dances performed

(12/30/23 05:23:28 pm)

Randlvar|MpG-PoD|

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to ....La Vie En Rose.... : A serving wench with a tray of drinks moving thru the crowd and he would motion for her to approach. Taking a tankard from her offerings and fishing a coin from his pouch in exchange before she goes back to working those gathered. He would take a drink of his mead and swipe the back of a hand across his mouth while placing the tankard to the table. All the while his gaze to you, having taken it all in. Not a word missed even with the excitement about the place. "Show me , one" Finally speaking and with it there's a glint to appear in the gaze to you. "Show me what you learned, pick a dance"

(12/30/23 05:34:37 pm)

....La Vie En Rose....
One {Randlvar}MPG | Restricted | PoD

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to Randlvar|MpG-PoD|: How easily she could have folded into her natural ways of utilizing her sexuality to manipulate a man emotionally or physically. You had caught her reverting to such behaviors the night before and had placed her neck beneath your boot. She could not forget its weight and the fear she felt, realizing that she was a slave and was meant to obey you without hesitation. Absolute obedience was her motto that haunted her even as she worked for the Red Sea Sleen Mercantile. She would not forget the lesson so easily; since she felt safer than she had ever felt before, she naturally found herself shading herself under your Mastery. Your slave girl would let her powdery blue irises lift; the raven lashes that fluttered around them would take in your face. She was beginning to feel that natural desire to seek your approval. "Yes, my Master, it would be my pleasure to show you. I must admit it is not a certain dance but only the basics, and I hope to improve for you," she admitted. Yesterday, she had been seen as pleasing by men other than yourself, and although it was vital for her to bring you what little honor a slave girl could, she had craved to be here, revealing herself one layer at a time.

Your slave girl would gauge the distance around her and feel the music drifting around her, beginning to take possessive hold. The scent of paga was ripe in the air, and the soft moans of women in the background would filter and mingle with the drums that played for a dancing slave in the pit before the crowd. Where we were, there was no spotlight on One, yet the lamplight glossed over her mostly nude body. The scarlet silk dared to move over her Venus dimples on her lower back as she turned about to give you a glance at her rounded buttocks. The glittering sounds played their errant sounds upon each step forward, daring to battle the musicians near the dancing pit. One was always meant to steal the show that soon, she might have the attention of all the tavern.

(12/30/23 05:43:49 pm)

Randlvar|MpG-PoD|

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to ....La Vie En Rose.... : It was an important lesson that was taught to you the eve prior. A vital one that could very well prolong your life when in the presence of men. And now as you move away from his boots, he would settle back in his seat. The crowd to fade to the background as your movements call to his gaze and he would become your audience. Undoubtedly the other men that are indulging will soon be interested in the appeal of your form. And in that he is happy, as you are a slave that is desired.

His large hand would reach for the tankard again and he would enjoy a drink as he notes the music become louder, more intense.

(12/30/23 05:54:09 pm)

....La Vie En Rose....
One {Randlvar}MPG | Restricted | PoD

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to Randlvar|MpG-PoD|: On Earth or Tera, statues of hourglassed women danced atop the grand fountains in Paris, forever standing as a reminder that women were art and, when expected to be so, they would always become that for men. After all, she was crafted from years of well-thought-out breeding that would only draw forth the most feminine features that would have you craving to touch supple breasts or to seed her this night. She would be sure of it as everything was beginning to come alive in her in ways that had been kept dormant since she had felt the steel's weight on her neck. She was not that woman who should be pitied for what Goreans would consider freedom. She was the woman who should be kept in most excellent bondage, forever emulating statues of old and paintings made to hang on the walls for Ubars to see. You were, in essence, her Ubar. She would submit herself to this, and the chimes of the bells would twinkle to remind you that there, resting on the left ankle, were the warning bells that a dangerously delicious creature lingered nearby. She wondered what pleasures she could give as her hands drew up toward the sky until her wrists kissed one another. The lift of the breast and the drawing upward of the ribcage would showcase the rib slide to the waist. Suckling inward, the hips of your girl would move, the left hip pulled by your puppeteer's strings.

The warmth of her body could be felt from the bottoms of her toes to the end of her fingertips. It was as if she held some deep, earthy secret for those who tapped deep within themselves. The wrists that she held together high above her chocolate brown hair. It was as if she were manacled; they would remain until one arm drifted down toward her elbow. She gave into the music that swelled into her ears, offering her body's lines and curves to your eyes. Her hand would continue its descent as it skimmed along her blushed cheek, down the length of her neck, and along the outer swell of her breast. There, upon that breast, her soft pink nipples had risen in collar and were eager for the pluck you enjoyed doing to her so often. Soon, her other hand joined the other to amplify the natural curves of her breasts until she released them from her tight clutch. The grip had left behind fingerprints, reminding you how easily her canvas could be ready for red. The color nearly matched the arrogant Scarlet color that lay atop the flare of womanly hips. The bells sounded like her body was casting some musical spell on those within earshot.

(12/30/23 06:04:39 pm)

Randlvar|MpG-PoD|

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to ....La Vie En Rose.... : With the dance to become more animated and the music to become intense, the men that surround that makeshift stage turn their gazes. They as well becoming drawn into the story that you're sharing, the showcasing of that canvas that an artist would kill to apply his trade. His gaze wouldn't leave you, it would follow the rise of that hip and the way the silk only accentuates your form. The way your hands descend to draw an appraising gaze to sleek lines and curves, even the reddening of your flesh when toying with your breast, none of it would go unnoticed and soon a fist to strike the table. The sound to accompany that of the drum being played.

(12/30/23 06:12:27 pm)

....La Vie En Rose....
One {Randlvar}MPG | Restricted | PoD

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to Randlvar|MpG-PoD|: As the music climbed, her hands would move along the outside of her hip. She dared to let her palms grip at the fabric, teasing as though the knot that seemed so loosely tied would easily part from her body. But no, the knot lied. You would not see the milky flesh just yet. As she moved, the brand on her skin became visible. It was the Dina brand, a marking that signified much about her. While any other girl might have accidentally revealed the brand, your astute girl knew that it was a desirable sight for a man. She understood the power of her body and how it could entice a man with just a simple marking. Her intelligence and awareness of her own sexuality set her apart from others who would have been oblivious to the potential of such a display. She would be one of those magical women who was meant to be kept in the deepest depths of enslavement. You were before her and she felt her heart pulse. There was no tremble in her step as she drew ever closer. Her stems were petite yet the backs of her hamstring were visibly emphasized when she would point her toe and step forward with a pivoting purpose. One step closer she drew and the scent of her was present. Chocolate hair waterfalled around her figure, only causing a blanket of dark to offset the glow of her silky skin. The soft touches of freckles could now be seen.

There would be a lift of jaw, accentuating the profile view of her aristocratic features. She would always carry herself with elegance, as though you owned an Ubara from an unknown grand city. She would move closer and closer and reach out with one hand as if she were offering herself to you. Yet, if you or any man may have reached out, she would dart a slender hand away. As if she were in a game of tug-of-war, all of which you were winning, she would be pulled inward. It wasn't until she stepped once more, did she felt the knot of the silk against her hip and she would give it the softest tug, which would undress herself to you with only the steel of collar and the cheap bells upon ankle that which she wore. Her hand would move back over the top of your head as she would ease against your frame between opened thighs. As though she were to climb atop her Master and sink herself onto him, she would pull away again, lifting her hands above her head once more as they were a tied captive somewhere within your tent in a war camp.

(12/30/23 06:21:41 pm)

Randlvar|MpG-PoD|

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to ....La Vie En Rose.... : Before, in the not so distant past when you were a mockery to free women, even then you had been self aware. Aware enough to use your charm and become the flame to draw the men forth. He had been one to bear witness to you practicing it, even daring it on him. That is where is mind drifts as you begin to stalk forward, seeing how you've become the slave you are now. The beauty that is teasing, tapping into that power that you alone wield. He would grin as your hands move out and he is tempted to reach for you but then you withdraw. Pulling back and with it his gaze would follow as his fist continues to strike the table top in sync with the one beating the drum. Others having joined in, you a captivating sight and the men are sending out calls for the slave to continue.

(12/30/23 06:29:44 pm)

....La Vie En Rose....
One {Randlvar}MPG | Restricted | PoD

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to Randlvar|MpG-PoD|: Your slave girl turned about, pivoting on the balls of her feet; the chocolate hair atop her crown would swirl about, dragging across her flesh as though a shadow had turned her about. The curve of the buttocks is revealed, and the outward curve of the naked hip. The silk had fallen somewhere; she was unsure where she had dropped it. Perhaps it was in your lap? Her teeth dropped down atop the curve of her lower lip. She captured it, refusing to release it, thus bringing additional color to her lower lip when she did free it. Your One heard the calls of the men about her and felt the excitement in her breast, finding herself lured by its call. The natural slave in her relished being this sensual thing. The slave girl pulled back from you as though she had somehow gained the upper hand in this tug-of-war. There was a moment when she moved back far enough away from her she would back purposefully into a man who had walked forward. Had she worn the silk, he may have caught her, but she could dart free of his hand. Even her hair was too swift for him to grab in hand as she twisted her hip so that her ankle was beautifully displayed again. The left of her revealed from Dina to the bells that once more warned of her presence.

Her eyes would connect to yours as she moved willingly forward with purposeful step, yet she turned away again before her thigh brushed between yours. Her nails would skim along the outside of her thigh until they drew to her brunette hair that showed in the lamplight's glow. Each pound on the table excited her, lifting her higher into the moment and glided by her desire to please you.

(12/30/23 06:39:55 pm)

Randlvar|MpG-PoD|

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to ....La Vie En Rose.... : The music to come to its peak and with it he sees how the men are caught up into the scene of it all. The spectacle that you make in the dimly lit and hazy tavern where even the sluts that are warming laps seem to watching. But with that build of anticipation, the dare of the man to try and capture you, his fist would continue to strike the table. Continue to match the one being played out, joined in sync with a dark gaze to follow every single step. Every delectable movement that calls for a hand to entrap and finally he would sit forward, his fist to cease in its strike. Instead he would hold your gaze and motion you to him, Forefinger to showe the very spot he expects you to be and in short order.

(12/30/23 06:47:11 pm)

....La Vie En Rose....
One {Randlvar}MPG | Restricted | PoD

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to Randlvar|MpG-PoD|: She was your capture, your slave. Her stance exuded a sense of confidence as she stood firmly on the ground. The uplift of her chin and the straightening of her back showcased her poise and determination. It was as if an invisible force was pulling her ribcage upwards, making her feel taller and more empowered. She was completely present in the moment, captivated by feeling herself seen amongst those from the far reaches of Gor. She would pull her breath inward and when you made a motion to her she would obey your request. The phantom tug-of-war rope would be released and she would obediently return to your feet. It was evident the dance had evoked something deep within her as she lifted her breasts to you. There was an inward suckle of the stomach as she knelt before her Master. She would glide her chin upward, her lips slightly parted as though offering them for a kiss. Wrists moved prettily behind the small of her back - a display that was beautifully helpless to wherever her Master's hands would enjoy roaming. Her eyes would meet yours and there on her moist lips would be her smile.

(12/30/23 06:54:42 pm)

Randlvar|MpG-PoD|

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to ....La Vie En Rose.... : There's calls to follow you and fists to beat table-tops, pound chests , each a sign of appreciation to the performance. Indeed you had entertained them. They all would return to enjoying their eve, this one of the few remaining in their journey. But as you kneel before him, your breaths shown with each inhale to those exquisite breasts and the smile that blooms to lips, his gaze would drink you in. Extending his hand and roughly dragging his thumb across that lower lip so that he can even see the hint of white and even teeth that lie behind the pillow. "A very, very pleasing dance my slave. " His voice would drop but not so much that you can't hear while his hand would ease behind your neck and fingers would curve inward. Trapping the nape there just above the collar and pull you forward. Expecting you to knee walk between the space between his thighs. " Nothing but honor to my collar, that is what you bring"

(12/30/23 07:04:26 pm)

....La Vie En Rose....
One {Randlvar}MPG | Restricted | PoD

-- is in one of the drinking establishments where men might enjoy Paga, Kal-da, and slaves --

says to Randlvar|MpG-PoD|: "My Master," she breathed inward, so pleased to be gathered and pulled inward until her head rested against the inward meat of your thigh. "My Master, that is the most beautiful praise," she would say, feeling the most profound appreciation of such words. She would close her eyes momentarily as she centered herself once more. Her thighs were slick from the kiss of sweat, and the evidence that being looked upon had excited her. As you look downward you would see that her chocolate hair reached down to the upper curve of her buttocks. Her hands remained kissed behind her lower back. It brought her a big relief knowing you were pleased.