A God of Old Ch. 07

Ancient Egypt:

Chanting filled the chamber.

Susuk stood in front of his fellow priests, reciting the words that made the Binding Ritual work. Terror gripped him as Enkartep watched them, but Susuk did not stutter, did not stop, the words by now coming easily to him. It had taken a long time to memorize them, to get the proper intonations down to perfection. He had known then, and still knew now, that all that time would be well worth it if their plan worked.

"What is this?" Enkartep asked, cocking his head.

No one answered him.

The god did not move, instead standing still, watching them curiously.

"Is this a betrayal of some kind? Did you learn nothing from the Battle of Khezresh? They even had the Sword of Set, but they could not get close enough to me to use it. And you think you lot can do what an army could not?"

Enkartep chuckled, watching the priests as they chanted.

Susuk allowed himself a small smile.

It was this arrogance that he and his fellows had counted on. Enkartep believed himself above them, so far above them that they could not hope to hurt him.

Their plan, however, did not involve hurting him physically.

As the priests chanted, the first step of the spell close to finished, Enkartep strode around them, his own smile wide and amused.

A sudden glow filled the chamber.

In an instant, the chamber became much more crowded, as every single one of the vile warriors that Enkartep had created now stood alongside him. The majority had been in the city, but some had been posted elsewhere, as a means to remind his subjects of his authority. The warriors chuffed and growled, looking around in confusion.

Enkartep chuckled again.

"This is your plan? You bring me my warriors?"

Several of the warriors moved towards the priests, but Enkartep raised a hand.

"No. It amuses me to see them think that they have a chance."

Your arrogance is your downfall.

The second step of the spell commenced.

While Susuk chanted the specific words, his fellow priests continued to chant another spell from the Book of Amun, a simpler one, which offered their strength to Susuk, enabling him to use the spell successfully. His own power by itself would have been far from the necessary level to make the intricacies of the binding ritual work.

Another glow filled the chamber.

The chanting stopped.

Silence filled the room for a few seconds, before Enkartep's wry chuckle broke it.

"So what was accomplished? Do I look defeated?"

Susuk shook his head, a smile daring to spread.

"Defeated, no. Trapped, yes."

Enkartep frowned.

His eyes raised to the ceiling, and a second later, a look of worry crossed his face. Such a look was rarely, if ever, on the god's face; the uncertainty there amused and pleased Susuk.

"What's wrong?" one of the other priests asked cheekily, "Can you not leave?"

Enkartep scowled, and turned on his heel, his warriors moving aside to let him walk up the stairs that had led down into the chamber.

Susuk waited.

After a few seconds, he heard a grunt of frustration.

"It cannot be," came Enkartep's voice.

Taking a deep breath, Susuk signaled to his fellow priests.

Each drew a dagger from their belt, and each plunged it into their belly, cries of pain erupting out in the chamber.

Susuk fell to his knees, his only thought that he and his fellows had done the impossible.

Egypt is free.

Blood oozed out from his belly, staining his hands.

He saw his fellows writhing in agony, the warriors' attention fixed on the stairs.

Enkartep reappeared, his face dark and angry.

When he saw them dying, he shook his head.

"No," he growled, his hands extending, "you shall not pass so easily."

Immediately, the knife flew from Susuk's belly, his wound mending, the rent flesh burning as it was knitted back together. He heard his fellows exclaim as the same happened to them.

Susuk stood shakily.

"Then kill us."

Enkartep shook his head.

"I shall not harm you," he murmured, "and neither shall my warriors."

The priests shared confused looks.

"Perhaps you thought you would die quickly," Enkartep told them, "but it will not be so. You will die slowly, growing weaker and weaker, no food in your bellies. One by one you will perish, until the last is tempted to ease his hunger with his fellows' corpses."

Susuk stepped up to Enkartep.

"Then so be it."

Some time passed, the seven priests sharing looks of triumph and joy. All of them had accepted that they would not survive; the manner of their deaths did not bother them.

Enkartep spoke up.

"Your plan will be in vain. My priestesses will find me and free me."

Susuk's smile appeared again.

"Are you sure of that?"

Enkartep nodded.

Susuk shrugged. A few of the priests shared amused looks; Akehar looked grimly solemn.

Enkartep turned to one of the other priests, Mabhar.

"What is the reason for this betrayal? Have I not been a wise ruler?"

Mabhar met the gaze coolly.

"We are not meant to be ruled by you."

"No? Who is meant to rule you?"

Mabhar curled his lip.

"The pharaohs. Those you betrayed years ago."

Enkartep chuckled.

Mabhar had been a part of this plan because of his belief that Egypt should be returned to its previous system. Other collaborators had different reasons. Akehar wanted revenge for Enkartep turning his sister into a mindless priestess. Omir wanted to get rid of what he believed to be an abomination, a man daring to proclaim himself a god. Whatever the reasons, many had gathered in the name of rebellion to throw down this despot.

"Your priestesses sure take their time," one of the other priests joked, sharing an amused look with his fellow next to him.

Enkartep frowned.

"I have faith in them."

A few priests chuckled.

"You find my faith funny? My priestesses are some of the best fighters, some of the best minds, and their loyalty is unparalleled. You seven and your plans are no match for them."

This time, all seven of them chuckled.

"You are a fool," Mabhar said, "if you thought the seven of us would do this alone."

That made Enkartep raise an eyebrow. His eyes flickered up to the ceiling, but a frown appeared.

"Bring the ceiling down, master," one of the warriors growled, "we will be free."

"That was one of the first things I tried," Enkartep told the warrior, "it did not work."

The warriors grumbled, having grown impatient.

"We are trapped here, until my priestesses free us."

The priests shared another look, chuckling amongst themselves.

"Master!" came a cry from the top of the staircase.

Enkartep turned, heading immediately up, leaving the warriors to crowd around the priests, intimidating them with snarls and growls.

Present day Egypt:

Amina strode down the hallway, plate of taameya in hand.

Priestesses had been arriving throughout the night. Many more were still on the way.

There was an undeniable bounce to her step.

Not only was her master free, but it seemed that their plan to seat him once again at the apex of the world was coming along nicely. To sweeten the deal, her beloved Yussef would reap untold rewards besides her.

She padded through her master's chambers, rounding the corner into the bedroom.

To her surprise, somebody was sharing the bed with him.

That somebody was Salome, her slender frame curled up against their master, dark hair wild and unbound.

Amina had not known the Colombian woman for long. As they were both priestesses, they had interacted before, but it had not been until Salome's residence in Cairo, to keep an eye on the suddenly visible temple, that the two of them had been able to get to know each other. There was a strength there, but also a vulnerability, one hidden underneath a cold exterior.

But this Salome looked peaceful and happy, her face set in a smile even in slumber. Despite her responsibilities for their master being entirely of the martial variety, she had offered herself to him.

Enkartep opened his eyes, quickly fixing them upon Amina.

"Good morning, master," she purred, quickly padding around to his side, "I brought breakfast."

"Thank you," he said, nodding to her, rising to rest against the headboard.

As he took the plate, Salome stirred, now curled against his thigh.

"More priestesses have arrived," Amina told her master.

"Good," he murmured, eating the food, his expression impassive.

"How's the food? One of your priestesses, Violet, cooked it. She owns three restaurants in Paris."

"Yes, very good," he told her, "I will have to make use of her talents often."

Amina smiled.

"She will be delighted to hear it."

Enkartep nodded at her, eating more of the food.

"Would you accompany me for a walk?" he asked her suddenly.

"Uh...yes, master, of course. But perhaps now is not the best time. Our enemies..."

He chuckled.

"We must face our enemies some time."

"True, master, true. But your priestesses are also dying to meet you."

He smiled, his hand moving to stroke through Salome's hair.

"And I shall meet them," he murmured.

"Now? Or will you rest a little while longer?"

"Meet me downstairs in half an hour," he told her, "gather what priestesses are here. I will say a word or two to them, and then we will take that walk."

"Of course, master," she said, bowing, turning to leave.

Part of their plan had been to keep him hidden for as long as possible.

But he was their master, so she did her best to swallow whatever reservations sprung up.

A few minutes later, in the same room:

Salome stirred, a comforting warmth next to her.

As her eyes fluttered open, the events of the previous few days, and specifically the previous night, came back to her.

Her master was resting against the headboard, smiling at her, his hand stroking at her hair.

She smiled back at him.

"Morning, master," she murmured, stretching out on the bed.

The blankets were cool and luxurious, but she cast them aside, unwilling to hide her nakedness from his eyes.

"How did you sleep, my priestess?"

"Wonderfully."

It was no lie. Actual restful sleep had been rare for her, but now she felt reenergized and relaxed. There was little doubt in her mind that it was his doing.

His smile was constant, the affection there unmistakable.

She reflected it back at him, shimmying up to kiss him, quickly straddling his waist. His strong hands took hold of her waist, guiding her as she sought to align her slit to his length. Already, she was soaking wet, able to take him down to the base in one quick motion. She cried out rapturously as she found herself suddenly impaled on him, master and servant connected so intimately.

"Oh yes," she purred, her hands settling on his chest, feeling his hands squeeze at her hips.

Her master raked his gaze over her body, appreciating the firm fitness. The attention provoked shivers from her.

Gracious as he was, he allowed her to indulge for a while, simply swaying atop him, letting her cunt clutch desirously around the thick member. She cooed, leaning down to kiss him, her tongue slipping along his, her fingernails scraping ever so lightly against his flesh.

The desire for indulgence was soon replaced by a desire for carnality.

So she began to move, rocking her hips against the shaft filling her so wonderfully. They groaned together, her drenched womanhood moving along his warm firmness, dappling it with her errant nectar. She arched her back, showing off her pert breasts, attracting the treatment of his gentle yet eager hands. The sensations from his soft palms and deft fingers were exquisite. More shivers cascaded down her spine.

"Oh yes, master, you feel so good inside me..."

Her pace increased, her hip rising and falling faster, driving herself down repeatedly. He was content to lie back, allowing her to take the lead, his smile unwavering. A river of her juices quickly flowed from her folds, trickling down to slick his testicles.

A climax was quickly upon her. His cock felt too good inside her, his hands felt too right on her flesh. She kept going, bouncing atop him with zealous fervor, her groans spiking higher into ragged cries as the pleasure mounted to a blazing zenith.

The orgasmic storm slowed her movement, but he took over, thrusting upwards, elongating and deepening the already sublime ecstasy. Salome was helpless before him, left a rowboat in the raging sea that was his power. Despite that helplessness, she had no fear, no hesitation, no reluctance. Last night had shown her that he would not allow her to flounder, would not let her get too lost. This was her master, in whose service she was entrenched, such service rewarded profoundly.

Through the haze of lust, she remembered one thing about the previous night.

He had shown her another side of his powers, introduced her to a world of pleasure, and corrected her assumptions about her responsibilities to him.

But the carnality had ended without her experiencing what she was now sure would be an exquisitely decadent sensation.

Her master had not spilled his seed inside or even on her.

"Please," she managed to gasp amid the breathless cries, "cum in me, master, please..."

He nodded, his gaze intense.

"As you wish, priestess."

She knew that his stamina was boundless. If he so wished, he could use her for days without reaching orgasm, giving her boundless ecstasy with no pause. The most talented whore in the entire world could not bring him to a finish unless he wished it.

So this moment was a mark of his mercy and that aforementioned graciousness.

His thrusts sped up, and Salome moved with him, slamming her hips relentlessly down, meeting him halfway.

She could feel the power thrumming inside him, surging up from his core, firing along the length of his shaft.

"Please, master," she begged, knowing that her reward was already on the way, still so desirous for it.

The first spurt sent her headlong into a chain of orgasms. She mewled pitifully, overwhelmed by the power in the thick seed. It suffused her channel, soaking into every inch, claiming her womb as his property, his territory, her most intimate of places belonging now to her master, as she herself did. Despite that unmistakable potency, she was dimly aware of the fact that he would not allow his seed to plant a child inside her. Disappointment came from that awareness, but it was an extremely minute tragedy when compared to the majesty of simply having his essence fill her so beautifully. The spurts tapered off, a heavy warmth sloshing deep inside her belly.

"How does it feel, priestess?"

She beamed, leaning down to kiss him.

"Like it was meant to be," she purred, her lips sliding to nip affectionately at his neck.

He chuckled.

"It was, priestess, it was."

A little while later, same building:

Amina had gathered the other priestesses in the common room. They were waiting on couches and chairs, eyes fixed on the stairs, awaiting their master.

Before rounding all of them up, she had stopped in on Yussef. He was a heavy sleeper by nature, so he had still been dozing peacefully.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. A murmur rose among the women, some even standing excitedly.

Their master appeared, clad in a white robe.

He smiled once he saw them.

"Hello, my priestesses," he welcomed them, his voice deep and smooth.

They all bowed their heads, eyes wide in amazement.

"I shall come to know each and every one of you," he continued, "but right now, I must walk with Amina."

Some glanced at her, jealous and envious. Some were still gazing with wide eyes.

Amina was sure she knew what the latter group was feeling.

To live one's life in service to a legend, and then to meet that legend...

"Are you ready?" he asked her, interrupting her thoughts.

"Of course," she said, standing to follow him to the elevator.

On the way down and out of the building, she found herself harboring more reservations. Their enemies could be anywhere and anyone, simply waiting for them to reveal themselves.

"Do not worry," he told her as they went forth from the compound.

Her first reaction had been to ask if he could see the worry on her face, but then she remembered that he could likely sense it as well.

"You are with me," he assured her, "There is no need for fear or worry."

His confidence helped her relax, but as they strode through the city, her reservations reared their heads again. It was hard for her to simply let go of them, as it was part of her position to worry about such things.

"Tell me," he spoke up after a little while, "what do you know of your service to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what is the nature of your duty to me?"

Amina hesitated, not quite sure where this line of questioning was headed.

"I am a representative priestess, your herald and diplomat to other nations. And I am your High Priestess, in charge of the others in your absence."

"And what of the other priestesses? What is the nature of their duty?"

"Well, your martial priestesses, like Salome, are to help lead your armies, to fight for you. And your carnal priestesses, like Rebecca, are expected to provide you with pleasure."

He nodded.

"It seems something truly has been lost to the ages, if even you are mistaken in this."

She stared, suddenly worried that she had offended him.

"Do not worry," he soothed her, his hand moving to rest on her shoulder.

"What do you mean, mistaken?"

He smiled gently.

"It is indeed true that you are a representative priestess, and my High Priestess, and you are correct as to the assessment of the duties tied to such positions. And you are correct as to the nature of the services of my martial priestesses and my carnal priestesses."

She kept staring.

"Where you are mistaken is that all of my priestesses are expected to serve me in a carnal manner. Some only do that, but all are expected to serve should I call upon them."

What?

"I...I did not know that, master."

His smile did not waver.

"It is not your fault."

"So...am I expected to serve you...carnally?"

"All of my priestesses are expected to serve me carnally. It is how we deepen our bond, by sharing pleasure only amongst ourselves. Sister with sister, priestess with master, priestess with warrior."

She was at a loss for words, thrown by the sudden knowledge.

"I...I had no idea."

"As I said, priestess, it is not your fault. Your predecessors obviously did not know either, or else they would not have allowed relationships outside the priestess' circle."

It became clear to her just where this was leading.

"So..."

"You are in love with Yussef, the same way that Iris is in love with Fiona."

"And...that was not allowed?"

"That is not allowed."

She gulped, nervous as to what the end result of this conversation might be.

"You are not in trouble, priestess, nor are you in line for a punishment."

That was little comfort in this moment.

"But, am I no longer allowed to be with Yussef? Is that what you are telling me?"

He shook his head.

"You can be with Yussef."

She arched an eyebrow.

"I can?"

"Indeed. But you would then have to renounce your position as priestess."

"What?"

He nodded, his smile now sadder.

"I wish you would not."

"But...I am a priestess. The High Priestess. I have spent my life-"

"Serving me. Which you do as my High Priestess."

She felt her desperation mounting, an impossible choice presented to her.

I don't want to not be a priestess, but I don't want to lose Yussef.