Flail of the Pharoah

FLAIL OF THE PHARAOH

by

ROSANNA CHALLIS

Flail of the Pharaoh
first published in 2004 by

Chimera Books Ltd

www.chimerabooks.co.uk

Digital edition converted and published by

Andrews UK Limited 2010

www.andrewsuk.com

New Authors Welcome

Copyright © Rosanna Challis

The right of Rosanna Challis to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Chimera - a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy

This novel is fiction – in real life practice safe sex

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

‘Untie her!’ a man’s voice commanded, and soon her stiff limbs were able to move again, but this freedom was short-lived. A hand seized her arm and she was pushed forward, still blind and dumb, and then made to lie on a cold stone slab. Remembering her ordeal in the temple she shivered with dread. Was she going to be flogged again, here in this secluded place where no one knew where she was, or cared?

The balmy night was drawing to a close, but dawn had not yet broken over the kingdom of Egypt. The familiar tinkling of bells awoke Queen Mira, and she stretched and yawned until her senses were fully awake. There, hovering on the threshold with the clutch of golden bells was her maid, Iras, ready to attend on her mistress.

‘Hail, most illustrious queen,’ she murmured, bowing low. Mira did not bid her good morning for the day had not yet begun. Indeed, it might not come at all without the secret ritual she was about to perform on behalf of the Pharaoh. Every time she rose from her bed at this hour, the queen was filled with a sense of her own importance. It was a very satisfying feeling.

‘Your bath is prepared, mistress,’ Iras said, leading the way into the antechamber where perfumed steam rose from the large marble basin, sunk into the floor.

Mira allowed herself to be stripped of her fine linen nightdress, and then she stepped naked into the warm water. Iras hovered but she waved her away, relishing her few daily moments of solitude. She thought of her husband King Seti, the Pharaoh, and knew that he too would be cleansing himself before the all-important ceremony.

Once, when she was a new young queen and finding this pre-dawn rising rather tiresome and the ritual somewhat distasteful, Mira had asked Tut-Tut the high priest whether it was really necessary. His face had become a mask of shocked incomprehension, his flabby body grew agitated and his voice trembled as he replied, ‘With respect, your majesty, this is the most sacred duty that you and the Pharaoh have the honour to perform. Without it, the sun will not rise and the land will not prosper.’

‘But how do you know that?’ she had persisted, naively.

Tut-Tut restrained his obvious exasperation, speaking slowly and clearly as if to a child. ‘For generation upon generation the royal house of Egypt has been entrusted with this sacred task. Without this daily sacrifice, the Great One will not allow His face to shine upon us, and the land will be cast into perpetual darkness. No crops will grow, no thing shall be seen in its true form, and the hearts of the people will no longer be lightened. This land, and its people will die. The fate of Egypt lies in your hands, Queen Mira. Do not think of neglecting this most important of all your queenly duties.’

His tone and manner had prevented Mira from debating further with him, yet she could not help continuing to wonder in her heart. Surely the sun must rise regardless, no matter what man might do? It obeyed the laws of Nature, not Man. Yet soon she too felt a superstitious fear that if the ritual were not correctly observed the land might suffer. Perhaps not in the way Tut-Tut believed, by the great god Ra concealing his face and withholding his favour from them. But there were other forces that Egypt was dependent upon, such as the river Nile, which produced fertile plains from its biannual flood. The security of Egypt’s borders, which had been maintained for centuries by means of war and political alliance, might also be subject to the will of the gods.

One thing was clear: she, Queen Mira, did not wish to go down in history as being the cause of great disaster to the land and people of Egypt. She would do her daily duty, rising in the dark and proceeding to meet the Pharaoh in the temple, without another murmur.

As she soaked in the rose-scented water, the queen surveyed her half-submerged body with a sense of pride. Although past her prime, since she had already borne the Pharaoh two sons and a daughter, her body had retained its firm contours. Mira smiled, seeing in the dim lamplight the outline of her roused nipples, topping her large firm breasts. She was careful with her diet, as well as undergoing a daily massage, and she practiced certain exercises that were supposed to keep her figure in trim.

But then a sigh escaped her as she remembered those nightly ‘exercises’ that she and Seti used to perform, to their mutual delight. Queen Mira might be number one in rank and dignity, but she was no longer pre-eminent in the Pharaoh’s bedchamber. This was a fact of life she had been forced to accept as the king’s harem grew like a garden, filled with exquisite and exotic new blooms.

Now she must be content with the fact that Prince Neshi, her first-born, had been designated the Pharaoh’s heir, earning her the title of Mother of the Pharaoh. Thus had her supremacy over all the other women in the harem been established, and she had fulfilled her destiny of becoming the most powerful woman in Egypt.

Another burst of tinkling music reminded the queen that she must prepare herself. She rose from the water, shivering a little as the rivulets meandered down her dusky body, and the maid hurried with her thick linen towel.

Mira allowed herself to be dried and her long hair was oiled and plaited. Then she was anointed all over with a strongly perfumed unguent, which always made her feel dizzy and intoxicated. There came the usual stirring in her loins, a flicker of desire that would whet her appetite for the task to come. As her servant’s gentle hands smoothed the oil over her aroused breasts, Mira’s excitement deepened and she uttered a soft, involuntary moan.

A robe of sheer linen was slipped over her head and fluttered down her naked body, like a flight of birds caressing her with their wings. Mira’s desire grew strong, and she slipped into her golden sandals with rising enthusiasm for the role she was about to play.

Iras pressed her palms together and bowed low, a signal that the preparation was complete. Mira walked to the open doorway and surveyed the long corridor, the first of a series of walkways that led from her private quarters through the rest of the palace to the temple.

Slowly the Queen of Egypt made her way between walls painted with scenes from nature: wild duck flying above beds of lotus and papyrus, and graceful ibis wading in the reeds. At the end of the corridor she moved into the audience chamber, where two magnificently carved and gilded thrones were set on a small dais. A palace guard bowed low as she swept through, ignoring him. Then she had to cross a courtyard and a couple more rooms before she reached the processional way, leading to the Great Temple of Amun-Ra.

The high priest was awaiting her in an antechamber of the temple. ‘So, you have come, my queen,’ he said, bowing so low that the dome of his bald head gleamed like ivory in the silver light. This was his habitual greeting uttered, as always, with a slight note of irony. He would never let her forget that conversation they’d had, so many moons ago.

‘Greetings, Tut-Tut. Is his majesty in waiting?’

Again the response was automatic, time-honoured. Tut-Tut bowed again, wheezing a little, then he straightened up once more, pulling the embroidered robe back over his flabby shoulder from where it had slipped. ‘This way, my queen.’

A boy lit their way with a flickering taper, just light enough to illumine the huge carved sandstone columns that rose around them like a petrified forest. Slowly Mira walked through the vast enclave, her sandals making a flip-flop sound on the stone floor. The scent of incense reached her, wafting from the pair of alabaster burners before the altar.

‘May the gods be with you,’ were the final words spoken by the high priest as they reached the inner sanctum and he retreated, allowing the royal couple to perform this most sacred of ceremonies in complete privacy.

Mira felt a
frisson
of apprehension pass through her body as she saw the Pharaoh standing there in his pure white robe edged with gold, green, red and blue: the colours of the sun, fertility, blood and water. On his head was the uraeus crown, a serpent rearing above his forehead, symbol of his eternal male power. King Seti’s flesh gleamed like burnished bronze and his eyes glittered darkly, like beads of jet, awaiting the moment. She moved towards him with a light rustle of her garment, her sandals sliding over the polished marble.

‘My queen,’ he said in his deep, calm voice, holding out his hand to her.

She took it and they faced the altar together. His hand was warm and comforting. The age-old ritual was now so much a part of their married life that it held no surprises for them. Although, Mira thought with a brief flash of amusement, if the unthinkable should happen and a visiting dignitary or foreign spy should break through the ranks of guards and find their way to this place, hiding behind a column to witness what was to follow, their eyes would bulge from their sockets to see just what this holy rite involved.

Mira closed her eyes for the moment of quiet contemplation that was necessary before she began to play her part. She thought of the dawn sky turning pink and purple, and then blue and yellow as the huge golden disc of the sun rose above the horizon, bathing the land in its precious light. She thought of the magic that was needed to make this commonplace, though miraculous, even occur. Only if the Pharaoh made this sacrifice would the sun rise, the Nile flood, the land and its people become fertile.

There came the sound of distant music from another room in the temple, and Mira moved as if in a dream to perform the ritual motions. Seti took up his flail that lay with the crook, symbols of royalty, on the altar steps. The purification must be completed with a scourging, to punish the royal pair for any misdeeds they might have committed, wittingly or unwittingly, in the eyes of the gods.

Mira undid her robe at the shoulder and the bodice fell open, revealing her full breasts. The nipples hardened from the sudden exposure – or was it her mounting excitement?

The Pharaoh raised the flail into the air, and the three beaded leather thongs quivered as if they, too, trembled with anticipation of the deed that was about to be performed. The blows would strike in the region of Mira’s heart because that was where the shadow of any heavy deeds would lie, contaminating her immortal soul.

She held her breath as her husband let the flail fall lightly across her straining breasts, gasping slightly at the sting of the leather on her bare skin. Thrice he must strike her, and the second time one of the turquoise beads stung her nipple making her cry out. The sound echoed around the temple precinct, but the smoke from the lotus incense soon invaded her brain, dulling the pain. The third time she felt the three thongs strike at once, across both breasts, and knew they would leave the ghost of a stripe across the tawny gold of her flesh.

Her body had been chastised, but her soul had been stimulated and she was eager to proceed. It was now time to kneel before her husband, the king. Mira bent her head: this was prescribed, so that she might not see him punish himself with the flail, humiliating himself before the gods. The Pharaoh’s wife must hold him at all times in high esteem.

Even so, she knew he would be laying bare his smooth chest and bracing himself for the flailing. The sound of a gong reverberated from afar, the signal for Seti to strike his own royal breast. Three times she heard the slap of leather on naked flesh, but the Pharaoh must not cry out as she had done; the flagellation must be endured in utter silence.

Once this self-punishment had been completed, the royal couple were deemed pure enough to perform the secret rite. Mira remained kneeling before her lord and master, while he untied his short tunic to reveal his flaccid genitals, the thick cock neatly recoiled above the full scrotum.

Seti handed her a small bowl, exquisitely moulded in alabaster and set with precious gems, which she placed on the floor. Then he passed her an equally fine phial, which she opened, then poured some of the aromatic oil into her palm.

Slowly and rhythmically the queen began first to anoint and then to massage the royal phallus and scrotum. Kneeling there before him she felt a profound satisfaction. Only she, first amongst the women of Egypt, was permitted to perform this most intimate and significant act in the temple. Its significance was profound: the Pharaoh’s glans represented the primordial lotus bud in which the god Ra lay dormant before the first act of creation. The rising of the shaft, in response to the queen’s ministrations, represented the awakening of his divine will.

As she gently rubbed the warm penis she felt it stir, harden and twitch, and a smile of satisfaction crept about the corners of her lips. She saw a glistening film spread over the bulbous glans and, taking the tip between her full lips, she licked the salty sweetness of the juices. The king groaned softly and his organ swelled as she took it further into her mouth, rolling her tongue around the tip.

Mira knew exactly how far she could go with this tantalising routine, for on no account was she permitted to swallow the royal jism. Instead, she continued to caress the increasingly turgid shaft, rubbing it between her palms, delicately stroking the silky smooth skin that encased it. As she felt the rod of flesh harden beneath her expert fingers, a range of emotions filled her heart.

It was not just this act of masturbation that aroused such deep feelings in her soul. Many times, in the early years of her marriage, had she taken the royal member between her hands or lips, often inducing a climax in the monarch before she coupled with him. Although it was always a pleasurable experience, Mira felt something different now. She was in awe of her husband, kneeling before him in obeisance. This was the man who held the power of life and death over all the inhabitants of Egypt, and even over those in the uncivilised lands beyond. In theory, the queen was the king’s equal, yet at this moment she felt as submissive as the most abject slave.

The Pharaoh had shown his authority over his wife by chastising her with his flail and now she was performing like a concubine, inducing the royal orgasm. Over the years she had come to believe what Tut-Tut had told her, that this was the most important duty she had to perform as Queen of Egypt.