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Post by Xerxes I on Apr 2, 2007 0:47:50 GMT -5
If it was possible for a man of Xerxes' stature to slouch, that's what he was doing. In his enormous gold and gem gilded throne, one leg crossed over the other, the king closed his eyes and tasted incense in the room, the scent of wine. He was in his throne room, but the harem was gone. Everything was gone, with the exception of one thing. His thin golden jewelry chains made a clinking sound as Xerxes' straightened, then blinked at his company, a smile curving his lips. The Persian girl had pleaded for the new Greek slave-though Xerxes couldn't fathom why. Because Yasmin was his slave, she had no choice, but the fact that she'd attempted diplomacy intrigued him. And it would be a greater success if she conceded.
"So tell me, Yasmin, what triumph do I receive in exchange for your friend?"
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Post by Iolanthe on Apr 2, 2007 7:41:59 GMT -5
Iolanthe's dark gaze flicked up to Xerxes, and she hoped he could feel the utter disdain rolling off her person in waves. She had been in a state of kneeling not too far away, but now that he acknowledged her, the girl gracefully returned to her feet. She stared at the Persian king in his fabulous gold chainmail and fetish piercings; she could not stomach this anymore. She had to get out of Persia. Had to get out.
That was the only thing Iolanthe was thinking about as the fingertips of one hand idly traced the supple line of her breasts, nails brushing against the gauzy fabric of the satin top. In order to give the king a better look, she tilted her head, eyes closed momentarily as if it was the most sensational feeling in the world. She slid her fingers through thick black hair loosely, sending the waves rippling over her shoulders, no longer obscuring her front.
She was intentionally preening; for his benefit naturally. Iolanthe ran her splayed fingers over her top, smoothing down her stomach, resting fingers idly on hip and pelvis bones which framed her legs. The skirt itself clung just loosely on her hips, and when Io idly swished the fabric, it gave a muffled jingle. She stared at Xerxes, expression utterly blank.
"I can't imagine, my King, what you could want from me for this merciful act," she said, in as bland a tone as possible. If you save the Greek, you can escape. You can get out. You have to leave Persia. These phrases just repeated, again and again and again - this was what drove her. Xerxes was merely an obstacle.
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Post by Xerxes I on Apr 2, 2007 12:28:17 GMT -5
Xerxes was oblivious to her hate. Or if he sensed it, he didn't care. The king watched with great attentiveness as she drew his eyes to the perfect curvature of her body, a taut stomach, those legs. He didn't even care that her gaze was flat, devoid of lust. For his eyes were filled with enough for the both of them.
"Come here, Yasmin." He gestured to the throne where he sat, and smiled to her. "Tell me the truth. Why do you care of that girl? You cannot protect her forever...do you know her?" He was curious.
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Post by Iolanthe on Apr 6, 2007 17:20:28 GMT -5
(Just imagine the sleazy music in the background XD)
She didn't want to go to him. Iolanthe knew what he craved but the thought of giving it to him...it would be much better to entertain him. Much, much better. She touched the back of her neck with one hand, rubbing the tension between her shoulders as she studied the king mistrustfully.
"My lord, how would I know a Greek?" Iolanthe replied in a questioning lilt. The dancer shook her head once, idly. "I do not know her."
That was honest. But as to the why? Of course she couldn't tell him the truth.
Iolanthe stepped forward instead, slowly, her pelvis swaying with the gesture. She touched two fingers to her lips as they spread into a smile. The Persian stretched her left arm out to the front, fingers curling idly in a come-hither gesture, and the right arm overhead. Her wrists rolled, designing invisible figures in the air. Next came the hips; the small of her back relaxed, and she moved her hips with a delicate shimmying vibration, forward and backwards, as in a thrust, though more emphasis was on the back.
A heavy forward thrust risked offending ladies at court, and Io was a little modest. She rolled her hips in a figure eight like shape, and, raising both hands above her head, wrists intertwining, her hips swayed to a side-to-side bumping motion, at points snapping rather than rolling, giving abrupt attention to her waistline. Her torso followed - like a serpent's sway. She gave a slow turn and sank to the ground. At first she kneeled, then sank back on her calves, knees spread as far as the dress would allow.
She stared up at him, expression careful and even. "If I may say, my King, I do believe it would behoove us to be gentle with these new acquisitions." Lying, lying, lying...she trailed her fingers along the floor idly, eyes flicking to his. "Would not Greece be more willing to bend, knowing your mercy towards a Spartan under your power? I simply...think...that she could be of better use if she is not ruined."
Iolanthe paused, and gave a very small shrug. The dancer tilted her head back, falling silent - and went into a backbend, arching her spine all the way until her skull touched the ground behind her feet. Her hands followed and, once her palms planted on the ground, Iolanthe tilted back her head, using her toes to push her onto the balls of her feet, until she managed to do a slow, languid back flip which, once her long legs touched the ground, brought Io to her feet, straight, facing the king - a little flush from the rush of blood to her head.
"Have mercy, my king. Honey is more tempting than vinegar, as you well know." She spoke through gritted teeth; he had offered her all the honey in the world, and she was still displeased.
What...did money matter...when you were not free?
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Post by wowposter on Nov 3, 2008 2:27:08 GMT -5
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