Education of Chelsea: Need Dance

Author's Note: On the planet Gor, when a slave girl is hot or otherwise needful of her Master's touch/rape, she will often try to entice him to throw her onto her back before him and have his way with her forcibly, at his will. A Need Dance is one in which the slave girl strives to display her sexual needs and the desperation of these needs before her Master. The following is a quote found from John Norman's book, Explorers of Gor:

She straightened herself. Her eyes were moist. "What I am now going to do," she said, "I do fully and completely of my own free will. I have sexual needs. I shall exhibit the desperation of these needs before my master, in the hope that he will take pity on me and satisfy them."

One such Need Dance is the tile dance. This is usually where the slave girl is tethered or chained to a ring in the floor at her Master's feet, but not always. But her dance is limited to the movements that she can perform on the floor or tiles only. She can not rise to her feet but instead, writhe on her belly and side, rise to her knees and begs helplessly for him to fulfill her desires. At the end of the dance, hopefully, if she has been found pleasing, her Master will usually put an end to her starved affections; at least, for the time being.

The dance ...

* * * * *

Without a word, the girl spirals downward upon the floor, wanton bond-maid flesh transforming to a wild crawling barbarian. Weathered chains lick along her branded flesh like a thousand tongues of fire as hips roll in inviting circles, her copper curls dragging along the tiles.

Succumbing to his chains that fiercely hold owned flesh to the place at his feet, she can feel their stares, their mocking smiles upon what is chained before them ... a hungered slut driven only by the heat of passion that he alone ignites within her.

Her blue eyes flash as she boldly fights the urge to so thoroughly yield to him. Tossing waves of molten lava insolently behind her rolling shoulders, her wanton hips begin to betray what burns white-hot within her tempestuous form. Her need is beginning to submit to its rhythm.

The chill of the tiles send a shiver of apprehension up her arched spine. The rustle of his chain contorts her luscious body for his pleasure as the throb of the tambor roars in her ears. The pounding blood in her veins begins to call to her aching desires.

Closing her eyes in helpless fear at his unchanging face, a hushed cry of realization escapes her lips as she rolls trembling form to her side at his feet. She can feel the slick moistness beginning to pool between her stretching thighs, hearing the anticipated breath of those that watch her begin to succumb.

The rustle of weathered chains is lost in the soft cries that unconsciously erupt from her moist, parted lips. White-hot flames begin to ignite the bewitching beauty that begs for the phantom touch of his fingers as she twists beneath his chains and the steel fused to her very being.

Shifting in desperate need, she knew she would do anything to please him ... to be wanted by him, to be used by him. Twisting away upon the floor in writhing desperation, the brand of his chains are a powerful reminder of what she is to him and she tugs helplessly at their strength.

She unconsciously rolls to her back as her undulating hips suddenly thrust upwards in decadent offering. The need for his touch drives her every movement. Her curls of sun-kissed auburn splay in wild array around her head that tosses upon the tiles. She is starved with helpless desire.

There is a lustful fire burning within her darkened blue gaze that beckons his use as her own restless hands roam her heated flesh. Each contour of her body quivers in need, screaming for anything but to be chained from his touch on the cold, unforgiving tiles at his feet.

Her trembling form strains into the empty night, twisting to her quivering slave belly as her velvety tongue laps hungrily at his feet. There are tears gleaming silver in her eyes now, breasts heaving beneath her stubborn breath as she fights the urge to beg. But her body is out of control ... tempered passion has now flared to life.

The slut in her helplessly surrenders at his feet. Moist, swollen lips move ... caress ... her tongue laps in total abandon as she realizes that only he can hold her truly captive. She is forever his, a bond-maid to his will, a slave to his pleasure. Soft cries rip from her collared throat as the tormenting music finally crashes around her in a climatic end, driving her to plead and beg, falling captive to her need.

"Your slut begs your merciless rape! Please ... my Master! I'll do anything for it!"