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Pharaoh's Willing Slave

A Hebrew slave seduces the female Egyptian Pharaoh Hatshepsut
Carrying a bowl of figs on his fingertips, Mikha'El strutted up the palace's columned hallways with his chest raised and a grin stretched across his black-beaded face. His sandy-brown arms, bulging with muscles, gleamed from the oils he had smeared to polish them. Ever since he earned himself the rank of house slave, taking him away from the sweltering and scarring toil of brick-making, he bubbled with gratitude. Not only did Mikha'El have his god Yahweh to thank for his good fortune, he also owed his promotion to a certain someone he would gladly serve as he had no one else.

As night fell outside, the hallways were cool like mountain springs despite torches on the walls. The limestone columns, decorated with inscribed hieroglyphs, would have towered over any tree in the world. To a Hebrew born in a desert tent and spent most of his youth sleeping in a stuffy hut on the brick-makers' estate, the palace's spacious interior would steal his breath away. Inhaling the sweet aroma of burning incense, Mikha'El moaned with the first pleasure of many he planned tonight.

He arrived at the doorway near the Pharaoh's bedchamber but then paused. If anyone else in the palace caught him doing what he planned to do with the Pharaoh, he would receive a punishment that would twist his stomach too much to even imagine it. So would the Pharaoh herself, come to think of it. They could doom her reign, if not her whole dynasty. They could even throw all Egypt into chaos, bringing the world’s most powerful empire to its knees.

But then, Egypt did hold the people of Israel in bondage. If Mikha’El gave it to the Pharaoh after all, perhaps she would repay him with a whole nation’s freedom. As his eagerness burned back in, he resumed swaggering into the bedchamber.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” he said. “Care for some dates?”

Pharaoh Hatshepsut reclined on her wooden bed, laying her frizzy hair over a curved headrest while her crown hung on the wall overhead. The gold, copper, and gemstones which ringed her neck and arms glittered from an oil lamp’s firelight. Her slender, dark brown curves and round breasts shone with even greater brilliance, like polished mahogany. Raising her torso up to face her slave, Hatshepsut yawned and then smiled with full and luscious lips.

“Oh, it’s you, Mikha’El,” she said. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”

Mikha’El rested the bowl of dates on a counter next to the bed. “That’s the first time any Egyptian ever said my name. You don’t usually call slaves by their names, do you?”

“Too many to get to know them all, but I see you around more often than the rest.” Hatshepsut brushed perspiration off her brow. “On second thought, I could use some moisture now.” She plucked a date from the bowl, scratched the skin off, and took a bite.

“Busy day again, I presume?” Mikha’El took a seat next to Hatshepsut on her bed.

She nodded. “Politics and governance always stress me out. So many responsibilities, and so many people to pander to! Believe me, it isn’t as good to be the Pharaoh as everyone thinks.”

“It must be easier than slavery though. At least you get to make all the decisions, and everyone worships you as a goddess in the flesh.”

“Oh, that only makes it even harder. Everything I say and do has to be all perfect and godlike and set an example. I can’t even curse or stutter, by Amun! I may have blood from the gods, but my body and mind are only human!” Hatshepsut rubbed her forehead again.

“Sounds like you have a lot pent up inside of you, Your Majesty.” Mikha’El rested an arm over her shoulder. “That isn’t healthy, you know. You need to release all that tension and relax.”

“Maybe a massage would work. You wouldn’t mind touching my back, would you, Mikha’El?”

“I’ll start with it, thank you very much.” Mikha’El put both hands onto Hatshepsut’s back and caressed it. The soft feel of her skin on his fingertips rekindled his glee inside.

She purred. “Ah, that feels better already. Keep going.”

“Actually, I had something even better in mind.” Mikha’El leaned the side of his face against Hatshepsut’s neck. “You said you had to act all perfect as Pharaoh. Must be repressive, I imagine. Don’t you ever wish you could, uh, indulge in whatever you repress?”

“Believe me, I do.” Hatshepsut widened her grin and batted her eyelashes. “Come to think of it, Mikha’El, you’re actually quite comely.” She drummed her fingers onto his tunic. “I want to see what your chest looks like.”

“I shall gladly oblige, Your Majesty.” Mikha’El slipped the tunic off to reveal his chiseled abdominals. “How do you like it?”

Hatshepsut stroked her hands up and down his torso and then rubbed each muscle individually. “By the gods, you’ve got a body of bronze! And they’re so tough and firm!”

“Of course, they come with a price,” Mikha’El said. “How about you take off your own kilt, Your Majesty?”

Hatshepsut shrugged. “It’s only fair.” She pushed her linen kilt down and climbed out of it.

Now that he had an even better view of the Pharaoh’s body, Mikha’El’s inner flames bloomed into a bonfire. He grabbed and fondled her derriere and then slapped it. He savored its jiggling motion. “Now that’s how I like my rumps: big and juicy!”

“Now it’s your turn,” Hatshepsut said. “Let’s see what you got down there to go with that chest.”

The moment Mikha’El displaced his own kilt, she recoiled with her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “How do I compare, Your Majesty?” he asked.

Hatshepsut did not reply. She simply continued to blink and gasp with incredulity. Mikha’El nodded with pride, knowing exactly what the Pharaoh meant to convey.

“F-forgive me, O Amun,” she stuttered at last. “Please allow me to quench my desire for once.” Hatshepsut pressed her breasts against Mikha’El’s pectorals, wrapped her arms around his torso, and licked his neck. “Now come inside, my tawny desert lion!”

“As you command, my sable goddess!”

Mikha’El fell backward onto the bed so that Hatshepsut lay on top of him. He clutched her rump with both hands and pushed her lower body down against his. As his meat rammed into her moist warmth inside, he grunted and she yelped.

“O Amun, this is even better than I expected!” Hatshepsut said. “Never before have I felt so full!” She bounced her rump again and again, moaning with each movement.

“And by Yahweh, you’re a tight host!” Mikha’El said. He thrust himself up and down along with Hatshepsut’s bouncing. Tightening their embrace, they locked their lips together and exchanged tongues in a frenzied dance. Mikha’El would have never thought a woman’s mouth tasted so good before.

Hatshepsut withdrew her tongue, sat up and sped up her bouncing over him. “It’s coming,” she said. “It’s almost here. Thrust harder, Mikha’El!” Perspiration glossed her body wet.

Mikha’El obeyed with his ramming. “I’m almost ready too. You want a heir, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, I need one, all right!” Her insides clenched tighter onto him. “Give it to me, handsome. Give me my heir!”

Fluid began to rush within Mikha’El, but it had not come out yet when drums thundered. Splitting the night’s silence, they drowned out the pair’s panting. Both Hatshepsut and Mikha’El froze.

“What’s going on here?” Palace guards armed with spears and cowhide shields marched into the bedchamber. Their leader, set apart by his blue helmet, shot daggers at Mikha’El with his eyes. “And what in Amun’s name are you doing to Pharaoh, slave?”

“Serving her as always.” Mikha’El’s flesh, once blazing hot, chilled like night out in the desert.

“Service? This is blasphemy! Get out of her or I’ll drive this through your head early!” The head guard brandished his spear. “No slave shall desecrate Her Majesty so!”

Hatshepsut climbed off her partner, stormed up to the guards, and yanked the leader’s spear out of his hands. “Sorry, but I wanted it. We both did. And since I am your Pharaoh, I make the laws around here. As such, I decree you lay nothing on this gentleman!”

“Wait, wait, you agree to this? You want this, this slave to defile you like a common whore, my Pharaoh?”

Hatshepsut turned her head briefly to smile and wink at Mikha’El. “He shall be a slave no longer. None of the Hebrews shall; I, as Pharaoh Hatshepsut of Egypt, shall proclaim them free.”

Mikha’El quivered and his heart throbbed with glee. He leapt up to Hatshepsut and hugged her as hard as he could. “Thank you so much, Your Majesty. May Yahweh bless you for your compassion!”

“Holy Amun…I’ve seen enough madness tonight,” the head guard said. “You’ll have a lot of explaining to do at court tomorrow!” He and the guards marched out, murmuring curses of shock and disbelief.

“I guess I was so good you had to free us all, wasn’t I?” Mikha’El said.

Hatshepsut chuckled. “Oh, I’ve thought about it for a while. You may have helped finalize it though. Now, where were we?”

They both bounded back onto the bed.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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