Flail of the Pharoah (23 page)

‘Like the dancing girls?’ Charmian had often witnessed the erotic displays given by the female dancers.

‘Something like that, except that you will be at very close quarters to the Pharaoh and you may touch him. You will wiggle your hips and caress your breasts, like so.’

Mira began to squeeze her own breasts and tweak her nipples through the thin cloth of her gown, urging Charmian to do likewise. ‘And then you might offer your breasts as a kind of gift, like this.’ She put her hands beneath her ample breasts and lifted them, thrusting them forward. ‘That’s right. But before he can grasp them you must turn around, so, and lift your skirt to display your bottom. Use the material to rub your buttocks, like this, then stroke your flesh.’

As the instruction continued Charmian could feel herself becoming very aroused. She doubted whether she could prevent herself from going too far with the prince. She must remember that this was just a dress rehearsal for her encounter with the Pharaoh… but why had the queen chosen her own son for her to practice on? Didn’t she realise it would be a torment to both of them?

Perhaps that was the very idea. Charmian mentally reeled at the shock of realisation. Could it be that Mira wanted them to tease each other unbearably, as a kind of punishment? For she knew they could never come together in full sexual union, of the kind she would have with the prince’s father.

After that Charmian found it hard to be as enthusiastic for the task in hand. When the queen drew back the screen and she sashayed forth, her heart was heavy. Neshi sat upright on the throne, staring straight ahead in an impassive kind of trance. Did he believe this was being done to torment him, too?

Slowly Charmian drew near to the prince, displaying the curves of her body as best she could, writhing and sighing, caressing herself but never quite touching him. As the seductive dance continued she thought she saw a stirring in his genitals and her efforts intensified. She pushed her bare buttocks almost into his face then moved them round and round, clenching and unclenching them provocatively. The prince uttered a sigh, followed by a groan, and the queen muttered her approval.

Charmian turned around and laid bare her breasts, handling them before him so that their small nipples jutted and their flesh firmed. Neshi’s eyes were filled with naked lust. He reached out to touch her but she veered away from him with a little chuckle and continued to caress herself at a short distance. Now she could see his cock rearing like an agitated asp, and as she watched he began to stroke his own organ, bringing it up to full strength.

‘Mother, must you use me so?’ he moaned at one point.

The queen replied coolly, ‘It is your duty.’

Under Mira’s instruction Charmian finally removed her flimsy garment and spread her legs wide to show her nether lips. She began to stroke herself, feeling the juices seep as her own climax was in reach of her fingers. Just as she thought she could bear no more, and would end up in a spent heap upon the floor, the prince came with a mighty rush of jism that spurted forth in a white arc and fell in viscous drops on the floor.

Excellent!’ Mira laughed, clapping her hands. ‘If you can do that for the Pharaoh, my dear, all will be well. Iras, take her to the bath and make her ready. Neshi, when you have recovered, come with me.’

It had been an odd performance, almost clinical in one way and yet highly erotic in another. Charmian did not know what to make of it. She felt unsatisfied and unsure whether she could give a repeat performance in the king’s presence. Now she knew what the queen wanted her to do it was all the more daunting.

But as she poured jugs of cool water over her in the bath Iras was more helpful. ‘That was quite a business,’ she commented. ‘And all because you-know-who can’t get it up any more.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘His majesty should rule with a rod of iron, if you get my drift. Instead he has a puny reed that will bend but not stand straight and tall. Ever since Opet he has been this way. While you were sick he sent for that Nubian girl, that Kiya, and a couple of new ones. He even had a go at his wife, but it seems nothing will really inspire him.’

‘Oh dear,’ Charmian sighed at the size of the task before her.

She lay back while Iras washed her hair, continuing to gossip. ‘This can’t be allowed to go on too long. The Pharaoh must be potent, or the gods will cease to smile upon us and the land will suffer.’

‘So what can be done?’

‘The high priest will produce some potions, I suppose, and make sacrifices. Perhaps he will suggest that the king should abdicate in favour of his son, the crown prince.’

‘Neshi for Pharaoh? But he is too young, surely?’

Iras shrugged. ‘It would have to happen if his father died. But let us not think such gloomy thoughts. Maybe your dance will delight King Seti’s heart and all shall be well.’

Soon Charmian was arrayed in the most fetching costume that Iras could devise. Her blonde hair fell in wisps about her face and her breasts were perfumed with lotus. The diaphanous material swathed her loins, leaving little to the imagination, and was caught loosely over her heart, offering tantalising glimpses of her breasts.

‘There, I am sure you will captivate the Pharaoh now,’ Iras declared.

But Charmian wasn’t so sure. She walked along the corridor to the king’s chamber feeling nervous and inadequate. If only it had been Prince Neshi that she must pleasure. That would have been a pleasure for her too, but the burden of reviving the king’s flagging libido was a heavy one and she doubted whether she could manage it if Queen Mira had been unsuccessful. What would happen if she failed? Would she be in disgrace, forced to join the neglected ones in the harem?

The Pharaoh was awaiting her in his night robe, parted to show his smooth brown chest. He smiled when she entered, but did not rise. Instead he bade her sit on a stool before him.

‘Charmian,’ he began solemnly, ‘I am sure my wife has instructed you how to behave here tonight, has she not?’

His question puzzled her. ‘A little, your majesty.’

‘She has prepared you very prettily and, as always, you are charming my eyes with a vision of loveliness, enchanting my ears with your lilting accent and delighting my nostrils with your scent. But I am becoming an older man, and my flesh grows weak. I do not respond to beautiful women as I used to in the days of my youth.’

He gave a great sigh, and Charmian began to feel sorry for him. ‘I can dance for you,’ she offered, rising to her feet. Slowly she raised her arms, as Mira showed her, and then began to sway her hips and raise her thighs in a slow, seductive motion. She turned around, allowing her buttocks to stick out as she clenched and swayed them. In her head the progress of the dance was all mapped out. She would keep her distance until the first sign of the king’s manhood stirring. Then she would sit upon his lap and allow him to suckle her breasts while she fondled his growing erection. Once it had grown to serviceable proportions, she…

But before Charmian could proceed with her dance he called out, ‘Enough!’ It was the Pharaoh’s command, so she was obliged to stop and crestfallen she knelt before him. Had she failed before she’d even begun?

‘I know you mean well,’ he told her softly. ‘But this is not the way to make me want you.’

‘Then what will you have me do?’ she asked, almost tearful. If the tricks she had learnt from the queen were no good, how else could she satisfy him?

‘It has taken me a long time to understand the source of my fatigue. Tut-Tut has helped me in my search for self-knowledge and so, in a way, have you, although you did not know it. I have within me a desire to conquer that is not fulfilled merely by being king. I need to master a woman… physically.’

She looked into his dark unfathomable eyes. ‘But surely you…’

He held a hand up, palm facing her, and she fell into silence. ‘Charmian, I will come to the point. Tut-Tut has told me about the punishment that my son, Prince Neshi, meted out to you. When I heard about it I recognised a feeling in my heart I had sometimes felt before; it was envy. I, the Pharaoh of Egypt, felt envious of my own son. Imagine that.’

‘But why, sire?’

‘Because he had mastered you with his whip hand. Because he forced you to submit to him and earned your love and respect. Do not try to tell me it is not so; I can see it every time you look at him. A woman always loves the man who has controlled her, subjugated her, chastised her. Is it not so, little one?’

Charmian felt confused. Was this a trick to trap her? But Seti did not wait for her response. Instead he carried on, almost as if he were talking to himself rather than to her.

‘For years I have been aware of something inside myself I could not identify. Now I realise the urge to subjugate my wife, Queen Mira, has been there all along. Does that surprise you, Charmian?’

‘Not really,’ she answered. Now she had the impression that all men secretly wished to dominate their women.

‘If you knew more about our Egyptian court then you would be surprised. You see, the Queen of Egypt is supposed to be the Pharaoh’s equal. She cannot be his slave.’

‘But you have slave women a-plenty in your harem,’ she said. ‘Girls who would subjugate themselves to you willingly.’

‘True.’ The calm gaze of the king continued to survey her thoughtfully. ‘But there is none I wish to conquer more than you, with your proud bearing and beautiful face. You, who come from another land where things are done differently. I want you to know that here, in Egypt, the Pharaoh is a god amongst men. And how better to prove it than to master you completely?’

Charmian sat in silence, unable to express her feelings. She didn’t know whether to feel honoured that the king had singled her out like this, or to feel uneasy because she would be a kind of stand-in for the queen. Besides, it was Prince Neshi whose love she craved now, not his father’s. Still, the prospect of being chastened by the Pharaoh himself was not without its attraction.

It seemed they were queuing up to punish her in this place. Suddenly she recalled the words of her mother, when she was still of tender years, ‘You are too beautiful for your own good, my child.’ Was that what she had meant, that her beauty would make men desire to dominate her, to possess her through making their mark upon her?

‘What do you say?’ the king continued. ‘Will you let me act toward you as Prince Neshi has done, like son, like father?’

‘Your wish is my command, sire,’ she murmured.

He placed his forefinger beneath her chin and tilted her face up, so she could not avoid his gaze. ‘No, my dear, only if
you
wish. The act of subjugation must be accepted voluntarily, or I shall not be acting as a supreme and just ruler but as a cruel tyrant. Do you, Charmian, submit to my divine will?’

‘Yes, your majesty,’ she murmured.

‘Do you, Charmian, offer up your tender flesh for chastisement by my hand?’

‘Yes, your majesty.’

‘Then come and prepare yourself.’

He led her over to a corner of the room, behind a screen he had obviously prepared in advance in the hope that she would agree to the punishment. Two manacles hung from a wooden frame and there were ankle locks at the sides. Charmian shuddered at the sight. Was she to be tied up to receive her whipping?

‘Remove your clothes,’ the king commanded brusquely, a slight tremor in his voice, and obediently Charmian stripped off the light garment and folded it neatly. The king surveyed her nakedness as if she were a magnificent beast, newly acquired for his menagerie. This was not the Pharaoh she had encountered before. Something had changed in him, and it both frightened and excited her.

‘Come, let me secure you.’ He seized her by the hand and raised it above her head then fastened a manacle around it, making her reach up towards the top of the frame. Then he did the same with the other. Her breasts rose and she felt her whole body stretched taut as a wire. Clumsily the king fastened the stays to her ankles then stood back to admire his handiwork. ‘There, you are at my mercy now.’

She heard the note of pride in his voice, echoing the dark seam of emotion coming to the surface from the depths of his soul. Perhaps this would have a good outcome after all, she reasoned. If it restored her place as chief concubine, second only to the queen, a little pain would be a small price to pay.

From a long box near the bed the Pharaoh removed an ornamental flail. The handle was made of gold and brightly coloured enamels, showing the eye of Horus and other symbols. The fine leather straps that hung from it were also tooled with gold and each thong ended in two points, with a bright blue bead at each tip. It was an exquisitely crafted implement.

‘This was my father’s,’ he said proudly. ‘It was used to chastise a woman of the harem who seduced a visiting legate and got with child. She received twenty lashes and was sorely injured, but you do not deserve such punishment. This is to be a symbolic act, so I shall deliver only three light blows. But it shall be enough to establish my control over you.’

Despite the promise of leniency, Charmian felt her body wilt and tremble at the prospect of further suffering, her consolation the sight of the Pharaoh taking up a manly stance and flexing his muscles, his eye intent upon her as she stood spread-eagled to the whipping frame. He looked magnificent, his slightly hooked nose reminiscent of the beak of Horus, the god who was the heavenly guardian of Upper and Lower Egypt.