Post by haraldrsinga on Jan 17, 2009 1:05:40 GMT -6
Inga's Pole Dance
The smoky light fills the hall as she pads her way into the center dominated by the smooth wooden pole. A white cape covers her naked body and hair. Slowly she faces the Jarls, their cheering urging her on as she lowers the hood of the cape to reveal corn silk hair framing delicate features. She is nervous, never having danced before a group of men before, always having been seen as nothing but a field girl. She is determined to show her Jarl the grace and beauty of her soul. She unclasps the cape and lowers it from her body. The lights from the fire pit and oil lanterns flicker across the curves of her work toned body. Carefully she drops the cape to the side and lowers her head, hands clasped behind her. Silken locks tumble in a mass around her body, tickling the tops of her hips. As the reedy music begins she starts to sway, face uplifted to the roof above, eyes closed in the ecstasy of need. She lifts her arms, reaching for the Heavens above, wrists crossed with palms upward. Spinning she turns to face the pole, falling to her knees before it.
Her lithe body, naked for the gaze of all attending, she kneels in submission at the base of the pole as though she is kneeling before her beloved Jarl. Her thighs are spread wide as though for the pleasure of His gaze, her back arched, thrusting firm, full breasts forward, her upturned palms resting defenselessly upon her knees, head lowered with the lights from the torches glinting off her shining sun-hued hair.
She lifts hungry, cerulean eyes to the pole, and places delicate palms against its smooth surface as she slowly slides her hands upward, entwining her fingers together; a silent plea for her Jarl’s rape. The strands of her hair brush against the rushes on the floor. With a slight shift forward, she grasps her hands around the pole and lays her warm, flushed cheek against the side of its coolness, sliding upward as she does so, pressing her full, naked breasts against its unyielding surface. Curling her toes beneath her, she gives a thrust of firm thighs, whirling her body in an arc, sunlight hair spreading in a glistening cape around her, until she slides to a stop on the other side of the pole laying flat in the rushes, clinging desperately to the base of the very thing which seemed to reject her.
She pulls her body toward the base of the pole, kissing it with close eyes as though kissing her Jarl’s boots. Arching her back upward with a contraction of taut belly muscles, she pulls her knees beneath her, as warm, soft lips pressed wantonly and eagerly against the hard wood. Hand over hand, she kisses her way up the pole, yet again pressing her breasts against it with the need of one desperate to be made complete. Again on her knees, she closes her eyes with her head tilted up, leaning her cheek against the beloved pole, arching her back to give everything within her. Following the rhythm of the music, she rubs her cheek and breasts up and down the smooth surface. On the opposite side of the pole, her arms cross over each other, moving sinuously as her splayed fingers clutch with desperation, displaying her longing for all to see.
She cocks on knee, and with a swift thrust, she leaps against the pole, wrapping her legs around it, clinging to it as though her being, her very soul needed it for survival, she spins in a full rotation, sliding back to the rushes at its base. One leg still clinging desperately to the pole, she pushes herself to a stand on her other leg, her hands moving sinuously one over the other as they crawl up the other side.
With a slight bend to her knee, she begins rubbing her heat against the harsh surface of the pole, tilting her head, she opens dark blue eyes, soft lips part as her face becomes rapturous with her need. Arching her limber back outward, she straightened sinuous arms with palms upward as she begins undulating slender hips pressing her moist heat down the smooth wood of the pole, until she reaches the heel of her pointed toe. She arches back, hands reaching with upraised palms toward her Jarl seated at the low table to her side. She gives him a wanton smile, an indication this dance is for Him. Slowly, her hips thrusting with increasing abandon, she inches her heat back up the pole, making desperate kajira love to its unyielding surface until she is once again standing on her one leg with the other wrapped tightly around the strength of the pole.
As the music builds to a crescendo, both hands claw at the hair of her scalp, pulling her head back as her upper body follows in a deep arch, unfurling in its full glory away from the pole. One strong leg continues to encircle the pole she arches away from it in delirium, her arms arched behind her reaching desperately for her Jarl. The light from the flickering lamps plays across her full breasts, stomach and hips as she bends backwards, her hair falling behind her like a sunlit curtain, her eyes closed with the depth of her passion.
As the music begins to ebb, she straightens and grasps the pole with one hand, spinning, she presses her slender back to the cold wood surface, rubbing both hands down its other side, alluring eyes gazing to the one she adores. Closing her eyes, she nestles the pole’s smooth surface with an upturned cheek, lips parted lips fully displaying her wantonness. She arches her back, thrusting smooth breasts forward as she slowly slides down the pole, her breaths coming in pants to the rhythm of the ebbing reeds. With a final clash, she sinks slowly to her knees on the rushes, face lifted to the pole, eyes closed and lips parted. Her satisfaction complete.