Wide eyes, a flash of blue and violet
sparkling up and falling again,
demure under his passionate gaze.
Her body trembles, soft skin
like satin, listening in the torchlight.
Delicate hands rest on smooth thighs,
knees spread to reveal the moisture
of her rising heat trembling under
her master's gaze.
She longs for his voice calling
to her, demanding of her
amongst the voices of men
and the soft rustlings of
kajirae in silks and steel.
Her belly yearns for him
and his ownership; she is nothing
more than a possession, a prized
belonging, her wrists encased
in steel, her ankles chained.
"Dance la kajira," softly spoken
the voice that she obeys and her deep
blue orbs dart to his, seeking
his heart and recognition.
Icy stell stares back at her
and she blushes, heat rising
from slave sex to belly to heart
and she crawls from her place
at his feet to the pit.
Sounds stop, eyes turning
to focus on the red silks framing
her lithe frame. Eyes follow
the curves of her arms, following
to the smooth skin beneath,
firm, full breasts encased
in red silk, smooth belly,
tight thighs and soft feet.
She moves, her body slowly seeking
it's position, arms curling
over her head, wrists crossed
back to back, one belled and chained
foot before her, toes pointed outwards
and she waits for her master's signal.
He nods, his voice clear now
in the silence of the room,
"Dance la kajira. Dance."
Even a kajirus, mounted at the pillory
turns his head to stare at the beauty
his own stunning, naked flesh trembling,
and she begins, her body moving slowly
at first. And this is the moment
her slave's heart has been waiting for.
Her right leg turns, wrapping around
her, sending her into a graceful spin,
her eyes reflecting the sorrow of an unowned heart.
The slave's long hair lifts with her
self-created breeze, and her heart leaps
in the longing of her belly.
Her arms raise again over her head,
the delicate chain at her ankles
seeming to give her the freedom
she needs, and she dances.
Her eyes, expressive in the light of fire
on stone tell the story of her life
as her body moves in time to the beating
of her slave's heart. Around her, slaves stop
in their service and free are quiet.
They know that tonight is the night.
Her hands move suddenly, her eyes
changing, hardening as she tears
the red silk from around her waist
revealing her heat in the moment,
passion burning in the flush of her skin,
anger pressing itself into the lines of her face.
She whips the silk above her head,
spinning from one end of the pit
to the other, displaying her indignation
at having been enslaved.
Arms lower, silk gripped firm
in the fist of her right hand
her fiery eyes falling on the shackles
on her wrists, her mouth falling open
in a silent cry of rage, her eyes
blazing anew. She spins, as though
she might break free of her bondage.
The rage of her blue-violet orbs
falls to frustration and she stares
at the silk clutched in her delicate fingers,
then dropping to her naked loins.
Her cheeks flush, the colour creeping
up to embrace the shell-curve
of her pretty ears.
Horror flashes to her eyes,
and she spins, her body moving
in fluid circles, spinning nearly
out of control until she stops as though
frozen in space and time. She stares
around her, eyes wide with shock,
as though realizing for the first time
that she is not alone in the silence.
Moments pass in stillness, her expression
changing and moving, passing
from shock to fear, to sad stillness.
She falls to her knees, her face falling
into her hands, desperation coursing
in the trembling of her tender flesh.
Her hands lower and she stares
again at her wrists, her face falling
in a tremour of realization.
Eyes rise to the steely gaze of hte man
at whose feet she has so often knelt,
the warrior of her heart. She draws
the red silk over her head and around
her neck, over her soft breasts
down her belly and between her legs.
Her eyes express the longing in the belly
of the unowned slave. With grace she
wraps the silk around her wrists,
pressing her palms against the sand,
sliding forward until she is stretched
prostrate in the sand. She inches forward
on her belly, rolling first left, then right
as though in indecision, until she reaches
the cold stone of the tile.
She rolls, spinning quickly one way
and then the other, towards her warrior,
away again, thrusting back up
onto her knees, her head moving
forward, back, side to side,
her eyes reflecting her fear and uncertainty.
Her arms stretch above her head,
her full breasts thrusting out against
the silk that reveals more than
it conceals. She closes, and then
spreads her knees, acting out
through her dance her fears
and the concerns of her slave's heart.
All eyes are on the slave girl,
watching her progression from the pit
and her demonstration with the silk
Silence prveails, the parched throats
of the free forgotten in the pleasure
of the girl's movement, the smiles
of her sisters encouraging as she
slides again to her belly, crawling
her way again to his feet. She pauses
as though torn, and then slips
with grace to her knees, a gentle
part to her soft thighs, rvealing
to him the glistening treasures
of her slavehood.
He doesn't smile, but gazes down at her,
hard edges as she draws her silk-bound
wrists behind her head, pulling them
forward around her neck
and breaking her weak bondage.
She looks down at her wrists in horror
and then raises her hands to him,
palms up in supplication, hot tears
burning in her eyes as she raises
the windows to her soul to him, pleading.
"A girl has been your ssince she heard
your voice, Master," she speaks clearly
in soft tones. "If Master would have her,
she wishes to wear your steel." She draws
breath, tears spilling from behind
half-closed lids. There is silence, and
she waits in the agonizing stillness.
A sister steps forward on soft heels,
lifting her long hair from her neck
and she knows, even before his brother
hands to him the metal band of ownership.
"What are you?" he asks her, voice hard.
"She is slave, Master, and nothing else."
His face breaks for the first time into a smile
and the steel closes around her neck
claiming and calming her. "From this day forward,
you are mine, body, heart and soul."
The tavern erupts into it's former activity,
and she kneels, content, on her owner's furs.
Copyright ©Storm 2003
