as they, as though owning her, observe her. A woman finds herself looked upon very differently by a man who has power and one who does not. Instinctively, of course, to be looked upon by a man with power thrills a woman. They desire, desperately, to please him. This is particularly true of a slave girl, whose femaleness is most shamelessly and brazenly bared. Ibn Saran, languid, observed the dancer. His face betrayed no emotion. He sipped his hot black wine.
Alyena threw herself to the floor before him, moving to the music. I supposed she saw in him her "rich man," who would guarantee her a life in which she might be protected from the labors of the free woman of the Tahari, the pounding of grain with the heavy pestle, the weaving of cloth, the churning of milk in skin bags, the carrying of water, the herding of animals with sticks in the blistering heat. I saw her turn, and twist, and writhe, and move, and, on her belly, hold out her hand to him.
"Have you had to beat her often?" I asked Seleenya.
"No," said the slave girl. "I have never seen a girl so eager," she said.
"Play," said I to the musicians.
They played, until I, by lifting a finger, silenced them. At the same time, too, Alyena froze in the sand, her right hand high, left hand low, at her hip, her head bent to the left, eyes intent on the fingers of her left hand, as though curious to see if they would dare to touch her thigh; then she broke the pose, and threw back her head, breathing deeply. There was sand on her ankles and feet; perspiration ran down her body.
"Does your girl please you?" she asked. too," I said, "a young nomad would be pleased."
"I have no longer an interest in such as he," said she. She looked down, and bit her lip. "I know, Master," she said. "You will do with me exactly what you please, but I would bring a higher price, surely, if I were sold to a rich man." She knelt in the sand before me, in her sweat and bangles; she looked up, blue-eyed. "Please, Master," she said, "sell me to a rich man."
I signaled the musicians. She danced. I observed her. I thought it not unlikely this slave might stir the interest of a man of means. — Tribesmen of Gor, pages 101-102.
and again the girl danced. It was superb. And it was incredible. She did not yet know she was a true slave. What a little fool she was. I watched her move.
She smiled at me, disdainfully. I considered her blond hair, now wild about her head as, suddenly, she entered into a series of spins. Her gaze focused to the last moment on a spot across the room from her, and then, suddenly, on each spin, her head snapped about, and she again found the focus. Then she finished the spins, and froze, hands over her head, body held high, stomach in, right leg flexed and extended, toes only touching the floor. Then she was again in basic position. Her white skin, in itself, in the Tahari, would bring a good price. Blond hair and blue eyes, too, in this region, made her a rare specimen. But beyond these trivialities, though of considerable commercial import, was the fact that she was beautiful, both in face and figure. Her figure, though not full, was completely female, beautifully proportioned, and sweetly slung.
She was, in Earth measurements, I would guess, some five feet four inches in height. Her face was incredibly delicate, and her lips. Her face was extremely sensitive, and feminine. It was a face on which emotion could be easily read. Her lip was swift to tremble, her eyes swift to moisten, filling with bright tears. Her feelings were easily hurt, a valuable property in a slave girl. Too, she could not control her feelings, another excellent property in a slave girl. Her feelings, vulnerable, deep, exploitable, in her expressions and on her face, betrayed her, exposing her to men, and their amusement, as helplessly as her stripped beauty. They made her more easily controlled, more a slave. I had once seen her handwriting. It, too, was extremely feminine. I watched her dance. Too, in her belly, perhaps most important of all, burned slave fire. She would do quite well. She would bring a high price. Only a rich man, I speculated, would be able to afford her. … Behind me, as I thrust apart the beads, I heard the pounding of the drum, the kaska, the silence, then the sound, as the flutist, his hands on her body, to the sound of the drum, instructed the girl in the line-length and intensity of one of the varieties of pre-abandonment pelvic thrusts. — Tribesmen of Gor, pages 103-104.
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. I, too, in my way, though doubtless less skillful than the noble Ibn Saran, was a connoisseur of slave girls. For example, the dark-haired slave, she who was one of the matched et, she who was charged with the careful pouring of black wine, was a piece of delicious woman meat, a luscious, if inadequately disciplined piece of female flesh. To see her was to want her. — Tribesmen of Gor, pages 105-106.
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. Ibn Saran, magnanimously, gestured that she might rise, and she did so, standing before him, head high, breathing deeply. Ibn Saran looked at me. He smiled thinly. "An interesting slave," he said. — Tribesmen of Gor, pages 106-107.

Dance of the Six Thongs
In this dance, six men participate as well, each holding a length of binding fiber, which are attached to the girl at various points (each wrist and ankle, and two at the waist). The girl will then struggle in her dance, exhibiting terror and fury at first, before her submission. This dance is very similar to the Tether Dance.

"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.
       I glanced to Thura. I recalled that she had been caught in capture loops on the rence island, to unlike the two now about Sandra's waist. Thura was watching with eagerness. So, too, were all.
       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 a 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 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. — Raiders of Gor, pages 228-230.

Dance of the Tuchuk Slave Girl
There is not much information is given with regards to this particular dance, except for its name. However, it is described as "a savage spectacle" so most likely it is a dance in which the girl demonstrates perhaps, reluctance, fear, indignation, lust, et al in her movements. Of course, this dance is culture-specific to the Tuchuks, one of the nomadic plains tribes.

"At the height of one of her dances, called the Dance of the Tuchuk Slave Girl, Kamchak turned to Aphris of Turia, who was watching the dance, eyes bright, as astounded as I at the savage spectacle." — Nomads of Gor, page 99.

"One thing that I thought was nice was that Elizabeth had asked Sura about the dance she had begun to perform but could not finish, when we had first come to the house of Cernus, the dance which is accompanied by the Tuchuk slave song. Sura, who seemed to know everything, taught the rest of it, song and all, to her, and to the other girls. For good measure she also taught them the independent dance, sometimes called the Dance of the Tuchuk Slave Girl, which I had once seen performed at a banquet in Turia." — Assassin of Gor, page 205.

Drum Dance
This one quote is it! One can assume, being the person speaking is of the jungles, the drums would play a significant role in dancing. Culture-specific to the Ushindi region.

"I have not seen the performance of a drum dance in four moons," he said. — Beasts of Gor, page 165.

Gorean Slave Dance
This is the generic name for any of the thousands of different style of dances, some named, some unnamed, but each coming from within the slave girl dancing.

Leash Dance
Not a dance in the common sense of the word, but more of series of slave paces performed for the master. This would be used primarily on a woman new to slavery.

"Now," he said, "Lady Sheila, you are going to be leashed and then you are going to perform on your leash, and supply, and, after that, you are going to beg to please me, as a slave."
       "Yes, Master," I said.
       He then went to a chest and from it fetched forth a thick, plain, black-leather collar with a lock closure. It was a sturdy ring attached to this collar, and, attached to the ring, there was a long slave leash of black leather. It was some fifteen feet in length. In most leadings, of course, this amount of length would not be used, but would be coiled in the grasp of the master. The length is useful if the slave is expected to perform leash dances, is to be bound with the leash, or if, it doubled at the master's end, it is to be used to train or discipline her. …
       "I am now going to leash you," he said.
       "Yes, Master," I said.
       "Lift up your chin," he said.
       "Yes, Master," I said. I then felt the high, thick collar put about my neck, over the collar of Aemilianus. I could feel it snug under my chin. It was then snapped shut.
       "You are leashed," he said. … "Slip from the chair now," he said, "and go to all fours, and then, in this fashion, crawl ten feet away, and then turn and, in this fashion, face me."
       I hastened to obey. Then, in a moment or two, I faced him on all fours, the leash dangling from the collar, its end, as I had crawled, and turned, in front of me, a few feet from the foot of the chair. He had now taken his place on the chair. How right he seemed there, how lordly and masterful.
       "You will note," he said, "that you wear a common slave leash and collar. There is nothing unusual or valuable about them. The collar, for example, is neither set with sapphires nor is it trimmed with gold. The leash, similarly, is of plain, sturdy material. Both devices are quite ordinary, but, of course, quite efficient." — Kajira of Gor, pages 336-337.
       "You are now going to make as complete a circuit of the room as is practical," he said. "You will, where practical, kiss the walls at the corners, on each side of the corner, about five horts from the corner and about ten horts from the floor. Where you come to chests or furniture, you will treat them as extensions of the wall, kissing them at the corners, and so on. You will then return exactly to your present position."
       "Yes, Master," I said.
       "You may now leave," he said.
       "Yes, Master," I said. "Thank you, Master." I then began my journey. The kissing of inanimate articles, such as a master's sandals, or the tiles on which he has walked, is used in teaching a girl respect and reverence. There was something of this involved in his command, the having to kiss the walls of his room, the furniture there, and such, but the form of the command was presumably motivated primarily by the consideration that compliance with it would guarantee a full and adequate negotiation of the room's interior perimeter.
       I was then, after a time, again where I had been before on all fours, some ten feet from his chair, facing him. The leash, dangling from my collar, was now trailing behind me, between my legs.
       "Lift your head," he said. I did so. "Come forward five feet," he said, "and keep your head up." I complied. "Put your head down," he said. I complied. "To your belly," he said. I went to my belly. "Up again," he said, "to all fours." I complied. "Lift your head," he said. I did so. … "You may now bring me the end of the leash," he said "-in your teeth." — Kajira of Gor, page 338.
       "Does Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus, beg to perform on her leash for Miles, general of Argentum?" he inquired.
       Yes, Master," I said.
       He stood up, then, and, with a snap, shook out the leash, and then, looping it drew it back a bit towards him. He would play it out, or draw it in, as it pleased him, varying his perspective, and my distance from him, as I squirmed, and writhed and posed, from as little as an inch or two to the full length of the leash, something in the neighborhood of a full fifteen feet.
       "Perform," he said.
       "Yes, Master," I said, and performed. I performed as excitingly and seductively as possible.
       "More lewdly," he would sometimes say, "more salaciously, more lasciviously!"
       "Yes, Master!" I would try, and try to please him even more.
       He kept me on the leash for at least twenty Ehn and, in the latter portion of this time, commanded me. It seemed as if he made me move, and posed me, in almost every way in which a strong male might desire to see a human female, and I, of course, must conform perfectly to his wishes on my leash. He even took me about the room and to his couch. He made me do such things as grind my belly against the wall of the room and throw myself, on my belly and. back, over the great storage chest, wooden and iron-banded, at one side of the room. I remember the feel of the wood and iron. Too, he permitted me, even ordered me, upon his couch, there to continue my performances. I must first, of course, kneel at the lower left side of the couch and kiss the covers before being permitted to creep upon it. Then he drew me from the couch to the floor at its foot, near the slave ring. With one hand he flung covers to the floor there, on the tiles. He then pointed to a place on the tiles, out from the covers but in front of them. "A free person has walked here," he said. "Yes, Master," I said. I then, kneeling, put down my head and kissed the indicated place three times. — Kajira of Gor, page 339.

Love Dance of the Newly Collared Slave
The dance form varies from city to city, however the common theme of the dance is that of a girl new to her collar resigns herself and learns her joy of knowing she is owned.

"Already a large, curtained enclosure had been set up near the slave wagon. For a fee, the proprietor of the wagon would permit visitors. These arrangements irritated me somewhat, for customarily the chain dance, the whip dance, the love dance of the newly collared slave girl, the brand dance, and so on, are performed openly by firelight in the evening, for the delight of any who care to watch." — Nomads of Gor, page 147.

I turned to the musicians. "Do you know," I asked, "the Love Dance of the Newly Collared Slave Girl?"
       "Port Kar's?" asked the leader of the musicians.
       "Yes," I said. — Raiders of Gor, page 115.
       The Love Dance of the Newly Collared Slave Girl has many variations, in the different cities of Gor, but the common theme is that the girl dances her joy that she will soon lie in the arms of a strong master. — Raiders of Gor, page 116.

Love Dances of the Wagon Peoples
No names are given to these particular dances; they could be variations of the Dance of the Tuchuk Slave Girl, or perhaps several different dances. However, they are described as "savage" so most likely they are dances in which the girl demonstrates perhaps, reluctance, fear, indignation, lust, et al in her movements.

"You are slave," he said. "Dance for your masters." The girl looked at him gratefully and she, with the others, rose to her feet and to the astounding barbarity of the music performed the savage love dances of the Kassars, the Paravaci, the Kataii, the Tuchuks. — Nomads of Gor, page 98.

Suddenly she stepped back, threw back her head, thrust one leg to the side, and lifted her arms. Then, eyes closed, not moving, except the heel of the right foot, which beat the rhythm, she began to hum a Tuchuk slave song; on the second measure, her hands came to her hips and she opened her eyes, looking at me; on the third measure, her body began to move and, to the melody, she began to sway toward me; when I reached for her she swept back, and danced, her hands at the side of her head, fingers snapping with the melody. Then she stopped. "It's all I know," she informed me. — Assassin of Gor, page 56.

Mat Dance
Non-existent dance. I've seen this dance noted on webpages, however, there are no quotes to support this dance. I've seen the quote from Mercenaries of Gor page 60 (see top of this page) utilized as "support" for this non-existent dance. However, if you closely read the passage, Tarl is explaining to the slave he just commanded to dance, that music is not always necessary for a slave dance, wherein the girl simply writhes upon her back, belly, and rubbing against the men. In fact, not only were they visitors in an Alar camp, but the girl was not on a mat! Ever!

Need Dance
A very erotic and arousing dance, the need dance consists of five phases, which are:

First phase
This phase demonstrates a girl's true indifference to the men.

Second phase
In this phase, she begins to 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 begins to show doubts in her ability to please the masters around her, and her worthiness to be accepted as a kajira. She uses the dance to show her increasing need and anxiety.

Third phase
This phase she demonstrates her acceptance of her desires and her willingness to please the masters before her. The kajira will posture and present herself to the masters with a seemingly 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, showing even greater restlessness and need.

Fourth phase
also known as 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 masters that They might see the visible evidence of her need to be used by Them.

Fifth phase
also known as The Heat of the Slave Girl
In this phase 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 masters, begging Them to touch her and make her a slave completely, aching in her need and desire to be taken and raped.

I turned away and gave my attention to the slave writhing on the tiles before me. 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 is must be evident that she is beginning to feel her sexuality and drive, 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 invites them, so to speak to have her. But she has not yet been seized by an arm or an ankle 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 is she must continued 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 the 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. This 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. … — Rogue of Gor, pages 185-186
       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.
       "Master!" she whimpered. "Please Master!" Policrates glanced at her. He had scarcely paid her attention in the dance. "Throw me to your men, please Master," she begged.
       Policrates gestured to a brawny fellow who, coming up behind the girl bent down and by her upper arms, lifted her from the floor. She was helpless in his arms. Only her toes, well painted, scarlet nails, touched the floor. Policrates gestured gain to a table to the side, and the fellow, carrying the girl went to the table. He then threw her with a jangle of bells and a clatter of places and goblets to the surface of the table. Instantly the girl was held down on the table, on her back, her arms and legs held apart, and several men crowded about her. I heard her cry with pleasure. — Rogue of Gor, pages 187-188.

Placatory Dance
This dance is performed with the intent to assuage the anger of the master and beg his forgiveness. Generally a free form style of dance, there are, however, fixed forms of placatory dances, such as the famous "Contrition Dance" of Turia. New slaves are often taught some form of this dance early in training.

Placate
Etymology: Latin placatus, past participle of placare;
"To soothe or mollify especially by concessions; appease." — Merriam-Webster Dictionary ©2006

"There are many forms of placatory dances which are performed by female slaves. Some of these tend to have rather fixed forms, sanctioned by custom and tradition, such as the stately 'Contrition Dance' of Turia. Some form of placatory dance is usually taught to the girl in slave training. There is no telling when it might be needed. Though I had had, because of the relatively advanced state of my dancing skills, for a new slave, very little instruction in dance in the house of my first training. I had been taught at least that much. The form of placatory dance taught to a girl usually depends on the girl in question. For example, I had not been taught the stately 'Contrition Dance' of Turia. It has been felt that the nature of my body lent itself to a more desperate, needful, lascivious form of dance. I had been taught how to dance on my knees, for example, and, supplicatingly, on my back, and belly. Most placatory dances, however, are not fixed-form dances, but are 'free' dances, in which the slave, exquisitely alert to the nuances of the situation, the particular master, the nature of his displeasure, the gravity of her offense, and such, improvises, doing her best to assuage his anger and beg his forgiveness, to reassure him of the authenticity of her contrition and the genuineness of her desire to do better." — Dancer of Gor, page 332.

Pole Dance
In this dance, the girl dances against a pole, imaginary or real, depending on the culture or desire of the master. Using the pole as if it were her master, the slave girl writhes and gyrates against it, seeking to fulfill her needs and beg her master to use her mercilessly. The pole dance is often used as a learning tool to help slaves in training learn to sexually arouse and seduce a standing master. In certain cultures, as with the red savages, a girl might be tethered to the pole.

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; 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. … There was a clear note of the finger cymbals, sharp, deliberate, 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. … — Tribesmen of Gor, page 8.
       The dancer was now moving slowly to the music. … — Tribesmen of Gor, page 10.
       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 a hypothetical center of gravity, she moves, undulating, swaying, sometimes yielding to it in ecstasy, 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 shoulders lifted and fell; her hands touched her breasts and shoulders; 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 the finger cymbals, and the music began again, and again she moved, helpless on the pole. Men threw coins at her feet. … — Tribesmen of Gor, page 11.
       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. … — Tribesmen of Gor, page 12.
       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, to the misery of the blondish girl, she wafted the silk about her, immeshing her in its gossamer softness. I saw the parted lip, 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. … — Tribesmen of Gor, page 13.
       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 took her in my arms. Her head was back, her eyes closed. I pressed my lips to hers, and with my teeth cut her lip. She, and I, together, tasted the blood and rouge of her subjugation. She drew back slightly, blood at the side of her mouth. Fist by fist, my hand on the back of her small, delicious neck, preventing her from escaping, 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.… — Tribesmen of Gor, page 23.
       Those at the table paid us little attention. 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. … — Tribesmen of Gor, pages 25-26.
       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. I shall mention two such devices. There is, first, the bondage knot. Most Gorean slave girls have long hair. The bondage knot is a simple looped knot tied in the girl's hair and worn at the side of her right cheek or before her right shoulder. The girl approaches the master naked and kneels; the bondage knot soft, curled, fallen at the side of her right cheek or before her right shoulder. Another device, common in Port Kar, is for the girl 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. These devices, incidentally, may be used even by a slave girl who hates her master but 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; does he satisfy them; if it is his will, yes; if it is not his will, no. 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 her, 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 masters.
       "You discipline her well," said Samos, smiling. I grinned.
       The girl now, on her belly, yet subtly to the music, crawled toward us, lifted her hand piteously to us. … — Tribesmen of Gor, pages 27-28.
       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 bands 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 such time again, to the music, she lifted her body to an erect kneeling position. The last position 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 the 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. … — Tribesmen of Gor, page 29.
       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. … — Tribesmen of Gor, page 33.

Although this can be considered a pole dance, it bears many similarities to the tether dance as well. Please refer to the Tether Dance.

The hands of men, then, were at the necklaces about her throat, the ornaments. Her moccasins and leggings were removed. The golden strings were untied, and taken, which had bound her hair. Her hair was rapidly and deftly unbraided. The silver bracelets were slipped from her wrists. The soft-tanned shirtdress, with its designs, and beading and fringe, was then thrust over her head and pulled away. She now knelt absolutely naked, save for Canka's collar, among the men. Her knees were clenched closely together. Her hair, now loose, radiant in the sun, was spread and smoothed down her back. She was very white. She almost shone in the sun. not only was she quite fairly complexioned but, prior to her being adorned in her finery, now removed from her, she had been washed, and clipped, and groomed and scrubbed, apparently, as thoroughly and carefully as a prize kaiila. … — Blood Brothers of Gor, page 38.
       The girl whimpered as the two rawhide tethers were now, again, tied on her throat, below Canka's collar. … "Oh," cried the girl. One of the men, behind her, had thrown dust upon her. "Oh!" she sobbed, as two men, rather in front of her, one on each side, tossed, each, a double handful of dust upon her. She closed her eyes, blinking against the grit of the dust. Then she opened her eyes, and shrank back, for Cancega, with a shallow, rounded box, was crouching before her. The box contained some sort of black paste, or grease. She shuddered as Cancega, taking the material on his fingertips, applied it to her cheeks. He made three dark lines, about a finger's width each, on each cheek. There were signs, I supposed, for the Kaiila. Then he rubbed the material elsewhere, in smudges, upon her body, on her arms, and back, and breasts and belly, and on the tops of her thighs, on her calves, and, then, thrusting his hand between them, on the interior of her thighs.
       The girl regarded him, frightened, as he, intent, did this work. He then stood up. She knelt at his feet, looking up at him, frightened, her knees now again pressed closely together. Two men, with kaiila quirts, now stood behind the girl. She was not aware of their presence. I then realized what the men, doubtless, had in mind. I smiled.
       "Oh!" cried the girl, frightened, dismayed, as Cancega suddenly, with his foot, forced her knees widely apart. She did not dare close them. She now, for the first time in the afternoon, knelt as a slave.
       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 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 predictably, 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 grease that marked her as the property of the Kaiila. 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. … 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. … Winyela, by the neck tethers, was pulled against the poke. She seized it, and writhed against it, and licked at it. … 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 puller 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.
       I looked to Canka. He was a few yards away, astride his kaiila. He rode bareback. This is common in short rides about the village, or in going out to check kaiila. The prestige of the saddle, and its dressiness, is not required in local errands or short jaunts. Similarly, in such trips its inconvenience may be dispensed with. He watched Winyela dance. His dark eyes shone. He knew he was her master.
       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 shoulders down. Her red hair hung about the smooth, white wood. Her lips, again and again, pressed down upon it, in helpless kisses. — Blood Brothers of Gor, pages 39-41.
       Winyela, helplessly, piteously, danced her obeisance to the great pole, and, in this, to her masters, and to men. … I well understood, now, why free women could not be permitted to see such a dance. It was the dance of a slave. How horrified, how scandalized, they would have been. Better that they not even know such things could exist. Such dances, that such things could be, are doubtless best kept as the secrets of masters and slaves. Too, how furious, how outraged, they would be, to see how beautiful, how exciting and desirable another woman could be, a thousand times more beautiful, exciting and desirable than themselves, and one who was naught but a slave. But then how could any free woman compete with a slave, one who is truly mastered and owned?
       I watched Winyela dance. It was easy to see how free women could be almost insanely jealous of slaves, and how they could hate them so, so inordinately and deeply. Too, it was little wonder that slaves, helpless in their collars, so feared and dreaded free women. …
       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 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 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. …
       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. Her garments and jewelry, rolled in a bundle, were tied in what would be the lower fork of the pole. Two other objects, on long thongs, which were wrapped about the higher fork, were placed in the higher fork. Later, when the pole was et in the enclosure of the dance, the thongs would be unwrapped, and the two objects would hang beside the pole. Both were of leather. One was an image of a kailiauk. The other was an image of a man. The image of the man had an exaggerated phallus, thrust forth and nearly as long as an arm, of a sort common in primitive art. I was reminded by these things of the medicine of the pole, and of the great forthcoming dance, projected to take place about it. The medicine of the pole and dance had intimately to do, obviously, with such things as hunting, fertility and manhood. To the red savage the medicine world is very real.
       "You may get up," said Cuwignaka to Winyela. She was looking about herself, bewildered, apparently forgotten. She rose up and went to the side of Canka, astride his kaiila, her master. Men were lowering the medicine pole to the ground and breaking apart the tripods. Ropes had been put on the pole. Then, preceded by Cancega, with his medicine wand, uttering formula, followed by his two seconds, with their rattles, the pole, pulled on its ropes, being drawn by several kaiila, was dragged toward the camp. — Blood Brothers of Gor, pages 42-44.

In this quote, the slave girl is learning to dance, using the pole as the instrument of instruction.

The whip cracked, and I jumped. But it had not touched the girl, only startled her. She knelt behind the dark, smooth post, facing it, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts against it, her hands embracing it.
       "This may be done to music," said Hermidorus, "and, as you know, there are many versions to the post dance, or pole dance, singly, or with more than one girl, with or without bonds, wand so on, but here we are using it merely as a training exercise.
       The whip cracked again and the girl, suddenly and lasciviously, became active. I gasped.
       She began to writhe about the pole. "Kiss it, caress it, love it!" commanded the trainer, snapping the whip. "Now more slowly, now scarcely moving, now use your thighs, and breasts more, moving all about it, holding it. Touch it with your tongue, lick it! Use the inside of your thighs more, your breasts, turn about it, slowly, sensuously. Lift your hands above your head, palms to the pole, caressing it. Turn about the pole! Twist about it! Now to your knees, holding it!" He then cracked the whip again. "Enough!" he said. She was then as she had been before, kneeling behind the post, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts pressed against it, her hands embracing it. The girl was looking at me. She was wondering, perhaps, if I were the next to be put to the post. I looked away, angrily. Did she not know I was not a lowly thing like she? Did she not know I was free? "It is a useful exercise," said Hermidorus to Drusus.
       'Obviously," agreed Drusus.
       I looked back at the girl. She was now looking away. I looked at the post. It was dark, and shiny. It had been polished smooth, apparently, by the bodies of many girls. — Kajira of Gor, pages 141-142.

Submission Dance
In this dance, a free form dance, the slave girl demonstrates shedding her past as a free woman (or in the case of the quote below, an Earth "free" woman), using accoutrements to illustrate her story, culminating in her submission and joy as a slave girl.

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 another sip 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. … — Guardsman of Gor, page 247.
       The blond slave of Aemilianus then re-entered the room. 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. … 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. … — Guardsman of Gor, pages 247-248.
       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.
       "I do not understand this," said Miles of Vonda. "Is this meaningful?"
       I was almost overwhelmed. "It is very meaningful to me," I said. "Permit me, my friends, to explain. First, Glyco, in answer to your question, the garments she wears are much like, and are meant to suggest, the garments which a free woman may wear on Earth." "But they are slave garments," said Glyco. "See! The arms and the shoulders are bare!"
       "Nonetheless," I said, "on Earth free women may wear such garments."
       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.
       "They are slave garments," said Glyco.
       "True," I said, "but to understand what she is doing, you must understand that such garments, on Earth, are understood to be exquisite and lovely free-woman's garments."
       "Very well," said Glyco.
       "Too," I said, "they are, in this case, meant to remind me of, and resemble, the garments which she once wore, as a free woman, to a meeting with me. That is important."
       "I understand," said Glyco.
       "They would also be the garments in which, for the first time, to my knowledge, she had ever dared to explicitly express her femininity." …
       "Do the women on Earth not dare to express their femininity?" asked Glyco.
       "Observe the hair," I said.
       "It seems severe, tight, rigid, constricted, constrained," said Glyco.
       That is part of the costume, so to speak," I said, "of many male-imitating women. The straight lines and severity are supposed to suggest, I gather, efficiency and masculinity."
       "Interesting," said Glyco. "It is incongruous, of course, with the garment, which seems rather feminine." "Such incongruities," I said, "are not uncharacteristic of many Earth women. They can indicate ambiguities in self-images and confusions, in particular, as to their sexuality. There might, of course, I suppose, be many other reasons for them. For example, in some cases, they may represent that a transition is in progress toward femininity."
       "The cloth on the table and the candle," said Miles of Vonda, "are supposed to suggest to you the place of this meeting of which you spoke."
       "Yes," I said. "It was a place where food was served, and where one might engage in pleasant conversation."
       "A tavern?" asked Tasdron.
       "Not exactly," I said. There is no precise Gorean expression for a restaurant. "There were no paga slaves there, and no dancers."
       "Why would one go to such a place?" asked Miles of Vonda.
       "She went there that she might engage in delicate and intimate discourse with me," I said.
       "That she might offer herself to you as your slave?" asked Glyco.
       If so," I said, "that was not clearly understood at the time."
       "She appears then now before us," said Glyco, "much as she appeared then before you?"
       "Yes," I said, "though there are, of course, differences. For example, at that time, her throat was bare." The girl now wore a light white scarf twisted about her throat, the ends over her left shoulder. "Too," I said, "at that time she carried a small silver-beaded pouch."
       "I see," said Glyco.
       The girl did not now, of course, carry a purse. Slave girls are not permitted to carry such things. When shopping she carries the coins usually in her mouth or hand. Sometimes she ties them in a scarf about a wrist or ankle. Sometimes her master places them in a bag, which is then tied about her neck. Gorean garments, generally, incidentally, except for the garments of craftsmen, do not have pockets. Coins, and personal items, and such, are usually, by free persons, carried in pouches, which are usually concealed within the robes of a free woman, or slung about the waist, or shoulder, of a free man. The girl, then, to the music, moved gracefully, turning, her hands 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.
       "Now that is a slave's garment, obviously," said Glyco.
       "True," I admitted. But I smiled to myself, for I knew that such garments, on Earth, might be worn by free women. To be sure, on Earth, they were usually worn as undergarments, whereas, on Gor, such a garment, silken and smooth, with nothing beneath it, would be regarded as quite acceptable for a slave's street wear, particularly in warm weather. To be sure, of course, the color of the garment, on Gor, would not be likely to be white, but, commonly, red or yellow. White, on Gor, is a color commonly associated with virginity. It is, accordingly, worn by few slaves. 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 bad 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. Sometimes, if it amused me, I could tie her in them.
       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.
       "Ah," said more than one man. "Interesting," said Glyco.
       "The garments in which you now see her," I said, "are supposed to represent typical undergarments of an Earth female."
       "I see," said Glyco.
       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, pages 248-253.

Tether Dance
Considered to be one of the most beautiful dances on Gor, the slave girl is attached to a leather tether at her throat, the other end attached to a slave stake. She must then dance in such confines. Please refer to the Pole Dance where a red savage slave girl dances similarly.

She straightened herself. She smiled. Her eyes were moist. "What I am now going to do," she said, "I do fully and completely of my own free will. I have sexual needs. I shall exhibit the desperation of these needs before my master, in the hope that he will take pity on me and satisfy them. It is also a girl's hope that in what she does her maser will not find her fully displeasing."
       She then, gently, removed the bark skirt from her hops and dropped it to the side. She then flexed her knees, and lifted her hands, the backs of her wrists facing one another, gracefully over her head. … She then danced before me, of her own free will, a girl in need, and one desiring to please her master. Her dance grew ever more desperate and, at times, I had to throw her from me. Then she lay at the slave stake. She held out a hand to me.
       I went to her and seized her by the upper arms and threw her to her feet. She looked at me, frightened. "You did not do badly, Slave Girl," I said. "But now it is time for you to learn how to truly dance before a man."
       "Master!" she cried in misery.
       "Be as you were," I told her.
       Immediately, frightened, she stood again before me, knees flexed, hands raised above her head, gracefully, the backs of her wrists facing one another, in one of the attitudes of the slave dancer.
       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 stepped back from her. "When I clap my hands," I said, "you will dance, Slave."
       "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 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. … "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 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. — Explorers of Gor, pages 360-362.

Tile Dance
This extremely erotic dance is performed on red tiles, usually beneath the slave ring of the master's couch, writhing on her back, belly, sides, and knees, as if she were alone, signifying the restlessness and need of a love-starved slave girl. The culmination of the dance, is the "surprise" of the girl finding her master there watching her, and continues to writhe, begging his touch. The tile dance has been known to arouse even a captured, cold free woman; in the case of a slave, of course, it can make her scream and sob with need.

"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 entire dance is observed by the master, and this, in fact, of course, is known to both the dancer and her audience, the master. 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." — Explorers of Gor, pages 13-14.

Virgin Dance
There are actually three (3) versions of this dance. The first would be a dance deemed appropriate for virgins to dance (perhaps the dance of a young free woman maiden?), demure and chaste, and obviously never found performed in a tavern. In the more erotic versions, one example of the "virgin dance" would be the virginal pleasure slave, who must dance to seduce the men, and begging for her first use master. Such a dance starts off rather demurely, intensifying as her heat builds and her needs are demonstrated. In a second example of a more erotic version of the "virgin dance," the dance is by an experienced dancer who portrays a young virgin girl, who is aware that she will soon be ravished by men and expected to be pleasing.

"Do you beg now to dance before your first use master?" asked Mirus.
       "Yes, Master," I said. …
       "Adorn her," said Mirus.
       "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 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. Mirus, 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 wrists. 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 inutterably 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 before them 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 instrument 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. I wondered what the men who had worked at the library would think if they could see me now, their so-much-taken-for-granted Doreen, her beauty now at the disposal of masters, men who could break them in pieces. I wondered if they would lament my plight, deploring it with typical, whining, hypocritical cant, or if they, too, would sit there, at those low tables, their blood racing, their eyes alight, becoming men.
       Aynur and Tula were now behind me, kneeling at the back of the floor, with their bowls. Tula's was empty. Aynur held the house's halves of the divided ostraka. One of them would prove to be the lucky ostrakan." Ina, the flat, shallow box of adornments beside her, was back with them. So, too, with the cuffs and leashes, were Tupita and Sita. Mirus, too, had now withdrawn to the back.
       If I did not dance well I did not doubt but what I would be whipped. I looked out on the men. One of them would be my first use master. In a special sense my "virgin dance" must be dedicated to him. But, in general, I must dance, too, before the guests of Hendow's tavern, and, too, before all who were present. This included Mirus, who, I think, had often wanted me. Too, I could see others of Hendow's men about, come to see the dance, and now, too, to one side, the kitchen master. After tonight, at the tubs, I would doubtless be no safer from him than Ina.
       Perhaps if I danced poorly? But I did not want to be whipped!
       Then I knew I did not want to dance poorly. Out there there were men, real men, many of whom excited and stirred me, even in my virgin's belly. I could scarcely imagine what it might be to be helpless in their arms, and at their power, as a slave. I was desperately eager to please such men. I wanted to be marvelously exciting and beautiful before them. I wanted them to desire me. I wanted them to want me! Too, I knew many of the girls despised me as a woman of Earth. I wanted to show them, too, women such as Tupita and Sita, what a woman of Earth could do to their Gorean masters, how, she, too, could excite them, and twist them with torments of desire, and make them gasp and scream with pleasure! Too, in my anger at having been abandoned by Teibar, who had been my capture master on Earth, I wanted to dance well. He had let me go! But I had sold for two and a half silver tarsks, on my first sale! I had been purchased by Hendow, of Brundisium, who, I had gathered, was noted in this city for having an excellent eye for the selection of slave meat! Certainly the girls in his tavern, Inger, and Tupita, and Ina, and the others, were superb! Perhaps, I, too, then, was attractive! I saw the men, even now, looking at me! I could sense the heat and desire in them. 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. Too, let Teibar cry out with anguish if he could find out how desired I would be, and what an excellent slut, what superb slave meat. I, his despised "modern woman," proved to be! I would become a high slave! I would cost a great deal of money! He would not even be able to afford me! Let him scream with the wanting of me, but it would be at the feet of others, in their collars, that I would kneel!
       "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 told you that was no virgin," said a man.
       "Who cares?" asked another.
       In the dance I had power. In the dance I was beautiful. I saw delight in the eyes of men. I heard gasps of admiration. To be sure I was of a body type, that of the natural woman, short-legged and well-curved, that tends to be attractive to Gorean men, and I think my face, which some had told me was delicate and sensitive, and lovely and intelligent, which so easily betrayed my emotions, may have been pleasing to them, but I think there was more to it than these things. Had it been merely a matter of face and figure I do not think the effect would have been the same. Many things were doubtless involved. One, of course, was that it was a slave who danced. The dancing of a slave is a thousand times more sensuous than that of a free woman because of the incredible meanings involved, the additional richness which this furnishes, the explosive significance of this comprehension, that she who dances is owned, and, theoretically, could be owned by you. Too, she is naked, or scantily clad, and is bedecked in a barbaric manner. This speaks of reality and savagery, of ferocity, and beauty, of dominator to dominated, of master to slave. The dancing of the female before the male, that she be found pleasing and he be pleased, is one of the most profound lessons in all of human biology. Others are when she kneels before him, when she kisses his feet, when she performs obeisance, when she know herself subject, truly, to his whip. Another is when she is seized in his arms, imperiously, and crushed to him. Too, I think in this dance I was also as successful as I was because of the sort of woman I was, one who possessed deep female needs, and profound passions. I was ready, even at that time, as I now realize, to have the relentless torches of men set to the tinder in my belly, that slave fires might be lit there, thence by service, submission and love, my condition as slave, and the commands and touches of men, to be fanned, whether I willed it or not, to my dismay and joy, into open conflagrations. But I think, too, more simply, that there are skills involved, and that I was an excellent dancer, even at that time. 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.
       "She is not a virgin," said a man.
       "No," said another.
       I came about then to the back of the dancing floor. Tupita, and the others were there. "You are good," said Tupita to me, grudgingly.
       "I am superb," I said to her, angrily. Then I added, hastily, "Mistress!"
       I looked to the back of the tavern, where, near the beaded curtain, stood Hendow, my Master, his arms folded. I swayed before him. I wanted to convince him that he had not made a mistake in purchasing me. I saw in his eyes that I had much to learn. I moved a little to my left, dancing before Mirus, who crouched there at the back of the floor, the sack of tarsk bits heavy at his belt.
       "Do not change anything," he said to me, "but I would have thought you would dance rather more like a virgin."
       I whirled away from him, to my right. Yes, I thought to myself, what are you doing, Doreen? What has gotten into you? Why are you doing this? Why is your belly so alive? Why are you so excited? Why is your body so hot? Why is it moving like this? You are dancing more like a purchasable slut, a common girl from a market, a girl who has been well taught by men and the whip the meaning of her collar, one who has already learned to whimper behind the bars of her kennel and scratch at its walls, than a virgin, fearing, but curious about, her first taking.
       "Look," said a man.
       "Superb!" said another.
       I did not think Mirus would mind if I changed my performance in this fashion, particularly, as I would, later, return to the taunting, sensate splendors of the aroused woman, and then, at the end, to the helpless pleading of the begging female, she who knows herself, ultimately, at the mercy of masters. Actresses need only be actresses. They need not be dancers. But she who is a dancer must be more than a dancer. She must be an actress, as well.
       "Ah, yes," said a man.
       Suddenly in my dance it seemed I was a virgin, reluctant and fearful, terrified in the reality on 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 timidly, 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 ankles 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 sight of whips or weapons. The kaska player, alert to this, reduced the volume of his drumming, and the, five times, smote hard upon the taut skin, almost like the crackling 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 my 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 am a basically shy person. But now I was dancing such things as shyness, and timidity, and fear, and curiosity, and fascination, as roles. Like many shy persons I can find myself in roles, and blossom forth in them. 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 came 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 beaded curtain, gross, loathsome Hendow. He, I felt, of all those in the tavern, would understand what was now within me. I felt I could keep no secrets from him. It seemed he had a way of looking through me, and seeing whatever was within me, no matter how I might try to hide it. But I did not want to hide this from him. Rather I wanted his understanding. I wanted him to offer me comfort, or perhaps even rescue me from the floor. In my fears it was natural that I should seek him out, gross and loathsome though he might be. He was the one who owned me. He was my master.
       Hendow nodded to me, almost imperceptibly. Then, pointing to me, and lifting his finger twice, he indicated I should turn away, and return to 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. I heard the roars of triumph, shouts of pleasure. I was frightened. The men were on their feet. There was a thunder of applause, the striking of the shoulders in the Gorean fashion, and, too, the crashing of goblets on the tables. I crept to my knees in the bedlam. I became aware of Hendow standing near me now, and Mirus was to one side. "Back," called Hendow. "Back!" I felt small among the legs of the men. Mirus and Hendow, gently, were forcing men back, away from the floor. Then I was kneeling there, small, between them. — Dancer of Gor, pages 190-197.

Whip Dance
There are various versions of the whip dance, depending on the locality. The dancer's movements are directed by the cracking of the whip. Though the girl is almost never struck with the whip, the exception would be should she not perform well. When the whip is cracked, the dancer will react as though she has been struck. These movements, combined with the music and the beauty of the girl, the obvious symbolism beneath total male discipline, is powerfully erotic. A slave's dance may be interrupted should any decide to rape her; when they are finished, she will then resume her dance. Other times, the slave performs, and is ended with her being tossed into the arms of the waiting men.

"It is called the Whip Dance, the dance the girl upon the sand danced. She wore a delicate vest and belt of chains and jewels, with shimmering metal droplets attached. And she wore ankle rings, and linked slave bracelets, again with shimmering droplets pendant upon them; and a locked collar, matching. She danced under ships' lanterns, hanging from the ceiling of the paga tavern, it located near the wharves bounding the great arsenal. I heard the snapping of the whip, her cries." — Raiders of Gor, page 100.

"If you wish," she said, "I will dance the Whip Dance for you, or the Chain Dance." — Tarnsman of Gor, page 135.

"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 theme of dominance and submission, that man is master by blood and women is slave by birth. Neither too, as say the Goreans, will know their fulfillment until they become true to themselves. We can be conquered, but nature cannot. In attempting to conquer nature, we defeat only ourselves. True freedom and happiness, perhaps, lies not in denying and repudiating our nature but in fulfilling it. — Rogue of Gor, pages 190-191.
"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, who towered over her. Her head, too, was turned to the side. Then she turned her head to face the brute, who tyrannized her. She looked deeply into his eyes. Then delicately, in a graceful gestures, 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 encircles 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 form her neck, threw her stumbling into the arms of waiting pirates who, with a cry of pleasure, seized her and began to work their lusty wills upon her. There was more applause, and laughter. — Rogue of Gor, page 196.

In this particular version of the whip dance, 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.

"Tonight," said Ligurious, "I will give her to guardsmen. She will dance the whip dance, naked." There are many whip dances on Gor, of various sorts. In a context of this sort, presumably not in a tavern, and without music, the girl is expected to move, writhe and twist seductively before strong men. If she does not do well enough, if she is insufficiently maddeningly sensuous, the whips fall not about her, but on her. When one of the men can stand it no longer he orders her to his mat where, of course, she must be fully pleasing. If he is not, then she is whipped until she is. Then, when one man is satisfied, the dance begins again, and continues in this fashion until all are satisfied, or tire of the sport. — Kajira of Gor, page 157.

Here you can read the words from a slave concerning the above form of the whip dance.

"I am not a dancer, Mistress," said Susan, "nor are most who perform the dance. It is not even, really, a dance. One simply has one's clothes taken away, and then one moves before strong, powerful men as such men would have a woman move before them. Then when one is sufficiently pleased, he indicates this and you serve his pleasures. Sometimes on tries different things, for example, on or about furniture, on your back, on your belly, hoping to find something that they will respond to. Sometimes they give you explicit commands or instructions. Sometimes they guide you, or help you, sometimes by the whip, sometimes by expressions or cries. At other times, the girl listens, so to speak, to the slave fires in her belly and seems to become one with them and the dance, and then soon must beg the brutes in her dance and by her piteous expressions and gestures, to relieve the merciless tensions in her body to complete the cruel cycle of arousal, allowing her to receive them and submit to them, the masters, in the spasmodic surrender of the helpless slave." — Kajira of Gor, page 160.

Dances of the Free Women

The dances of the free women on Gor are alluded to in part in some of the books. Importance that a free woman learn even to dance transcends both sociological and political reasoning, for one day even a haughty free woman might find herself in the position of begging for her life through dance. Here I will touch upon the dances of the free woman.

"The dance in the circle, as I might have gathered, was not the stately dance of free maidens, even in which, of course, the maidens, though scarcely admitting this to even themselves, experience something of the stimulatory voluptuousness of movement, but slave dance, that form of dance, in its thousands of variations, in which a female may excitingly and beautifully, marvelously and fulfullingly, express the depths and profundities of her nature. In such dance the woman moves as a female, and shows herself as a female, in all her excitingness and beauty. It is no wonder that women love such dance, in which they are so desirable and beautiful, in which dance they feel so free, so sexual, so much a slave." — Magicians of Gor, page 44.

Dance of Panther Girls
This dance done by the panther girls, is the free woman version of a need dance.

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. …
       I looked down to the circle. It might have been a rite not of women, but of she-panthers! 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. It was little wonder such proud, fine women hated men, to whom nature had destined them. Woman is the natural love prey of men. She is natural quarry. She is complete only when caught, only when brought to the joy of her capture and conquest. It was not strange that the proud, intelligent women of the forest, and elsewhere, chose war with men, rather than admit the meaning of his strength and swiftness, the meaning of their own weakness and beauty. Set a woman to run down a man and she cannot do so. Set a man to run down a woman and he will be successful. Nature has not destined her to escape him. It has destined her to be his capture and love.
       I smiled to myself at those who regarded the needs of women as inferior to those of men. The woman, I realized, looking down upon the panther girls, has an imperative, enormous need. It is as great as that of the male, I expected, perhaps greater, for she is less satiable, and the tissues of her womanhood are widely spread, and intricate and deep. Her entire body, is seems, is alive to feeling, and yielding and touching, is a need. Her beauty is she, and its meaning, from the turn of an ankle to the delicacy of her deft, sweet fingers, from the turn of a calf to her belly and the beauties of her breasts, to those of her shoulders and throat and the marvelousness of her head and hair, is a need. How tragic it is, I thought, that such incredible human beings should be so belittled, frustrated and abused. I do not refer to the cruelties of Gorean slavery, which celebrate women and, in their rude fashion, often uncompromisingly, force the helpless, total surrender she yearns in the heart of her to give, but the subtler, crueler slaveries of Earth, pretending to respect her and then, by education and acculturation, depriving her not only of status and independence, but of love. …
       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, 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 coals in the brazier formed a blazing cylinder in the firelit darkness of the circle. I could see, dark, the handle of the slave iron. 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. The girls not put down their weapons and crowded about the bound figure of Marlenus, looking at him, inching closer, breathing heavily, not speaking.
       "Brand him," said Hura. — Hunters of Gor, pages 197-198.

Rence Girl Dance
This very unique dance (as far as free woman dance form goes) is performed by free girls of the rence growers only during their annual festival. It is barbaric and rawly sensual, the girls dancing nude. Though the dance is barbaric, it does have its stylization, in that representations of poling craft through water, hunting gants and weaving rence are depicted in their movements. The dance is, in actuality, a form of courtship amongst the young people of the rence growers, the girls dancing their beauty in hopes that they will be desired.

Then, the rencers clapping their hands and singing, Telima approached me. "To the pole," she said. I had seen the pole. It was not unlike the one to which I had been bound earlier in the day. There was a circular clearing amidst the feasters, of some forty feet in diameter, about which their circles formed. The pole, barkless, narrow, upright, thrust deep in the rence of the island, stood at the very center of the clearing, surrounded by the circles of feasting rencers. I went to the pole, and stood by it. She took my hands and, with marsh vine, lashed them behind it. Then, as she had in the morning, she fastened my ankles to the pole, and then, again as she had in the morning, she bound me to it as well by the stomach and neck. Then, throwing away the garland of rence flowers I had worn, she replaced it with fresh garland. While she was doing this the rencers were clapping their hands in time and singing.
       She stood back, laughing. I saw, in the crowd, Ho-Hak, clapping his hands and singing, and the others, and he who had worn the headband formed of the pearls of the Vosk sorp, who had been unable to bend the bow. Then, suddenly, the crowd stopped clapping and singing. There was silence. Then there came a drumming sound, growing louder and louder, a man pounding on a hollowed drum of rence root with two sticks, and then, as suddenly as the singing and clapping, the drum, too, stopped. And then to my astonishment the rence girls, squealing and laughing, some protesting and being pushed and shoved, rose to their feet and entered the clearing in the circle.
       The young men shouted with pleasure. One or two of the girls, giggling, tried to slip away, fleeing, but young men, laughing, caught them, and hurled them into the clearing of the circle. Then the rence girls, vital, eyes shining, breathing deeply, barefoot, bare-armed, many with beads worn for festival, and hammered copper bracelets and armlets, stood all within a circle. The young men shouted and clapped their hands. I saw that more than one fellow, handsome, strongfaced, could not take his eyes from Telima. She was, I noted, the only girl in the circle who wore an armlet of gold. She paid the young men, if she noticed them, no attention. The rence communities tend to be isolated. Young people seldom see one another, saving those from the same tiny community. I remember the two lines, one of young men, the other of girls, jeering and laughing, and crying out at one another in the morning.
       Then the man with the drum of hollow rence root began to drum, and one fellow had bits of metal, strung in a circular wire, and another a notched stick, played by scraping it with a flat spoon of rence root.
       It was Telima who began first to pound the woven rence mat that was the surface of the island with her right heel, lifting her hands, arms bent, over her head, her eyes closed. Then the other girls, too, began to join her, and at last even the shiest among them moved pounding, and stamping and turning about the circle. The dances of rence girls are, as far as I know, unique on Gor. There is some savagery in them, but, too, they have sometimes, perhaps paradoxically, stately aspects, stylized aspects, movements reminiscent of casting nets or poling, of weaving rence or hunting gants. But, as I watched, and the young men shouted, the dancers became less stylized, and became more universal to woman, whether she be a drunken housewife in a suburb of a city of Earth or a jeweled slave in Port Kar, dances that spoke of them as women who want me, and will have them. To my astonishment, as the dances continued, even the shiest of the rence girls, those who had to have been forced to the circle, even those who had tried to flee, began to writhe in ecstasy, their hands lifted to the three moons of Gor. It is often lonely on the rence islands, and festival comes but once a year.
       The bantering of the young people in the morning, and the display of the girls in the evening, for in effect in the movements of the dance every woman is nude, have both, I expect, institutional roles to play in the life of the rence growers, significant roles analogous to the roles of dating, display and courtship in the more civilized environments of my native world, Earth. It marks the end of a childhood when a girl is first sent to the circle.
       Suddenly, before me, hands over her head, swaying to the music, I saw the dark-haired, lithe girl, she was such marvelous, slender legs in the brief rence skirt; her ankles were so close together that they might have been chained; and then she put her wrists together back to back over her head, palms out, and though she wore slave bracelets. Then she said, "Slave," and spit in my face, whirling away. I wondered if it might be she who was my mistress.
       Then another girl, the tall, blond girl, she who had held the coil of marsh vine, stood before me, moving with excruciating slowness, as though the music could be reflected only from moment to moment, in her breathing, in the beating of the heart. "Perhaps it is I," she said, "who am your mistress." She, like the other, spit then in my face and turned away, now moving fully, enveloped in the music's flame. One after another of the girls so danced before me, and about me, taunting me, laughing at their power, then spitting upon me and turning away. The rencers laughed and shouted, clapping, cheering the girls on in the dance. But most of the time I was ignored, as much as the pole to which I was bound. Mostly these girls, saving for a moment or two to humiliate me, danced their beauty for the young men of the circles, that they might be desired, that they might be much sought.
       After a time I saw one girl leave the circles, her head back, hair flowing down her back, breathing deeply, and scarcely was she through the circles of rencers, but a young man followed her, joining her some yards beyond the circle. They stood facing one another in the darkness for an Ehn or two, and then I saw him, gently, she not protesting, drop his net over her, and then, by this net, she not protesting, he led her away. Together they disappeared in the darkness, going over one of the raft bridges to another island, one far from the firelight, the crowd, the noise, the dance. Then, after some Ehn I saw another girl leave the circle of the dance, and she, too, was joined beyond the firelight by a young man and she, too, felt a net dropped over her, and she, too, was led away, his willing prize, to secrecy of his hut. The dance grew more frenzied. The girls whirled and writhed, and the crowd clapped and shouted, and the music grew ever more wild, barbaric and fantastic. — Raiders of Gor, pages 44-46.
       And suddenly Telima danced before me. I cried out, so startled was I by her beauty. It seemed to me that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and before me, only slave, she danced her insolence and scorn. Her hands were over her hand and, as she danced, she smiled, regarding me. She cut me with her beauty more painfully, more cruelly, than might have the knives of a torturer. It was her scorn, her contempt for me she danced. In me she aroused agonies of desire but in her eyes I read that I was but the object of her amusement and contempt. And then she unbound me. "Go to the hut," she said.
       I stood there at the pole. Torrents of barbaric music swept about us, and there was the clapping and the shouting, and the turning, and the twisting and swirling of the rence girls, the passion of the dance burning in their bodies.
       "Yes," she said. "I own you." She spat up in my face. "Go to the hut," she said. — Raiders of Gor, page 47.

Dance of Larl Hunters
Also: Stalking Dance
A dance of the panther girls; not a slave dance. This dance imitates the actions of stalking, hunting, and killing the larl. This dance is not to be confused with the stalking dance.

"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, and the kill." — Assassin of Gor, page 240.

Stalking Dance
In this dance, the needs of the panther girls must be met. With their victim bound, they dance beneath the moons, spears in hand, as if stalking a beast. Unlike the dance of larl hunters, in this dance, it ends with the rape of the male captive.

The girls now knelt about me, in a circle. They were silent. I looked up at the large, white, swift moons. There were three of them, a larger, and two smaller, looming, dominating. The girls were breathing heavily. They had set aside their weapons. They knelt, their hands on their thighs, occasionally lifting their eyes to the moons. Their eyes began to blaze. They put back their heads. Their lips parted. Their hair fell behind their heads, their faces lifted to the rays of the moons. Then, together, they began to moan and sway from side to side. Then they lifted their arms and hands to the moons, still swaying from side to side, moaning. I pulled at the thongs that bound me. Then their moaning became more intense and the swaying swifter and more savage, and, crying out and whimpering, they began to claw at the moons.
       Mira leaped to her feet and tore her skins to the waist exposing her breasts to the wild light of the flooding moons. She shrieked and tore at the moons with her fingernails. In an instant another girl, and then another, and another, had followed her example. Only Verna still knelt, her hands on her thighs, looking at the moons. Beneath the moons, helplessly, I sought to free myself. I could not do so. Mira now, the others following, crying out, tore away the scraps of panther skin that had yet concealed their beauty. They now wore only their gold, and their ornaments. Now, moaning, crying out, the she-beasts of the forest, the panther girls, hands lifted, clawing, began to stamp and dance beneath the fierce brightness of the wild moons.
       Then suddenly they stopped, but stood, still, their hands lifted to the moons. Verna threw back her head, her fists clenched on her thighs, and cried out, a wild scream, as though in agony. She leaped to her feet and, looking at me, tore away her skins. My blood leaped before her beauty. But she had turned away and naked, her head back, had lifted her hands, too, clawing at the moons. Then all of them, together, turned slowly to face me. They were breathing heavily. Their hair was disheveled, their eyes wild. I lay before them, helpless. Suddenly, as one, they seized up their light spears, and, swaying, spears lifted, began to circle me. They were incredibly beautiful.
       A spear darted toward me, but did not strike me. It was withdrawn. It could have killed me, of course, had its owner wished. But it had spared me. 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 or 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.
       Verna lifted her head. She laughed, "You are going to be raped," she said. I fought the thongs, but, by their bodies, was thrust back. I felt Mira's teeth in my shoulder. — Hunters of Gor, pages 137-139.

Dances of the Free Men

Ship Dance
In this dance, the dancer will mimic the movements of a ship and waves, and the work which is done on a ship.

"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." — Assassin of Gor, page 240.

So You Think You Can't Dance

Be sure to check out the Dancing Tips page, for helpful tips on creating your own wonderful dance.

Special Note

Because of the differences in publishing the books, depending upon whether published in the U.S. or Europe, depending upon whether a first publishing or a Masquerade Books release, page numbers will often vary. All of my quotes are from original, first-printing U.S. publications (see The Books page for a listing of publishers and dates) with the exception of the following books:

Tarnsman of Gor (2nd Printing, Balantine)

Outlaw of Gor (11th Printing, Balantine)

Priest-Kings of Gor (2nd Printing, Balantine)

Assassin of Gor (10th Printing, Balantine)

Raiders of Gor (15th Printing, Balantine)

Captive of Gor (3rd Printing, Balantine)

Disclaimer

These pages are not written for any specific home, but rather as informational pages for those not able to get ahold of the books and read them yourself. Opinions and commentaries are strictly my own personal views, therefore, if you don't like what you are reading — then don't. The information in these pages is realistic to what is found within the books. Many sites have added information, assuming the existences of certain products and practices, such as willowbark and agrimony for healing, and travel to earth and back for the collection of goods. I've explored the books, the flora, the fauna, and the beasts, and have compiled from those mentioned, the probabilities of certain practices, and what vegetation mentioned in the books is suitable for healing purposes, as well as given practicalities to other sorts of roleplaying assumptions.

The Slaves

The Dances of Slaves (and Frees)