The morning sun had risen high enough in the sky already for the temperature to rise to uncomfortable, but not unbearable levels. Within a few more hours however, the heat would get there. It always got there, that stifling oppressive heat that can sap a man's will to live faster than the harshest working conditions. And as always, when the heat has reached that point, I will pray thanks to my Hebrew God that I am my master's servant, and not one of the poor souls outside, constructing yet another monolithic tomb in honor of Pharaoh under that blistering Egyptian sun.
Which is not to say my servitude was not without challenges. I was the personal slave to Her Highness Ananya, High Priestess of all of Egypt.
And I was late awaking her. I strode purposefully into her bedchamber, and as always, 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 the white washed color of the desert, and as smooth as sandblasted glass. It took me a moment to find my voice. "Good morning, Mistress."
Her eyes fluttered open at the sound, and very quickly took in her surroundings. "You are late."
"Forgive me, my Mistress." I was late because a commotion in the market, some wild story about a staff turned to an asp, but my lady does not tolerate excuses lightly. I felt it best to leave the explanation.
She sighed and stretched so that her lithe form arched back and up, causing the thin silk gauze sheet to slide off her breasts. I tried to take her in without staring, and was mostly successful, having had lots of practice. "Would mistress like her bath now?"
I fetched her robe, another thin silk gauze wrap that only barely covered and didn't conceal, and escorted her across the room and 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, and towered 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.
She stood before the reflective waters and made a silent prayer to Isis or Anubis, or maybe Rah, (I never could keep all the gods straight, having neither the status nor the desire to worship them) 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, where every curve from her shoulders, to her breasts, to her hips and ass, down to the gentle curve of her heels on the floor could be scrutinized by anyone watching. But no one was.
No one but me.
It was forbidden for anyone to look upon the High Priestess.
I busied myself with gathering soaps and oils to anoint her with, when she surprised me with a question: "Slave, what do you know of dreams?" I turned toward her, but she had not moved. She still stood silhouetted against the rising sun, every curve visible as a black line against the light.
"I had a dream last night, and seek council." I had been the High Priestess personal assistant for years, had watched her grow from but a girl to the glowing figure of beauty she was today. But we never spoke. Never exchanged words more necessary than the asking for confirmation, or the giving of a command. For her to seek council, my council was unheard of.
It was forbidden for anyone to speak to the High Priestess.
"Surely Mistress is wiser than I in the ways of interpreting dreams and visions." She turned toward me, and I was sure to see a look of fury etched on her face, anger for daring to decline her question. But instead, she wore a hint of a smile.
"Mistress is more experienced with interpreting dreams, but occasionally, 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. "Come, bathe me. And we shall talk." I crossed to the edge of the pool, to my accustomed spot on the lip of the edge. She descended the stairs into the water and swam out into the middle of the pool. "Come."
My eyes widened in horror. "But, Mistress, I cannot. It is forbidden to touch the water-" She stood up, (the pool was only waist deep) water cascading off her nudity in rivers and streams. "It is forbidden to refuse a command given from Master to Slave."
"Yes Mistress. Forgive me, Mistress."
"I command you, remove your garments and join me. I wish a proper scrub."
"Yes Mistress." Did my voice betray my fear? I had secret fantasies about her for eight years now, as she turned from girl to woman. Getting through the day—and especially the bath—without offending her or staring was difficult enough, now I must endure it naked? I slowly stood, knowing my body would condemn me to death. Knowing I could not appear before her without showcasing my lust.
My attire was simple: sandals and a loincloth tunic, so undressing did not take long. Her eyes never left me as I stepped out of my clothes and stood before her, as bare as the day I was birthed, as aroused as a male could be in the presence of a female such as her. She stared directly at my manhood, my ridiculous rod standing up and away from my body pulsing madly, but made no comment. I took a hesitant step forward, the cool waters just touching the bottom of my foot as I descended the first stair. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to get out, to plead forgiveness from Pharaoh himself, but her command drove me forward.
She pulled her long black hair over one shoulder and turned her back to me, offering it up for soaping. I was both relieved and disappointed her eyes were no longer on me. My trembling hands put the lotion and oil and soap on the sponge and I began to lather up her shoulders. "There. Much better." She purred.
"Would Mistress care to share her dream?" I enquired, feeling a bit bold, a bit empowered, and desperate to keep the conversation away from the topic of my being in the pool with her, naked.
"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 give it to you."
And she smiled again. "I was hoping you'd say that. I'm really not quite sure how to even begin."
"Perhaps if your humble Slave knew that you had dreamed about, I could offer a more experienced opinion?"
She backed up suddenly—and my horror, my shame, my longing—slid up against her, first the cleft of her buttocks, then poking into the small of her back. Mortified, I tried to back away, but she spun and grabbed it. Not just put her hands on me, but groped for me... And when her soft hands found me under the water, she held on. "This is what I dreamed of. I dreamt of you, and dreamt of your magnificent shaft. I dreamt that you took me."
There was something about the way she said, "you took me" that made it difficult to focus on anything else. And she was close. Far too close, her hands on me, the nipples of her perfect breasts erect and grazing against my chest, her eyes filled with longing staring into mine, boring into my soul. She stroked me beneath the water, both hands sliding up and down the long gentle curve of me. "I have never known the pleasure of a man's touch. It's yours to give. Give it to me. I command you."
And my inhibitions evaporated like a desert mirage.
I sank to my knees and began to hungrily kiss her breasts, first one nipple then the other. My hands reached out and grasped her hips pulling her closer to me. She straddled me with her legs, and slowly lowered herself into the water. We kissed and held each other so tightly, not even the gods could separate us.
My mouth roamed all over her. Her cheeks, her earlobes, the lines of her neck, her full bodied hungry lips. She responded in kind until we had built ourselves into a frenzy in the water. "Oooh yes...." She breathed in my ear, sending a new wave of urgency coursing through my body. Her flesh was smooth and hot against mine, despite the cool water we were submerged in. Below the surface, I could feel my throbbing erection bob in currents of our making, occasionally rising up to nudge against the slit between her legs. With each brush against her, she tensed, waiting for the rest of it.
I could no longer wait.
I grasped her narrow hips and lifted her forward, positioning myself at her entrance. She smiled at me, feeling my tip press against her. I broke through her barrier and she gasped at the burst of sharp pain then slowly began to relax. I waited for her, knowing I was her first. Knowing this needed to be special and not wanting to hurt her. Eventually, she sank further down on top of me, slowly opening wider to accommodate my engorged member. My hands traveled up her back to clench over her shoulders, and I pulled gently down to get deeper inside her.
Her breath was coming in rapid bursts as she fought to stay in control. My need was so great, but I refrained from moving, and just sat, allowing her to get used to the sensations. Before long, she began to rock, and my hands moved back to her hips as they ground forward and back. Water rippled around us in the reflecting pool, and a slight breeze blew in from outside. Outside, under the Egyptian sun, that breeze would be 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 her naked, exposed flesh.
She threw her arms around me and shivered. Without leaving her, I spun around and laid her back on the steps to the pool so she could submerge more of her body under the water and avoid the chilly air.
"Take me slave." She commanded once situated, beckoning me for more.
"Yes Mistress." I replied, and thrust myself deep inside her. She gaped in amazement, and even I was astonished at both my audacity and ferocity. I was lodged so deep inside her I thought I should never be able to pull back. But pull back I did. Her body was tight, but willing and needful, and my second thrust forward brought cries from both our lips.
She was the most exotic, beautiful sight I have ever seen, with her ink black hair billowing and flowing out from her head and her breasts bobbing through the water with each successive push of my longing.
My rhythm intensified to a furious pace, and she began to scream, "Yes, yes!" She trailed off and became incoherent, just emitting screams as I plowed her repeatedly. This was not sweet lovemaking, but pure, animalistic hunger. I had never felt so powerful, watching inch after inch of me disappear inside her, watching her reactions become violent as she thrashed and writhed in the water before me.
My laden sack quivered as it pounded against her, and I knew there was no turning back. For this was the moment, the moment I had always wanted and dreamed of, and the moment that would ultimately mean my 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?
But the moment overrode everything else. The quiver was too great. "Forgive me Mistress!" I shouted, burying myself to the hilt, as immersed in her as I could be. She screamed from the sheer force of my seed pumping into her, then came herself, grinding down on my hardness before collapsing out of breath.
We lay like that for some time before she was at it again, begging my uncomprehending brain for more! We tried every conceivable position and act. The second time was sweeter, slower. More love making than anything else. The third time she wanted me from behind, and I was more than happy to oblige. We moved to the opposite end of the pool where the view was greater. She planted her hands on the sandstone and offered her backside to me. My hands reached forward, holding her breasts as I opened my stance wide and mounted her, thrusting deep as she screamed out in pleasure at the city.
We repeated this position for the fourth time, when she announced she wanted me in her behind. With inhibitions gone, I used the lotions and oil to slowly work two of my fingers into her tight rear while she whimpered and panted in the heat. When finally it was time to insert the real thing, she started moaning low and erupted into a roar that surely was heard in the market below. When my cum burst forth into her ass, I knew I had to be heard as well.
Each time was different, and hot and passionate. Ultimately, when she had had her fill and lay dozing lightly on the side of the pool, I rose from the waters and proceeded outside. The sun was high overhead now; we'd obviously been occupied the better part of the day. Now that the moment had past, twinges of worry struck me. 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. I 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 I debated whether or not to present them to mistress. I hurried back inside and began to methodically wrap her in the towels. She awoke and moaned appreciatively. "Thank you." She said, smiling.
"Does Mistress require anything else?" I asked with a smile of my own.
"Return me to my bed chamber?"
I scooped her into my arms and carried her back through the anteroom to her bed. She let the towels drop to the floor and slid between the gauze sheets. "Lie with me, slave."
"Yes Mistress." My heart started pounding again at the thought of sharing her bed, an absurd notion after everything else we'd shared. I climbed into the sheets and pressed myself against her prone form.
"Slave, a question."
"What is your name?"
My heart, which had been beating so fiercely lying beside her stopped. 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 my throat, I asked, "May I enquire why?"
She rustled beneath the sheets, snuggling closer to me. "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." When next I spoke, it was in a voice choked with tears, for my every wish and fantasy had just come true.
"Gabriel. My name is Gabriel."