A God of Old

1648 B.C.:

Nahanit stood on the balcony, sipping wine. The guards had long since taken her husband's dead body away. She had heard their shouting as they went after Enkartep; he was most likely dead now, or about to be.

She fought back a smile as she took another sip. The high priest had been so easy to seduce, so easy to turn against his pharaoh. He had thought they were in love, when in reality he was a pawn in her machinations.

Love makes fools of even the smartest men.

Beyond the balcony was the expanse of Memphis. She could see through the city, past the buildings and lodgings, to the rivers linking the city to others.

And it's all mine.

Mersekhemre had had no children, which meant that the next pharaoh could be anybody with a hint of noble stock. Whoever was chosen would need people to believe that they could legitimately be the pharaoh.

They would need a wife. Perhaps that of the previous pharaoh...

Nahanit had yet to meet a man she could not manipulate in some way.

Footsteps sounded from the corridor. She turned, setting her goblet on the railing, adopting a stricken expression for the guards who would inform her of Enkartep's death.

Instead of guards, a tall, pale man strode through the doorway. A strange power radiated off of him. It took her a few moments to realize that this strange man was in fact, Enkartep.

"My love," she said, recovering quickly, "what happened to you?"

He was taller than usual, his body devoid of hair, skin smoother and more muscled. There was something foreboding in the small smile on his face.

"You must understand," she began to say, striding towards him, subtly bringing her shoulders back, making sure her lush cleavage was on full display.

Halfway towards him, she stopped moving. It was as if there was an invisible wall in front of her. She tried to raise her foot, to keep walking, but could not so much as budge a single inch. Her eyes glanced down to the floor; there was nothing there blocking her way. When she glanced back up to Enkartep, his smile had grown wider, and her fear spiked.

"What do I need to understand?" he asked, his voice soft, yet powerful.

"I...I...I had plans for us," she finished lamely. Her mind raced as she sought to come up with a feasible solution.

What happened? He should be dead...

"No," Enkartep said, walking towards her, "I was in none of your plans, beyond poisoning the pharaoh."

Had she had inches to move, she would have been trembling in fear.

"My love, I'm sorry," she said, her eyes wide and pleading.

"You never loved me," he said, his voice full of regret.

"I did, I swear, I did, you have to believe me!"

"I do not need to believe you," he said, raising a hand. She could not even flinch as he placed it on her forehead.

"I can simply see for myself..."

His hand pressed against her skin, and a feeling like dozens of burning-hot needles came against her forehead. The pain seared into her, and suddenly, her mind flashed back, memories fluttering by like papyrus. Nights spent with Enkartep, days spent with Mersekhemre, alone time spent plotting. Enkartep watched them along with her, his small smile returning as they went back through her memories. The flow finally stopped, at the recollection of their first meeting, years ago, at a royal banquet. She had begun her seduction there; he had not even known it yet.

"Love makes fools of even the smartest men," Enkartep said. The pain receded as he took the hand away. Nahanit fell to her knees, gasping for air, her temple throbbing with residual ache. In front of her were his bare feet, and she focused on them, trying to recover her senses and wits. She was terrified; he had some new, strange power, and she was outmatched. All she could do was put herself at his mercy.

"My love," she purred, summoning tears to her eyes, "I was a fool to treat you so. Please, forgive me. Forgive me, love."

"Why?" he simply asked, that peculiar smile still gracing his lips.

She dropped down to her knees again, this time of her own volition.

"You have great power," she began, her mind still racing. She did not understand how he had escaped a certain death. Obviously, he had gained some strange and formidable power.

He would have to do something with it.

"Use it, love. Take Egypt. Make it yours. Shape it to your liking."

He cocked his head.

He's listening.

"You shall be a true pharaoh. More powerful than any other that ever lived."

Her eyes brimmed with tears, her smile as bright as ever. She could see his smile grow wider.

He likes what I'm saying.

"And if you would have me, I would be at your side. A beautiful queen for a powerful king. It is only right, my love."

Her little speech ended, a few tears slipping dramatically down her cheeks. He kept silent for the longest few moments of Nahanit's life.

"I shall take Egypt," he said softly. Nahanit smiled in relief.

"But I would have done so without your attempt at persuasion," he continued. "Egypt needs a strong hand."

She kept her smile fixed to her lips.

"And having you at my side is indeed an attractive picture."

Nahanit nodded, standing slowly, all too aware of how he dwarfed her in size.

"A beautiful queen."

"Yes, my love. Your queen."

His hand came up to trace a tear's path along her cheek. She tilted her head into the crook of his palm. The pad of his finger traced along her skin, the strange warmth there making her shiver.

"You are beautiful," he mused.

She sniffled, rubbing her cheek along his palm, doing her best to put on a submissive front.

"I wonder, what might happen should I take that beauty away?"

Her eyes widened in sudden fear and confusion as that strange warmth began to seep into her flesh. Her immediate instinct was to pull away, but just as before, some invisible force kept her rooted to the spot.

"What else do you have besides beauty?" he asked.

She could feel her skin tingling as the warmth spread. It made her skin crawl, as if thousands of miniature scarabs were swarming on her flesh. The fear rose up inside her.

"Please, my love, what are you doing?"

"Even now, you proclaim to love me. Even now, when you should know better, you think you can trick me, think you can use your beauty and wiles against me like you did before."

"Please, my love, I'm sorry! Please!"

The crawling sensation intensified. Nahanit began to feel her flesh begin to shrivel, losing its firmness, wrinkles spreading out over her arms like spider webs. Her breasts, objects of many a man's admiration, sagged and drooped, youthful and attractive no more. Her back stooped, gravity taking its toll years too early, pain radiating out from the wizening bones. She could feel her hair losing its lustrousness, dozens of individual strands falling out, the remaining ones turning a pale gray. Her teeth weakened, wobbling, loosening, a few falling out, tumbling out over her lips to shatter on the floor. Aches sprung up on her joints and muscles, the wear and tear of decades striking her nerves in a matter of moments. Her fingers curled into gnarled claws, the painted fingernails on each digit turning yellow and cracked. The youthful vivacity she had taken for granted was lost; she could feel it so acutely, over every inch of her body.

"My love," she croaked. Her voice was a thin whisper, no more the seductive purr that had roped him in.

He was still smiling at her, his palm still on her cheek.

"Do not worry," he assured her. "I have robbed you of your youth, but you shall live for as long as I desire, in this decrepit state. That shall be your punishment."

He turned on his heel and left, leaving Nahanit swaying on her now-pained feet. The aches were unbearable, the knowledge that she was but an ancient crone now even more so. She gave in to the pain, collapsing to the floor. Her joints creaked as she curled herself into a ball, real tears slipping from her eyes.

Back in the present day:

A slight breeze whistled past Enkartep. He was sitting on the roof of his newly constructed palace. It had been a much-needed test of his abilities, creating stone from nothing and putting it together to form an impenetrable and formidable structure. Another test of his abilities had been keeping the structure invisible, so that no prying eyes could see it unless he wanted them to. To his relief, his powers had been unchanged and undiminished even after his time in captivity.

His mind reached outwards, trying to learn all he could about the world that had changed so much in his absence. There had been countless events that had taken place; one that caused him consternation was the fact that Egypt had seemingly lost its place as a dominant power. There were many dominant powers now, it seemed, some at odds with each other, some working together.

The stream of information would have been overwhelming for anyone with a weaker mind than that which he possessed. Nevertheless, he did not want to learn too much too quickly, so he allowed his mind to recede from the world, pulling it back to his current location.

He stood, looking down across the expanse of sand before him. When he had chosen this place for his capital, all those years ago, it had been much like this, desolate and empty. But he had built a city from the sand, and had made it mighty. His enemies had seemingly succeeded in destroying it.

I shall rebuild it.

He could sense his warriors patrolling. They were connected to him, since he had created them. Across the temple, in his personal chambers, he could sense two other minds, beginning to stir from the deep slumber in which he had put them.

But first...

Enkartep made his way to his chambers. The antechamber was spacious and lush, the bedroom beyond rife with fine silks and fabrics. In the middle of the large bed, enough easily for half a dozen people, were the two priestesses who had freed him. He could hear one mutter in confusion as her eyes flickered open. Her groan of wakefulness, in turn, woke the other, who stretched languidly before opening her eyes.

"Where are we?" she asked, recovering before her companion.

"You are safe, priestess," he assured her, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Okay, but where are we?"

"Egypt," he answered. The other woman sat up, and shared a glance with the first.

"Why are we here?" the other woman asked.

"You are my priestesses," he answered, frowning. "Your place is by my side."

"Okay..."

"Do you need anything?" he asked. "Say it and I will give it to you."

The first woman hesitated, but the second spoke up.

"I'm hungry."

"Is that all you think about, Kristin?" the first said, exasperation coloring her voice.

"Yeah, Stacy, it is, when I'm starving," Kristin shot back.

"How about we figure out what the fuck is going on?"

"I won't be able to figure out shit if I don't eat!"

"Do not worry, priestesses," he cut in, standing and walking to a table on the balcony, "there is plenty of food here."

The two women stood, seemingly unaware or uncaring of their nudeness, and approached him, drawn by the suddenly wafting smell of food.

Enkartep had been an avid consumer of the finest foods in Egypt before his ascension. After his ascension, he had not needed to eat or drink, but still would occasionally indulge.

In front of the two women was a lavish spread. Five roasted ducks, crispy and brown, were in the center. On one side were six pigeons, their flavor strengthened by expensive spices from nearby lands. On the other side of the ducks were steamed fish, the nutritious meat flaky and rich. Arranged around the meats were bowls, each filled with various foods. One was chickpeas, another beans, another dates, yet another grapes. There were also cakes here and there, sweet and delicious, baked with honey. Completing the spread were pitchers of beer and wine, made from the finest ingredients.

"Holy shit," Kristin muttered. "Jackpot."

"Yeah, whoa," Stacy added. "Now I'm hungry too."

"Eat, my priestesses," Enkartep encouraged, taking some of the food for himself.

They dove in, their prior argument forgotten. He ate some, but mostly sat back and watched them gorge. They had a distinct lack of demureness and grace. Such behavior was alien to him, but that shamelessness was intriguing. He had always encouraged his priestesses to open up to him and feel comfortable in his presence.

After a while, the two of them had finally had enough. They sat in high-backed chairs, each one finishing off one last goblet of wine.

"Thanks," Kristin said.

Stacy nodded. "Yeah, thanks...what's your name?"

"You may call me Master," he said.

Stacy chuckled. "Yeah, okay, Master, sure, sounds good."

"So now can you tell us what's going on?" Kristin asked, leaning forward in her chair.

He shook his head. "There will be time for that later. For now, let us indulge further."

The two women cocked their heads in confusion. Enkartep stood, heading back into the bedroom, gesturing for them to follow. Once they were standing before the bed, he opened his robe, letting it fall to the floor. Both women gazed at him, Stacy biting her lip, Kristin blushing, her eyes moving southwards quicker than her companion's.

"Come, my priestesses," he said, "indulge."

Kristin was the first to take his offer, tentatively stepping up in front of him. Not wanting her to be nervous, he swooped low for a kiss, feeling her body tense as his lips met hers. His hands moved to her hips, squeezing the supple flesh. Her lips opened, a soft breath spilling out; his tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting the inside, reveling in the feeling.

A hand touched his shoulder. He broke the kiss with Kristin to find Stacy standing there, again biting her lip. He kissed her, drawing her fit frame into an embrace. She squirmed against him, fiercely returning the kiss.

When he broke that kiss, it was to see two beautiful women, naked in front of him. They seemed still somewhat confused. He could understand; they were unsure about him, unsure if all of the legends they had heard were true.

"I will show you what I can do for you," he said, moving onto the bed.

His mind was made up. Part of him wanted to make them aware of what was about to happen, to warn them that this was a line they could not return from if they crossed it. But he was hungry for them.

"Come," he said, beckoning them. They climbed onto the bed, Stacy on his left, Kristin on his right. His manhood throbbed at the sight, these two delightful creatures crawling up towards him. Kristin stopped at his lap, taking his shaft in her hand, stroking it. Stacy continued up to his face, and he reached out for her, bringing her closer to him, capturing her mouth again. The delicate hand of one and the delicate lips of the other made his lust burn hotter.

He heard a moan from the direction of Kristin. She was still stroking him, but her other hand was stuffed in between her thighs, rubbing at her mound. His smile widened.

"Have a taste of my power," he said, reaching out to her with his mind, sensing the pleasure building in her body. It took but a fraction of his power to focus on it, and took just as much for him to force it to spike.

The result was a low moan, as Kristin pitched forward, her upper body practically melting into the bed. The moan became a muffled shriek as Enkartep forced the pleasure to rise even higher. She thrashed on the bed, her hand flying up and down his shaft, jerking him off almost unconsciously. Stacy's eyes widened at the sight.

"What did you do to her?" she asked, a hint of fear in her voice. Kristin's exultant cries died down, into labored whimpering, as he showed mercy, not wanting to break her too quickly.

"I gave her a taste of my power," he explained. Her eyes were still wide, but she did not resist when he brought her close for another kiss.

He felt a sudden movement next to him. When he broke the kiss, it was to see Kristin straddling him, a wild hunger in her eyes. She brushed against the head of his shaft, a tremulous sigh her reaction. He moved his hands to her hips, and took a tight hold.

"Do it, priestess," he urged. "Take your pleasure."

Kristin impaled herself on his shaft. Her ecstatic cry continued as her lips slid down until she was flush against the base. He groaned, the wetness bathing his length, the heat so delicious. She barely missed a beat, moving her hips right away, fucking herself on him. Her hair swung around her head as she grunted, her breasts swaying to the beat of their coupling. Another moan sounded, and his eyes went to Stacy, whose hand was now at her slit, rubbing frantically along, as if trying to match the two of them.

"Now it is your turn to have a taste," he said.

Waves of pleasure hit her a second later. She shrieked as the deluge hammered her, indescribable ecstasy assaulting her body. He heard the wetness between her thighs splash out around her hand. Stacy fell against his shoulder, gasping and squirming, her flesh warm and soft. Kristin kept moving, bouncing on his lap. Her pussy clutched at him, the exquisite pressure sliding along his shaft. As Stacy shivered next to him, her hands grabbing at his arm, he reached out again, driving her peak up further. Her second orgasm drew a plaintive cry from her, Stacy now grinding herself along his side, throwing her leg over his. Her leg met Kristin's, the two women glancing at each other. Their eyes lingered for a moment, each woman seeming to suddenly notice the other's nakedness. Stacy was in the midst of her peak, so she quickly had her attention dragged away by the dying twinges of her ecstasy. Kristin's eyes went back to him.

His hands tightened on her hips. She moaned at the feeling, and then moaned again when he took over the effort for her, lifting and dropping her repeatedly, her cunt squishing along him. Her head tilted back, long brown hair flowing over her shoulders, her breasts pushed out by the movement. With one hand leading her, he moved the other up, to test her flesh, finding it pert and firm. The soft orbs bounced in his grip, her hard nipples rubbing against his palm. The friction provoked another moan from her.

Stacy was curled up next to him, her hand still moving in between her thighs. Another concentration of will, and Enkartep drew her into another orgasm. His eyes were watching Kristin, but he could hear and feel Stacy as she sobbed and squirmed at his side.

All either woman could do was ride out the swell. Enkartep had control of Kristin, moving her smoothly along. He would yank her up, until just the head of his prick was inside her, a brief look of desperation crossing her face, and then pull her down, at the same time lifting his hips, to achieve maximum penetration. Each time he pulled her down, his length drove deep inside her, her eyes widening at the sensation. Stacy, for her part, was still grinding herself against him, her face buried in his shoulder. He had shown her mercy, but she seemed to want more pleasure anyway, chasing it herself. Her pussy dripped along his thigh, her hot juices staining his flesh and the bed below them.

"I am sure you have been told of the pleasure I can provide. But I am also sure that the stories cannot rival the truth."

The only response from either woman were moans. He was not sure if they had actually understood him, or if they were just reacting to the sound of his voice.

This was a very familiar situation for Enkartep, sharing pleasure with his priestesses, those women who had dedicated their lives to him.

These are not broken yet. But they shall be soon.