The sun god Ra had risen high enough in the morning sky to light the world and start a new day. The weather was sweltering this day without a hint of a cooling breeze. It was hot, humid and uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Within a few hours however, the heat would get there. It always got there on days like this.
This day was going to ripe with that stifling oppressive heat that could drive a man's will to live and suffer in the harshest working conditions than perish in the heat. When the heat reached that unbearable
point, Manon would pray thanks to the gods that he was a slave of the Egyptians in the palace and not one of the poor Hebrews outside constructing yet another monolithic monument in honor of Pharaoh under Ra's blistering light, which is not to say his servitude was not without challenges. Manon was the personal slave to Her Highness Aziza, High Priestess of Amun-Ra in all of Egypt and this morning he was late awaking her. Manon strode purposefully into her bedchamber and as always was marveled at the sight of her, sprawled naked across her bed, her perfect figure highlighted by the light of the still rising sun. Her flesh was bronze and as smooth as her silk linen bed sheets. Just staring at this earthly goddess, it took him a moment to find his voice.
"Good morning, Mistress." He forced out.
Aziza's green eyes fluttered open at his voice and very quickly took in her surroundings.
She frowned at her servant, "You are late, Slave."
Manon bowed low, "Forgive me, my Mistress." and stood up again.
He was late because after working in Pharaoh's garden there was a commotion in the marketplace on his way to her. There was some wild tale about a magician turning his staff into an asp, but Aziza didn't tolerate excuses lightly, so he felt it best to leave the explanation at her bedchamber doors. Aziza sighed and stretched so that her lithe form arched back and up, causing the thin silk gauze sheet to slide off her breasts. Manon took her in with his eyes while keeping his face to the floor and was mostly successful, having had lots of practice. He knew his place in life, but his manly facilities didn't. He lusted after his High Priestess like all the men of Egypt did.
He pushed his carnal wants away, having duties to perform. It was the morning and Aziza needed her bath, it was one of her favorite times of the day.
"Would Mistress like her bath now?" He asked.
Aziza smiled, "I would."
Manon fetched her robe, another thin silk wrap that barely covered or concealed and escorted her across the room through an anteroom into the large, open air covered bath that looked out over the city. Pharaoh's palace stood high on the hillside, eclipsing even the great pyramids and monuments, towering over the buildings that surrounded the city market. This view of the city was the best save perhaps from Pharaoh's throne. The bath was a large covered room, open on three sides with a giant reflecting pool in the middle. Each morning after her bath, the water was drained out of the pool. Each evening, water from the Nile was hand carried from the river up to the palace and poured through several hemp filters to purify it before being poured back in the pool each night.
It was forbidden for the High Priestess to bathe in anything less.
Aziza stood before the reflective waters and made a soft, aloud prayer to Ra then slipped out of her gauze robe. The fabric fell to the floor, where it would remain until after she had left the bath, when it could be gathered up and burned. The same was happening right now in the other room, where other slaves were changing out the bed linens. It was forbidden for the High Priestess to touch the same garment twice. She stood facing the rising sun, completely darkened in silhouette. Every single curve starting up from her shoulders, to her lush breasts, to her hips, to her ample backside, and all the way down to the gentle curve of her heels on the floor could be scrutinized by anyone watching, but no one was—no one expect Manon. Even though he knew it was forbidden for slaves to look upon the High Priestess.
In an effort to stop breaking Pharaoh's law, he busied himself with gathering soaps and oils to anoint Aziza with at the far side of room though unbeknownst to him though his master looked on him with same desire that she saw him try to slyly look at her with. Now Manon was handsome in form and appearance. He was very enticing for a foreigner in a land not his own as he from Nubia. Manon was first brought to Egypt by the Pharaoh to work in the fields (which he still did from time to time upon Pharaoh's request) and years of field work built strong, taunt muscles underneath his ebony-colored skin. Unlike most slaves Manon had an uncanny work ethic and faithfulness to his masters.
At her appointment to High Priestess, Aziza acquired him as a gift from Pharaoh, who decreed that she only have the best in her life. Manon's black hair was cut short upon her request and his eyes were light brown. His attire was simple; sandals and a loincloth tunic that left nothing to the imagination, making her womanhood quiver with erotic want.
"Slave, what do you know of dreams?" She suddenly surprised him with a question.
Manon turned toward her, but she hadn't moved. She still stood silhouetted against the rising sun, every curve visible as a black line against the light.
"Dreams, Mistress?" Manon asked with his face staring at the floor.
"I had a dream last night and seek council." Aziza explained.
Manon had been the High Priestess' personal slave for years, but they'd never spoke. They never exchanged words more necessary than the asking for confirmation or the giving of a command. For her to seek council, a slave's
council was unheard of. It was forbidden for slaves to speak to the High Priestess freely.
"Surely, my Mistress is wiser than I in the ways of interpreting dreams and visions."
Aziza turned toward Manon and he was sure to see a look of fury was etched on her face, angry at him for daring to decline her question. Stunningly though, she wore a hint of a smile instead and allowed him to continue.
"Mistress is more experienced with interpreting dreams, but occasionally, I feel she tires of seeing the same things: The same monuments, the same tombs, the same commands for more tribute and worship to be lavished upon the Gods. Occasionally, she would like to speak to someone about what she has seen, especially when that something is different and new."
She turned back to the reflecting pool and spoke over her shoulder, "Come, bathe me and we shall talk."
Manon crossed to the edge of the pool, to his accustomed spot on the lip of the edge as his master descended the stairs into the water and swam out into the middle of the waist deep pool.
"Mmmm," She moaned at the feel of the water, extending her hand. "Come."
Manon's eyes widened in horror, "Mistress, I cannot. It is forbidden that I touch the water. . ."
She stood up, making Manon cease speaking as the water cascaded off her nudity in rivers and streams.
"It is forbidden to refuse a command given from a Master to their Slave."
"Yes, Mistress," the slave bowed low. "Forgive me, Mistress."
"I command you, remove your garments and join me. I wish a proper scrub and you are filthy from the fields."
Manon's voice betrayed his inner fear. He had secret fantasies about his master for years now. Getting through the day and especially Aziza's bath without offending her or staring was difficult enough, now he had to endure it naked. He slowly stood, knowing his body would condemn him to death—knowing he couldn't appear before her without showcasing his lust. Undressing didn't take long and Aziza's eyes never left her servant as he stepped out of his clothes, standing before her as bare as the day he was birthed.
Manon was aroused as a male could be in the presence of a female such as her. She stared directly at Manon's manhood that stood up and away from his body pulsing madly, but made no comment. Manon took a hesitant step forward, the cool waters just touching the bottom of his foot as he descended the first stair. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to get out and plead forgiveness from Pharaoh himself, but her command drove him forward. The High Priestess pulled her long black hair over one shoulder and turned her back to her slave, offering it up for soaping. Her slave was both relieved and disappointed her eyes were no longer on him.
Manon's trembling hands put the lotion, oil, and soap on the sponge and began to lather up her shoulders.
"Ahh, see there, Slave? That's much better," She purred. "After my cleansing, we shall cleanse you as well."
"Would Mistress care to share her dream?" Manon inquired, feeling a bit bold, a bit empowered, and desperate to keep the conversation away from the topic of him being naked in the pool with her.
"Mistress would," She replied, her gaze suddenly becoming far and distant. "Slave, I am in need of advice."
"If it's mine to give Mistress, I humbly give it to you."
For the second time Aziza gave Manon a smile, "I was hoping you'd say that. I'm really not quite sure how to even begin."
"Perhaps if your humble Slave knew what you had dreamed of, I could offer a more experienced opinion?"
Aziza backed up suddenly and to his horror, shame, and longing Manon's penis slid up against her. First it touched the cleft of her buttocks then poked the small of her back. Mortified, he tried to back away, but Aziza spun and grabbed him—not just put her hands on him, but groped for him and when her soft hands found his cock under the water, she held on.
"What is this
, Slave?" the High Priestess demanded, but an ashamed Manon couldn't utter a word. "Answer me."
"I believe my words would be a mute observation, Mistress."
"Must I call the guards at your disobedience?" Aziza quizzed with a smirk and Manon wasn't sure, but he swore by the gods that she was stroking his hardness.
With no other option, Manon spoke up, "It is my manhood, Mistress."
"You seem to be aroused, Slave. Do I
Manon was about to answer, but Aziza spoke first, "I would advise that you not lie to me."
"Y- -Yes, Mistress." Manon answered with a fearful stutter.
"Why is there fear in your voice?" Aziza quizzed with an amused smirked, still stroking her faithful servant.
"Mistress, it is unlawful for me to be this way with you. Pharaoh would have my head if he knew of this." Manon replied fearfully and frantically, so that she may stop whatever this encounter was. "Perhaps we could get back onto the subject of your dream."
what I dreamed of." Aziza replied, using her other hand to force him to look at her. "Look at me. I dreamt of you, dreamt of your magnificent shaft. I dreamt that you took me."
All of her words came as shock, but there was something about the way she said, "You took me
" that was most shocking than anything else. Aziza trapped Manon at an edge of the pool. The moment was surreal for the slave in the matter; her hands were on him, the nipples of her perfect breasts were erect and grazing against his chest with eyes filled with longing staring into his, boring into his soul. She stroked Manon beneath the water, both hands now sliding up and down the long, gentle curve of him.
"I haven't known the pleasure of a man's touch in so long. It's yours to give, Slave. Give it to me. I command you."
With her words, Manon's inhibitions evaporated like a desert mirage. The High Priestess was his master and he had no choice, but to obey.
He sank to his knees and began softly yet hungrily sucking her nipples, one and than the other. Aziza grabbed his head and pulled him closer to her body. She'd absorbed the lotion, oil, and soap from the sponge into her skin and smelled so good. As Manon continued to service her breasts, she straddled him with her legs and slowly lowered herself into the water.
Master and slave kissed and held each other so tightly that not even the gods could separate them. Manon's mouth roamed all over her. Her cheeks, her earlobes, the lines of her neck, and her full lips were for him to explore. Aziza responded in kind until they had built themselves into a frenzy in the water.
"Oooh yes. . ." She breathed in her slave's ear, sending a new wave of urgency coursing through his body.
The High Priestess' flesh was smooth and hot against her slave's, despite the cool water they were submerged in. Below the surface, Manon could feel his throbbing erection occasionally rising up to nudge against the carnal slit between his master's legs. With each brush against her, she tensed, wanting for the rest of it and Manon was more than willing to oblige her—he could no longer wait himself. He grasped her narrow hips and lifted her forward, positioning himself at her entrance. Aziza smiled at him, feeling the tip of him press against her. Manon entered her easily, slipping in to the hilt and his master let out a load moan as he filled her.
Manon's need for release was so great, but he refrained from moving and just sat, allowing her to get used to him inside. Before long, Aziza began to rock and Manon's hands moved back to her hips as they ground back and forth. Water rippled around them in the reflecting pool and a slight breeze blew in from outside. Outside, under the Egyptian sun, that breeze would have been a blast of hot desert air. Inside, under the shade of the room's roof and waist deep in the water, it was cool enough to raise goose bumps on Aziza's naked, exposed flesh. Manon ran his hands down over the High Priestess' back to knead the toned cheeks of her buttocks.
He grabbed her gently and used it as leverage as he thrust up into her.
"Ah, you're such a faithful slave, aren't you?" Aziza groaned, his member feeling incredible inside her.
She ground her hips against his as he lifted her up and down. The friction and sensation was unbelievable as Manon shifted her against his hips, angling himself differently to go deeper inside the wonderful heat. Aziza's body tightened as he began to thrust faster, her fingers digging slightly into his muscular chest as he kept making love to her. Manon kissed her with fervor, his breathing coming in haggard breaths as he tried to hold on to the pleasure that was rippling through his body. His tongue played with hers as he used one of his to rub her clitoris while her breath was coming in rapid bursts as well as she fought to stay in control.
She than let out a carnal-filled laugh, "Mmmm, you continue to gain favor with me." and without leaving her, he spun around and laid her back on the steps of the pool.
"Take me, Slave." She commanded once situated, beckoning him for more.
"Yes, Mistress." Manon replied and kept thrusting deeper inside her.
She gasped in amazement, and even Manon was astonished at both his audacity and ferocity. He was lodged so deep inside her he thought that he'd never be able to pull back, but pull back he did. Aziza's body was tight, but willing and needful and his thrusts forward brought cries from both their lips. She was the most exotic, beautiful sight the slave have ever seen with her ink black hair billowing and flowing out from her head while her breasts bobbed through the water with each successive push of his long, hard member.
Manon's rhythm intensified to a furious pace and Aziza began to scream, "Yes, yes!"
She trailed off and became incoherent, just emitting screams as he plowed her repeatedly. This was not sweet love making, but just pure, animalistic hunger. Manon had never felt so powerful, watching inch after inch of himself disappear inside her, watching her reactions become violent as she thrashed and writhed in the water before him. His laden sack quivered as it pounded against her and Manon knew there was no turning back for this was the moment that could ultimately mean his death. If it is forbidden to touch, speak to, or even look upon the High Priestess, what would happen to the slave who seeded her? The moment overrode everything else though as the quiver of his release was too great.
"Forgive me, Mistress!" Manon shouted, burying himself to the hilt, immersing in her as much as one could be.
Aziza screamed from the sheer force of her slave's seed pumping into her then climaxed herself, grinding down on his hardness before collapsing out of breath.*****
Master and slave lay sated together for some time before Aziza was at it again, begging Manon's uncomprehending brain for more. They tried every conceivable position and act in four carnal sessions. Each time was different, but just as heated and passionate as the High Priestess' orgasmic screams rang high to the heavens. Ultimately, when she had had her fill and lay dozing lightly on the side of the pool, Manon rose from the waters and proceeded outside. The sun was high overhead now; they'd obviously been occupied the better part of the day. Now that the moment had past, twinges of worry struck him.
Obviously, Mistress could choose to bathe for as long or as short a period of time as she wished, but she was the High Priestess. She had a schedule and would be missed eventually. On a stone rack outside the reflecting pool sat thick, Egyptian cotton towels. Manon set them there every morning to bake in the sun during her bath, ensuring them to be warm. The extra time today made them almost too hot to handle and he debated whether or not to present them to Mistress. He hurried back inside and began to methodically wrap her in the towels. At this, she awoke and moaned appreciatively.
"Thank you." She said, smiling.
"Does Mistress require anything else?" Manon asked with a smile of his own.
"Return me to my bed chamber?"
Manon scooped her into his arms and carried her back through the anteroom to her bed. The High Priestess let the towels drop to the floor and slid between the gauze sheets.
"Lie with me, Slave."
Manon's heart started pounding again at the thought of sharing her bed, an absurd notion after everything else they'd shared. He climbed into the bed, between the sheets, and pressed myself against her prone form.
"Slave, a question."
"What is your name?"
Manon's heart that began beating so fiercely when he lied beside her stopped completely and in his mind he was amazed that he was still alive. For a master to request a slave's name could mean only two things: Either they had displeased their master with poor service and were about to be discharged—which meant a quick death in disgrace or had so thoroughly pleased them the slave would be granted freedom.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he asked, "May I inquire why, Mistress?"
Aziza rustled beneath the sheets, snuggling closer to him.
"I cannot continue to call my consort and companion 'slave
'. I grant you your freedom, but ask that you consent to stay with me willingly." She explained.
When Manon spoke, it was in a voice choked with tears, for his every wish and fantasy had just come true.
"Manon, Mistress. My name is Manon."
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com
with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/pleasing-the-high-priestess.aspx">Pleasing the High Priestess</a>