An in-book example of a submission dance or chain dance?

September 2010

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[Hikari Nirpaw]

Greetings, Masters.
Greetings, Mistresses.
Greetings, kajirae.
Greetings, kajirii.

This one has found many many outside sources on these dances, such as notecards of SL performances, ones written up in IRC or for a webpage or something of that nature, but this one has never seen a passage from the book on either of these dances.  If this one may ask, could You please quote this one Your favorite (if there are more than one) passage in which a chain or submission dance is being performed?  This one would GREATLY appreciate it.

~jaem

[Laja DeCuir]

If you were looking for a précised description of a dance-quote mentioning 1. step, 2nd and so on I can imagine it is nearly impossible. I had a longer search on that one too. But as it is readable in the books:

Submission Dance Performed for the girl's true Master, each dance is different and unique, as is each Freeperson. It can be done in many ways, from the kajira allowing her hands to roam her own body in throbbing lust for her Master, to the girl writhing in desire and submitting at His feet.

Though immo most of the dances might be up to your fantasy. Norman created some pictures that may come up into your imagination as a reader. I will share what I found and hope it will help at least a lil*smiles

You will find several quotes as far as I remember the books about the beginning and the closing of a dance. E.g.:

Beginning:

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.

Closing:

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.

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.

Concerning the Chain Dance I like those quotes:

This one is much likely a mixture and a loooong one:

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.

Also you find some more detailed description about the dances displayed by Doreen in Dancer of Gor. Here is one example:

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.

Personally even if Normans writing skills aren’t that superb I think one can imagine the dance, again it is up to your fantasy, your ability to describe what you see and feel.

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.

I think this might be enough for a start to read and I do hope it helped.*smiles

[Hikari Nirpaw]

Excellent.  This should at least be a great start to his research.  Than You very much, Mistress!

[Carter Ebbage]

this is not a dance.. but an example of the collaring ceremony

I had been coached in the simple collaring ceremony of Treve. Ena, the high girl, who wore the garment of white, had not been much pleased that I did not have a caste, and could not claim a familiar city as my place of origin.

...Accordingly, it had been decided that I should identify myself by my actual city, and by my barbarian title and name. In the ceremony then I should refer to myself as Miss Elinor Brinton of New York City. I smiled to myself. I wondered how often, on this rude world, I would have the opportunity to so refer to myself. The proud Miss Elinor Brinton, of New York City, seemed so far away from me. And yet I knew she was not. I was she. Miss Elinor Brinton, incredibly, uncomprehensibly, found herself kneeling in a barbarian tent, on a distant world, myself, being prepared for her collaring. The fact that New York City was of Earth, and that Treve was of Gor, would not even enter into the ceremony. Scarcely anything would enter into the ceremony save that I was female and he was male, and that I would wear his collar.

Yesterday, by slave girls, under the direction of Ena, who was high girl, I had been washed and combed, and then fed. The food had been good, bread and bosk meat, roasted, and cheese, and larma fruit. I, famished from my trials in the wilderness, fed well. I had even been given a swallow of Ka-la-na wine, which exquisite beverage I had not tasted since the time of my capture, long ago, by Verna outside of Targo's compound....

...Ena went to a chest, opened it, and drew forth a folded piece of striped rep-cloth, a rectangle some two and a half by four feet.

Stand, she said.

I did so.

Lift your arms, she said.

I did so, and to my pleasure, she wrapped the piece of cloth about me, snugly, and fastened it with a pin behind my right shoulder blade. She then fastened it again, with anther pin, behind my right hip

Lower your arms, she said.

I did so, and stood straight before her.

You are pretty, she said. Now run along and see the camp.

Thank you, Mistress, I cried, and turned, and sped from the tent.

.... Suddenly the girl at the tent flap whispered excitedly, gesturing back toward us, 'Prepare her! Prepare her!'

'Stand,' said Ena.

I did so.

I gasped as they brought forth a long, exquisite garment, hooded, of shimmering scarlet silk.

Behind me, swiftly, one of the girls wound my hair into a single braid and then, coiling it, fastened it at the back of my head with four pins. The pins would be undone by Rask of Treve.

The garment was placed upon me. The hood fell at my back. The garment was sleeveless.

'Place your hands behind your back and cross your wrists,' said Ena.

She had, in her hand, an eighteen-inch strip of purple binding fiber, about half an inch in width, flat, set with jewels.

I felt my wrists lashed behind my back.

Ena then gestured to the girl with the small, ornate bottle. The girl removed the stopper and, quickly, again, touched me with the scent, behind each ear, a tiny drop on her finger. I smelled the heady perfume. My heart was beating rapidly.

Then Ena again approached me. This time she carried, coiled in her hand, some seven or eight feet of slender, coarse rope, simple camp rope. She knotted one end of this about my neck, tightly enough that I felt the knot. My wrists would be bound by jeweled binding fiber but I would be led forth on a simple camp rope.

'You are very lovely,' said Ena.

'A lovely animal!' I cried, tethered.

'Yes,' said Ena, 'a lovely, lovely animal.'

I looked at her with horror.

But then I realized that Elinor Brinton was indeed an animal, for she was a slave.

It was thus not inappropriate that she should find herself so, as she was, tethered, about her neck, knotted, a simple length of camp rope, slender and coarse, fir for leading verr or girls.

I turned my head to one side.

Ena drew the hood up from my back and over my head.

'They are ready!' said the girl at the entrance to the tent.

'Lead her forth,' said Ena.

I was led through the camp, and, here and there, some men and slave girls followed me.

I came to a clearing, before the tent of Rask of Treve. He was waiting there. On my tether I was led before him. I looked at him, frightened.

We stood facing one another, I about five feet from him.

'Remove her tether,' he said.

Ena, who had accompanied me, unknotted the rope, and handed it to one of the girls.

I wore the long, scarlet garment, hooded, sleeveless. My hands were bound behind my back with binding fiber.

'Remove her bonds,' said Rask of Treve.

In his belt I saw that he had thrust an eighteen-inch strip of binding fiber. It was not jeweled. It was about three quarters of an inch in thickness; it was of flat, supple leather, plain and brown, of the sort commonly used by tarnsmen for binding female prisoners.

Ena untied my wrists.

Rask and I regarded one another.

He approached me.

With one hand he brushed back my hood, revealing my head and hair. I stood very straight.

Carefully, one by one, he removed the four pins, handing them to one of the girls at the side.

My hair fell about my shoulders, and he smoothed it over my back.

One of the girls, she with the purple horn comb, combed the hair, arranging it.

'She is pretty,' said one of the girls in the crowd.

Rask of Treve now stood some ten feet from me. He regarded me.

'Remove her garment,' he said.

Ena and one of the girls from the tent parted the garment and let it fall about my ankles.

Two or three of the girls in the crowd breathed their pleasure.

Some of the warriors smote their shields with the blades of their spears.

'Step before me naked,' said Rask of Treve.

I did so.

We faced one another, not speaking, he with his blade, and in his leather. I with nothing, stripped at his command.

'Submit,' he said.

I could not disobey him.

I fell to my knees before him, resting back on my heels, extending my arms to him, wrists crossed, as though for binding, my head lowered, between my arms.

I spoke in a clear voice. 'I, Miss Elinor Brinton, of New York City, to the Warrior, Rask, of the High City of Treve, herewith submit myself as a slave girl. At his hands I accept my life and my name, declaring myself his to do with as he pleases.'

Suddenly I felt my wrists lashed swiftly, rudely, together. I drew back my wrists in fear. They were already bound! They were bound with incredible tightness. I had been bound by a tarnsman.

I looked up at him in fear. I saw him take an object from a warrior at his side. It was an opened, steel slave collar.

He held it before me.

'Read the collar,' said Rask of Treve.

'I cannot,' I whispered. 'I cannot read.'

'She is illiterate,' said Ena.

'Ignorant barbarian!' I heard more than one girl laugh.

I felt so ashamed. I regarded the engraving on the collar, tiny, in neat, cursive script. I could not read it.

'Read it to her,' said Rask of Treve to Ena.

'It says,' said Ena, '-I am the property of Rask of Treve.'

I said nothing.

'Do you understand?' asked Ena.

'Yes', I said. 'Yes!'

Now, with his two hands, he held the collar about my neck, but he did not yet close it. I was looking up at him. My throat was encircled by the collar, he holding it, but the collar was not yet shut. My eyes met his. His eyes were fierce, amused, mine were frightened. My eyes pleaded for mercy. I would receive none. The collar snapped shut. There was a shout of pleasure from the men and girls about. I heard hands striking the left shoulder in Gorean applause. Among the warriors, the flat of sword blades and the blades of spears rang on shields. I closed my eyes, shuddering.

I opened my eyes. I could not hold up my head. I saw before me the dirt, and the sandals of Rask of Treve.

Then I remembered that I must speak one more line. I lifted my head, tears in my eyes.

'I am yours, Master,' I said.

He lifted me to my feet, one hand on each of my arms. My wrists were bound before my body. I wore his collar. He put his head to the left side of my face, and then to the right. He inhaled the perfume. Then he stood there, holding me. I looked up at him. Inadvertently my lips parted and I, standing on my toes, lifted my head, that I might delicately touch with my lips those of my master. But he did not bend to meet my lips. His arms held me from him.

'Put her in a work tunic,' he said, 'and send her to the shed.'
---Captive of Gor, pp 269-284

I have to admit I do like the way he sent her to the work shed after this intense build up