The Final Veil: Who had kidnapped America's favorite belly dancer?

by Pat Powers

  "Including dance exhibitions," I said.

  "Exactly," said Astra.

  We were at the front door by that time. A burly fellow in a red toga greeted us.

  "Lady Astra!" he cried. "Honored, as always." He opened his arms wide and Astra walked into them and gave him a big hug.

  "Good to see you, Samnius," said Astra. "How is Slave Rikki?"

  "Pleasing, as ever," said Samnius with a grin.

  "I am so glad to hear it," said Astra.

  "She's also on welcoming duty, go on in, I'm sure she'll be glad to see you," said Samnius.

  We stepped into the building.

  The place had once been a basketball court, but it had been extensively remodeled. Oriental rugs covered half the floor, the rest had been left with its smooth wood finish, but instead of the familiar patterns of a basketball court, it had vaguely Arabic geometric patterns.

  The high steel beams of the rafters had been hung with billowing silk banners that concealed it and brought the ceiling down to a reasonable level. The walls were hung with heavier banners as well. The effect was that of the inside of a gigantic tent, except less sweaty and much better lit than your average tent, as they had some nice industrial-grade fans in the back of the room where no one went that managed to just keep the air pleasantly stirred in the middle of the room and the dance floor.

  The air was warm, but not unpleasantly so, just warm enough that a woman walking around naked might have popped-up nipples, but not enough to give her goose bumps. Which made sense because there were a few naked women in the room and most of the rest of the women were practically naked.

  The men were wearing loose-fitting bathrobes, generally solid in color with geometric trim designs. They were blue, yellow, red and green -- every color but white.

  A slavegirl was waiting just inside the door. She knelt before us and at our entrance she abased herself, pressing her head to floor and extending her hands toward us.

  "Oh behalf of my master Samnius, I welcome you to this gathering," she said. "We are honored at your presence and hope you will be glad you are here. If there is anything we can do to make your visit more comfortable, please let us know."

  "We are very glad to be here," said Lady Astra, "and it is good to see you again, Slave Rikki."

  "Slave Rikki is pleased to see Lady Astra again as well," she said.

  I didn't know if "see" was the right phrase here, since in her present position, all Rikki could "see" of Astra was her toes.

  "If your companion desires, we have Master's robes and a room where he can change into them quickly and easily," said Slave Rikki.

  "I'm OK," I said.

  "Some Gorean dishes can be a little messy," said Lady Astra. "The robes will get dirty, not your nice suit."

  I didn't think my suit was particularly nice -- it was one of several cheap suits I'd purchased for working in -- nice enough to interview respectable sorts in, but nothing to get upset about if they got torn or bloodstained while working on a case. Still, I saw her point. Better their robes than my suit. And I would probably stand out in this crowd, wearing a suit.

  "All right then, I'll have a robe," I said.

  "This one will have Slave Marybeth assist you," said Rikki.

  "I'll find us a place to sit," said Astra.

  "Slave Marybeth," Rikki called. A woman who had been sitting against the wall to our right and conversing with several other women rose to her feet and walked over to Marybeth, kneeling beside her. She prostrated herself before us and asked, "How may this one serve?"

  "Our honored guest requests a robe," said Tina.

  "This one will be honored to assist him," said Marybeth. She rose to her feet and said, "May this one address you as master?"

  "Sure," I said. “Knock yourself out,” I thought.

  "Please follow me, Master," said Marybeth.

  I followed Marybeth. She wore a harness type bra and a short skirt -- it ended just above her butt cheeks in the back -- made of see-through silk, so I got a pretty good look at her as I followed her. She was in her late thirties, early forties, not exactly a young babe, but with some nice lines to her.

  The "changing room" looked very familiar -- it was the old boy's locker room. I could tell it was the boys' because it had urinals in the adjacent bathroom.

  There was a stack of robes on the table where the gym towels would have been if the locker room were still being put to its original use, along with a lot of very fluffy towels.

  "If master will please turn around," said Marybeth, "this one will take his coat."

  I obligingly turned my back to her and she gently and expertly removed my coat.

  "If master will please turn around again," she said.

  I turned to face her. She smiled up at me and reached up to remove my tie. She untied it as expertly as I had tied it, then carefully folded it and place it in my locker.

  I wondered how far this undressing business was going to go, then remembered -- she was Gorean.

  Sure enough, after she pulled my pants down she tugged my jockeys off and I was standing there stark naked. She slid the robes over my shoulders and tied them shut.

  "Um, how do you lock these lockers?" I asked.

  "No one has ever asked that before," said Marybeth. "No Gorean would steal. It would dishonor him or her beyond recovery."

  Of course. Honor. Drummed out of the group. No Gorean would risk that for some other guy's pocket change. Hell, not even for a top-of-the-line credit card.

  "May a slavegirl speak?" Marybeth asked after she stowed my clothes in a lockless locker.

  "Sure," I said.

  "Master looks very good in his robes," said Marybeth, smiling up at me. It was strange to be complimented on my dress by an almost naked woman, especially since I was wearing nothing but a bathrobe. But I guess if you don't wear a lot, you compliment what you got.

  "Well, you look lovely in your, er, slave costume, Marybeth," I said, returning the compliment.

  Marybeth smiled a more open, friendly smile at that. "A slave is pleased to find favor in a master's eye," she said. "This slave would have you know that she is able and willing to please you in any way you desire."

  She didn't really emphasize the word "any." She didn't have to. She was a Gorean slavegirl. I knew I had just been offered the keys to her kingdom.

  "I think, for now, all I will ask of you is that you escort me back to my companion," I said.

  "Yes, master," she said, sounding only a little disappointed. She preceded me out of the room.

  I had to admit, the robes were pretty darned comfy, though it was disconcerting to feel Mr. Happy swinging about so freely beneath them in public. But then again, this wasn't your average public. I don't think anyone would have turned a hair if I'd dropped my robes and started dancing a jig. Not that I was inclined to.

  Astra was easy to find. She was seated on the very edge of what must have been the dance area, a cleared area with no chairs or tables. Also, her chair was different from the others. Most of the chairs were of the typical Gorean design, a broad, comfortable seat with a deep notch cut into it in the center so the slavegirl kneeling before it could easily get her head nice and close to its occupant's crotch.

  Astra, however, was sitting on something that was more like a short couch. There was room for about 2 1/2 people on the couch. Oh, yeah. A love seat. I sat down on the love seat opposite Astra.

  "Feeling more comfy?" Astra asked.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact," I said.

  "Thank you for your help, slave Marybeth," said Astra. "You may return to your post."

  "Yes, mistress," said Marybeth, who, unnoticed to me, had been kneeling behind me, awaiting the call to serve me, I guess. I wondered if Astra would have been so thankful to Marybeth if she had known what services were being offered a moment ago. Then again, she was probably up on the principle that Gorean slavegirls were generally available to Gorean men, and to honored guests of Gorean men as well.

  Marybet
h rose and walked away with that slinky butt shimmy that just seemed to come naturally to Gorean slavegirls, a motion that seemed to say, "I've had a cock in here recently, and I expect to have one in here again real soon -- could be yours, fella."

  "Nice walk," said Astra, who had no doubt been watching me watch Marybeth.

  "Yeah, there's something to the way these Gorean gals walk," I said, smiling.

  "They walk like that because they are women who are in possession of their sex," said Astra.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Only that they feel free to express themselves as women among men," said Astra. "They are not afraid to be sexual beings among their masters -- they do not fear being taken against their will, nor do they fear their expressions of sexuality will be met with anything but pleasure on the part of their men."

  "Yeah, but you know, there's something that's been bugging me," I said. "I know the women here are supposed to be slavegirls, but still, they're women. And in my experience, women tend to have a great deal of interest in who their sexual partners are. And so, what happens if a slavegirl finds herself summoned to serve a master in sexual ways, whom she does not find attractive? Maybe even one she finds repulsive."

  "That does not happen very often," said Astra. "In fact, I've never heard of a slavegirl finding a master too repulsive to serve, though of course all have their preferences among masters, just as masters may have their preferences among slavegirls. As to why it does not happen very often, that's a matter of the greater sexual freedom that's afforded slavegirls in Gorean society. They are much more like men in terms of sexual freedom than are mainstream women. Men have an ethic of finding any woman attractive when their needs are sufficiently upon them, do they not?"

  "I don't know if I'd call it an ethic," I said.

  Still, there it is," said Astra. "The thing is, women are the same as men, when they feel free within themselves to have many sex partners, they find a much wider range of partners interesting. And of course, a woman becomes a Gorean slavegirl in part because she has an interest in serving men generally. That her service calls upon all of her, including her sexuality, only makes that aspect more rewarding."

  "OK, that makes sense," I said. "Of course, there's a certain ugliness to the way some men go about finding all women attractive -- some men give you a sense that they think some women rank just above a Kleenex in their scheme of things."

  "That is true of some mainstream men," said Astra. "No man who thought like that would be accepted as a Gorean master. Gorean masters may joke about the worthlessness of their slavegirls, but actually they love them above all else -- this subculture is their world. A Gorean master who really felt contempt for Gorean slavegirls would not be permitted to attend meets, and his relations with other Goreans, whose slavegirls he had dissed, would be very, very unpleasant."

  "I see," I said, thinking of the stalker who'd apparently been beaten half to death to discourage him. "You have to have the right attitude to be a Gorean master."

  A slavegirl stopped by and asked us if we would like something to drink or munch on before the main performance. Astra asked for some wine, I asked for some beer, chips and salsa. While we munched, there was much greeting of Lady Astra as others were seated at the edge of the dance floor. I got a distinct impression that Lady Astra was more like a queen than an honored guest among these people.

  "What should I look for as the dancing begins?" I asked during a lull in the greeting.

  "Just enjoy the dance as a man," said Astra. "Dance works on many levels."

  "All righty," I said.

  Slavegirls were now snuggling up to their masters as the hour of the dance approached. Then I noticed a curious figure making her way across the front of the dance floor. It was a naked slavegirl, bent over at the waist, her arms tied behind her back, her ankles cuffed to a spreader bar. She wore a harness gag and a collar. The ring at the base of her collar had a rope running down to the middle of the spreader bar.

  Her progress was slowed by the spreader bar, and by the fact that she was in fact walking sideways, with her ass aimed straight at the people now lining the edge of the dance floor. She took tiny, baby steps, and with each step there was soft jangling of the bells that dangled from her nipples, which swayed on either side of her chin, bent over as she was.

  Various members of the audience were making appreciative comments as she inched past them.

  "What's with her?" I asked Astra, nodding in the general direction of the woman approaching us.

  "Oh, that's a Gorean dance training technique," said Astra. "Her dance must have revealed that she has inhibitions about displaying her body. So now she must display herself about as blatantly as it is possible to display oneself."

  "I guess she is sort of hanging it all out there," I said.

  "Yes, the idea is that by forcing her to display herself so brazenly prior to the dance, the displays she will make during the dance will be easier for her, so she will move more readily and openly," said Astra. "We can help her by expressing our approval of her body when she comes by."

  "I like to think I'm appreciative in that way," I said airily.

  Then when she was just a few meters away from us, I noticed that her display was more blatant than I had initially assumed. There were a pair of tight black bands wrapped around her upper thighs, tight enough that the flesh bulged out on either side of them. A chain ran from each band, and at the end of each chain was a alligator clip whose ends were covered by soft rubber caps.

  That was because the clips were pulling the soft folds of her labia apart. Wide apart, so wide apart that her vagina was pulled wide open by the clips, and appeared to be a pink, gleaming depression rather than the soft folds of tissue that ordinarily cover the exterior of a vagina.

  There was also a dully gleaming metallic orb poking out of her anus -- the end of a butt plug, probably.

  Oh, she was displayed, alrighty. I should have known that, in a society where people routinely ran around naked, being put on display to lessen one's inhibitions would be something special.

  So when the woman had shuffled around to the point where she was directly opposite our seat, I smiled down at the eyes peering opaquely up at me between her legs and over her gag, though it was hard to drag my eyes away from the exposed mysteries gleaming from between her wide-open labia.

  It was hard to know if my friendliness was making any impression. Then again, it was hard to know what would make an impression on someone walking around naked in front of a crowd of people, bound and gagged and with her genitals pulled open and butt plug poking out of her ass. What kind of things did you think about under circumstances like that, if you thought of anything?

  So I was figuring I could just smile and say something like, "Lookin' good, babe!" without committing any Gorean faux pas, when I heard Astra say, "Approach us, slave."

  Well, I guessed I was going to find out what you say to a woman under these circumstances.

  The slavegirl made her way toward us immediately, as I knew she would. She moved a lot easier forward and backward, as she could swing the spreader bar in little arcs as she did so. She walked forward until her butt was almost in our faces, positioning herself between us, however, probably because Astra had said "approach us" instead of "approach me."

  I could actually see the movement of the inner walls of her vagina as she approached us, that was how widely she was displayed. She was so close to us that the chair we sat on blocked her view of us entirely. She was offering us her butt, and her butt alone to us, with it's wide-open pussy helplessly proffered. If we wanted to look her in the eyes, we would have to instruct her to move so that we could look at her.

  Looking at her butt and the slightly pulsing well of her spread vagina, so naked and exposed, her anus twitching slightly at the base of the butt plug, I felt a sudden aching empathy for her. She had given up so much that other women held dear, on the faith that her master or masters would accept her for it.

&nbs
p; I wanted to tell her that I accepted her, that she was beautiful to me, but couldn't think of any way to do so that would really communicate how I felt, so I remained silent.

  "I'd like her to join us," said Astra. I looked at her. "Do you think you can help her up so she can sit with us?"

  "I think so," I said. A test of manly strength, well, she was a small woman, not much weight on her. I reached down and grabbed her by the waist. She made a surprised mmph when she felt herself lifted into the air. The strap that kept her head down as she walked kept her legs in the air when I tilted her back and lowered her carefully to the chaise.

  She mmphed again as she settled on the chair. The ball at the end of her butt plug, designed to keep the thing from disappearing into her body, was pressing against the seat and into her. She writhed on the cushions until she was sufficiently slumped that the bulb was no longer pressing so hard against her ass. With her arms pinioned behind her back and our bodies pressing against hers on either side (it was a very tight fit) it was hard for her to move, but she was motivated.

  Astra reached over and brushed her hair out of her eyes, where it had fallen during her upside-downness. She looked up at Astra and me. There were strings of drool running up her cheeks to her forehead, where the gag had made her drool while upside-down. Her eyes had an animal quality to them, and it occurred to me that she was very much the small, trapped animal, locked in position between us by her bonds and our bodies.

  Having cleared the hair from her captive's face, Astra casually placed her palm over the woman's eyes. She looked at me and carefully mouthed the words to me, "Put your fingers in her pussy. Pleasure her."

  Well, this was definitely a different kinda first date, but what else should I expect among Goreans? I nodded my understanding, and compliance. I did not know where Astra was headed with this, but I would play it out.

  Astra nodded her approval. I leaned forward slightly and gently touched the surfaces of her inner labia with my fingers. She "mmphed" mildly at my touch. I continued to touch her, running my hands gently over her labia, being careful not to undo the restraints that held them open.