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Postby yorulamourfou » Tue Sep 01, 2015 10:09 am


(Writer's note: This story occurred to me while dancing on the pole at the House of V, a BDSM club in Second Life. Many of the following erotic lines are taken directly from spontaneous emotes of the previous post "POLE OF DESIRE: (Erotic emotes for club dancers)." Photo by Jama (jama.junot))

THE ECCENTRIC HERO AND THE DANCING GIRL: (1. Until I beg you thrice to fuck me)


There was long ago a Samurai warrior who every morning sent his servant to secretly fetch Yoru's erotic dancing pole from the club where she worked on nights previous. The servant balanced the heavy pole carefully with widespread legs as he carried it home, for it was made of finest, polished hardwood. To it clung a fragrance, all along its length, left by the exquisite dancing girl.

The warrior, in his private quarters, licked the pretty dancer's pole from bottom to top to quench his thirst for the secret triangle of love between her thighs. His strong hands tossed the heavy pole from one hand to the other as effortlessly as though he were grasping his wakizashi sword. He waxed in ecstasy as his tongue lapped the very shaft she had bathed with liquid essences leaking through her skin-tight panties.


Why would the warrior so crave to dissolve with his own saliva -- and then consume -- the dried feminine nectar coating Yoru's pole? The ancient recipe calls for liquid, passionate essences, squirted from her sexual core, to be salted with sweet, musky sweat of the dancer, and finally scented to dizzy perfection with subtle perfumes. It is perhaps eccentric, but he found it so tasty that he enjoyed passing his tongue over the entire pole, imagining having her pussy for his breakfast.

As could be expected, this poor man's rumoured eccentricity was partly due to the naughty dancer. It was whispered in the audience that Yoru, while lavishing skin on the pole during her shows in the darkened club, was overwhelmed by multiple orgasms as she pressed herself on the hard, round, unrelenting surface. It glistened slick and wet in the night, for everyone to see.

Yoru couldn't help herself. She has the habit of closing her eyes and falling into a trance of passion at the moment her body loses control to a rising tide of erotic ecstasy. Her thoughts turn naughtier as she uses her pole as a lover... the pangs of pleasure send burning rivers up through her tummy to crisscross her breasts and flood up her neck, and finally she gasps for air as the hot waves grow fiercer, the desire spreads deeper... and at last she pauses to catch her breath and grin bashfully, contented, ready for another, and another...


Yoru was never told of the warrior's rather odd behavior with her dancing pole. One day she arrived at the House of V to dance, and found her pole was missing. She stamped her foot in frustration--who would steal a poor sex dancer's only tool of entertainment? She was on the point of tears, standing almost naked on the empty stage, her pink nipples quivering, missing terribly the trusted, wooden pillar to hug tightly while she danced, when in the crowd she overheard a preposterous story about her missing pole of desire.

Someone whispered that a certain samurai warrior had seized upon her pole and wielded it unexpectedly as a fearsome weapon, transforming it into a battering club to defend the castle walls from the soldiers of the Emperor's army. Of course, nobody mentioned to Yoru that the warrior had been fetishizing the pole as his lick-darling when the alarm to defend the walls had been sounded.

After all, the warrior had lavished many delicious hours adoring the pole of his secret lover, and the giant piece of hardened wood had become an extension of the warrior's own body. Without pausing to pick up his swords, he had swung his favorite erotic dancer's pole expertly around himself in a deadly dance of war that flabbergasted the attackers, driving them from the castle walls and chasing them through the fires of the burning village they themselves had ignited. The pole glistened slick and wet once more, with the cooking blood of the vanquished.


Yoru was too embarrassed to admit it, but while her eccentric admirer was fighting the Emperor's soldiers with her erotic dancing pole, she had secretly struck a lethal blow at the heart of their enemies as well. Not as a hero, but as a whore.

Although possessing only the lowly status of a dancing girl, she was able to bribe herself deep into the hostile camp with her body. Finding herself confronted at every step by ferocious warriors, who without exception instantly lusted her, she steadily seduced her way to a rendezvous in the royal tent of the Emperor himself.


It had been a single-minded evening, and nothing could have stopped Yoru, for she was seducing the heart of an emperor, and he was a man, and Yoru toys with men's sensual souls.

The emperor had heard from his spies of her erotic dancing. Giddy with his supposed conquest, he bid his officers to erect a dancing pole for her in his silken tent, that he may see for himself how she orgasmed repeatedly on the unyielding rod.

At the moment the emperor ordered her onto the pole, Yoru dropped her silky blouse over one shoulder to expose a breast with its pink nipple. He should have been warned, seeing her like that, she could have been one of the proverbial bare-breasted amazonian warrior women. But alas for the emperor, Yoru was making her own proverbs, speaking honeyed words in the man's waiting ear, licking his neck, so that he slipped into a sexual reverie, not noticing she had disobeyed. He was almost hers.


"Darling Emperor," whispered Yoru, handing him a coil of ropes, "I will mount the pole, and dance, and make erotic love to you, but you must promise this dancing girl to bind my wrists high on the pole, stretch my breasts and body, tie my arms tightly above, and lick my pussy until I beg you thrice to fuck me."

The emperor was a man of legendary strength and caution, but from that moment Yoru was his Mistress, whether he was aware of it or not.

As the emperor reached in a frenzy to tie her wrists with the ropes, he caught sight of her soft hands and delicate fingers, tipped with long fingernails painted the hues of summer flowers. Playfully hiding her nudity from his greedy eyes, she unfolded her samurai dancing fan, tipped likewise with sharp razors tinted to match Yoru's long fingernails. The emperor was only conscious of the lust he felt for the promised tenderness of her pretty fingers and athletic body, such a sweet dancer's body, hidden behind the artful fan of an assassin whore.


When Yoru whisked away the fan to expose her breasts and the purplish, wettish, swollen lips of her yoni, ringed above with feathery pubic hair of darkest black, the emperor gawked like a commoner at market. Curiously, the beauty of her nails had confused his already sexed mind so that he failed to recognize the fan's identically painted fingernail razors. With them she ushered him into a long dream, the longest dream... it was his last dream, but what an erotic dream it was, a wet-dream he would writhe in for eternity.


After the battle, the eccentric hero returned the pole to the dancing girl, and at the sight of him, bruised and tired, bloody and limping, she instantly fell swooning from love at the brave man's feet. It is true, even the seductress Yoru can fall in love, in spite of the harshness of her secrets. She pushed by the pole and threw her arms around his muscular shoulders, finding a new home for her erotic fantasies in his mighty frame.

The people in the village still wonder whatever happened to that samurai and his dancer. One night they disappeared, and it is rumored they traveled to the faraway lands of the Maharashtra and became models for paintings depicting the Kama Sutra. Nothing has ever been heard of their fate, although eveyone agrees it must have been erotic.

Only her famous collection of panties remained, and their infamous dancing pole of desire and destruction.

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