Flail of the Pharoah (15 page)

She left him to his own devices and returned to her room, but although the prospect of Neshi giving Charmian her just deserts was very satisfying her soul still yearned for something unattainable. In a restless mood she dismissed her servants and drew the screens of gilded wood around her bed to ensure total privacy.

For many years the sex urge had lain dormant in the queen. Apart from the Pharaoh’s daily masturbatory ritual, which afforded her the satisfaction of duty done but not much more, she had been a very infrequent visitor to the king’s bedroom. During the past few years their relationship had only blossomed into occasional lovemaking, after an evening spent in intimate talk and wine drinking, after which the Pharaoh often seemed too tired to summon one of his more energetic lovers. He would perform for a few minutes then fall asleep beside her, and she always found the experience disappointing. After a while she stopped desiring him and then even those rare acts of love became more of a ritual duty than a pleasure.

But now something was stirring in the depths again and Mira knew it was because of Charmian. The girl had awakened strange longings in her and her body was on fire. Yet she was not one of those women who lusted after their own kind. No, the influence of the girl was more complicated than that. In vain the queen tried to puzzle it out, but then she decided it was best to let her mind and body be her guide. Perhaps if she let nature take its course Isis, the Queen of Heaven, would allow her to become enlightened about the state of her own soul.

Slowly she removed her gown, letting the warmth of the afternoon soak into her naked skin like a caress. Closing her eyes she let her sensual imagination take her wherever it would, and a vague image came of Anubis, Lord of the Underworld.

As the jackal-headed creature approached Mira sensed it was the Pharaoh in disguise, but which one? She sensed this was not her own husband but a different man, hidden beneath the mask, a stern ruler emerging from the dark depths of history. An archetypal Pharaoh, who believed in strong rule and the ruthless punishment of those who opposed his will. The ebony face stared at her, real eyes that were cold as stone peering through the slits, and she felt a shiver run through her entire body.

In his hand the figure held a long bamboo cane with a carved ivory handle. He swished it in the air a couple of times as he advance, testing its mettle. Mira shuddered as the glittering dog’s eyes seemed to bore into her very soul. She felt paralysed on the bed and knew she could not so much as open her eyes, but her nipples were hardening and the channel between her labia was beginning to leak moisture.

Next to her bed the creature barked rather than spoke. ‘Turn over,’ he commanded, her limbs loosened and, trembling, she obeyed. The bed felt warm and luxurious beneath her and she wriggled a little, feeling her clitoris throb with the slight friction. ‘You must be purged of all your sin!’ the harsh voice decreed, and as Mira clenched her buttocks the switch came down sharply upon her flesh, stinging where it cut into the skin and making her moan aloud. She rubbed herself against the linen sheet for comfort and little thrills passed through the cleft between her labia.

Again and again she imagined the sharp pain, wave upon wave, and each time the pleasurable throbbing in her love button intensified. She squirmed more vigorously, feeling the touch of the linen against her sensitive nipples and revelling in the currents of desire flowing through her veins. Her fingers sought to intensify the sensations, sliding over her oiled nether lips to where her clitoris stood proud of its protective hood, craving her touch.

Her buttocks were tingling with imagined pain, and a sensual heat was spreading all over her lower body. She could bear the slow torment no longer and turned over on her back. The god-figure shrank into the shadows as she reached for the ivory box where she kept her collection of dildos. She selected her favourite, a smooth ebony phallus fashioned on Seti’s own member. When she was young and hot she used to pleasure herself frequently with it in the afternoons, unable to wait until the night and the passion she knew awaited in her husband’s embrace.

Just as in the old days there was no need to use unguents to smooth the passage of the ebony wand. Mira was flowing with her own juices and the artificial cock slipped easily inside her eager quim. She clenched it hard, producing an electric tingling in her cunny that made her gasp with delight. Deftly she smoothed the dildo in and out with one hand while she rubbed her clitoris with the other. It was not long before the sweet inundation of her own private Nile began, rolling waves of rapture that made her moan and writhe upon the bed. Mira kept thrusting the thick shaft in and out between her tumid lips until her climax was completely spent. Then she let the thing drop, making a faint clatter on the floor while she collapsed into a state of total relaxation.

It was some time before her breathing slowed and her mind returned to her. On the margins of her dreamlike state she could see her jackal-headed master still lurking, with the cane in his hand and a knowing grin on his face.

‘What devil are you?’ she called out, but he only smiled all the more.

What had her vision meant? Normally when she had a strange dream she would ask Tut-Tut to explain it to her, since that was how the gods spoke to mortals and the high priest understood the symbolic language of the gods. Yet now she hesitated. She was not willing to reveal the secrets of her inner life to that man, because she did not altogether trust him. Instead she would ask the goddess to enlighten her, through contemplation.

Still glowing from the heat of her passion, Mira decided to head for her private chapel in the temple, where she would kneel before the shrine dedicated to Isis, goddess of all wisdom. There she might learn what lurked in the darkest recesses of her heart. But even if she divined her own secret nature, what then?

The idea that a queen of Egypt might prefer to subjugate herself than to rule over others was disturbing, yet the strength of the craving was unmistakable. Somehow pleasure and pain were intermingled in her soul and she must explore it further, along with her desire to submit to a powerful master. With a sense of foreboding the queen realised that she might be unleashing powerful forces within her, forces that must be satisfied at any cost. But what price must be paid for such satisfaction?

As she walked through the silent corridors, her sandals swishing on the bare stones, Mira feared that a terrible destiny was about to be revealed to her.

Charmian could not settle in the claustrophobic world of the harem. The other women were not exactly hostile to her, just indifferent, and she made no real friends. The paleness of her complexion seemed to set her apart. Only Kiya, the disgraced Nubian girl, had made any friendly overtures to her, but she mistrusted her motives and felt it unwise to encourage someone who had invoked the wrath of the queen, her son and the Pharaoh himself.

Her only solace came in the gentle strains the musicians provided at almost every hour of the day. While they played she would sit and dream of her native land, or muse upon the strange stirrings in her soul. Tut-Tut’s words had not solved the mystery. On the contrary, they had increased her curiosity about her inner workings, and the yearning to be enslaved by a strong master was intensified.

Charmian also found her mind turning towards Prince Neshi, and the experience of being waylaid in the bushes. Although she was terrified at the time there was a distinct pleasure in recalling his rough caresses, and remembering his sweet perfume that, mingled with his natural body odours, awakened dormant desires in her. So far her encounters with the Pharaoh had been disappointing, but the forbidden pleasures of kisses and caresses from his son now seemed all the more alluring.

It would be wiser to quash such thoughts, but Charmian couldn’t help herself. The lure of a handsome youth on the verge of manhood was too strong for a girl who had only been partly awakened to the pleasures her own body could provide. No matter how much she reminded herself that she was the Pharaoh’s possession, and should entertain thoughts of no other man, her longing to see the prince again grew with each passing hour.

So when she encountered him by chance in the corridor one sultry afternoon, it was as if a current passed through her flesh, galvanising her spirit.

‘Why, if it isn’t Charmian,’ he remarked wryly, his eyes flashing sardonically at her. ‘Were you on your way to the garden, by any chance?’

She flushed at the memory of their last fatal meeting and her mouth felt so dry she could not utter a word. He glanced up and down the corridor, then moved to within an inch of her trembling body, murmuring softly, ‘I have something of importance to impart to you. Be in my chamber in five minutes.’

The prince strode off, leaving her in turmoil. What did this mean? Should she obey him or ignore the order? She knew he’d been told to stay away from her, but no such order had been given to her – presumably because no one would imagine she would approach him uninvited. But now, what should she do? Her first urge was to go to the queen for advice, but a deeper instinct told her that would be ill advised. Not for the first time she felt powerless amongst the dark machinations of the royal court.

Slowly she retraced her steps through the empty corridors and found herself outside the bedchamber of the royal prince. The guard looked her up and down impassively, but made no attempt to prevent her from hovering in the doorway and soon Neshi appeared, beckoning her into his private domain.

The room was dark, with the shutters closed against the brilliant afternoon light, and silent as the tomb. Charmian shuddered a little as he led the way behind the screen around his bed and bade her sit upon the heavy linen coverlet, embroidered with pure gold. She glanced self-consciously at his fine male body: the sturdy tanned legs beneath the pleated white kilt; the strong arms, their wrists encircled with jewelled bangles; the moulded, hairless chest beneath the bright collar of gold, lapis and carnelian. His whole being exuded arrogance and power, and she felt her insides melt in his imposing presence.

‘Now Charmian, I know you are my father’s whore,’ he began coolly, ‘but the queen, my mother, has told me I should exercise my authority over you. This means that you are to serve me, when you are not in the service of my father. Do you understand?’

Charmian shook her head, puzzled. ‘Serve you, your highness? In what way?’

He gave a short barking laugh. ‘In any way I require, of course! And if you do not serve me to my complete satisfaction then the queen has given me authority to punish you with a severe beating, is that clear?’

Charmian could scarcely contain the welter of emotions that engulfed her. She mumbled something incomprehensible, staring down at her interlocked fingers in her lap. She knew that her mingled excitement and fear would be hard to hide from his penetrating gaze so she dared not meet his eyes.

But then an extraordinary sight appeared before her, right in her field of vision so that she could not possibly ignore it. The prince took off his kilt and stood there naked, just a foot or so away from where she sat, his phallus starting to rear and twitch as if trying to gain her attention. She gasped.

‘Yes, it is quite a wild beast, isn’t it?’ He laughed at her, placing his hands on her shoulders. ‘And you are the one to tame him. Stay just where you are and put your sweet lips around him, like so…’

He moved forward until his glans was between her lips, tasting salty and smelling strongly of musk. Charmian was terrified that someone would come in and see them there. She could not forget that she’d been blamed for his last act of seduction and had no doubt that he would accuse her again, if she were caught in the act now. He seemed to understand her fear, because he stroked her hair and said, ‘Don’t worry, no one will disturb us here. Take your time and enjoy this. Use your lips and tongue on me as much as you like. My father will be grateful to me for allowing you to practice on my organ and perfect your bedroom skills.’

He began to rock back and forth so that the huge cock slid in and out of her mouth, slowly, allowing her time to move her tongue tentatively along its length. She grew bolder and took more of the shaft into her mouth, beginning to savour its alien flavour. Was this how the queen had gained the king’s favour in the bedroom? The thought was strange, and yet the act seemed so simple, so natural. She could taste his juices, relishing the faint grunts coming from him as he enjoyed her oral caresses. Growing bolder she began to stroke the dark sac that hung below his penis, eliciting more satisfied groans. His balls felt soft, and her fingers touched them delicately with light strokes that seemed to delight him even more. He stood firm, his legs like young palm trunks, and Charmian let her hands wander down the smooth thighs from time to time, which he also seemed to appreciate.

‘Oh, you are good, you are good!’ he muttered amidst the moans and groans of his arousal. ‘Far too good to waste on my father,’ she heard him whisper, and that worried her; surely the Pharaoh would not tolerate such disrespect, amounting almost to blasphemy? But she was in too deep to let such considerations bother her; her own body was growing needy as she ministered to his desires.

Eagerly Charmian licked up and down the whole length of his tumid shaft, soon discovering the little tricks that would elicit fresh moans of pleasure. She slowly drew her lips over his taut skin, and then when she reached the swollen glans she probed the little hole with her tongue. She was growing accustomed to the savoury taste of his juice and it was mingling freely with her saliva, turning his organ into a slick wand. Despite herself she began imagining how it might feel inside her, moving within her quim in the same way that it now moved within the hot cavern of her mouth, and a little shudder of longing went through her. The bud between her labia was tingling, and her fine linen robe growing damp in the region of her delta. Charmian was getting quite carried away, pleasuring his penis with hungry lips and feeling her own body respond with shameful longing. But then she made a mistake; her teeth grazed him slightly, making the prince hiss with sudden pain.

‘Ow, you clumsy whore!’ he cursed and struck out, cuffing her ear, and she recoiled in terror. ‘Careful with your teeth, stupid girl. If you nip me like that again you’ll get more than the back of my hand. Now carry on doing what you were doing – only take more care.’

Chastened, Charmian returned to the task with renewed concentration. She slowed right down, inching her mouth along his stout erection until he snarled at her to speed up a little.

‘If you keep me on the verge much longer I’ll explode!’ he sighed, starting to thrust his hips back and forth, and it was not long before he let out a mighty bellow and a hot stream of juice seared its way down her throat. Charmian gagged a little, but managed to keep his cock in her mouth until he was completely spent. He pulled out at once and flopped onto his bed, breathing raggedly, utterly exhausted and covered with sweat.

For a while he ignored her completely as his breathing returned to normal. Charmian sank to the floor beside the bed, her jaw aching from its unaccustomed exercise. The air smelt strongly of musk, and she breathed it in like sweet incense. Warm currents were still eddying inside her, making her ache with desire, but she felt confused and afraid. What did the prince want with her? Would the scene be played out over and over again, putting her at risk of discovery?

She dreaded to think what would happen if the queen caught them together. Although Neshi had stated that he had his mother’s permission to make use of her, somehow she doubted he was telling the truth. The queen would surely not dare to offer her husband’s concubine to their son. Or was she playing some more obscure game? Charmian had been at the court long enough to know that politics of all kinds were rife in the royal house of Egypt.

While she sat musing on the elaborate rush matting beside the bed she felt a tickle against her neck, and looked up to see the prince stroking her hair, smiling at her from the bed.

‘That was a good appetiser,’ he breathed, ‘but soon I shall want more of a meal. Come, lie beside me and let me feel your body. That’s the best way to get me good and hard again.’

Charmian obeyed, but reluctantly. She was torn between her own desire for more sex play, and the fear of being caught. The longer she stayed in Neshi’s chamber the more chance there was of being discovered.

He seemed to read her thoughts. ‘Relax; I told you, no one will disturb my afternoon rest. Take off your garment and let me see you naked.’

Soon she was offering her bare flesh to his hungry eyes. His hands moved to her breasts, where the small nipples were already roused to pink rosebuds, and she gave a soft moan of desire as he first drew the tips of his fingers over her taut flesh, and then tweaked her nipples firmly between thumb and forefinger.

The dark brown eyes scrutinised her gravely. ‘I would love to fuck you,’ he declared. ‘But I dare not. You are my father’s property and I will not risk getting you with child.’

Charmian gasped at the outrageous notion, but he only smiled. She could smell the scent of cachou on his breath, mixed with the earthy sensuality of his bodily perfume, and the combination was driving her wild with lust. Yet she feared him too. His look was rapacious, almost cruel.

Neshi leaned close to her ear and whispered, ‘So I shall go in through the back door. That way he will never know that I have sampled his goods. See, my cock is stirring again at the very idea of it. Turn over on your front and let me go to work on your virgin hole. It will take some oiling, I dare say, before I can get anything more than my finger in there.’

Charmian barely comprehended him, but turned over as he demanded and lay with her thighs pressed together. Soon she felt his hands on her buttock cheeks, pressing and pulling them apart, then the prince seized a crock from the bedside and she could feel his oily finger probing her anus in a way that horrified her. ‘No!’ she squealed, struggling to turn over. ‘That is a dirty place! No one should touch me there!’

‘I’m going to do more than touch you there,’ he chuckled evilly. ‘I’m going to penetrate your dark tunnel, my dear, to see what treasure I can find in there.’

‘No!’ She twisted and tried to sit up, and in his lap she saw the huge column of flesh rearing strongly and his intention was all too clear. ‘Please,’ she sobbed, ‘I do not want you to do that.’

‘I don’t suppose you do, but I shall do it all the same,’ he mocked.

Charmian was desperate. What if she called out – would the guard come running? She felt powerless, yet she must find some way out. ‘The king will know,’ she insisted. ‘He will know if my body has been used by you in that way. And he will be angry, very angry. It is too risky for us both, Neshi.’ In her turmoil she addressed the prince familiarly, and his frown dismayed her. But he seemed to be pondering her words.

‘I want your rear passage, girl,’ he said at last. ‘And I mean to have it, one way or another. Choose whether you want me to broach your hole or beat your hide. It must be one thing or the other.’

‘Choose?’ Charmian stared in the face of his cruelty. Her mind raced. She was being asked to choose between the known and the unknown, between pain already once endured and unimaginable pain. Her choice was already made. ‘If you must beat me, then so be it,’ she murmured humbly.

He rose from the bed and went to survey his stock of flails, belts and rods. Miserably Charmian lay on the bed, alone and terrified, wondering what lay in store for her. It was one thing to be publicly chastised in an ordered fashion, but what might this youth do in private, away from the moderating influence of his parents? It didn’t bear thinking about.

She heard him approach and she tensed, yet there was an erotic excitement mingled with the tension as she peeped through the fingers that covered her eyes to catch a glimpse of the prince’s sturdy legs, planted firmly beside the bed. His manliness, his princely authority amounting to sheer arrogance, had an unmistakable appeal, despite the way her flesh quailed at the prospect of the coming pain.