And so, early on in being around the home I was approached by Demoness to help judge the dance contest held November 21st. I was quite honored, though I suspect it was partially because she was having trouble finding Men who would promise to be there. I had looked forward to it for weeks, as Dancing is one of my true loves in Gor, something I always enjoy watching.|
And it was something to look forward to for several weeks. I had just recently returned to Gor, and was still getting my sea legs, so to speak. Getting familiar with the new Home, the comings and goings of the Free who frequent it. Still am, were I to be completely honest. I have not quite figured out the Free or the girls of the home, much as I try.
And then the dance contest arrives. I had glanced at the rules once before the night, and then again that day. Being my rather organized self (anyone suggesting anal retention will be ignored) I had my tools ready and at hand to note scores, and what I thought of the dances.
And the first out of the gate was a beginner, and it very much set the theme for the night. While she wasn’t the finest dancer of the night, and while there were rough spots in her performance, the soul of the thing was there, the bones of a good dancer in the making and wonderful descriptions of her narrative in spite of her performances flaws. And that was without us realizing she was not a native English speaker which presents even more clearly her potential.
And that is the important part, I think, of a dance. The purity in the desire to dance, to put yourself forward and show the Free your soul. Now granted, I am one of the Free… my perspective is different from that of a slave girl. Perhaps that is why most of what I have ever seen written about Dance has been by a kajira.
For me, a Dance is the purist way for a slave to express who and what she is, how she feels. It is the one format in Gor where the kajira is, if you’ll excuse the use of the word, Free to express everything she wants, or needs, to express without any likelihood of being interrupted, or told to shut up. When a slave girl dances, Gor stops and listens.
Then Gor starts moving again, and it’s time for the next dance! The second dance tugged at the question of what being a slave is, and the third suggested what realizing a kajira’s true nature might be like to her, and the fourth embraced the passions and perhaps even the irritations of a slave. Each a framing of what a kajira experiences, each a moment of Cinema Verde into a kajira’s life.
And that raises another point. Dance might also be a way for a kajira to explore her surrender, the nature of her being as the property of Men. The ups, the downs, the desire and the confusion. In a way that kajira are not often permitted, they are free to truly embrace and explore their own questions about themselves, their submission, and their desires not just for themselves, but for those who might be watching.
It was the sixth dance that was a surprise for the Judges. A Dance of Rebellion, and we could see the emotion, the dark anger in the movements. It was moving, if not precisely ‘pleasing’ in the traditional sense, but very satisfying as a performance. We all also found ourselves, meaning the judges, wondering who had angered the girl, because we were sure someone must have. And almost as if in comparison, the seventh dance, one of a girl showing her desire to serve in all ways, to be possessed and owned and enjoyed, they were stark contrasts but also possibly more powerful for that.
And again, Dance is a communication. A way for a girl, perhaps, to express something to her Master, or the Free around her as a whole, be it her upsets or desires, her wants, needs, or fears even as they attempt to please the Free. A chance to selfishly express themselves to the eyes of a Man while at the same time selflessly giving all of themselves for the Men’s enjoyment.
The Eighth dance and the Ninth were also an interesting comparison. One a dance that revolved, at least superficially, about a drink and historical battle and another which dived into the emotions of a slaves surrender. The first, almost pure entertainment and delightful for it… a cool drink of something crisp on a hot day, the second a four-course meal, something to be savored for its depth and complexities. Both delicious, both delights, but quite different. Which, of course, is not to say the lighter dance was not without its subtleties, or the deeper was any less a pleasure. They worked because of what they were, and how they were danced.
The Tenth and Eleventh dance invite comparison as well. Both Pole dances, both sensual. One was a story, a tale of the high seas which invited the watcher to imagine adventure, excitement, and more with their minds eye, the dance as much a guide to the Free’s own fantasy as a performance. The other, blatant in its sensuality and unashamed of its sexuality it heated the blood and drew the blood from the mind… imagination left only to wonder how the girl would feel under a Man’s hand. One inspired the mind, the other the heart, one fired the soul while the other gripped a Man’s loins, and yet both left their audience wanting more, be it a longer dance or simply private time alone with the dancer.
Then our champion's dance, the last dance of the night and well placed as the finale. And well placed for my musings here. The reason, her dance was in many ways a blending of many others while being totally unique to itself. It was teasing as often as it promised, sensual as well as cerebral. It managed to tell a tale of its own, while being purely about the kajira who danced, and showed her soul in many ways, while leaving her a mystery to uncover the secrets of in private. And in a way, I suppose, that captures the essence of what it is to be a kajira. A girl is expected to be all things to her Master, while at the same time is expected to be simply his property. She must be Saint and Slut, Intense and subdued. Her world must revolve around Him, while at the same time his will never revolve around hers.
But that is the opinion of a Free Man who watches a dance. And what, do you wonder, do I hope to see? Is it what the final dance of the night gave me, or was it the heat of the eleventh? Did I enjoy the Third more than the fourth?
The truth is, for myself, I seek to see the soul of the girl in her dance, to see her heat, and her emotion bound into motion and story by her mind and heart. Even a white silks dance should expose her soul, even if it is a glance through heavy gauze where only the outlines are seen. I seek to understand a girl better after I have seen her dance, though in truth I never quite seem to see enough to be sure.
But perhaps that is why I keep wanting to see more?