Pharaoh's Willing Slave

Carrying a bowl of figs on his fingertips, Mikha'El strutted up the palace's columned hallways with his chest raised and a grin stretched across his black-beaded face. His sandy-brown arms, bulging with muscles, gleamed from the oils he had smeared to polish them. Ever since he earned himself the rank of house slave, taking him away from the sweltering and scarring toil of brick-making, he bubbled with gratitude. Not only did Mikha'El have his god Yahweh to thank for his good fortune, he also owed his promotion to a certain someone he would gladly serve as he had no one else. As night fell outside, the hallways were cool like mountain springs despite torches on the walls. The limestone columns, decorated with inscribed hieroglyphs, would have towered over any tree in the world. To a Hebrew born in a desert tent and spent most of his youth sleeping in a stuffy hut on the brick-makers' estate, the palace's spacious interior would steal his breath away. Inhaling the sweet aroma of burning incense, Mikha'El moaned with the first pleasure of many he planned tonight. He arrived at the doorway gaziantep rus escort near the Pharaoh's bedchamber but then paused. If anyone else in the palace caught him doing what he planned to do with the Pharaoh, he would receive a punishment that would twist his stomach too much to even imagine it. So would the Pharaoh herself, come to think of it. They could doom her reign, if not her whole dynasty. They could even throw all Egypt into chaos, bringing the world?s most powerful empire to its knees. But then, Egypt did hold the people of Israel in bondage. If Mikha?El gave it to the Pharaoh after all, perhaps she would repay him with a whole nation?s freedom. As his eagerness burned back in, he resumed swaggering into the bedchamber. ?Good evening, Your Majesty,? he said. ?Care for some dates?? Pharaoh Hatshepsut reclined on her wooden bed, laying her frizzy hair over a curved headrest while her crown hung on the wall overhead. The gold, copper, and gemstones which ringed her neck and arms glittered from an oil lamp?s firelight. Her slender, dark brown curves and round breasts shone with even greater brilliance, like polished mahogany. Raising her torso up to face her slave, Hatshepsut yawned and then smiled with full and luscious lips. ?Oh, it?s you, Mikha?El,? she said. ?Thank you, but I?m not hungry.? Mikha?El rested the bowl of dates on a counter next to the bed. ?That?s the first time any Egyptian ever said my name. You don?t usually call slaves by their names, do you?? ?Too many to get to know them all, but I see you around more often than the rest.? Hatshepsut brushed perspiration off her brow. ?On second thought, I could use some moisture now.? She plucked a date from the bowl, scratched the skin off, and took a bite. ?Busy day again, I presume?? Mikha?El took a seat next to Hatshepsut on her bed. She nodded. ?Politics and governance always stress me out. So many responsibilities, and so many people to pander to! Believe me, it isn?t as good to be the Pharaoh as everyone thinks.? ?It must be easier than slavery though. At least you get to make all the decisions, and everyone worships you as a goddess in the flesh.? ?Oh, that only makes it even harder. Everything I say and do has to be all perfect and godlike and set an example. I can?t even curse or stutter, by Amun! I may have blood from the gods, but my body and mind are only human!? Hatshepsut rubbed her forehead again. ?Sounds like you have a lot pent up inside of you, Your Majesty.? Mikha?El rested an arm over her shoulder. ?That isn?t healthy, you know. You need to release all that tension and relax.? ?Maybe a massage would work. You wouldn?t mind touching my back, would you, Mikha?El?? ?I?ll start with it, thank you very much.? Mikha?El put both hands onto Hatshepsut?s back and caressed it. The soft feel of her skin on his fingertips rekindled his glee inside. She purred. ?Ah, that feels better already. Keep going.? ?Actually, I had something even better in mind.? Mikha?El leaned the side of his face against Hatshepsut?s neck. ?You said you had to act all perfect as Pharaoh. Must be repressive, I imagine. Don?t you ever wish you could, uh, indulge in whatever you repress?? ?Believe me, I do.? Hatshepsut widened her grin and batted her eyelashes. ?Come to think of it, Mikha?El, you?re actually quite comely.? She drummed her fingers onto his tunic.