 |
|||
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
WARNING! THIS IS A WORK OF EROTIC BDSM FICTION. IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website without obtaining the author's permission first.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AUTHOR'S NOTE: As I wrote the following chapter, I realized it needed a feminine touch, especially the last segment between Amber and Raven. So I would like to give credit to my good friend and fellow writer, Gabriele, for all her help and inspiration in writing this chapter.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Indoctrination
by Night Owl
Who I am?
I am the phantom in your head,
the one you are thinking of,
lying sleepless in your bed at night.
lonely, but the darkness
and your phantasy!
Untitled Poem
by Livia Choice
Sept. 7, 1978 - June 9, 2005
Chapter 17: Slave Dance
Livia seemed to take little notice in the crowd as she strode, nearly naked, to the stage that had been prepared for her with animal skins. Wrapped around her firm, jutting breasts was a piece of silk. It was scarlet, diaphanous in color. A gold cord hung noticeably low upon her bared hips, with a long swath of matching silk flowing between her legs in front and in back to cover more intimate parts of her body. There were small, gold bells, thronged loosely around her hips, wrists and ankles, and golden armlets in the shapes of snakes coiled high around her upper arms. On the thumb and first finger of both her left and right hand were golden finger cymbals.
The tall, willowy German beauty and former New York stripper paused at the edge of the circle, then assumed the 'karta' position of obedience. Dropping to her knees, she spread them wide and bent downward, arms stretched forward until her nose was nearly touching the floor. The move was symbolic, for according to Gorean culture, it was demanded of every slave to assume this position at the doorway of any tavern, inn, or house, as a show of respect and honor to the place she was about to enter.
Music drifted into the room -- the recorded beat of a tabor drum, slow at first, like a heartbeat. Livia lifted herself slowly to the rhythm and stepped into the circle. She began swaying her hips in perfect time with the tabor beats, her arms raised high above her head, hands together, palms facing outward. There was a clear note of the finger cymbals, sharp, delicate, bright, and then she danced. The drumbeats grew faster. They were joined by rattles and the fifing of whistles. Livia threw her hand back and twirled her body. The silk trains between her legs flowed and lifted with her movements, teasing the audience with glimpses of the treasures hidden underneath.
Having once performed as an exotic dancer, Livia knew how to manipulate a crowd. She clapped the cymbals above her head and rocked her hips to the barbaric cadence set by the music. Her taut stomach oscillated and rippled in a snake-like motion, drawing attention to her toned muscles, and to the glinting gold metal ring pierced into her shallow navel.
Like the rest of the audience, Amber watched in amazement with the empty drink tray still in her hands. She saw a wildness in Livia's emerald eyes between her thick, dark lashes. The slightly prominent nose and stubbornly set, narrow chin with high cheekbones, all framed by a thick mane of shoulder-length blonde hair gave her face a distinctly vulpine shape. Under the thin veil, her full, deep-red lips seemed perpetually curved into a sly smile.
She danced before Raven for several minutes, the scarlet dancing silk swishing between her legs in the torchlight, her bare feet, with their belled ankles, striking softly on the fur carpet.
"Here, slut. Over here!" came shouts from the crowd.
Turning away from Raven, Livia answered their pleas. With bold moves, she approached each of the leering, jeering men, hips swaying, the bells clashing on her ankles and wrists. The men reached out for her, and each time, she drew back and whirled away from them. She picked one admirer after another out of the audience and performed as if her beauty and dance were meant solely for him.
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. When the music ended abruptly, she finished the last spin and froze, hands held high over her head, stomach in, chest heaving, right leg flexed and extended with her toes only touching the floor. She held the pose for a long moment, her pursed lips panting behind the thin veil.
From the back of the room, there was a crack of a whip, so loud, it made some in the audience, including Amber, jump. Livia shielded her eyes and turned away from the sound. The music resumed. The drum was now very heady, swift, the whistles shrill and high. The frightened girl moved around the circle, seeking escape but finding none. She tried to hide behind the wooden post. The whip cracked again. Livia threw herself down to the floor and she moved as though her body were being struck by the imaginary whip. Lying on her back, she jerked, twisted and writhed on the furs, drawing up her legs, putting her hands before her face to fend off the blows, her face, a mask of pain and fear. She rolled on her belly and crawled to Raven. She sank in abject misery at his feet and performed the ceremony of submission, kneeling, lowering the head and extending the arms, wrists crossed, as if ready to be clapped in slave bracelets or bound with rope.
Raven produced a collar made of shiny chrome metal and locked it around her throat. He pulled the veil away from her face, then grasped the disrobing clip that held the silk around her breasts. Suddenly, Livia stood up and spun away, the silk unraveling off her body as she turned until her breasts were freed. Standing naked, save for the narrow rectangle of silk that hung low between her legs, she began to dance again, only this time, the mood was different.
In the first part of the dance, Livia had power over her audience, as her movements flamed the desires of the men who watched. Now, she was no longer a free woman, but a slave, and in her dance, she became reluctant and fearful, terrified of the reality in which she found herself, but knowing she must respond to the sensuous rhythms of music or else suffer the whip.
The crowd grew more excited in seeing the spirited dancer finally subdued. Her newly bared tits jiggled, heaved and bounced off her prominent ribs. Both nipples were pierced with gold rings to match the jewelry in her navel. Her style of dress, or lack there of, along with her dance, expressed the depths and profundities of her female nature in its most primal form -- that of dominance and submission. As the dance continued, fear and anxiety melted away, and she signified, by expression and movement, her curiosity and fascination with her newfound sexuality.
Her whole body seemed to come alive in the swirl of music, and then, whipping her long hair wildly about, she danced unabashedly as an acknowledged, aroused slave, much as she had done before, taunting her audience, teasing them, delighting in her power . . . but then, suddenly, as though sensing her ultimate helplessness, and her inability to achieve total fulfillment without a master, she began dancing as a slave in a desperate search for the man who would give meaning to the new-found passions within her.
Another crack of the whip sounded, and Livia fell to her knees. She threw her head back and cried out. The music now became a moan of surrender. She retreated back to the wooden post like a frightened animal. The whip cracked again and she knelt behind the dark, smooth post, facing it, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts pressed against it. Grasping it with her hands, she kissed it humbly. She danced and caressed the post as if it were her master. A third crack of the whip and she stood up, twirled around the post and put her back against it. She raised her arms high and laced her fingers around it. The music now became a moan of surrender. Her hips moved more slowly, seemingly in isolation from the rest of her body. At the moment she writhed on the 'slave pole', it was difficult to believe she was not bound to it, even though there were no restraints. She moved, undulating, swaying, sometimes yielding to it in ecstasy, sometimes fighting it, but the pole always held her in perfect place. An incredible, voluptuous tension was generated, visible in the dancer's body, and kinetically felt by those who watched. Amber heard men, and women around the circle cry out with pleasure. The whip snapped again, and Livia moaned, her breasts heaved, her body squirmed as though in searing agony. Still she remained impaled upon the slave pole as its captive.
At that moment, Raven stood up and clapped his hands twice. The music stopped and Livia fell to her knees.
"Lesha," he barked.
She sat up, leaned back on her heels and lifted her narrow chin upward, turning her head slightly to the left. She placed her wrists behind her back. Raven approached her, touched the chrome handle of his crop underneath her chin.
"Now that you've all had a taste," he turned to the crowd, "what am I bid for ONE night with this beast?"
"Five hundred!" a shout rang out.
"Five hundred?" Raven laughed. "For such a fine piece of female flesh? Don't insult me. Do I hear a thousand?"
"One thousand!"
The crowd started to cheer and shout out more figures - "Fifteen Hundred," "Two Thousand," "Three," "Four."
"Five thousand!" Lamar Quinn offered the final bid.
"Going Once . . . Twice . . . SOLD to Sir Lamar Quinn for five thousand!"
Raven congratulated his friend, and the music began again.
With a flash of the finger cymbals, Livia danced again. This time, she feigned indifference to the presence of the audience, and centered her attentions on her new Master. She fell to the floor before him, her breath hot and quick, her eyes blazing with desire. Through gestures, smiles, and by displaying herself, she manifested her readiness, her service of him, her willingness, and her receptivity. But her new Master did nothing to acknowledge her presence. He did not seize her by the collar, or by the wrist or hair. As the music continued to play, it became clear to her that it was, by no means, a foregone conclusion that he would find her of interest, or that he would see fit to satisfy her. She had to strive to be pleasing, to show him that she was good enough to be chained. She would have to earn her rape.
Livia returned to her feet, dancing desperately and pleadingly. She dropped to the floor again, and there, on her knees, and her sides, and her belly and back, continued her dance - swaying, rolling, twisting, begging. Curves glistened with balmy sweat as she arched her back, pushing her naked breasts and belly upward. Other men cried out with pleasure. She splayed her legs wide before her Master, and thrust her hips up to Him, the shimmering silk in her gold thong swaying between her milky thighs.
As the music neared its climax, the man Livia was dancing to reached forward and snatched the strip of clothing away. She moaned as if in the deep throws of orgasm. Her hips began to pump wildly, her shorn sex now exposed and noticeably aroused. Throwing herself forward at his feet, she placed a loving kiss to each boot, full lips lingering before her face turned, a soft cheek nuzzling the black leather. Finally, Lamar Quinn clipped a chain to her collar, and the music stopped. The dance was over.
----------
Carlo Santos was sitting next to Raven during Livia's performance, and many times caught him staring across the circle at the white silk girl serving drinks. At first he found his friend's distraction amusing, but then he became concerned. It was not unlike Raven to single out a girl for his own usage during her training, but in the past few days, Santos had never seen him so distracted by one woman before. She certainly was intriguing to look at. Her alluring green eyes, long silky chestnut hair, and sexy 'girl next door' appearance could drive any man into an obsession. She also had a very skillful mouth, Santos remembered.
"The new girl, Amber, is a pretty thing, isn't she?" he commented.
Raven broke his stare as if awakening from a daze, "Yes, she is."
Santos laughed, "You can’t hide this from me. You’re smitten."
"Nonsense. She's only a slave."
"But some of them, become love slaves. You know how it is."
(In Gorean culture, the term was often used in reference to slave girls who had found, as it was said, their one true love master.)
"I have no use for a love slave," Raven scoffed. "She's being used only to serve, and to beat and abuse, if it pleases me."
"And do you beat her often?"
"As often as I like."
"But they say the treatment of a love slave can be the harshest, because the man who cares for her fears that his emotions will make him weak."
Raven smiled. He knew Santos was trying to provoke him into admitting something that simply wasn't true.
"You're fishing with an empty hook, my friend," he joked.
"But still," Santos pressed, "your attention has been on this servant, and not the dance . . . and should I also remind you of the beautiful and very willing piece of flesh sitting just to your left."
Marie heard much of the conversation between the two men beside her, but her face remained expressionless. She was ready to serve Raven, that was true, having been 'loaned out' to him for the evening by her own Master, yet she too, noticed Amber during the performance, and like Raven, she was taken by her.
Raven finally relented. He knew Santos well, and that his closest friend would not back away from the subject until he gave him some measure of victory.
"OK, I admit the new girl has been in my thoughts lately. It's strange feeling too. The first time I took her in my arms, she was in some way piteously helpless."
"But isn't any slave piteously helpless in the arms of her master?" Santos asked.
"Yes," Raven shrugged, "but somehow, she seems different from the others."
"Perhaps she thinks of you as her love master."
"She felt good in my hands. That's all that matters to me."
The dance was reaching its climax, but Raven's attention was focused again on Amber. His dark eyes seemed to soften as he spoke of her.
"Do you plan to sell her?" Santos asked.
"I haven't decided yet."
"Be strong, my friend."
"I always am," Raven assured him.
Carlo Santos did not doubt his word. Raven was one of the hardest of men, and the white silk girl, though alluring as she was, had found a strong, uncompromising master.
----------
By 2:00 a.m., Amber's head was spinning. There was so much debauchery going on all around her, acts of eroticism that were beyond anything her imagination could conger up on its own. All of the rooms in the house seemed to be occupied. Down in the dungeon, every piece of bondage furniture was filled with naked bodies of every type being tortured and violated, some screaming in agony, others writhing with passionate release. Most of the victims were female, wearing nothing, or clad in sarongs, sexy lingerie, or ‘kink’ clothing. There were also a few male guests eager to switch roles with their female companions.
Amber saw this in one of the rooms, where a tall 'vamp' with black hair and equally dark eyes was about to demonstrate her skills on discipline to a small group of mostly female guests. Since there was a limited supply of "kajiri", or male slaves, on hand for that evening, one of men graciously volunteered fill the role. First, he was quickly and unceremoniously stripped of all his clothing, then suspended upside down with chains so that his limbs were stretched wide to expose every inch of male flesh. A rubber ball gag was forced into his mouth to complete the bondage. His new mistress then took her time, messaging oil into his well-toned muscles and teasing his naked male parts without actually touching them. As the victim hung there, spread-eagled and semi-aroused, she took a stiff leather horsewhip, and circled around to take her position behind him. The first searing blow across the man's buttocks sent his body lurching forward, eliciting tinkling laughter from the chains, followed by a muffled, high-pitched scream. A total of twelve counts were administered, all to his muscled glutes and within inches of each other. The other women seemed delighted with the way he squirmed, bucked and shrieked, but the mistress wanted more, so she removed the gag from his mouth and laid more painful lashes, this time across his chest, his thighs, and finally his genitals.
In another part of the dungeon, Shawna was no longer serving drinks, but given a good working over by one of the guests. The man was perhaps forty, with a neatly trimmed Van Dyke beard. He had the pretty slave hanging by one arm from a chain and pulley assembly overhead, nearly bringing her to her toes, with the other arm tied behind her back. More ropes were wrapped tightly around her breasts, making them swell like ripened melons. A spreader bar kept her legs apart, so all Shawna could do was squirm helplessly as he teased her with dildos, vibrators and other toys. As the scene progressed, her struggling became more and more violent, so 'Van Dyke' unclipped the spreader bar from her feet and bent each leg back, then tied her ankles together with more rope around her lower belly to immobilize her. She now hung there by just the one arm, nearly pulling the delicate limb right out of its socket while the session continued with a flogger, then a bamboo cane, and so on.
It seemed that every slave in the house was being used or tortured in some way. Some of what Amber witnessed frightened her so much that she could barely watch. Regardless, she still wanted desperately to be a part it, but she was a white silk girl, and deemed off-limits until Master Raven said otherwise. She wondered where he could be, and if Marie was with him. Were they in his bed? The same bed she had slept in herself the night before? Driven by an impulse Amber couldn't control, she went up the long winding staircase to the master bedroom. Without even thinking, she knocked on the door and entered.
The lights were out, but there was moonlight shining in from one open window. A breeze blew softly through the curtains, pointing to the room's two occupants. Amber squinted into the darkness, and then nearly fell back against the door when she saw them.
Bathed in the dim light, sat Raven on a plain wooden chair with Marie straddled on top of him. Both of them were naked, their bodies slick with sweat from their lovemaking. Amber stood motionless in the doorway and watched with a heavy heart as the couple writhed and rocked passionately against each other, both of which seemed unaware as yet of her presence. She watched as Marie sat back and inclined her head, while Raven trailed wet kisses down her long, swan-like neck.
It was then, his dark eyes darted up and met with Amber's eyes. There was little reaction from him, just a sly smile. He stopped kissing Marie's neck and placed one hand behind her back, then gave her a gentle push with the other. Slowly, Marie leaned backward, allowing his hand to guide her, while relying totally on the other hand for support. In an amazing display of flexibility, she arched her body sharply backward and raised her arms, stretching them down to the floor until her hands found the carpet. Even Raven was astounded by the move. He was still inside her, her legs locked around his hips and the chair. Planting her hands palms down on the floor, she began grinding her hips again. Her green eyes fluttered and rolled white, as if she were in a trance. Raven reached down to her breasts with his free hand and encouraged her further with tender, loving caresses, but his attention was still on Amber.
"I'd let you join us, pet," he whispered a smile, 'but it's like I said earlier . . . you're just not ready!"
Amber said nothing, but like a spurned lover, she backed out of the room with tears in her eyes and closed the door behind her.
(continued)
|
|
|