"Dance, girl Dance!"

[saphy]

Ships lanterns burn wildly and hang from the ceiling casting a glow over the vast space below....candle light flickering as voices rise merrily and noisily from the numerous tables which are set in a spacious grouping, clustered around a pit of golden sand. 
Scantily clad and mostly naked women adorned with nothing more than strips of silk twisted around their torsos, rush here and there, back and forth in their own excitement, serving warmed paga and well fired food to the Masters, as they themselves, rest swathed with their house leathers and cloth, steel shafts of their weaponary glinting in the soft glow....the grip of their whips held readily tight in their grasp.

In an almost hidden corner, a flash of glimmering material coincides with a careless movement as it catches the radiance from a nearby torchlight....in the darkness, she stays, pressed against the walls, her eyes wide and wild and as she stands there, subdued by the shadows that have all but concealed her for the past twenty minutes or so, the bustling array before her has her mind reeling with a precious anticipation.

Awed by the scene, she finds herself slightly chilled by the impending night air, the goosebumps begin to play with the soft whisps of hair on her forearms and at the nape of her neck, she clutches at her soft purple toned silks and desperately tries to somehow, by some means, but failing disastrously, warm herself as a whispered wanton gasp escapes her lips and breaks the silence in her hidden space.

...from nowhere, without prelude, with an awkwardly strong fumbling grip, she finds herself taken brutally and pushed forcibly toward the sands. She bites hard on her lip, a smirk on her lips as His welcoming control strikes a hidden chord inside her.

"NO! wait...i..." caught of guard, she fumbles for her words as her mind goes into a rapid fury of unknown thoughts at the sudden intrusion.

In her complete disarray, her cherished silks are tugged and ripped from her skin in one grasp leaving her vulnerable and bare as she falls clumsily to her knees..."thankyou Master" she bows her head.

"Dance girl!..." a deep growling tremor close to her exudes His command. She feels His words reach inside her, triggering her need and her desire, fueling the fire that nestles in the pit of her stomach.

"your presence hasn't gone unnoticed, One has waited and read you for long enough....now...NOW i will see what i desire!"

...every inch of her stiffens taut, her breath stills...the colour drains from her face in that instance of unexpectant surprise.....raising her chin, her glowing fired sparkling gaze finds His darkened exterior, lavishly covered in His furs, a slight delicate growl reverberates somewhere in her throat, His visible bare skin heavily rippled with muscle and a covering of dark hair...that strong jawline framed with such precise symmetry as His dark eyes burn into her core.....with seeing such reverent disobedience in her, that vice like grip, that same tightening grasp from above twists in her hair and drags her form across the pit to its centre.

"I said NOW trik!!!!" overtones of anxiety and urgency as He commands with such stoney authority....her hands clutching at emptiness desperately and her feet frantically searching for her footing...she's tossed heartlessly against a strong wooden pole, before her body lays limp and anguished on the sands below. She softly smiles, hidden from view by her tousled hair..the sheer overpowering manly control leaving her gently quivering.

                                  
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luscious, softly moulded curves lay in full view of her audience, of the strong willed Masters that surround her, their eyes glaring from behind their goblets and boring into her skin, drawn and alerted by the sudden, excitable commotion.

Silence falls, her audience tantalised by the lean lines of her vulnerable form as she glows subtly before them, a would be magnet for the surrounding candlelight, those perfectly rounded globes of her rear a delightful focal point to hungrily feast upon...her long, naturally curled locks feathered across her shoulders, slipping and framing her form in such a teasing manner.....purposefully and gracefully she turns onto her back, her body bowed in reverence....sensations coursing through her more wildly than ever before, her desire and need to be pleasing instinctly taking her over as her mind blurs and a thick fog descends.

her form betrays her in its wildest manner, sinking so easily into that unexplicable zone of contentment and release....her hips raised to the skies as her head turns. Closing her eyes, she loses herself and all concious thought,  raising her senses to unbelievable heights......her elongated form draws a fragile breath nearby, producing sleek lines of flesh as her thigh stretches, the slender, toned muscles in her calve, setting a course for a wandering gaze....cascading dark waves of hair covering the flush in her face as it spreads to her ample breasts, stinging at the already taut nubs of her nipples as they painfully stiffen sending signals directly between the apex of her thighs....in desperation to ease that overwhelming tingling she parts such widely and her form writhes uncontrollably to the beat of her heart, exposing her warmth for all to see, opening herself...her slave heat beckons Him, molten heat flickering like a tongue at her already pulsating cleft...she grinds in the sands as a whip cracks in the air nearby....desperate for touch, hopeful for release...instinctively her quick movements and her delectable moans mimic those just as if the leather had indeed stung at her skin...bucking and jerking as her softly swollen lips glisten, a trail of short dark curls resting upon her mound in a sleek path to her neatly formed and presented sex....but as every slave girl knows....a slave is almost never struck with the whip, unless, of course, she does not perform well. With this at the forefront of her mind...she exudes herself. She centres on her passion and her desires and she presents flawlessly.

she takes sheer comfort and pleasure in her abilities to be pleasing...her body writhing and yielding in ways she knows is arousing to Him....afterall, its her role to know such...to pay attention to a Master's needs....her focus turns to this epitomy of brute Dominance who tyrannizes her, as He towers above her with His whip at His side...she locks His gaze and looks deeply into His eyes, a gentle, teasing smirk on her lips, a starved need radiates from her...her soft skin glows needily and with a known look from Him, her breath instantly catches in her throat as her chest rises urgently, a tight knot tugs at her tummy as her impending excitment gathers, washing over her, her form tightens as her breath stills....her stolen orgasm slicking her inner thighs with honey sweet juices as they flow readily...freely...her heart rate pounds erratically in her chest but without a moments pause and almost too delicately, in her graceful mannerisms, she turns her hands...laying their backs upon the sand...exposing the soft flesh of her palms to Him.

Never once dropping her gaze, although from somewhere deep inside her she knows she should....she notices the distinct change in His eyes, the ripple of anger as it filters across His jawline.....her silence, a lustful, wanton tug at her lower lip with her teeth, her unspoken words, those slave fires burning furiously in her deep hazel eyes, a ferocious, animalistic sparkle of golden shards present in those same mesmerising pools of honeyed darkness.....she indicates more than clearly her surrender...her submission...her vulnerability and her readiness.....echoed loudly in every breath...albeit tainted with a deliberate tinge of....something. That thought, that knowledge brings a playful smile to her lips.

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This brutish but devilishly and sadistically so, handsome embodiment of a Master then crouches beside her in all His splendour and with the swiftest of gestures, before her next breath leaves her body, He encircles her neck with the coils of His whip.....tugging with precision, He pulls her to her knees before Him.....longingly, she gazes up at Him, her neck in the leather strand as it tightens slightly against the delicate lines of her throat, with His extensive expertise, He acknowledges her, albeit deliberately smartmouthed and tainted with sarcasm.

"a move you'll pay for little one. Trust that sentiment."

He studied her from the shadows, He recognises fine her need for servitude, her dabbling with authority, her cries for Mastery and for someone far superior to take the control from her grasp.....so He shall.

her delicate palms finding their place at the small of her back, her wrists crossed and held invisibly by the restraint of the strength He exudes...the air tainted with His Dominance as it washes over her form

   "Kneel, back on your heels," His voice deep and rough around the edges, almost growling as each word leaves His lips. "Straighten your back, suck in your gut, put your shoulders back, thrust out your breasts".....His whip handle presses at each part of her form as He indicates what He desires to see...."spread your knees, widely, lift your chin, put your hands on your thighs." His eyes wander over her new position...checking for her insolence...she holds herself firmly..."You are not going to be sold as a tower slave, Lady Sapphire. You are going to be sold as a pleasure slave."

She reaches for and kneels behind the dark, smooth post....facing it, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts against it...her hands embracing it.
The whip cracked too close to her again...she quivered and suddenly became very lasciviously active...writhing and pressing herself closer to the pole...pressing it tight at the apex of her thighs as her arms reach above her head...her breath quickens, the obvious symbolism of her beauty beneath total male discipline becoming extremely, powerfully erotic....

"Enough!" he said. She was then as she had been before, kneeling behind the post, her knees on either side of it, her belly and breasts pressed against it, her hands embracing it.

"Tonight," He spoke, His voice directed not to her but to the captivated audience around her...."I will give her to guardsmen. She will dance the whip dance, naked."

A skipped heartbeat and a sudden gush of wet warmth between her thighs, involuntary spasms down her spine, a silent but very noticeable response to whats expected of her.

Turning His attentions directly to her, it was His turn to smile.