The Flight of the naked Goddess - Chapter 3

The content of a bucket of brackish water quickly shocks me back into consciousness and slowly I start to understand, that the old bald man next to me must have bought me in exchange of a few jars of sour wine. But he helps me up and even smiles at me: »A good number that you just did up there, Queenie, but now you better come with me!« His name is Thorses, he says - and he doesn't really look like bad man at all. And he must be already much too old to advance onto such young girls like me, but I could be totally wrong - how much could especially I know about the species man?
But then: He certainly likes to spank my naked buttocks as he drives me steady up the dusty main road, flanked by colourful shopfronts. He tells me, that he had recognised the royal sign on my belly, and that I was for sure a good investment to him! I just have to laugh about that joke, what earns me another hurtful smack. He doesn't use the whip on me, but he hits out at every lecher that tries to maul me.
Spicy aromas emerge from the cookeries and the clothes for sale swing animated in the warm breeze. The air is heavy from camel dung and bloated fishguts. Filthy dogs rummage growling through the heaps of discharged rotten meat and a flock of vultures circles relentlessly over the disgusting village, awaiting the cover of the night for their scavenging. There are naked slaves everywhere at their duties and not treated too friendly at all: whipping and slapping seems to be a daily routine for their masters. This is all equally as disgusting as it is exciting! - That is it then, how my people live! I'm shocked!
On a open place with a round stone well in the middle a naked boy gets punished with a belt and the enthusiastic bystanders are slapping his juvenile erection hard until the poor boy ejaculates with a humiliating groan. On the other side a extremely pretty young girl is doomed to the block, her hands and neck locked in the heavy wooden restraint. Her helpless little bottom is continually smacked by the rude youth of the village, that also plays the cruellest games with her completely exposed mussel.
I shiver, and a stirring of passion discharges a surge of fluid inside of me, but then another spank on my own behind rapidly brings me back into my reality. But the spark of lust is fired up again in my awkwardly itching oyster and it produces already plenty of the naughty slime of desire. I was broken in, and may be no longer able to resist the lusting of my body anymore. Appalled though by the primitive method of my first orgasm I know that I soon will get addicted to the overwhelming sensations my flower is able to produce. Even my burning backside does nothing less than stimulate my hungry libido - and it seems that the devil himself is corrupting my horny soul!
And also my bladder desires its relieve, but as I ask Thorses for that favour he spanks me again hard with the flat palm of his hand! »You better not speak without being asked, princess! Otherwise you'll end up in those blocks as well! If it is that what you need?«, he tutors me and pinches my oozing oyster as a confirmation of his words. Then old Thorses pushes me on and through a gate into the shady courtyard of a tavern. I can smell the whiff of d***ken men and the sweet stench of their water pipes.
Two girls are waiting for me there, dressed only with dirty skirts: Milena, a pale northern girl and the dark Nandu from the deepest south, so I get introduced to them. Milena is ordered to wash me, and she dips me into a wooden tub full of soapy water. And I enjoy the caress of her nimble fingers in the most secret folds of my tender flesh. Nandu points at my tattoo and exclaims: »What a nice little thing to have - but what could it mean? It seems to watch me all the time!«
Milena dries me off and leads me into the dark building. Thorses is waiting for me in his office and musters me with the pride of the proprietor. He gives me a flat blue cap to hide my baldness underneath and a couple of sharp slaps onto my buttocks to make me stand still.
»Sorry, Princess, but we don't want anybody to know, do we!«, he smirks at me and locks the traitorous tattoo and the clean lotus flower beneath into some indestructible stiff leather pants with a smooth copper edging and a very solid snaplock in the back. »It's for your own protection!«, he fights my growing confusion, and then he teases me further: »I will make sure that your a****l instincts will be decently satisfied, but only by prosper men who can pay dearly for that delicious dessert! I don't want any strive with the gods, but if you really need a good spanking, just ask me for it!« And then he laughs again like a complete idiot over his own dirty jokes.
»It's still early, so go and help Sedu with setting up the wine jars!«, he commands and dismisses me. I find Sedu in the humid darkness of the cave that serves as a cellar. He is a young bloke with finely carved features and his face lightens immediately up as he sees me coming down the steps. And in an instant he grabs hold of me and presses me against the wall. His hands are all over me and his strong garlic breath meets my nose, I have to sneeze. I pull my stomach in as far I can to allow his thin fingers access to the hidden secrets. I need a friend, and I need help! And that's why I have to give all I have.
He gets excited and whispers, that he knows exactly who I am, and: that his uncle plans to sell me for a hefty ransom to the royal guards, as soon they would come by!
»Get me out of these pants, and out of this house - I'll do everything you like from me!« So I try to convince the horny youth with my sweetest tongue. And as he fingers my flower in the dark he boldly suggests, that he could smuggle me out tonight in an empty jar! We could run away together - but that his uncle would kill him, once he gets to know!«
I'm so happy over these kind words that I grab hold of his little manhood under the skimpy tunic and start to massage it gratefully. But suddenly there's the uncle right behind him. He hits Sedu with his whip so violently over the left ear that it starts to bleed, and he yells at him, that he was here to work, and in no case to play with his girls! To me he just barks: »Go and entertain the soldiers, so that they drink more wine!« I just nod and quickly climb the steps. Thorses but is right behind me and he pushes me through a door into the noisy and smoky tavern. My blue cap rises some eyebrows, but nobody shows real interest in my stupid pants.
A young soldier pulls me on his lap and tries to stick his fingers under the rigid metal seam, but without much success. He smells after the musky raisin of the hemp plant and the penetrating stench of cheap booze. He caresses the insides of my legs, where the skin is the softest and the most sensitive. That drives me mad! And then the glossy plum of his ramrod suddenly rises between my thighs and smiles at me. I squeeze the monster hard between my legs until it spits sticky at me. The happy soldier orders wine for me and suckles on my hard sultanas, as if there would be milk inside. The sweet smoke makes me dizzy and the wine wanton as hell.
The ample Nandu is already stark naked and gets fondled by a rich silk merchant, on who's lap she sits with a satisfied smirk on her face, certainly deeply impaled by his eager weapon. And the slender Milena lies on her back on one of the heavy wooden tables, half a dozen young guys playing with her splendid nudity. I can hear her fall from one orgasm into the next one under the excited cheers of her heated tormentors. And in the far corner an indecent citizen masturbates a little cute black slave-boy with undivided enthusiasm, determined to savour the spilling liquid at last. My imprisoned flower is on fire and dribbles already joyfully the rich cream of lust. I have to get out of these pants - goddammit!
An official tax collector in his traditional garb joins the disgusting orgy with his his lovely daughter in an exquisite wardrobe. She is not even my age, but is offered like a wooden toy to his older compagnion. Without any visible appreciation she is denuded in this oh so perverted place and her c***dish body examined by the old man, who's only intention seems to penetrate her from the back, not to waste her valuable virginity, that could be sold dearly at a later occasion. Her cries and sobs touch me deeply, and the distorted expression of her innocent face in her pain and humiliation are burned like a branding into my brain - to this day and forever!
I get handled from one soldier to the next and I have to rub their bursting cocks under the table until they spend. I can overhear their conversations and learn, that Thebes is under siege once more, that the Pharaoh is wounded and on his way with the skimpy rest of his once so powerful f***e to retreat on Elephantine. And the current undertones are clear to me: It is all his fault anyway, because he ruins the whole army through his excessive greed for the most expensive burial in Egyptian history. And he ist to weak to get the long fingers of the priests out of his pockets - he is a wimp and a shame to the whole kingdom - he has to be replaced, but the hell by whom, the soldiers quest!
One of the d***ken soldier even pisses on me and I have to suppress my bitter tears over the shameless humiliation. Fearless rats running around my dirty feet and the red wine spills allover the table. Then I have to climb onto the top and dance about, but only to get spanked and slapped all over my legs. My thighs are already glistening from the soldiers sticky sperm, mixed my own excited juices, that I can't possibly hold back anymore in my state of arousal.
Allthough I thank Hapi for this unique occasion of first-hand insight into the horrible habits of our men, but I also pray for an end to it - I don't think I can stand the disgust any longer! And to my good fortune a wealthy traveller enters the dark smoky room and his inquisitive gaze sticks instantly to my raging frustration! I try a submissive smile, if something like that really exists? He waves me over to his table and sets me like a c***d in front of him on the top. He asks about my name, age and origin, but I can't be honest with him - he would not believe me anyway! I just shake my head, as if I would have lost the content of it. Then he asks me, if I wanted some wine, and I nod emphatically. Only d***k, I reckon, I could survive the shame of buying my escape from the aweful inn for the price of the desecrating of my pretty flower by a complete stranger.
His name is Khasir and he is actually quite nice! His hair is well kept and his snow-white robe spotless. With a proper handkerchief he cleans my body from the lusty emissions of our royal army and grins: »Should be good for the skin though, I heard!« Then he tries to spy down into my tight chastity pants, but this time I don't pull my belly in. That but attracts now immediately the attention of the watchful Thorses. He smells a good business even far against the wind and he is next to us in a flash. He rubs his bulging belly with visible joy and slaps me again, to sit straight up, as if my titties would be an asset too!
Khasir tells him, that he was tired from a long travel through the whole night, and that he would like to enjoy my lovely presence in private. Payment doesn't seem to be a problem and in exchange of a gold ring he gets the use of a backroom and the key to my sodden pants.
But he isn't interested in my exposed feminine charms as he rips the soaked leather from my hips, only the little tattoo seems to be of real worth to him. »Well well, what have we here!«, he exclaims with the joy of a lucky winner and rubs the little picture with a bit of spittle, to convince himself of its genuinity. Then he tells me, that he was here to help me, and he calls me Daughter of Horus. That sounds all very flattering to me, but I can't understand his motivation. Amarsis couldn't have sent him, and the Pharaoh wouldn't be interested in me for good measures. But when Kasir says, that I have to marry him to save torn the kingdom, I suddenly get the strong impression, that he primarly wants to help himself - to Egypt's gold and treasures!
But I try to be nice to him: I keep his cup always full with wine and make smalltalk like a subordinate servant, I undress him and wash his tired body like a passionate wife and I prepare the bed for us like a loving mistress. The exhausted Khasir lies already flat on his back as the stress and the alcohol slowly take their toll. First I massage his weary feet with devaut tenderness, then I stroke his furry chest until he purrs, and then even his proud manhood, until it stands stiff for me. It is big, maybe even too big to be accomodated by me, but all the tease and the frustration of the whole afternoon still swelters like embers in my groin. I'm in desperate need of relief!
Kasir's eyes are closed - because of my tender attention to his member or simply out of sl**piness, I cannot say! But I remember the old saying: When the woman is on top, she beholds control! Slowly I move now over him and guide his impressive snake towards my hungry flower. And I can hardly describe the rising pleasure of my bold action to drive his throbbing flesh deeper and deeper into my open lotus, supported by a cunning rotation of my hips, but then it starts to shrink already, it flops out of my tight embrace and disappointingly spills the seed of life all over his hairy belly.
And by this time my future husband is already snoring softly under me. He certainly isn't a bad man, but completely unthinkable as my royal groom! But he seems to offer a real chance of escape. I can't take any risks, I can't delay! Would he pay for me or just steal me from Thorses - maybe even confis**te me in the name of the mighty Pharaoh?
A screech wakes my out of my thoughts: a hawk sits on the window sill, looks at me with a strangely tilted head and flaps away. The window is small and high up under the thatched roof, but with help of the chair I just can reach it. I climb out slowly, but then I run. And believe me, I can run like a cheetah when I have to! Out of the yard, up the street and far out into the boiling desert. For the first stretch even double as fast because of a pack of dirty dogs hard on my kicking heels, but as I can imagine: The rhythmical juggle of my little breasts and the mad bounce of my naked bottom would be a beautiful sight! A big dimple forms with every pace in my hard-worked buttocks and the muscles of my thighs and calves are perfectly displayed in shape and strength! And with both hands on my head I'm holding on to my new hat!
I disturb a yellow desert fox in his afternoon nap and two vultures from ripping a dead jumping mouse into hopefully equal bits. And even my thoughts are racing with me: Rumors travel faster than the truth, Amarsis said once to me. I have to go away from Egypt, that is clear - play dead for a while, until the headhunt is over and my hair grows back. I have to find allies to establish peace all along the Nile, up to its very spring in the jungle heart of Africa. Because nothing less fits a queen of the Nile!
By then my full bladder starts to hurt again and to drive me crazy. Making sure that nobody is following me from behind I squat under a rocky outcrop and let my waters flow. They disappear instantly in the hot sands that grills the soles of my feet to buffalo steaks. And a whistle wakes me abrupt out of the imagined intimacy of my blissful feelings - it's a young goatsherd, sitting on the rock! His nose resembles the beak of a vulture and his eyes possess the unnerving restlessness of a hungry crow. Was he the bird that followed me all the way high in the sky?
»Hi Sweetheart, were are we going?«, he asks from above. »One tenth as a road toll, that's what you pay for my protection!« »But all I have is my hat, you can have that!« »I prefer the tenth between you legs!«, he snares and makes a sign with his fingers that commonly indicates sexual intercourse. »Bitches need it every day - and it doesn't look that you had it already, hey?«
I just blush very naturally and he jumps down from his throne and in front of me. He wears only a little linen bag on a string around his bony hips to protect his reproductive organs from the harshness of the desert sun, and it bulges already very dangerously.
Sex can be a key to success, I remember Amarsis' wise words, but this case can be solved without it! I have no time to play - I'm on a mission! »Show me your weapon then, proud warrior, before I might decide!«, so I unsettle his macho manners easily. In an unnerving frenzy he unpacks his bulging bag, but the content is heaps too dirty and rugged for my spoiled liking. So, pretending indecision I scratch myself somehow worried behind the left ear until my cap falls off, and with it I grab a handful of sand from the ground and throw it in his eyes. Then I sprint again, and I shout over my shoulder back at the poor boy: »Get one of your own goats, Sweety!«, and I leave only a little cloud of dust behind me for the pimp to consider.
Then I fall in a slower pace with long springy steps to make only the shortest contact with the blistering hot sand of the desert, and now I swing my arms freely, the nice blue cap in my hand. But not for long I freeze in my strides, then a huge cobra bars my way. Its scaly skin has this dim pearly glow that only the dirty smoke from a funeral pyre may copy adequately. I know of the old tradition of trapping the soul of a loyal servant for all eternity into the body of a cobra to protect a king's grave from disgrace and robbery.
And only through my the mental connection with it the snake has disappeared. The sun sets already bl**d-red like a ripe orange behind the endless dunes in the west and my shadow is growing very long. I follow the cobra's meandering tracks in the sand and come up some square rocks, for sure hewn by men. I find the entrance to the burial chamber easily and the cobra awaits me, coiled up on the doorstep. He lets me pass inside as I would be an invited guest. The grave was plundered long time ago, the sarcophagus is empty and the wall paintings fading. But I can still decipher, that the tomb belonged to a queen of a former dynasty, poisoned for speaking out against the brutality and arrogance of men hundreds of years ago. Her royal cartouche spells Miebis, and I had heard about her in Amarsis' amazing stories. And I remember her famous truthful saying well: Men make war - women make peace! I feel strongly, that I will be safe here for the night!
I dust out the hardrock coffin and fall fast asl**p. But as it seems usual in such spooky places the dreams come soon to you as the messengers of the souls in transit: And I see the crown of the Pharaoh smashed and bl**dy on the ground, the golden cobra sneaking away and between my legs. I'm stiff from fear as it slips into my body through my open lotus. My belly swells up in pregnancy and then I give birth. The feeling beholds undescribable pleasure - an endless row of golden babies slip from me, crawl down into the waters of the mother Nile and drown - no, now I see them emerging on the other side of the wide river, blessed by Hapi: a whole army of archers with golden breast plates and shin pads, their spearheads sparkling in the sunlight like a firestorm! But then the sun changes suddenly into the shape of a hugh hawk, the costume of the heavenly god Horus, his mighty wings spread wide over the newly born f***e - and I'm sure that he blinked with one eye at me!
Then I wake and surprisingly get aware of my own fingers playing inmidst my sodden flower with the swollen pistil of bliss. I know, that when the dragon is awoken, he has to be fed! And with a guilty moral consciousness I toy myself through the moaning and groaning of my orgasmic convulsions and at last with a huge shudder over the threshold of ecstasy - the alert king cobra hisses from the doorstep, as if my personal pleasure would have been definitely too noisy for a queen,but I couldn't bother, and happily satisfied I slip back into a deep dreamless sl**p . . .

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