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

by Pat Powers

  While I worked the woman's labia, Astra, her hand still covering the woman's eyes, leaned down and whispered in her ears, "I will remove your gag now, but you may not speak, understand, slave?"

  The slavegirl nodded, then moaned into her gag as my fingers began working their way inside her. Astra unbuckled the strap that held the ball gag in place and it fell down to her chin, covered in drool. She said nothing, but looked hungrily up at my face and Astra's, with a sort of questioning expression.

  Astra leaned further down and kissed her full on the mouth. It was a long, hot, melting kiss, and I felt the woman writhing beneath me under its influence, and under the influence of my probing fingers. I couldn't help it, the gleaming pink center of her pussy was irresistible, my finger seems to slide into of their own accord.

  The woman between us let out a low, animal moan. She felt like a tiny, captive animal, so helpless, so much in our power. I felt a surge of lust and attraction toward her. She was mine, ours, this moaning, writhing bundle of flesh that strained helplessly at its bonds and yet responded so arduously to our attentions.

  My forefinger and middle finger were jammed up inside her and wiggling, making her wiggle in sympathy. She was wet, she was very wet. I began moving my fingers back and forth in imitation of a cock inside her. It was easy, because she was so very wet.

  She moaned and writhed as Astra continued her long, deep, soul kiss, her fingers playing casually with the woman's nipples as she did so.

  Soon I was jamming my fingers hard into her pussy, ramming them into her like they were a cock. Her butt writhed in rhythm to their thrusts, the knob poking out of her ass gleaming in the light one moment, then obscured by her cheeks the next, synchronized to the rhythms of her passion.

  I did not wonder that she was moaning.

  She began arching her back and she seemed to be thrusting her vagina forth at my hand with an almost deliberate manner, as if she were intent on milking an orgasm from it.

  "That should be enough of that for the moment," I heard Astra say. I looked up at her, my hands still thrust inside the woman's vagina. (Another sexual conquest whose name I did not know, though I suppose I could find out easily enough by asking around.) She had stopped kissing the woman, who still lay with her mouth open, her eyes shut, responding to my fingers.

  I slowly slid my fingers out of her. She shuddered slightly as I did so. My fingers came out literally dripping with her love juices.

  "You can use the back of her butt and thighs to clean your fingers," said Astra. "Please do so."

  I wiped the love juices off as requested. They left big, gleaming streaks on her skin.

  "Now, you will suck his cock," said Astra to the slavegirl. "Nod your head if you would like to suck his cock."

  The slavegirl immediately nodded her head in the affirmative. She was very ready to suck my cock. Or probably, anybody's cock. She was a Gorean slavegirl.

  “This is a different kind of dance,” I thought. “Very audience-participative.”

  Astra had me rise and stand at the edge of the couch while she positioned the slavegirl properly. This made me uncomfortably aware that there were people all around us, and unusually, I suspected, for a Gorean meeting, most of them were not having sex. Yet. Though some slavegirls were already kneeling at the foot of their master's chairs, with their faces pressed into their master's laps. Many others had hands disappearing into their master's robes. So we weren't totally unique. But I saw a few eyes watching us, not in a scandalized, peeping-tom way, but a calm, relaxed way. They had seen this sort of thing before. Which left me feeling curiously better about publicly having sex.

  Basically, Astra wanted me to stand at the side of the couch, open up my robes, and lean over the slavegirl until my cock was in her mouth. I was happy enough to oblige.

  The slavegirl, though ungagged, did not speak, having been forbidden to by Lady Astra. Still, her eyes were gleaming and her face was flushed. She was naked, sweaty, writhing in her bonds as she was relentlessly molested by the two of us -- and having a great time.

  I lowered my cock and she opened her mouth to receive it. She sucked on it enthusiastically, making very good use of her tongue, so good that all I could do was hang on to the back of the couch with one hand and give her all the cock she wanted. And she wanted a lot. She had to twist her head to one side to get at my cock, because the spreader bar that held her legs apart kept her body twisted to one side. But she was reaching for my cock with her mouth anyway. Oh, she was hot for it.

  There was a reason. Astra sat at the other end of the couch, and she was calmly working the slavegirl's clit with her forefinger. She wasn't going at the woman vigorously, but she obviously knew just where to apply pressure and how much to apply it and how often to apply it to drive the slavegirl mad with passion, because she was writhing in ways she never had under my much more vigorous efforts.

  She was also making noises I never had, strange gurglings of passion that burbled out of her, not so much cried out as forced out.

  I was the lucky recipient of all this passion. My cock was being sucked with real feeling. It was an incredible sensation. I was clinging to the couch with my eyes closed, overwhelmed by a rush of sheer pleasure emanating from the naked, writhing woman on the end of my cock. It wasn't that she was deliberately trying to make me come -- I don't think she was any more in control of what was going on than I was. It was Astra, on the other end of the woman, calmly stroking and probing and tapping on the slavegirl's clit, who was in control.

  The slavegirl began orgasming as she sucked my cock, moaning and writhing, her shoulders roiling with passion, the bells dangling from her nipples jingling, jangling, tinkling as her breasts rolled with her shoulders. The sight of her, and the feel of her tongue on my cock, was just overwhelming. I couldn't...

  "Don't come yet!" Astra cried. "Pull out!"

  I pulled my cock out of the slavegirl's mouth, and she collapsed moaning to the couch.

  Lady Astra stood up and grabbed my cock. She began milking it and being on the point of orgasm, I gave up some sperm in short order. When I came, Astra had my cock pointed at the slavegirl's face, and my spunk spewed all over it. She waggled my cock around as if she were painting the slavegirl's face with my spurting cock, which was what she was in fact doing.

  While I stood at the end of the couch, my mind made blank by my orgasm, Astra leaned over and kissed the slavegirl on her sperm-spewed lips. Astra looked her in the eyes.

  "Remember always that you are a woman, and a slavegirl," said Astra, looking at the slavegirl with those huge green eyes of hers. "Your are beautiful beyond words. You need never worry that you will be found wanting in the eyes of men, for you are that which they most desire in all the world."

  Astra kissed her lips again, then gently reached down and buckled the ball gag in place in the slavegirl's mouth. The slavegirl looked up at Astra wonderingly.

  "Would you help her to her feet?" Astra asked me. "She has to finish her walk."

  I helped the slavegirl to her feet. She was unsteady at first and I held onto her waist until she was again standing bent over, gazing at us from between her legs. Except now that her face was smeared with come, and her butt was smeared with her love juices, and the pink, quivering hole that the alligator clips revealed between her lips was slathered in womanly love juices.

  She walked back to the stage slowly, one step at a time, and resumed her crabwise progress around its edge.

  Now she walked around the edge of the dance floor with a relaxed, almost sloppy motion. Her body language clearly showed that she was not much concerned that others were seeing her innermost recesses, smeared with her love juices, as her face was smeared with sperm. I had not noticed before how stiff and inhibited her movements had been prior to Astra's little intervention, but it was very obvious now that she was more relaxed.

  "There, I knew that would help," Astra said, smiling at the slavegirl crabwalking away. "Loosened her right up." She snuggled up against me
and casually slid her hand inside my robe to fondle my limp cock.

  "Definitely broke the ice," I agree, smiling down at her. "I just don't know if I'm going to be able to properly appreciate the dance as a man, after that," I sighed.

  Lady Astra leaned against me and gave me a catlike, amused glance with those green eyes of hers.

  "Don't be so sure about that," she said with a sly smile.

  Chapter 17

  The Dance Begins

  After a few moments of sitting comfortably with Lady Astra snuggled against me, a line of dancers filed out of the curtains along one wall to the center of the room which formed a sort of stage. Their movements were fluid, sinuous but somehow stately. They glided across the stage in a series of wide "s" curves that brought them from one end of the stage to the other several times, a motion that reminded me somehow of wisps of sand blowing across the desert dunes.

  The women were dressed in costumes somewhere between what I'd seen April wearing in her public performances and something you might find in a strip club. They were like April's public performance costumes in that the intent of the costumes was to beautify, and they were like the strip club costumes in that the wearers were clearly willing to treat their sexuality as an aspect of their beauty.

  "This is the introductory phase of the dance," said Astra.

  "It has phases?" I asked.

  "Seven of them, typically, though the number varies from one style of dance to another," said Astra.

  "What style of dance is this?" I asked.

  "Gorean dance is its own style," said Astra.

  "How does it differ from regular belly dancing?" I asked.

  "Well, there really isn't any such thing as regular belly dancing," said Astra. "Belly dance has several different styles originating from different areas of the middle east. In the United States, there are various styles which tend to be amalgams of various middle eastern styles and U.S. styles. What most people think of when they think of belly dance is nightclub style belly dance, which tends to be an amalgam of Egyptian raks sharki and America ballet and modern dance moves."

  "OK," I said. "So, how does Gorean dance differ from nightclub style belly dance, the sort I'd probably be thinking of?"

  "Nightclub dance is designed to display the skill, grace and beauty of the dancer and to exhibit the techniques of belly dance," said Astra. "Gorean dance is designed to exhibit the skill, grace and beauty of the dancer, but also to exhibit her sexuality and to express her submission to men, and to bring pleasure to men."

  "So, Gorean dance is more like something you'd see in a strip club than in a nightclub," I said.

  "No," Astra said definitively. "Gorean dance is nothing like strip club dance, which often has little to do with traditional belly dance forms. Gorean dance tends to have much more powerful expression of traditional forms, and it also tends to be sexually oriented in a way that no other belly dance form is."

  "That would figure," I said, grinning. "The part about expressing submission to men would be what makes the Moon Goddess belly dance troupes so unhappy with it."

  "Yes, it would," said Astra. "There are very many flavors of belly dance in existence, some of the diametrically opposed philosophically. Moon Goddess groups tend to go for Tribal Fusion belly dance performances."

  As we spoke, the dancers came to the front of the stage and struck a pose, each holding one arm aloft and one extended to her left, their heads bowed downward, and I got a good look at their costumes. They were a lot more revealing than what April wore at a public performance. Most wore thong bottoms, but some wore no bottoms at all, probably to highlight the jewels that dangled from the rings piercing their clits and labia.

  "You see the ones with jewelry in their labia?" Astra asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "They will incorporate the movement of those jewels into their dance, just as the dancers who are wearing thongs will incorporate the movements of the jewels, coins and such dangling in front of their thongs in their dance."

  Looking more closely, I noticed that the dancers who wore thongs did have dangling bits of jewelry sewn into the front of their thongs. And they all wore slender waist chains from which dangled bells, coins and jewels as well. Each time they moved their waists, the movement was subtly amplified by their jewelry.

  Most wore coin bras, but they also had coins strategically removed from the center so that the jewelry which dangled from their nipple piercings could be revealed.

  The dancers also wore various accessories designed to accentuate their motions -- ankle chains with bells and such dangling from them, bracelets to match, armlets around their upper arms, necklaces with many jewels, etc. and (in addition to the collars all wore) several wore metallic jeweled gags, though there were large air holes in the front of the "gags" and they looked more like the metallic equivalent of veils.

  "You've come a long way, babies," I said, gazing at the line of spectacularly barbaric beauties before me.

  "What do you mean?" Astra asked.

  "Oh, just that these women look kinda what I imagine the first belly dancers looked like," I said, "lined up in some dusky courtyard with the torches flaring around them, ready to dance for the men."

  "Actually, some researchers believe that belly dance originated in sacred dances associated with childbirth," said Astra. "They believe the motions of the belly mimic the movements of childbirth and were designed to help bring the child out safely."

  "Is that what you believe?" I asked.

  "No," said Astra. "The link between belly dance and sex is just too clear and obvious to ignore. It is probably true that belly dance had some part in childbirth rituals at some point, but I'm betting that it started out with some woman making a few coins on the side by dancing for men on a dusty roadside somewhere, probably naked and probably culminating in sex, followed by the gift of coin."

  "I can see that the Moon Goddess types wouldn't care for that origin," I said.

  "No, they don't," said Astra. "You are very attuned to the differences between Moon Goddess dancers and Gorean dancers."

  "It could be the reason April got kidnapped," I said.

  "It is hard to believe that people who dance could do such a thing," said Astra.

  "The Moon Goddess troupe I am investigating may have been led to some strange places by their dance," I said. "Well, I think they're already in a strange place, the question is, is it a strange, violent place?"

  "Dance generally makes people healthier and less inclined to do foolish and harmful things," Astra observed.

  "I don't know," I said. "I investigated a lot of crimes and I never noticed any giveaways as to who might do them and who might not. As a general rule, people who lead law-abiding lives are less likely to commit crimes, but if you watch the news at all, you'll know that just about anyone is capable of doing it."

  "I just don't know that the dance can ever lead you to think kidnapping will be a good idea," said Astra.

  "Coulda been something else," I said. "No matter how committed you are to the dance, there's gotta be other things going on in your life."

  "True," said Astra. "Some of my dancers feel I am a mother of sorts to them, and it is hard for me to guide them as well as I probably should, because they need guidance so badly. They have problems with bad boyfriends, drugs and so forth. It can be heartbreaking to listen to their stories."

  "I know what you mean," I said. "Some of the wretches I chase down on behalf of the credit card companies are just sad cases. You get the idea that they are stealing just because if they didn't steal, they'd have no other way to make money. Couldn't hold even a bad job. But in April's case, I'm thinking we're looking at something organized. It's a group, and pretty well-organized."

  "Ah, this talk distracts me from the dance," said Astra. "Look, they give us their submission."

  I turned my attention back to the dancers. They had all simultaneously sunk to their knees and pressed their heads to the floor, their butts high in the air, their a
rms extended before them toward the audience, their knees wide apart. It was a powerful image of submission.

  I felt a strange response to their mass submission. It wasn't arousal -- the "shy" dancer had taken care of that -- but there was just something stirring about the grace and power with which they presented themselves, even in submission.

  A slow drumbeat filled the room.

  A thin piping from a flute skirled around it.

  A droning, hypnotic counterpoint to the flute sprang out of nowhere. I looked at Astra, wondering what was making such a resonant drone.

  "Synthesizer," said Astra, smiling.

  The dancers arose, responding to the music. They whirled around slowly, their arms and hands moving in sinuous patterns that followed the music. The thin, wispy veils that hung from their costumes here and there (hips and wrists were popular, though some had veils around their knees) accentuated their movements.

  The dancers made no attempt to synchronize their movements but each dancer's movements were graceful and they moved in regular patterns, so the effect was one of synchronization.

  "What part of the dance is this?" I asked.

  "It is an introductory phase," said Astra. "Simple patterns and moves that get the audience into the rhythm and flow of the dance and display the dancers' beauty and grace more than their technical skill."

  "Ah," I said.

  "Simply sit back and watch and enjoy the show as a man watching women move," said Astra. "Do not worry if the dance arouses you -- that is its purpose, in part, and I will not be offended if I feel you stiffening in my hand. I would not have brought you here if such things bothered me."

  "Well, why are you holding on to my cock?" I asked. "I mean, I'm completely OK with it, if it pleases you, but I was just wondering ..."

  "It does please me," said Astra, smiling slyly. "But the reason I am doing it is because it lets me directly experience your response to the dance."