"Of Princes And Slaves"
Part 3
by Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll

 

- Prince Nekhem (Orlando) -

With a relieved sigh, I let the darkness embrace me, hide me, protect me. Fresh air, fragrant with a remote promise of flowering gardens wafted around me in surprising coolness and as usual, I was relieved to have arrived here, at the end of my tour of duty through the major temples, in the calm halls of our Lady Isis.

I liked my visits at our Lady's temple more than might have been appropriate, given my pledges to the other gods, yet the gentle, restful calm I encountered here was unique and precious to me.
Unlike most visitors, I was allowed to pass through the outer, public halls without question, and unlike most of the few men that were allowed to, I entered the inner rooms without hesitation. For I knew I was welcome by the priestesses just as well as by their goddess herself, who had blessed me in so many ways. I knew that I was to find benevolent advise in the words of the women I was about to meet, together with a kind word and hospitable offer of cool water and a place to rest after a day of mostly ceremonial small-talk.

I had to smile despite myself when I saw the slender figure of a young priestess approaching me out of the shadows, her white robe shining among the dark pillars of stone that rose into unfathomable darkness above us.
Truly, this was not the gloomy, dusty temple of Osiris, nor the dazzling splendor of the Halls of Horus, I thought as she returned my smile in the most graceful way. I took both her hands, offered them in greeting, leaning forward to softly touch her cheek with mine.
Nowhere such an intimate greeting would have been appropriate, not even or one as respected as myself, but here I was almost treated as an equal - maybe a beloved, little brother who would never turn into one of the 'men' that had to stay outside the inner halls.

Without a word, the priestess gestured me to follow her, and so I did, once again pondering the question that had been on my mind almost the whole day. And wondered at the same time how my new barbarian slave had managed to occupy so much of my mind with his ungrateful, insolent ways.

On the evening of our return into the capital, there had been very little time to talk, and I had only made sure he would get a bed close to mine, and when I finally had returned into my rooms, he had seemed to be fast asleep.
In the morning, he had not moved while I took my bath and got dressed though I was pretty sure he was awake and watched. But I didn't mind him, I actually enjoyed the thought of his dark, piercing eyes wandering over my exposed body, maybe even liking what they saw.
Until noon, I spent most of my time with my father, in council with his advisors, and it had been an excruciatingly dry and boring affair. Somehow I was glad that I would never inherit his duties.
So I dragged myself through the morning, and when finally I was given leave, I more than gladly left and went straight back into my rooms and did the best thing one could do on a day as hot and uninspiring as it had been until then - I took a decent nap.
A little respite in the middle of the day takes out the worst of the heat and gives new energies for the next tasks. And helps tremendously to get all the dust out of one's thought after having talked too much with old people.

So when I awoke, I felt refreshed, ready for my tour through the cities major temples that had been scheduled for me for the afternoon. Routinely, I stripped naked and stepped down from my bed to the basin in the middle of my room.
The little stream of water from the Nile that was allowed to enter my room between a double row of columns widened in the middle to a pool that was deep enough to reach to my chest when I was standing in the center of it. It had been due to this unusual feature I had fallen in love with this room and had been overjoyed when my father had given this part of the palace to me as my personal quarters as a gift on the tenth return of my day of birth.
Since then, I had become accustomed to bath in the pool every day at least once, and I liked the way every now and then some Ibises drifted through my room, or the occasional swarm of small fishes made the surface of the pond ripple. It was nice to know a piece of nature in the heart of such a huge piece of human craftsmanship.

So, when I was standing there, my feet on the first water-covered step that led into my personal pond, a young ibis next to my feet muttering excitedly, I noted my new slave sitting somewhere a bit off between the columns. What caught ma attention was less the fact that he actually had left his bed, but that my turtle Tiye was crouched next to him, peacefully munching some piece of green he handed her every now and then.

She had been hurt when my elder brother had accidentally run her over with his first chariot, and I had taken care of her since then. It's not easy to justify a three-legged turtle as an appropriate pet for the son of the Pharaoh, but I had managed, and she had been with me ever since. Though I had to admit I was feeling a bit jealous to see her so trustingly next to my slave while I had never given such a sign of trust from each of them.

"Her name is Tiye", I said, unsurprised by the fact that the barbarian ignored me.

"She seems to be very fond of you", I added, still standing at the rim of the basin. "Usually, she is not so trusting."

Unexpectedly, my slave answered gloomily:

"She does not like people. Something we've got in common."

Oh perfect. And I had hoped he would have adjusted a bit better to his new situation. But I had forgotten that I had 'dishonored' him. How long did he intend on keeping his unbearably gloomy mood up? And why, by all the gods, did he reject any kind of help or even a little conversation?

So I looked down to the small bird next to my feet, who in turn looked up to me, the long, slender curve of his beak glistening with moisture, in his eyes no more understanding of my barbarian's behavior than in mine. With a shrug, I stepped deeper into the refreshing water, then dived the few paces to the other side.
When I emerged from the cool liquid, I saw my slave's eyes fixed on me in some kind of appalled fascination, but as soon as he noticed me watching him, he turned away, pretending to be busy with the turtle.
What a weak attempt. I just wondered how Tiye could stand his company. But probably, my two misanthropic pets just teamed up for the fun of it.

A bit unsure of what I was to think of this constellation I waited until two other slaves had rubbed me dry, dressed me, a task I would much rather have seen done by my dark desert warrior. The mere thought of his strong hands on my skin made me shiver, and it was only by force of will that I remained still while they renewed the kohl around my eyes, fastened another ridiculously heavy collar around my neck and adjusted a new wig on my head. Apparently, it was long skirt - short shirt day today, for while the hem of my pale skirt flowed around my ankles, my long-sleeved white tunic barely managed to cover my belly.
A funny combination, but surely quite... advantageous. Maybe my slave would now notice me.

So I walked over to the two of them, still sitting at the base of one of the columns in mutual silence, kneeling down next to Tiye.

"I'm glad to see you're finally beginning to adjust", I started, noting with interest the fact that he had to take himself back not to shove my hands away from the turtle. So he was already getting protective. Almost in spite, I began to scratch Tiye's neck, watching her stretch in delight with hardly hidden satisfaction.

"So, if there is anything I could do to make your stay here more comfortable, just let me know."

"I think we have talked about this already", he hissed, and for a moment his eyes blazed with that fire again, making my heart quicken in response.

"I know", I said with forced calm, "And I just wanted to point out that my offer has not changed."

But this impertinent person just snorted. He snorted at me!
Brusquely, I stood up, feeling more rejected than offended, but angry non the less. How could he dare!
But well, if he wanted to stay this way. I had duties I had to attend to.

And so I left, convinced that I had left this insolent slave behind me. But I had not considered I might have taken him with me in my heart. For at each and every temple I went to, my mind circled around one single question: Was there truly no way to get him out of his mood? To make him more... inclined?

But the answers I got were less than satisfying.
In the Temple of Osiris, where I had to go first, I was strongly suggested to chasten myself, and to feed this impossible slave to the crocodiles.
The priests of Horus said I should beat him up and take him by force, for that was what he was meant to be in the first place anyway.
Whisperingly, the priestess of Bast offered me spells and potions to make him fall madly in love with me, or to drive away the evil spirits that clouded his mind, blurred his eyes to my beauty or had weakened his manhood.
And the priests of Ptah and Thoth simply had no idea, for their gods cared nothing about things like love and desire, and so did their mortal servants.
None of the priest could help me with my problem, no-one knew about the beliefs and customs of these primitive desert-people. So it was with high hopes I entered the halls of our Lady Isis, hopes that maybe here among the worshippers of common wisdom and matters of the heart I might find the answers I sought.

The young priestess of Isis who had welcomed me led me to a cluster of carpets around a patch of sunlight that fell onto the vast floor. I was motioned to sit down and wait, and I gladly obeyed. Walking and standing for hours on a day as hot as this was excruciating, and I would never understand why it was only in the Temple of our Lady Isis that guests were offered at least basic refreshments and a bit of rest.

Gratefully, I took the goblet of water I was handed from somewhere and noted with a soft squeak of delight that same someone had also brought some moist pieces of cloth to clean dust and sweat off my feet and arms. Sitting there in silence, I groaned softly as I enveloped my feet in the cool cloth, slowly feeling the tension of the day seep out of my soul.

"I hear you are troubled, young prince", I heard a female voice next to me, deep and rich.

I turned around and saw a tall figure in the temple's strange half-light, robed in white, and it took me a long time to notice the elaborate headdress that identified the woman as being the high-priestess Meret herself, the highest-ranking woman in the realm, maybe except my mother, the Queen Dedyet.
Stumbling to my feet, I managed to bow as it befitted such an honor, for her presence was unusual and a pleasant surprise. If anybody, she would know. And apparently, she already knew quite a bit.

"You have been asking the same questions in each of the temples you visited today", she went on, and I smiled inwardly at the impressive network of spies she must be entertaining.

"And you are very well informed, High-Priestess", I replied with another formal bow.

"So tell me, Princeling, why is it that you have been searching for a way to restore the honor of a pagan desert-barbarian and how to make him like you?"

I blinked, for I had never voiced my questions so openly, nor had I been able to voice them so precisely as she had.

"I - I have been on a campaign against the desert-tribes, and I have brought a slave with me."

High-Priestess Meret just nodded, apparently waiting for me to go on.

"And, I don't know, he's so difficult. And ungrateful. And... "

"Gorgeous?", she suggested in a voice that showed whole-hearted understanding for my situation.

"Yes."

Standing there, I let the word trail away into the silence of the temple, and realized how weak my affection to this man had already turned me. Instead of trying to learn or to solve my people's problems, I was absorbed with my own, personal latest infatuation. Not the way the wiser one of the two princes of the realm was supposed to act.

"What about we sit down for a while?", the priestess suggested, and I waited until she had accommodated herself before I sat down as well.

"Look, Prince Nekhem", she began, only to pause as she lifted the enormous headdress off her hair and sat it down on the ground. "I can perfectly well understand your problem."

Working some of the kinks out of her neck, she grimaced at me, conspiringly whispering with a glance towards her headdress:

"A torturously heavy thing that is..."

I couldn't help but smile, though her unusual familiar behavior made me wonder what I was about to hear. Watching her face relax in much the same bliss as mine when she took one of the wet cloth, she was so much more a woman than a priestess that for the first time I wondered about what her life would have been had she not become the living representative of a goddess. But she was speaking for our Lady Isis, and her advise was like having been given by the goddess herself, however much or little she relied on ceremony to do so.

So when High-Priestess Meret spoke again, I listened with eager respect.

"It might seem to the outsider that as we are mainly concerned with the dealings of women, we know nothing of men. But as most of the trouble we face has a man at its heart, we hardly speak of anything else here."

At this remark, we shared a knowing smile, and she took my hands and went on:

"Our Mother has blessed you, Princeling, in many ways. But as with each blessing, it is a curse as well at times. And I can see how sore you are at heart."

Once again, she knew better what happened inside me than myself. Yes, I was sore, and without a clue how I got into this situation in the first place and even less how to get out of it again.

I merely sighed and nodded, seeing no point in explaining something she apparently had seen hundreds of times before.

"You are a Prince of the Realm, and our Lady speaks true in your heart. Why do you worry so much about the feelings of a mere pagan slave?"

Did I really put too much importance into this?

"Nekhem, isn't that what a slave is meant to do? To serve without questioning his master? That's the place the gods have put him. Why do you hesitate to do what your heart tells you to?"

"How am I to know if what my heart tells me is right? And anyway, it's been me who made him a slave, not the gods. It was my responsibility."

At this, High-Priestess Meret smiled at me, her eyes sparkling.

"So you say your actions are not the will of the gods, young prince? I'd be more careful with such a judgment, if I were in your place. Born of a God as you are, blessed by more gods than probably any mortal in this age, I'd rather think that all my actions are within the will of the divine, for in whose heart more gods would speak true? I'd be more worried of being perceived as weak and childish by those who would like to bring down all that is blessed and pure."

"And by those who do not understand what you are trying to achieve", she added with a smirk and a frown.

"If I do what feels right with me, you say, I will act as the gods decree?"

The priestess of Isis nodded, looking at me like a mother would at a bright yet somewhat complicated child.

"So I should go home and use him as it would befit a master and a slave, is it?"

Her features almost lost any readable expression as she answered me:

"If that is what your heart tells you..."

"I - I don't know."

"Then maybe you should quiet up and listen inside", Meret said and rose to her feet, simultaneously motioning me to stay on the ground.

"You'll be given time to think, Prince Nekhem, no-one is going to disturb you here."

She put on her headdress again, turning the ceremonial priestess again, clearly indicating that this audience had come to an end.

"I am looking forward to see you again, young prince", she said as a farewell. "But I strongly recommend that you decide on your next steps in this matter before you leave this temple's grounds."

And without waiting for me to reply, she turned around and disappeared into the shadowy depths of the vast hall.

So Mother Isis encouraged me to trust my own judgment, but that didn't help me at all with the fact that I couldn't make up my mind in the first place. If I forced him into submission, wouldn't that make him hate me? But, on a second thought, why did this bother me so much? Shouldn't I be less concerned with the feelings of a slave given my status as the Pharaoh's son?

It was hard to make any decision given these facts and I had to try hard not to pout in annoyance as I pondered what to do next. For in one thing, she had been right: I would have to make up my mind as soon as possible. Trouble unresolved is trouble growing.

After a time, I reached a conclusion. Maybe not a solution, but at least a decision about my next step. I would return home, and talk to my slave. If he still insolently refused any kind of friendliness, I would treat him like the ungrateful slave he was, if not... well, then I would have other things to do.

It was funny how suddenly things cleared up, and before long I found myself heading for the exit of the temple, filled with resolve and curiosity about how this evening would end. And about what kind o fate my slave would choose for himself.

On my way home to the palace, I imagined many possible ways this evening could develop, may possible outcomes for tonight. But not even in my most daring daydreams I could have envisioned the scene I found when I entered my room in the palace:

Instead of squatting somewhere in a corner of the room, exuding desolation, I found my new slave next to my bed - kneeling, with his eyes cast down, apparently waiting for nothing else but the arrival of his master.

If I had known that he would change his mind that fast and that thoroughly, I would have had a far less worrisome afternoon. Or maybe he was just waiting for a chance to kill me, when I was off guard? Well, he could have had that much, much earlier. Last night, for example.
Or had he finally found a way I could redeem his honor?

This man was a constant riddle to me, fascinating and annoying at the same time.
But I would never find out anything if I just stared at him in confusion, would I?

----

- Ardeth Bey (Oded Fehr) -

Kneeling down next to the prince's bed was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. Walking out into the desert all alone on the night I passed from boyhood into being a man had been frightening but also a joy to do. Watching my father as he laid my mother on the funeral pyre had been as painful as wrenching out my heart. Riding against the egyptian soldiers only a few days ago knowing that I was going to die had taken some strength of will.

But nothing compared to the ultimate humiliation I was now forcing upon myself. All those other times had been about honor. This was different. This was about survival alone and that made it so much harder to just accept this defeat without any kind of fight. But that was the whole point of it. To submit.

That was what my conclusions demanded and so I would have to do what was necessary if I wanted to survive. The prince had claimed me as his own because he wanted me in his bed. If I wished to remain in the prince's household I would have to serve him in the way he wanted. And it was obvious to me that staying here for now was the safest route to choose. He would probably not treat me too cruel, he already now granted me a measure of freedom that I could not hope for with any other owner and he did not demand much.

Or so I tried to convince myself. He had already shamed me beyond redemption. There was no additional shame in the same act. There was nothing to be afraid of. I had been through this once and survived. I could do this again. He would not even hurt me. It simply had to be done.

And still my hands were trembling slightly as I bend my knees right beside his bed and lowered my head.

I hoped he would be home soon. That would take control out of my hands. Then there would not be that choice anymore to get up and run from my own decision. To choose death over another night with the prince.

Thankfully I did not have to wait long. Even when he entered his chamber I heard the sound of his sandals on the polished floor. I remained where I was, hoping desperately that he would not notice me, that he would go away again. My heart beat hard in my chest and I knew it was fear.

He did come closer but stopped quite a way away. The soft sound of naked feet and the jingling of metal told me, that his other slaves were taking off the elaborate clothes he had donned before leaving this afternoon.

Would he take a bath again? A shiver ran through me with that thought. It had been so alien to see a human being completely immersed in water. Water was the essence of life to my people. Never would they spend it so foolishly.

But moment later several pairs of naked feet left and one came closer till the small feet of the prince stopped right in front of me. I did not look up. That was not the place for a slave to do. And I did not have the courage to do so right now anyway.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding surprised and not just a little bit pleased.

So I had not judged his wishes wrong. One step made. But did I want to travel the rest of that path? "I am waiting for you." I answered, eyes still fixed firmly to his feet. It was strangely comforting that none of my fear was to be heard in my voice.

"Waiting for me to do what?" the prince asked, a bit of hopeful interest entering his voice.

"For you to do with me, as you please. That is what you claimed me for, is it not?"

Now the words were out and there was no turning back. Either he would send me away and sell me or he would use me again. I almost wished to be sold. What had seemed a sensible plan only moments before was now horrifying and impossible to accomplish.

There was a soft sigh from the prince above me and then his fingers slowly ran through my long hair, caressing gently. But they then did exactly what I had feared, wandering to my chin and tilting my head upward so I had to look at him.

Desire was burning in his eyes. I did not know what he wanted to see in my face but it seemed to suffice. "Disrobe me." he commanded.

I obeyed, forcing my fingers not to stumble over the simple ties of his long skirt. Everything else had already been taken off by the other slaves. I then lowered my head again, studiously ignoring his rising manhood. Yes, I had judged him right. He did want me. Wish I had been wrong.

"Undress and lay down on the bed." I did as he told me. I should have looked at him, should have shown a bit more enthusiasm for the task ahead, but I could barely bring myself not to run away.

I wanted to lay down on my stomach just as the soldiers had tied me before, but the prince got onto the bed next to me, turning me over on my back. I let him do as he wished. That was the whole point of this after all. To submit to his will.

His fingers ran gently down my chest, carefully avoiding the bandaged wound. There was no force in his touch, nothing to hurt and still it made me tremble. I did not want to be owned by anybody else. And still this simple caress showed me more than anything else that my body did not belong to myself anymore.

The prince must have taken that tremble for pleasure for he continued caressing me, laying down next to me, exploring my body with hands and lips. I knew I should have done something too, but I could just lie there, not even daring to pray for I did not wish any ancestors that might still listen to my pleas to find me right now.

After a short while he took my hand and placed it between his own legs, guiding me to stroke his manhood with gentle force. It was not so much unlike I was touching myself and when I heard him sigh softly with pleasure sudden hope bloomed in my heart. If I could make him come like this I might be spared his more intimate attention at least for tonight.

Soon he moaned happily under my ministrations, one of his hands now resting on my chest. Only then did I find the courage to actually open my eyes and look at him. His eyes were half closed, clouded with the pleasure I gave him, his other hand clenched in the blanket beside him, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, gleaming in the low light of evening.

The realization that he was quite beautiful struck me hard. I did not wish to find anything of beauty in him but there was no denying that the gods had granted him extraordinary looks. Smooth limbs, graceful as a desert cat's but soft, not honed to a warriors strength. Almost like a woman's. I caught myself wondering what it would feel like to caress him when he again groaned softly and then pushed my hand away from his manhood.

And immediately fear descended on me again. He would not let me get away that easily. His own hand went to my groin and started ghosting over my decidedly uninterested manhood. It did not take him long to change that. He was quite skilled and I wondered how many male lovers he had taken in his short life. Wondered why he took so much interest in me when all the others he could have had would have been happy and honored at his attention. Maybe this was the kind of conquest he thought. Not one with weapons but with soft touches.

I could not resist him and I quickly decided that there was no point in trying. Better take what pleasure I could from this. What would follow would be less pleasant. So my body finally relaxed and allowed the new tension he fanned in my groin to overtake me. It did not take him long to make me come and I sunk back onto the bed bonelessly, not resisting him when he gently turned me over.

His fingers traced patterns on my back and I closed my eyes tightly, trying to will myself away from my body, trying to ignore what would happen now. Then he spread my legs and knelt between them like he had done in that first night.

I bit down on my forearm when he probed the entrance to my body with a finger, still slick from my own cum. I did not want this, I wished myself anywhere but here but there was no escaping the alien sensation when his finger slipped into my relaxed body, caressing my inside. I bit down harder, concentrating on the pain to forget what was happening to other parts of my body.

He worked carefully, gently and very slowly I began to grow accustomed to the weird feeling of having something move inside of me. Still I did not want this and to be so exposed to him, so helpless rankled and what remained of my pride screamed in rage. But I endured.

When he withdrew his fingers I braced myself against pain. He leaned forward and I felt his hardness press against me. One last moment remained where I could have tried to escape, then he softly kissed my shoulder and pushed into me. For a short moment it hurt, but only so slightly that it was almost beneath my notice. Nothing compared to the feeling of an arrow imbedded in a shoulder or a lions' teeth ripping ones leg.

Then he filled me and I bit down even harder, almost drawing blood and tears leaked from my tightly closed eyes. Not tears of pain but of humiliation. To allow him to take me like this was somehow even worse then being forced to do it. Admitting my defeat like this ripped the last shreds of pride I had held on to. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe I could sink even lower.

Buried deep inside me he paused, caressing my neck and trembling shoulder as if he was reassuring a young mare. Thankfully he did not speak. I don't think I could have stood that. He started moving slowly, gently as if he was afraid to hurt me and strangely that rankled even more. Would he would just do it. Would he would move fast and be over with it.

But he didn't. His thrusts into me were slow and even, at least allowing me to grow accustomed to the strange sensation, allowing me to again concentrate on the pain where my teeth were still buried in my arm.

I felt him tremble slightly, then change the angle at with he thrust into me and suddenly he brushed a place deep inside of me that made a flash of heat run through my body. It felt... good and suddenly I was lost in this incredible feeling of pure pleasure flooding through me. I craved for him to do this again, waiting almost breathless for him to push back into me and when he did I was rewarded with another flash of pleasure.

And then I realized what I was doing, realized that I was actually enjoyed him using me like this and I clamped down hard on that sensation and even harder on my arm till I felt the coppery taste of blood on my tongue. I would NOT like this. Never would I allow myself to be his willing bitch.

From there on it was a fight against the hardest enemy I had ever known, my own body. My body craved this sensation, craved to tense up, to moan in pleasure, to move under him to meet his thrusts but I did not allow any of it. I kept still and silent, tears running from the corners of my eyes, the taste of my own blood in my mouth.

It seemed to take him ages. In the end his thrust grew faster, less controlled and my own pleasure receded at his mounting passion. I held on to that, to his enjoyment of using me and that made it so much easier to hate him, so much easier to force down the sensations coursing through me like a raging fire.

When he spilled deep inside me I felt as exhausted as if I had run through the desert for a week and I was immensely grateful, when he did not collapse on top of me but gently slipped out and rolled off me. I think I would have screamed had I felt him touch me just then.

Exhaustion dropped on me like an impossibly heavy blanket and even had I wanted to I could not have opened my eyes anymore. Slowly my jaws relaxed, letting go of my bloodied arm and I could not catch a soft sigh escaping me.

Till then the prince had been lying next to be, breathing hard. But now he moved and one of his hands brushed at the strands of hair hiding my face.

There was a strange mixture of non-understanding, barely suppressed satisfaction and helplessness in his voice when he whispered: "But you came to me of your own free will..." It was almost a question but there was no answer I could or would give him so I remained mute, pretending to be asleep.

He did not press further. Instead he took one of the light blankets and covered both of us with it, lying just close enough that I could feel the heat of his body but not touching me. And strangely enough I took comfort from this undemanding presence and slipped into sleep quickly.

 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll

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