Flail of the Pharoah (24 page)

Something in her almost caused her to faint with strong desire for him in his Horus guise. In that moment, as he raised the flail against her, she could believe that he truly was a god on earth, delivering divine justice. She braced herself for the strike and the beaded thongs fell in a hard rain across her upturned breasts, making her gasp.

True to his word, Seti was not using too much force against her and the first blow merely stung her flesh in a stimulating way. Her nipples were soon aching for the touch of gentle lips or fingers, and a corresponding hunger rose in her quim, where she felt herself grow wet and needy. Her eyes dropped to the place beneath the king’s tunic where his privates were concealed: was he aroused yet? Never had she wanted a man more than in that moment.

The king walked slowly round to the back of her, examining her body in minute detail as if wondering where to lay the lash next. He paused behind her and she tensed, part in fear and part in longing, knowing his hawk-eyes were taking in the curves of her buttocks, the sway of her back, her lean thighs, assessing where the flail should fall.

There was a slap of leather as he raised the implement and Charmian held her breath. Then the impact was felt right across her behind, eliciting a groan from her as the sting made her eyes water. Her bottom tingled, her clitoris responded with its own throbbing rhythm and her pulse raced. She was tuned to receive her lord and master, ready as never before.

A third stroke was due, and Charmian wondered where the flail would find its home for the final time. The Pharaoh was obviously taking his time. He walked back to view her from the front, his manner proud and fierce. He would not meet her eyes but regarded her as if she were meat from his pantry, instead of a whore from his harem. Although she had been brought up as a chieftain’s daughter, for the first time in her life Charmian felt insignificant, a chattel to be disposed of according to the king’s will.

The novel sensations filled her with strange feelings. Oh to become a nothing in his sight, to have her very being absorbed by his, and to revel in his power from a position of powerlessness. There was a perversity in her desire that only made it the more exciting.

‘One more stripe,’ the king announced, raising the shining flail above his head. He walked behind her with slow, deliberate paces and she had to suffer that agonising hiatus once again. Tense, expectant, she hung in her shackles until she felt the final strike against her land across her unprotected thighs. The biting tongues of the flail were no longer a source of pain but of dark delight, rousing her to erotic heights, allowing her to share in the Pharaoh’s triumph as he completed his self-appointed task.

While she savoured the sensations Seti moved close and kissed her hard. Then he stood back and lifted his garment. His phallus now stood proud, inflated to its full extent with the shiny tip quivering eagerly for a taste of her slippery cunt.

‘See how well this has worked!’ he exclaimed, full of himself. He stood before her and tried to introduce his cock into her cunny, but the angle was awkward. So instead his mouth fastened on her nipple and she sighed with pleasure, wriggling as far as she was able in her bonds.

Seti stood back, then knelt and fumbled with the leg irons. ‘Let me free you, and then we shall go to it. I can see from your aroused body that you desire me as much as I long for you.’

The Pharaoh struggled with all the constraints until he had freed her, and she limped a few paces, rubbing her chafed wrists.

‘Never mind, I have excellent ointments to soothe your skin,’ he smiled. ‘It will be a pleasure to enjoy your body, sweet thing. And if I do not pleasure you at once, let me know and I shall try again and again until you are thoroughly sated. Come to bed.’

He was as good as his word, using a special cream that numbed the pain in her breasts and buttocks. Charmian began to feel loved and cherished, a pleasant contrast after his male power had unleashed itself upon her yielding flesh. The king kissed her gently before kneeling astride her supine body with his phallus rearing eagerly for the sport to come.

Despite the smarting of her breasts, bottom and thighs, Charmian surrendered eagerly to his embrace and soon his shaft was piercing through her labia and entering her passage, riding her with a fierce passion she had never known before. Her own body responded mechanically, and she made all the right appreciative noises before finally resting, utterly exhausted, in his arms. Yet there had been something missing for her.

Although the Pharaoh had satisfied her desire to be dominated, he had not completely satisfied her sexually. Her body was roused, but her heart and soul remained almost aloof from their lovemaking. She wished it had been happening with someone else, yet there was so little chance of her ever being able to be with the king’s son she was filled with despair. Was she condemned to endure the prince’s teasing kisses and embraces without ever being completely his? Would she, one day, have to witness a royal wedding at which he took another bride? The thought was hateful to her, yet as in so many things she was helpless to make her wishes known.

The Pharaoh stirred, then turned to look at her with his arm supporting his chin. ‘My dear,’ he murmured. ‘I think we have found the key to success in the bedroom. I feel my potency has returned and I am fit to rule again. You have done me a great favour and I would like to bestow a special gift upon you. Name anything your heart desires, and it shall be granted.’

Was this the opportunity she craved to obtain her true heart’s desire? What if she asked for the hand of Prince Neshi, would it be granted? She was about to request it, but then fear overtook her, fear of affronting the Pharaoh whom she had just pleased. She would be asking what he could not give her, and there would be embarrassment at least and perhaps even anger at her temerity. No, she could not do it.

Instead she thought of something that would give her much peace and quiet. ‘Your majesty, I wonder if I might have a room of my own.’

‘A room of your own?’ he repeated, astonished.

‘Yes, sire. It need not be a very big one, not like the queen’s chamber.’

‘I should hope not,’ he laughed. ‘Imagine Mira’s face!’

‘Just a small bedchamber where I might be alone. It is hard for me in the harem. The others are different from me, and I feel they resent me. If I could just be in my own room I should be so happy.’

The Pharaoh rose from the bed and drew on his robe. ‘Certainly, I shall arrange it at once. I expected you to ask for gold and jewels, which I would gladly have given you from my coffers, but this is even easier to arrange. I shall put it in the hands of the chamberlain and he will find some nice little place and have it furnished.’

‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’

Seti smiled, caressing her breast gently with an absent-minded air. ‘By tomorrow morning it shall be ready, so tonight will be your last in the harem. Off you go now. I need to go to the temple and give thanks for my renewed potency. The gods have smiled upon us tonight, indeed.’

The idea of having a private room thrilled Charmian to the core, and her step was light as she made her way back down the corridor towards the harem. This was the last night she would have to spend with the other women. Deep in thought she was still relishing the idea when someone suddenly stepped out into her path: it was Prince Neshi, and his ironic smile thrust sweet daggers into her heart, which began thumping crazily.

‘Fresh from my father’s bed, are we?’ he murmured, pulling her into the shadow of a huge statue of the goddess Hathor. ‘Did you help him get it up?’

Even as she shrank from him in fear, Charmian wanted to throw herself at him in lust. His warm breath was sweet and his body palpitated like hers with the rhythm of love. There was an aura of desire around him, sweet as the scent of roses and just as alluring. She knew, with a female’s instinct, that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, but there was little either could do about it.

‘I… I did share the Pharaoh’s bed,’ she replied. ‘I was commanded.’

‘And you do like to be commanded, don’t you?’ he sneered. ‘At everyone’s beck and call you are – except
mine
.’

‘What do you want from me?’

He let go of her arm, quietening down. ‘Only what is not yours to give,’ he muttered. ‘Only that which is supposed to belong to my sainted father. Did he possess you utterly tonight, Charmian? Did he lay claim to his ownership and take you? Did your succulent body rouse his old dildo to performance standard?’

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came. How could she reply to such impertinent questions? Charmian sensed the pain and frustration behind his words and knew his torment mirrored her own.

Neshi spoke more gently. ‘You don’t have to answer. I am stupid and jealous. I can’t bear to think of the old man with you, when I would rather…’

‘He flogged me!’ The words burst from Charmian’s lips unbidden, but she could not take them back.

‘What?’

The prince’s eyes were fierce and she was afraid, but went on to explain, ‘He told me that to rouse his ardour he must use his flail on me. He strapped me to a wooden frame and I endured some light blows. But it did the trick and he managed to recover his potency.’

‘Well I never!’ The prince’s lip began to curl in scornful amusement. ‘And did you relish such treatment at the hands of the Great Pharaoh, King Seti, Lord of the Upper and Lower Nile? I imagine you did!’

It was on her lips to tell him that she would rather suffer at his hand than his father’s, but she dared not go so far. Instead her face wore a look of yearning that she knew he must be able to decode. He put his palms on either side of her face and stared steadily into her eyes.

‘The gods make a mockery of our desires. If there were any justice in this world we should be… oh, what does it matter? Neither of us are in command of our own fate. Go back to my father’s harem, my beauty, where you belong.’

‘Not for much longer,’ she couldn’t resist saying as she stepped away.

‘What do you mean?’ he called after her, catching her hand. ‘Wait, don’t torment me further with conundrums. Say what you mean.’

‘I mean, that in gratitude for my services this night my master, the Pharaoh, has kindly agreed to give me a room of my own.’

Charmian looked back over her shoulder to see him smiling from ear to ear, and with a new spring in her step she returned to the harem for the last time.

Queen Mira was furious. She had just discovered that upstart paleface had been given a bedroom of her own. After the insult of that trollop being made Queen of the Festival, the Pharaoh had the temerity to honour her again. It was insupportable.

Mira hurried along to confront the king as soon as she discovered the girl had been ensconced in her new room. Granted it was quite a small room, plainly furnished, but no harem girl had ever been allowed such luxurious privacy before and heaven knows how overweening her pride would grow now. As she whisked along the corridors of the palace Mira was rehearsing her angry words to King Seti. But when she got there she found he was in audience with the high priest and could not be disturbed.

But as she cooled her heels in the antechamber some of her passion dissipated and reason started to prevail. Perhaps it was not wise to show her husband how upset she was. He would disapprove of her jealousy and, in the long run, that might go against her. Instead she would play a cunning game and congratulate him. On reflection, that would suit her long-term plan better. So when the Pharaoh finally appeared Mira greeted him with warm smiles and outstretched arms. ‘Seti, you have honoured your concubine by giving her a private room, and in so doing you have honoured me.’

He looked puzzled. ‘How so, wife?’

She frowned at his incomprehension. ‘Because I have trained her well, of course. I presume she pleasured you two nights ago, restoring your potency?’ He gave a sheepish smile. ‘I thought as much. No doubt it was the erotic dance I taught her that did the trick.’

‘Not exactly,’ he replied, instantly cutting her down to size.

Mira’s heart was filled with poison but she continued coolly, ‘Then how was the miracle achieved?’

For the first time in their marriage her husband looked shifty. ‘What goes on in the royal bedchamber is a private matter. If I choose to divulge it to you that is your privilege, not your right. Let me just say that we both had quite a stimulating time.’

Mira was furious he had decided to keep the secrets of his bedchamber. Never before had he denied her anything. Many a time they had laughed over some new concubine’s inexperience, or made fun of another’s clumsy attempts to ingratiate herself with the Pharaoh. Sometimes she had even been permitted to spy on the proceedings from behind a screen. She recalled how she had trained Charmian in the bedroom arts, helped her to satisfy her husband, but now that same husband was drawing a veil over his relationship with the foreign wench.

After she left the king, Mira’s paranoia increased and she began to plot an alternative course of action. To question Charmian directly would be unwise, but she could ask Neshi to do it for her. She was well aware of the attraction between the two young people and now, with Charmian enjoying the privacy of her own room, things might well hot up between them. Spotting her son in the garden, playing dogs and jackals with one of the guards, she decided to let him in on her plan.