Onyx Silk Pharaohs Harem

'Onyx Silk' is my collection of short stories, focussing mainly with black woman/ white man interracial erotica and is made for those looking to get to the heat of the moment a bit more quickly by painting vivid pictures for the imagination, rather than detailed story and character development. The series is all about presenting interracial eroticism, usually sans romance and intellectual facets, amidst exotic backdrops to provide an evocative image for the mind, as well as an exploration of the many aspects and fantasies of this subsection of erotica. In time, the 'Onyx Silk' series will hopefully have something for every fan of the genre.

Pharaoh's Harem passes over the shady and unpleasant aspects of a real life harem, instead drawing upon the decadent sexual mystique that it engenders in our modern times, set in the exotic backdrop of a Pharaonic Egypt. It is one man's monument to the sultry passion of interracial intimacy.

After subduing many of the tribes of Nubian north, an ambitious Pharaoh turns his eyes further afield from his borders in the hopes of winning renown in battle, but with none forthcoming, and being unwilling to be the instigator of battle, he begins to sink into ennui. That is, at least, until the first tributes from the Nubian provinces begin to arrive. Glossing over gold and other valuable trade goods, for which the tribes were originally subdued, his interest is piqued only by the dark bodied woman, bedecked in ringlets of soft gold and little else, and whose barbaric coiffure evinces a wild and concupiscent nature. She approaches and kneels before the throne of Pharaoh, and the god-king of the Nile Kingdom dismisses councillors and trusted generals. Now, nearly half a year later, Pharaoh's unique harem has won him the renown that all the battles in his life have failed to thus far.

[**Disclaimer**] This story is purely a work of fiction, including all characters described herein. Similarities between people living or dead are purely coincidental. Moreover, this piece of fiction does not draw upon any specified period of time in history, and thus cannot be considered factually accurate in any way.

With a slight raise of his hand, the governor ceased his entreaties: Pharaoh had spoken. There would be no further discourse with the god-king of all the land today, unless it was to further incite his ire. Slowly, but with gathering momentum, the scrolls of papyrus were rolled and gathered, followed by the slow shuffle of feet, as magistrates, scribes, and the sycophantic governor vacated the room, leaving Pharaoh sitting upon his throne to look down on the empty audience chamber.

At his sides, two naked slave boys waved their fans of ostrich plumes in almost feeble manner, but to the most powerful man of this land, they might as well have been grains of sand blown in from the everlasting desert, and he paid them as much attention. For the first time since he had picked them up this day, he laid down the ornamental crook and flail that was the insignia of his authority. The matters of office and supplication were not yet done, but already he felt the weary toll of royal responsibility.

Unlike some of his predecessors, Pharaoh was a man of action and it ill-pleased him to remain in one place for too long, let alone a single room, and he longed for the challenge of physical exertion. Brought up on tales of hero-worship and the military accomplishments of his most famous forefathers, his life was dedicated to arduous physical trials and onerous tests of his mettle. Now, as he was approaching the peak of his years, he was an image cut from story, excess bodily fats trimmed from a robust physique. His once pale skin was now bronzed beneath the merciless desert sun, save for his forearm and hips; the former shielded by the leather bracer that protected from the vicious twang of the mighty compound bow. Now, all that remained was to win a great battle that would guarantee his immortality as he rode into legend alongside his ancestors.

Though once enticing, such thoughts now depressed him and he shook his head as an angry lion shakes his mane, but then, he raised his head and there was a feral gleam in his eyes, as of secret wants rising slowly. Dismissing the slave boys, he rose from his seat and strode through the great polished sandstone hall where great men had once trod in splendour before him. Behind him, never far, the royal guard marched in accompaniment – if any thought to waylay Pharaoh, a single look at that impressive assemblage, who mirrored their lord's every whim, dissuaded them from further discourse.

Outside the palatial grounds, the arid desert air was hot and oppressive; the blue vault of the sky providing not a single cloud to shade the thirsty desert below. Before the ruin of time would sap them in the thousands of years to come, the palaces of Pharaoh were immense and majestic – the limestone exteriors of stone columns had been polished to dazzling white; brilliant colourful depictions of the god-king's life painted on the walls, lending splendour to his reign; ornaments and vases gilded in gold and studded with precious stones – the aristocracy were wanting for nothing in the display of their luxury.

Guided by Pharaoh, the royal guard turned a corner and tramped deeper into the heart of the palace, and, at their approach, the nobility bowed and slaves prostrated themselves on the ground in the presence of a living god. Into view, an immense door of teakwood bound in bronze and ornamented in gold and copper loomed before them and the procession came to a halt as they reached the end of their destination. The guardsmen lined the outer hall and stood sentry from without.

The doors groaned loudly as they were heaved open, four men applying themselves to the task. Though they were far inside the palace, the sight revealed by the opening doors was a wonder to see. A great section of the roof lay open to the azure sky, and the brilliant sun poured in to reveal the artificial paradise men had built within, contained within an immense room that could have held a thousand chariots. Terraces of sandstone had been lain irregularly, seemingly without pattern, some of which were crowned with soft green grasses, imported from far away pastures, where others had been cut to allow the passage of crystal streams that eventually fell in shimmering cascades to lower levels. Pools of leisure dotted the room here and there, the jade-hued waters taken straight from the mineral rich Nile.

Architectural achievement was not the only feature to be seen. Scattered on open terraces and woven between polished pillars was the wealth of a kingdom. Blackwood divans covered in smooth alabaster lambskin; amphora of silver and pitchers of gold filled to the brim with sparkling crimson contents; soft furs and luxurious silks thrown in careless mounds. The air was filled with the exotic scent of spices and the appetising aromas of a feast – steaks of buffalo and fillets of wild gazelle, wild boar stuffed with honeyed fruits and deep ocean fish caught in the northern seas from which rich yellow fats seeped in the heat of the fire.

There was more: great soft cushions embroidered with thread-of-gold, trickling fountains of tinkling sparkling waters, couches, beds, and golden platters filled with exotic fruits amidst a host of other delights to titillate the senses, and all the while, music drifted eternally from blindfolded musicians playing their harps and flutes in alcoves hidden from the eye.

Through all this finery the naked, ebon-skinned nymphs of Nubia cavorted and laughed and made merry in the decadent paradise Pharaoh had made for them.

At his arrival, a wave of murmur and unrest ran through the grand chamber; some waved and giggled, others came sauntering and whirled about him only to dance away gaily, whilst others lay upon their couches and fur-silk mounds in suggestive posses and invited the god-king to sample worldly pleasures with their eyes.

Of this little land, Pharaoh never tired of visiting, and if the anticipation of his first day was no longer present, the eagerness to be here had not diminished in the slightest, whilst some whispered that Pharaoh's appetites had increased many fold. Many were the private and lewd jokes whispered, but Pharaoh's desire for dark flesh and dusky bodies brought many a worried whisper amongst the royal women of the court, to whom he no longer offered affections.

There were many who already bore evidence of Pharaoh's earlier visits and the amorous embrace of his arms as they strode insolently, their bellies heavy and round with the fruits of passions indulged; women who had coupled with their lord so many a time as to be swollen with his progeny.

Whilst most were simply happy to enjoy their new lives, some sought the elated position of being one of Pharaoh's favoured, pressing him with praises and suggestions that could test the resolve of even a strong willed man. To this temptation, Pharaoh gave his hands free reign on the dark satin curves of their bodies when their whispers were of an especially appealing nature, never lacking in his eagerness to press their soft bodies into the cushions and shower them with his attention.

There was a certain passion to be found in those dark arms, an unquenchable fire to be savoured in the black mounds of their sex that refused to relinquish its grip on Pharaoh's libido, and as his desire for the ebon-skinned women of the south waxed, his desire of others waned. It was often in the early hours of dawn that Pharaoh quitted these chambers from a marathon that would have left a lesser mortal weak of knee and feeble of body and mind.

The god-king's leisurely stroll was interrupted by two who presented themselves before him, barring his path. Taking his wrists between them, he was detoured by urgent invitations to a private tryst in a curtained alcove.

The first was statuesque, worthy of being a statue on a temple overlooking the Great Nile, her woolly hair wild and dishevelled, her body oiled and gleaming like polished anthracite. The second was lighter; a softer velvet-brown, her head shaved clean, her body dilapidated in entirety, leaving visible the firm lips of her enticing sex, which unlike the first was tantalisingly hidden by a thicksome bush. The dark delights offered were many and Pharaoh was already more than prepared to sample the twin treasures.

Beneath those soft pair of hands, his bronzed body already felt afire, as though they had ignited some terrible desire in him, for which the pair seemed more than willing to handle. As the brown nymphet straddled his pale thighs, the dark one offered him the nipple of her prodigious chest, one which he took readily to swirl the heat of his tongue upon as his hands set about exploring the contours of their darksome bodies and hidden virtues. Under those strong sun-browned hands, they shuddered, and gave audible endorsement to his ministrations, which were skilful and sure.

As he lay there, content to submerse himself into the warm seas of dark bodies, he allowed himself to be drawn wherever the currents of their capriciousness would draw him. He did not hurry them, seeking undue release, finding instead, perverse pleasure in the lusty caresses of their dusky bodies against his, eagerly awaiting the moment when his lighter flesh would enter theirs, already wet in their willingness to serve, yet not in haste to reach that moment of rapture.

It was the gaze of wide eyes that brought his attention to snap on the young woman that would be his first bed mate for the day. She was a pretty thing, whose kinky hair was tied in half a dozen messy ponytails with a boyish figure that was still quite femininely suggestive. Like many, her dark body was fully nude, but partially hidden by the cushions from behind which she lounged indolently like a great cat, looking at him over the edges. Drawn by those eyes, Pharaoh offered polite excuses and lifted his person from the divan and walked the short distance across.

As he drew close, he realised he recognised her and the titillation that drew him ever closer. Her face was modest, even shy, but the sparkle in her dark eyes were coy, and the languorous stretch of her body as he approached was anything but timid. It took him only a moment longer before his memory served him; he had been here on a tryst less than a fortnight ago, where he and a plump ebon enchantress had been sweating in their labours and the heat of a sultry starlit night. It was there, from behind a curtain that his errant eye had espied the clumsy glances of a furtive shadow.

Mesmerised by the innocent voyeuristic intentions, he found he could not cease the potent thrusts of his hips. Rather, he found his efforts doubled until his attention was again drawn away by the hoarse moans and soft hands that reached upwards to caress his face. With the feel of those eyes, Pharaoh's climax was raw and triumphant, the last powerful thrust carrying the note of finality in the union of flesh. Beneath him, the woman gave out a low agonised cry, as though stabbed, and for long moments, the only sound that filled the night air was that of husky panting.

With a warm smile that belied the lustful intentions of his eyes, Pharaoh approached to where the girl lay and knelt beside her. With a soothing motion, the back of his hand caressed down her neck, to which she responded readily, her head flung with a sigh, and his hand continued its journey down her body where he teased the stiffening nipples of her small breasts as he passed. As his hand drew lower, she sat up suddenly, as though compelled against her will, her head coming to rest in the cradle of his shoulders, hiding her face, and her body rolled to press against his as though seeking security through contact. His erection, already half-formed, sprang into fullness as she took his hand into hers, kissing each of his fingers with soft trembling lips.

Before he could reach down to undo his sole garment, he already found soft hands pattering upon his hips, blindly seeking the restraints that held it in place. The skin upon her naked shoulder was soft and smooth to the touch, the dark sleekness always intriguing to him. As his hips came free of the linen, he took her by the shoulder and pushed her upon her back, where he might see her face. Her eyes did not flinch from his, save for a moment, to look at the manhood she had freed that now lay like a bar of dense heat upon her leg.

She whimpered softly from the fury of his kisses that rained on her and gasped softly as Pharaoh settled atop her between her parted thighs, her womanly ambitions fulfilled. Then, there was little other to do than to plant her feet and adjust the angle of her hips as she began to sate the lustful thrusts with her body.

Since Pharaoh had not deigned to take his amorous attentions to a more private venue, their coupling lay in full view of the serail, and those who were in remote corners could hear much of what could not be seen. Some were still embarrassed by this brazen exhibition, but most had become accustomed, and those bolder and with less inhibition offered lewd encouragement or lay back to pleasure themselves at the sight and sound of their delights.

As Pharaoh's possessions and, moreover, as the chosen women for his seraglio, it was easily known what was expected of them. Women were easy to come by, yet Pharaoh had sent his emissaries scouring much further than his own lands to find them; the sultry black goddesses that the god-king of this powerful land desired and deemed most worthy to share his bed. Their former lives were now almost a half-fading memory, their metamorphosis complete from simple tribeswoman to royal concubine, with every imaginable luxury contrived by man provided to them, and if Pharaoh's lust was the price of such an arrangement, it was one few, if any, objected to paying.

From the first day they had know who he was, he strode amongst them, a bronzed god who the rays of the sun had tanned to perfection, carrying himself with the confidence of a man who controlled the destiny of his land and the lives of untold thousands who cheered his divine rights as a god amongst men. From the moment he had knelt beside them and taken their lips to his, they knew he meant them as his.

For many, it had been the first time they had felt the desire of pale hands pressed upon their bodies and thrust themselves upon foreign lust, greedy and unyielding in its desire for their dark bodies. It was novel for many to be desired for and of themselves as a woman. In his vast kingdom, Pharaoh had plenty of choice for female company, yet here they were, drawn over leagues of land and the most prized women of an empire.

The young woman shuddered under the body of her king as he skilfully coaxed the prize he enjoyed most – her pleasure. She gave a soft shudder and a small whimper, but made little other movement, so intent was she on the pleasure of coitus and feeling every bit as worshiped as the goddess she had never been treated in her life. Many who saw, squirmed with unbearable delight or stretched in sheer wanton desire for it was easy to see themselves there in her position – in the past, Pharaoh had been anything but shy in demonstrating his mastery of the bedchamber.

Many had already known the weight of their king atop their bodies as they wrapped their legs about him, or engaged his ivory sceptre in lewd rides of abandon. On their hands and knees they had felt the firm clutch of his strong fingers on their hips as they rutted wildly in midnight conclaves or awoke flat on their bellies to feel his weight and the thrust of his manhood pressing them into the silks from behind whilst he whispered in their ears, heating their cheeks with lustful shame and desire, his fingers entwined in their thick hair or drawn across their sweating bodies.

From such torrid sessions, that oft left their eyes stinging with the salty dew of sweat, it was easy to tell that Pharaoh's chief passion ignited from the caress of their dark forms, the wicked union of soft ebon with unyielding pale yearning, cavorting in an endless dance of sensuality and raw longing, fulfilled in a single rapturous moment that only they could fulfil and no other woman.

It was to just such a moment that Pharaoh now arrived, and in his extremity, his back arched and his firm tan buttocks clenched – the involuntary primal urge – he made his pleasure known to the young black woman who had attended to him. Somewhere else in the chamber, a sharp cry broke, perhaps another reaching the climax of her self-indulgence, or an involuntary embarrassing break in tension as she imagined herself receiving Pharaoh's potent inundation.

The familiar calm after the storm came, and the chamber of Pharaoh's paradise returned to a modicum of normalcy. The girl sighed happily and curled into a more comfortable position, offering no particular comment as her lover of the moment shakily rose to depart. Few expected him to remain, unless the hours were most early and their combined exertions exhausted Pharaoh to his utmost, but he gave her flank a playful spank of appreciation, and, in his mind, took note. The gaze in his eye told her everything she wanted to know as she squirmed and hugged a pillow gleefully as he left, holding her hand until distance caused their fingers to part.

The cooling waters of a nearby pool refreshed his body, and though already attended by two, a loud splash at the opposite end of the pool alerted him to the entrance of another. Beneath the jade-hued waters, he watched the approach of her dark outstretched form, still gliding from the momentum of the dive. Then she rose from the pool, graceful and dream-like: a dripping dusky siren. From her many dense braids, droplets rained back into the pool, and her swaying hips expressed more taunting insolence than could ever be spoken by words alone.