|(As performed in Nomads of Gor)
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
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
Then he removed his hands from her shoulders and, as the crowd cried out, she sank in abject misery at his feet and performed the
ceremony of submission, kneeling, lowering the head and lifting and extending the arms, wrists crossed..
The warrior then turned from her and held out one hand..
Someone from the darkness threw him, coiled, the chain and collar..
He gestured for the woman to rise and she did so and stood before him, head lowered..
He pushed up her head and then, with a click that could be heard throughout the enclosure, closed the collar.....a Turian
collar.....about her throat. The chain to which the collar was attached was a good deal longer than that of the Sirik, containing
perhaps twenty feet of length..
Then, to the music, the girl seemed to twist and turn and move away from him, as he played out the chain, until she stood
wretched some twenty feet from him at the chain's length. She did not move then for a moment, but stood crouched down, her
hands on the chain..
I saw that Aphris and Elizabeth were watching fascinated. Kamchak, too, would not take his eyes from the woman..
The music had stopped..
Then with a suddenness that almost made me jump and the crowd cry out with delight the music began again but this time as a
barbaric cry of rebellion and rage and the wench from Port Kar was suddenly a chained she-larl biting and tearing at the chain and
she had cast her black robes from her and stood savage revealed in diaphanous, swirling yellow Pleasure Silk. There was now a
frenzy and hatred in the dance, a fury even to the baring of teeth and snarling. She turned within the collar, as the Turian collar is
designed to permit. She circled the warrior like a captive moon to his imprisoning scarlet sun, always at the length of the chain.
Then he would take up a fist of chain, drawing her each time inches closer. At times he would permit her to draw back again, but
never to the full length of the chain, and each time he permitted her to withdraw, it was less than the last. The dance consists of
serveral phases, depending on the general orbit allowed the girl by the chain..
Certain of these phases are very slow, in which there is almost no movement, save perhaps the turning of a head or the movement
of a hand; others are defiant and swift; some are graceful and pleading; each time, as the common thread, she is drawn closer to
the 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..
Book 1 Tarnsman of Gor, page 135
and Book 4 Nomads of Gor, page 148
|All rights reserved.
|This research is done on the series of books written by John Norman, the comments in italics are mine and my point of view.
Woman of Gor