by Jenesi Ash
She stopped at the door to the sanctuary and waited for him to enter, but he stopped.
“I have heard things about this goddess,” he said. “And about her priestesses.”
Tia bowed her head. “And what have you heard, my lord prince?”
He kept his eyes on her as he spoke. “I have heard that they sleep with men who come to her temple. Is this true?”
“It is as you say, my lord prince.” She said no more than that, although her face felt flushed and hot.
“How is this done?” he asked.
“Need you ask, my lord prince?”
He was discomfited, then laughed—a short nervous laugh. “No,” he said. “I mean, what ceremonies must be performed?”
“There are no ceremonies, my lord. Not this night. When the goddess enters a priestess, she becomes one with the Great Lady. You may take her then, but not before.”
For the space of two heartbeats he said nothing, then he raised his hand and laid it on her breast. Standing in the yellow light, his words were as soft as the moonlight on the plants in the garden. “Then let her take you, Lady Tia, that I may take you, as well.”
Tia knew he could feel her heart, and she rang with a sudden nervousness. She knew he was hers, and that he would be powerless to resist her, and yet the goddess told her she wasn’t quite yet ready. With her eyes cast down to hide her own excitement, she could see his arousal already awake in the lift of his skirt and she felt her own answering wetness. And now she knew what she had to do. She took his hand—a strong hand, with long, sensitive fingers—and led him into the sanctuary, and she watched his face as she led him to the figure of the goddess.
He stood erect as he regarded the face of Astarte, and Tia regarded him. She bent and took a handful of incense and threw it down on the coals, then she turned her face to the goddess. As the smoke enveloped them, she saw the goddess’s smile and she felt a sudden surge of such need and wild passion that she almost cried out, almost fell against him. The goddess had entered her, and her need for this man suddenly overwhelmed her, sweeping all fear and reservations aside. She turned to him and put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. Of their own volition, her hips pressed against his and she felt his amazing hardness.
“Lady Tia,” he began, shocked at her boldness.
“Not Tia,” she breathed. “But a goddess for you.”
She reached up for his hair and pulled his face down to her kiss, and he stood there, stunned by her sudden hunger, feeling her feminine softness as she ground herself against his cock. His hands went around her and felt the catlike muscles in her back, her female strength, then slipped down to cup her ass through the delicate fabric. Her buttocks clenched as she shifted her weight and rolled her hips against him. Her mouth opened and her tongue sought refuge between his lips.
Nekhet kissed her back. He’d been caught off guard by her sudden assault, but he had known more than a few professional women in his time, the best Egypt had to offer from the Nile Delta to the Second Cataract, and he quickly regained his poise. However, Tia didn’t stop. There was nothing studied or contrived about what she did, or in the way she moved against him, and her breath was as hot as the smoke from the incense, hardly the cool breath of a harlot. She ground her breasts against him, her stiff nipples poking through the fabric of her gown and pressing like coals against his chest, and the way the muscles of her bottom tightened and relaxed in his hands, lewd and obscene, as if she were already trying to draw the seed from him, made him dizzy.
He knew how it went with a whore. After her first onslaught she would step away from him and make some teasing remark, then lead him to her bed and beguile him with her tricks and techniques. But no, it didn’t happen that way at all. Tia rocked back just far enough that she could grab his cock beneath his linen skirt, and the feel of her eager touch, her frantic need for him, made his own lust swell in his chest.
He felt hard and heavy, but her skin was wonderfully soft and velvety as she began to fuck him with her fist. Her touch wasn’t studied and contrived like a whore’s. It wasn’t expert and efficient. It was all hunger and raw passion, her fingers curling around him and squeezing with excitement, reaching under him to feel the potent weight of his balls as her kiss deepened in response to his rising excitement. She began to melt against him, as if just the feel of his virility made her weak and pliant.
Nekhet was not used to a woman taking the lead like this. Usually at this point they were on their backs, asking him what his pleasure was, eager to provide it, but Tia stood against him with no sign of surrender, one arm around his broad shoulders, shamelessly frigging his hard prick as her tongue fluttered in his mouth like a hummingbird lapping up dew.
Her hand was soft and cool, yet feverish in its ministrations. For one so small, she clung to him with wonderful strength. He had never felt such desire in a woman.
“Who are you?” he asked her at last, suddenly breaking away from her kiss.
But Tia didn’t answer. She was beyond speech, knowing only a terrible ache like an urgent thirst between her legs, a thirst that now crept up into her throat, as well. She sank to her knees before him, trailing her red lips down his chest, his stomach, kissing his hips, raking her nails over his muscular thighs. She impatiently threw his skirt aside and took his cock in her hand. He was shaved and hairless, as were all Egyptian men who could afford it, and she stared eye to eye with that powerful and angry rod of Seth. She tossed her hair back, opened her lips and swallowed him into her mouth.
“Ahhh—” Nekhet threw his head back in pleasure, then looked down to watch this remarkable girl on her knees at his feet as she sucked on his prick, pulling at him with her lips. She cradled his balls in her hand, hefting them.
Nekhet was beside himself. He was used to taking command, to telling his women what to do, but Tia was too fast and too excited for him, and there was a hunger in her like he had never sensed in a woman before, a desperation for him that made him tremble even as she bobbed her head slavishly over his loins. It was as if she were indeed a goddess, a goddess of desire, famished for him, refusing to be denied.
Finally she had to pull her face off him to breathe, gulping in air as she continued to stroke him. She was aware that she was out of control, but she also had never felt such delicious desire. She knew now how the Lady could claim both love and war as sacred to her spirit. Tia’s desires were warlike; there was that same high passion, that need to possess and conquer or be conquered.
“Come, come, to your feet,” Nekhet said, grabbing her elbow and pulling her off the ground. “Is this how a priestess acts?”
“Yes,” she said, wiping the saliva from her chin. “Yes, it is exactly how a priestess acts. I am all desire, my lord prince. I die for you. My life is in your hands.”
“Where is the nobility in this?” he asked her. “Where is the royalty of the goddess?”
At this, Tia’s passion seemed to quiet down. The flame became a steady glow, and she felt her womanly power flowing within her like the waters of the great river, calm yet powerful. She knew he would be hers. She knew he could not refuse her.
“Come with me,” she said. She took his hand and led him into the small bedchamber behind the statue of Astarte. She lowered the curtain, so that all the light they had came from one oil lamp and the moonlight that shone through the open window. In the starry silence she untied her sash and let the gown whisper to the floor and stood before Nekhet in all her naked excitement.
Her hips were generous, her thighs lean and her breasts rich and heavy, round like ripe fruit. But it was the way she trembled when she pressed her nakedness against him that made his blood rush hot in his body. He had seen deer tremble like that at the end of the hunt, when they knew their hour was up. It was her total surrender and it inflamed him.
“My lord, my lord,” she whispered as he laid her down on the bed. He kissed her mouth, her breasts, her belly, as she writhed beneath him, tugging at his skirt, her fingers anx
ious and confused and shaking with need. He stood and removed what clothes he wore, and Tia gasped when she saw his cock, even bigger and harder now than when she’d had him in her mouth, and more commanding now that he was naked.
She spread her legs; she spread her arms. She lay back against the cushions, her breasts heaving with her heavy breathing. She could feel the tickle of her own arousal creeping from her opening and she felt all liquid inside. She could feel the night upon her skin and the goddess moving through her flesh—the need, the hunger to be pierced and impaled and possessed.
Nekhet looked down at her and felt the surge of her excitement, as well. Perhaps she was possessed. She certainly seemed to be: she was the very incarnation of womanly passion. He realized now that this was not a goddess like the deities he knew, the neter of Egypt. This was a goddess who embodied all the qualities of human women, all that was divine and powerful about them: their beauty and their desire, their ability to weaken a man and make a slave of him. He felt her need for his hardness inside her. He looked down at her and marveled at the power in that frail body. She was so much like him, and yet so utterly different.
Tia watched and trembled as he climbed between her thighs, and she scrambled to get herself into position in the shadow of his covering body. He reached for his prick, but she was already ahead of him, and she took him in her small hand and guided him anxiously to her opening, her palm feverishly hot. She took him and rubbed the head of his cock salaciously up and down her moist slit, getting herself ready for him, gasping and whimpering with pleasure and impatience. Once she had him in place, she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him inside with her legs and her arms, trembling as if she were a warrior impaling herself on her own sword.
They both cried out as he entered her and pushed her flesh aside as the prow of a boat cuts through the face of the waters—his a deep groan of pleasure and relief, hers a sharp cry of urgent fulfillment, loud enough to be heard in the gatehouse. It had been years since her one experience, and Tia was like a virgin again, was a virgin, in fact, when it came to making love, her one other session having been so short and hurried. Now she had time to feel his hardness going into her, stretching her open with his implacable masculine force, filling her aching emptiness with the heat and strength of his body. He touched her deep, touched her where her heart hammered in her chest, and it was better than water to a raging thirst. And, as if it were water, she lay there luxuriating in the feel of him, letting his hardness fill her.
She was certain the goddess had taken her. Certainly nothing had ever felt as divine, and what made it so good was that she was hardly herself. She had no thoughts for her dignity, her reputation, for what he would think of her when this was over. She was the incarnation of Astarte and not responsible for what she did, and so she was free—free to experience the glorious sensation of his godly prick inside her belly, the potency of this strong body on top of hers.
Nekhet twisted about, stirring his cock around inside her, and Tia responded with a loud gasp of pleasure. It hurt a bit, but wonderfully so, his cock so alive, filled with his divine essence, the semen of the son of the God-King. Excitement overtook her and she dug her heels into the bed and thrust up at him, lifting him from the bed in her sudden urge for more sensation.
“By all the gods!” he moaned as he felt her tight sheath slide over him. The girl had the strength of a lioness. She gripped him inside and squeezed him, reached for his mouth with hers and pulled his head down to her kiss. Nekhet got his knees under him and hung there suspended like the sky god, Shu, as Tia’s cunt reached to engulf him again and again in feverish spasms of pure lust. There was little he could do but kneel there over her as she serviced him, her pussy drawing at him like a wet silky fist, pulling the come from his balls, urging it out, begging for it.
His thumbs found the spiky buds of her nipples and caressed them, making Tia whine in her throat like an eager puppy at her master’s call. The speed of her hips increased so that the legs of the bed began to bang against the tiled floor, and Nekhet realized that this was no normal girl. He looked down at her face, clenched in erotic concentration, her fine features screwed into a mask of passionate lust, her lips swollen and parted, her breath hissing through her white teeth. He stared at her face and thought he had never seen a woman so beautiful, so transported by erotic pleasure. And then Tia opened her eyes and looked back at him.
Those eyes were sightless, dilated, seeing not him but something inside or beyond him, seeing through him and into the core of his masculine soul. It was the way the earth goddess, Geb, must have looked at Shu when he covered her and filled her with his semen, bringing forth the myriad forms of life that graced the earth. It was the look of the moon when it broke through the clouds. It was the look of the warrior with his sword held high when the enemy was in flight. It was the look of triumph in surrender, of feminine victory, and it seemed to draw him up out of himself when he felt his orgasm start, the tides of her body pulling the seed from him, from his very depths.
He was like a god reversed; the head of a man with a man’s tenderness and awe for her beauty, but an animal below as he fucked her savagely with the strength of a bull, spearing her deep, sending his cock into her depths, out of control in his need to possess her. And Tia now gave up her role as seductress and surrendered to his assault, flinging her legs wide and letting him use her for his pleasure.
Nekhet had a moment to rise up on his strong arms and arch his back into her as Tia writhed beneath him, her nails like the claws of a lioness dug into the clenched muscles of his ass, pulling him tight and deep, and then Nekhet exploded into her with the brilliance of a sunrise flooding the darkness with its glorious light.
His body froze with the force of his release and his semen jetted into her. He cried out in surprise at the intensity of his pleasure and his feeling of triumph as his prick spit inside her like some striking cobra, pouring his essence and his relief into her eagerly accepting body.
And Tia, feeling her lover orgasm inside her, seeing the look of awestruck rapture on his face and hearing his cry of male triumph, felt released of any last constraint. She had done the goddess’s work and she felt the divinity inside her reveling in Nekhet’s hot ejaculation, taking it up and bathing in it, drinking it into her. Her triumph filled Tia with a blazing joy and lifted her up, up into the air, into the realm of the gods, into a high place filled with light, and then Astarte let Tia go, let her fall into her own sea of physical pleasure, and Tia fell until she shattered into a thousand shards of liquid ecstasy, her body trembling as her pussy continued to suck his victorious cock and she knew no more than the animal joy of being alive.
A stillness took them as they lay entwined on the sweat-soaked sheets and they trembled like flowers of the field caught in the wind. The moon rode through the mansions of the night as Tia felt her desire blossom again, and Nekhet raised himself on one arm to stare into her face. “Who are you?” he asked her again.
On her hands and knees she took him next, during the very darkest hours of the night, the hour of the ape, with her back curved down, her breasts hanging beneath her and swaying with the force of her lover’s thrusts, her black hair curtaining her face, just as Seth had taken Horus in the swamp as they struggled for dominance before the gods, with Nekhet’s prick deep in her own swamp between her legs. Every time he touched her, every time his lips brushed hers or sought out the smoothness of her skin, Tia felt as though she’d been lashed with whips of pure pleasure, and the tears dried on her cheeks and were wet with fresh ones as the night proceeded—tears of joy, tears of a physical and spiritual pleasure almost too intense to bear.
At some time near the awful hour of the jackal her prince left her and stole away, back to where his barge floated idly in the river, the bargemen all asleep hours before. He cast off and they drifted downriver as Tia drifted on rivers of her own, asleep and alone in her empty bed. She didn’t awaken till Ra in the holy barque was well into the sky, now as Khepri, th
e sacred scarab, rolling the ball of godlike light through the dome of the heavens.
It was Kheneb who finally woke her, gently, his eyes wide with wonder. Illana stood behind him, looking over his shoulder at Tia with fear and concern in her eyes, wearing the long heavy dress of her native country, the goddess’s homeland.
“Tia, Tia!” Kheneb whispered, barely concealing the excitement in his voice, “What happened last night? What did you say to him?”
“Hush,” Lady Illana admonished. “She is not allowed to tell, nor are you permitted to ask! Such effrontery!”
Tia rolled over onto her elbow and stared about the room, now bright with sun. She was deliciously sore between her legs. Her hair was a mess and her lips felt tender and bruised, but wonderfully slaked and satisfied. She didn’t know what to say, especially to her elder brother, but she could see that Illana already knew, and that Illana would tell him in a language he could understand.
“Prince Nekhet has endowed the temple,” Kheneb said eagerly. “He has sworn to pay for the entire thing himself! There is to be a fine dedication, for which he is also paying. His messenger was just here—whatever did you say to him last night?”
Tia sat up, holding the sheet against her breasts, and gratefully took the jar of water that Illana held out for her.
“Never mind that now,” Lady Illana said. “The prince is coming back tonight. We must prepare you. It is already late. And you are the only one he will talk to about the new arrangements.”
Through the doorway Tia could see the image of the goddess, her arms raised, holding the snakes, her symbols of power, showing how she connected the earth and the sky, the world of the spirit and the world Tia lived in.
Tia only raised the water to her lips and felt her heart rise with it. She said a silent thanks to the Great Lady, and drank.
