You are brought before the pharaoh in chains. Gracelessly stripped down to your smallclothes, your hair falls about your shoulders in a dark curtain, shielding half your face from His Majesty. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you whimper, cowering in the shadows as a hushed, lurid voice calls to you from the farthest corner of the chamber.
"Come forward, little ibis."
You obey the voice, whose you believe is the pharaoh's, dusky yet gentle, eyes trailing your feet as they carry you into the umbrage. A faint firelight casts a star-like silhouette against the stone walls and you can feel your distress beginning to quiet. Shadows shift and a torch ignites and the face of Egypt's King is suddenly illuminated before you, radiant and lustrous. Your mouth falls open and you raise a hand to cover it, eyes wide in bewilderment as you sink to your knees.
Pharaoh Atem treads so lightly on his feet it seems he's floating. His height is of humble stature, though the way he studies your features makes it feel as if he were miles above you. You worry for a moment that your appearance is displeasing, that perhaps he might send you off in favor of a more appealing concubine, but his right hand cups your chin as he grins appreciatively and your fears vanish as soon as they arise. His touch strikes you like a match, lighting a fire at the edges of your nerves and spreading it throughout your frame--you can't help a sigh. He grasps the chain linked around your neck with a devious chortle, guiding you toward a darkened passageway and you are reminded of why you were brought here.
You follow him through obscurity, descending a spiral staircase that leads to an underground chamber which you can only assume is the infamous Golden Room--the rumored fuckden of the Pharaoh and his Holy Court. The other concubines you live with have served here before, but none had ever done business with the Pharaoh himself. The hollow is warmed and dimly lit by an open fire pit, a mixed scent of musk and jasmine condensing the air. A circular bed is the only furnishing, rugs of fur and silken blankets strewn across pillows here and there. It looks more comfortable than anything you were used to sleeping on.
The pharaoh tugs at your chain just when you've nearly forgotten you were wearing it--you topple into him as he tries pulling you closer. He smirks.
"I don't know how Seto expected you to service me with your wrists bound like this."
You couldn't help a laugh. His humor is a delightful surprise, almost as delightful as his strength. He grimaces as he slowly plies apart the chains between your wrists with a strained grunt, biceps flexing. You wince, intimidated as you are thrilled, muttering humble thanks as the chain clattered to the floor. His eyes find yours again and he frowns apologetically, curling a hand about your collar.
"Forgive me, I can't remove the bangles without a key."
You shake your head, bowing briefly to show your gratitude. "Please, My King. You are too gracious for a harlot like me."
A finger presses to your lips. Quiet. Your head inclines to show that you understand. He would be the only one to speak from here forward.
His hands find yours and guide them across his chest--undress me. You fumble for a clasp or whatever fastens his cloak to his jewelry and it falls over his shoulders. His neckpiece hangs limply and you remove it with care as he smiles, fingers stroking gently at your forearms as you work. The gold brace about his waist follows, and once it's resting by the oil pot you search for the permission to remove his dress.
"You hesitate, little ibis," he says huskily, violet eyes darkened. He pulls your chest flush against his and grabs the back of your head, coaxing a frightened moan out of you. "Don't be afraid."
You know you likely shouldn't be bold, yet you can't stop yourself--you press your hips forward, crushing your lips against the king's and he smiles into your mouth, groaning like he's impressed. He pulls at your hair, teeth tugging at your lip as his other arm wraps about your waist. His cock greets your thigh through the fabric of his dress and you feel a warm, sticking wetness at the center of what little fabric is covering you. Atem notices it and wrangles the hand from your hair to sink into your cunt, grunting against your lips and you moan in your throat. He breaks away to bring his soaking fingers to his mouth, grabbing your face to ensure that you watch him suck your juices off.
You inhale sharply, hoping your taste is pleasing to His Highness, half-wanting to ask if so but your answer soon comes to you with his satisfied sigh. He closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing visibly. Your jaw twitches in his grasp.
"You taste like wine," he compliments you, fingers tight around your collar now. His mouth meets yours in a fervid kiss, tongue rolling over yours so that you can attest to his claim. It's a sour twang of fruit and musk, indeed like wine. There's a thin line of saliva barely connecting you as he slowly pulls away again--
"I'd like to relish it."
With a sweep of his arms, the pharaoh lays you against the bed, hand still clutching the chain linked about your neck. His head dips down to grace your stomach with delicate caresses, his hanging golden locks of hair trailing across your gooseflesh. He pulls the fabric from off of your hips with his teeth and you hiss pleasurably despite the pang of guilt prodding you--this was not what this session should be. You were hired for your service, yet he had taken on the role of servicing you. You hoist yourself onto your elbows and reach for a fistful of his hair, lifting his head up to meet your face--
"My Pharaoh, I am honored," you begin, cooing, "but shouldn't I be the one to please you?"
An impish grin cracks across his stunning face--some wicked glint in the corner of his eye makes you shudder. "Your obedience is what pleases me."
With a hard yank on the chain, your breath catches in a choked moan; the king's tongue teases your entrance and your hips jerk upward. He digs his nails into your thighs, pressing his front teeth against the head of your nerves. Your legs twitch, his teasing touches jolting through your limbs--you're sure his mouth has met with many a lotus flower before, confident and attentive as he is. It feels as though he were writing symbols with his tongue across your sex and you would give your life to have him continue, but he gives your clit one generous sucking before pulling away, sliding his fingers inside you again.
He meets your face with a smile to rival a seraph's, with the plan of a witch in his head. Firelight catches his eyes and earrings and he is golden; Egypt's greatest treasure glimmers between your legs. (A hoarse laugh.) A mischievous young man is underneath the Holy Garb. He pulls his gown over his head and his muscles ripple beneath his lucent, immaculate skin.
You sit up to reach out to him, grazing carefully across his arms and chest. Timid touches. When your finger traces a nipple he takes hold of it, pressing your hands against him. It is not polite to stare, but once you catch sight of his bare erection you can't ignore it. He notices, guides your hand down to touch him, relishing your little whine as you wrap your fingers about his cock. A pleased hum. Your eyes flicker back to his, uncertain--your search for permission begins again. He arches into your touch with a groan. Hands tearing at the fabric covering your breasts. One tug and a growl and it's gone and you are finally bare before him.
Heat spreads from your cheeks to your neck as the king roams over your chest. You're still so wet. He doesn't want to waste it--he leans backward and pulls you down on top of him, your hips square over his cock. Dripping onto him. He dips his hand in the oil pot nearby, stroking himself before smirking up at your stunned face.
He lifts your hips, slightly. Pulling you down on his cock and groaning at the sight of you sinking onto it. You cry out, voice ringing against the walls, hands on his chest for balance. He chews at his bottom lip, yanking on your chain. You collapse forward, your mouth but an inch from his as he whispers his next command: "Ride me."
You obey. Albeit, bashfully. Circling your hips as his cock fills you. The pharaoh arches his back, his grip on your chain tightening. He bucks into you, an order for you to grind harder. Fuck me. Your pulse pounds in your ears as he flushes crimson underneath you, grousing desperately.
"Harder. Harder. Sit atop my cock like it were your throne."
Oh. Fuck. You clench your walls around him and he gasps, surprised and elated. Proud. Grinding down with no-holds-barred, you ride your pharaoh's cock as if it were the only thing you'd been made to do. Pleasing him. Choking with every tow on your chain. The span of his palm searing hot at your abdominals, feeling your muscles flicker. The feathery ends of your hair tickle your back, chin heavenward so the gods can hear you worship. Screaming your praise. "Pharaoh, my pharaoh--"
Fist tight around the shackle, Atem pulls you against his chest. Breath hot against your open mouth. He bucks into you, his nails painting strokes of deep red along your back as your heat pulses against him. You can feel nirvana within your reach, nearly lost to the haze of your ardor--no, slowly, slowly. You are here to revere, not ravish. The king's brow knits together, puzzled by your sudden change of pace and you smile gently, tracing the slant of his jaw with your forefinger as you roll your hips into him--
"My pharaoh--you are so beautiful, my pharaoh," you regard him, slurring your words.
A glimmer of something obscure reaches his eyes. You worry, only for a moment that you might have somehow displeased him--perhaps he didn't prefer flattery, although you meant it sincerely. Perhaps you should not have spoken at all, you wonder, until the corners of his mouth turn up into a tender, winsome smile--he seems...moved. Touched by your words. He wets his mouth and then parts his lips. Kiss me.
Languidly, yet with prurience, you kiss the king. Drinking in his taste like fresh water from the oasis. Intoxicating enough that you nearly forget about his still-throbbing cock buried within you, but he won't allow that. No, Atem twists his fingers in a knot of your hair and thrusts upward once, twice, before his thighs wrap around your hips and you're turned onto your back--
He draws your legs upward on his shoulders, regarding you for a fleeting moment before burying himself in your walls again, his thrust deep and consuming. Sweat and oil glisten across the expanse of his chest and you ache, grasping at your own breasts as his muscles are out of your reach. He grunts, circling your bundle of nerves with blunt fingertips. Lips in a sly curl under his glassy stare.
"Pharaoh," you mutter--you feel yourself crumbling, it's near--
With a grunt, he dives forward, slamming hard into your cunt--an arm curls under your waist and you hook your legs about his hips. His thrusts are hard and unforgiving, quick bursts of pleasure and pain as you try to clench his cock in satisfying squeezes. You are rewarded with appreciative groans and golden hair brushing your eyelids--he is merciless in lovemaking, crashing hard into your cunt. His pulse pounds inside you and you feel it, the peak drawing near--
Teeth sink into your neck as the pharaoh releases, flooding you with white-hot cum. With a shuddering cry, you follow right behind, your skin searing where his bite still stings--a pleasant pinch. Pulse thrumming in his clutch as he takes to your throat. His rings surely have left indentations.
Head spinning, you blink slowly, watching the slow rises and falls of his chest. He props himself on his elbow and his breaths come out in heavy gruffs. You sit up, yearning to reach for him, hand hovering in hesitation--he catches your eye. A seraphic smile. Another tug at your chain.
"You're impressive, little ibis. I hope we'll meet again."