The Dancer

She peered out from under the fur that was absently tossed on her, cerulean eyes wandered over the camp site, pulling the fur around her to fend off the chill. The slips of silk that draped along her delicate form were more for the pleasure of Men than to stave off the cool night. Occasionally the sound of a settling dragon would draw her eyes to the huge beasts, glittering pitch orbs stared back at her. The raid camp was well guarded, the Master's men milled about, a perimeter watch was set up, as they rotated in shifts to rest. Obsidian hair tumbled wildly around her shoulders as she eased up to sit, eyes carefully lowering whenever an appraising glance was tossed in her direction. She could not resist an arch of her brow however at the lusty cat calls, and she eased to her feet, the furs draped over her shoulders, and she graced them a flirtatious grin. Languidly, hands opened up the furs, a luscious display of crimson clad flesh, the insolent rock of ample hips set the bells that teased the plane of her taut belly to murmur. Firelight played havoc against the gleaming locks of jet, the fur slowly lowered, revealing inch by inch of creamy flesh. The eyes of fifty men roughly stripped her form, she played with them, invited them to lust for her. Fingertips traveled the path of her belly, teasing against the silk that draped dangerously low, dancer's hips rocked to shiver the bells, and metal glinted against skin.

Slender arms lifted upwards, willowy limbs reached toward the moons to cross at the wrist, the voluptuous thrust of heavy breasts strained eagerly at the binds of her silks. Even in such a forbidding place as this, there was the comfort of music and with a heated glance a man began to play the lute, fingers plucking at the strings like the light caress to a slut's body. She began to move then, the thick veil of lashes lowered and she lost herself in the music. The sway of her body spoke of a new slave, fear and lust that both repelled and thrilled her, she tried to deny her true self. The moan of the instrument echoed the soft cries from her lips, the heat within her blooming for the Master that would possess her, complete her. They fell silent watching her, she was a woman truly, every pirouette would send the veil of her hair reaching for them, and she danced for each man alone.

The sharp clap of her hands punctuated the kick of her delicate foot, sands sent flying around her, suddenly the capture of her wrist in a huge hand, and the subsequent jerk of her arm towards Him she fell to her knees. Eyes immediately lowered as she caught the soft velvet flesh of vermillion lip between her teeth, breath coming in soft gasps. The rumble of His voice was absolute, it sent a shiver coursing down her spine as she trembled, fearing she would not see the morning for her wanton display. He looked different up close, older somehow, and the scent of sweat and leather teased her senses. The man who had captured her and had complete control over her fate, be it life, death, or some grey in between. The thoughts were a jagged tumble in her mind as she peeked up at Him. "It seems that you do not really know whom you belong to slave." he said, the words steady, deliberate, chilling.

She lifted her lashes to peer up at His glowering face, eyes widening at the anger there and quickly looked at the ground again. "Please Master, I beg Your mercy, I do not know truly what I was thinking to dance for Your men." Hands reached down and thick fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her up with a pained gasp, her body was bent backward as He leaned into her, bowing her toward the ground. "You... slut. Belong to me. And if you are so quick to display your.. talents to my men... perhaps you will be as quick to quench their desire now that you have instilled it so well in them." Jumping from a cliff did not seem like such a bad idea now that she faced the prospect of being used by His guard, all of whom were relishing the prospect and already gambling for their turn in line. He pulled her upward to look into her eyes, the terror coursing through her veins, and roughly pushed her to the ground. The forgotten fur was picked up and thrown over her, darkness surrounded her and she cried softly in dread. The sound of His voice was laced with amusement, a lesson well taught it seemed. "If you move from beneath that fur slave, you will serve my entire contingent of men."

And with that He walked away.