Separatrix Pt. 02 Ch. 03

Note to readers: this chapter includes sex acts, including male-male, that some may find uncomfortable. Note this chapter's tags and skip this one if you find anything offensive.

Chapter Three

Prince Dagan came with a few of his guards to collect me, bringing along the concubine. She was a bit scared, I thought, and very young. Keep in mind that there was no such thing as a teenager back then. Once a girl went through menarche she was a woman and fair game. Remember also, they didn't live as long back then. Age limits are a Modern Age feature. Dagan was very pleased with me, even though before he'd arrived they'd covered me up with a robe I could wear in public. But they'd done my hair, which had grown to a decent length by then, added faience hair combs, earrings in the exceptional cloisonné they made back then, makeup, and of course my gold bracelet. He was drooling.

"He is younger than our princess," her servants had told me as they prepared me. They talked about how his beard was still growing in. All the men of this time had beards. He was the king's second son by his official wife. The oldest son, however, was a dissolute drunkard, addicted to girls and boys, so the king had designated Dagan as his heir.

His place was quite nice, even nicer than his sister's, and I was very gratified, both as a historian and a woman, that I could spend time in his private apartments. Cedar was rare and expensive, imported from the Cedar Mountains in Canaan, but Prince Dagan's rooms seemed to be half built from that wood. The place smelled wonderful all the time. Linen curtains, bronze hardware, gold and silver here and there. Lots of pillows. It looked like he'd had a pile brought in for lounging. And other activities, no doubt.

I could see he was excited. Not nervous, just looking really pleased with himself and anticipating a great time. He sent away all this servants and guards. I was excited too. He'd removed his leather vest and untied his long hair. I was more than ready for a man and he was very much a man. I tossed off the robe they'd put on me for the walk over, revealing my costume-- that's how I thought of it. I looked like a belly dancer, I thought, in a two-piece getup that didn't hide much, with a silver chain around my waist and copper doodads all over. I was a treat.

I dropped to my knees before him. I'd been given a prepared speech: "Your Highness, the princess Sherua, your loving sister, has offered this slave to you for your pleasure and has directed that I should do whatever pleases you and whatever I can think of--" I added that last part myself-- "to make you as happy as a man can be. Your sister wants this Moon festival to be the best you've ever had." I lowered my eyes and waited for him to give me his first order.

I'd spied his loincloth under the short leather kilt he wore. I was expecting, also hoping, that his first command would involve my handling its contents and soon I would get to touch princely flesh.

"Stand," he ordered instead. "You are a vision. Dance."

Now, I have many skills, but art has never been an emphasis, especially dance. My abdomen is, as you know, more of a six pack than a belly, so belly dancing was out. But his wide eyes and open jaw told me he didn't mind. I had to think fast. I remembered from my preparation that we have a self-defense system I was taught, and one part is a series of movements like you see in martial arts training. So I did those moves.

He laughed. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, please forgive me, I was not trained--"

He waved me silent. "These--" he gestured to my skimpy clothing-- "are very nice. Tell my sister I was very pleased with the presentation of her gift."

"Thank you, your highness. I will do that."

"Take them off."

I couldn't keep the grin off my face and of course he saw it. In seconds I was standing naked before him. He definitely was pleased with his sister's gift. I know that men of your age, many of them, like big tits and blonde hair. If that's a guy's thing then I'm not it. But if I'm your type, well, I'm exquisite. I know that. I just stood before him and let him drink me in.

"You are a vision of Ishtar," he said after a long time of just staring. He undid a belt and tossed away the short sword he still carried. I realized that he had a non-sexual reason he wanted me to disrobe. He trusted his sister, but he was an important and powerful leader; and I was a stranger. It would be all too easy to slip a small dagger into even the skimpy clothes I'd been wearing. He was smart and careful.

I knelt back down before him, very close. I tilted my head back so he could look at my face. I know I have a very attractive face, and the girls had applied elaborate makeup around my eyes in the current style and some kind of reddish ochre coloring to my lips. So there was my pretty face with my pretty mouth only a handspan from the royal organ, ready and willing to make the prince as happy as a prince could be.

Sherua's servants had also told me everything they'd heard about the prince, especially from his concubines' servants, who of course knew their mistresses' complaints. Prince Dagan was tired of his three concubines. All virgins before joining his household, of course, so inexperienced. Men of all times can be quite stupid, wanting a virgin instead of a woman that knows how to please a man. The concubines' complaints all ran in the same vein: he wanted them to do new things, many of which they considered perversions-- they were foreigners, diplomatic gifts from vassal states, mostly with very conservative sexual mores. And Dagan wasn't very interested in impregnating them, which was all they, and their families, were focused on.

Well, one man's goose is another man's poison, is that how it goes? Whatever. I put my hands up toward his thighs, not touching but ready. That leather skirt only came about halfway down them. It was a giant no-no to touch the royal person unless invited. He just watched me as I very slowly, very, very slowly put my hands to his bare skin. Technically, he could have had me executed right then for my transgression. We both knew it, and it really turned me on, I have to admit. I repeated, "Please let me make you as happy as you can be." I slid my hands up under the leather. "As happy as a prince deserves to be."

I moved my hands up further and found the cloth under his skirt. Loincloths, I'd noticed, required constant adjustment. The growing princely rod had made a mess of that and had already escaped the wrap. "I am your slave," I said. I may have said that to a man in the past-- have I ever said that to you? But it's different when you really are someone's slave. It was an incomparably thrilling moment. Shivers raced up and down my spine. My pussy gushed like a faucet. This man, whose stiff cock I was running my finger along, could, any time he wanted, do anything he wanted with me. He could tie me up and rape me. He could piss on me. He could have me whipped, he could brand me, he could throw me in a lion's cage, he could torture and kill me in a dozen ways. It was a unique kind of mental resonance, that the exact acts that would best preserve my life and well-being were exactly the acts I wanted to perform most. And I also realized: this is why I did it all, this is why I went through the effort, pain, and discomfort of preparation for superposition. For moments like this when I truly feel alive.

The leather wrap had a gap, like a kilt does, through which I pulled out his cock. This was the first cock I'd seen since my arrival, at least the first erect one. I was really pleased to see that he was circumcised. It's an ancient practice, so I knew it was possible. "My Lord," I said-- I was mistakenly following the familiar grammatical form that the princess used when she addressed him, and which, I didn't realize it at the time, a slave should never, ever use-- "may I have the honor of making you the happiest man in the world?"

He made the slightest nod.

The first taste of his cock was so delicious. Salty but clean, with the smell of leather and oiled skin-- they liked to oil themselves back then. It was a very dry climate. I lost it a bit then, my first cock in way too long, and went out of character, just enjoyed eating some male flesh.

"Ah! Ah!" He had to push me off and collapsed back onto a divan. I'd almost made him come. His concubines also complained, the girls had told me, that he took too long, screwing them in different positions, trying to make them do obscene things for him, on and on, before he would let them make him come. Always in their precious, unskilled pussies.

"I'm so sorry, my Lord, so sorry!" I put my head down to the floor. "Forgive me, please! I just-- I just--" I was truly scared. The sword was lying nearby where he'd tossed it on the floor, and he could have just sliced my throat or cut my head off, no problem.

But nothing happened to my head. I lifted my eyes up and he was staring at me as he half-lounged on the pillows, where he'd half-fallen. His cock was still poking out of his skirt, straight up. "I don't know what came over me. Your--" I realized I'd never learned the ancient Akkadian word for 'cock'-- that word doesn't show up on government documents-- so I had to improvise. "Your handsome staff overcame my self-control." I crawled to him and slowly moved my head toward his cock, looking in his eyes to try to read him.

"You are the goddess, as they whisper, aren't you?"

I have to tell you about this moment. It was one of the most important moments of my life. Before this moment I was a historian-- I almost said just a historian, but I was considered one of the top experts in my field, my experience in archaeology and cultural anthropology was unexcelled, my knowledge was encyclopedic-- but Dagan's simple statement changed me. I don't mean to say that I believed I was a goddess. I was still very aware that I was mortal.

But as I just described, I felt so alive in that moment. I saw that I was more than a historian carrying out a mission. I could be anything or anyone I chose to be, including a goddess. I'd moved beyond personas or roles. Or names, as you have noticed.

I did not tell my prince any of this revelation; and I knew better than to tell the experts who debriefed me when I returned eventually to my time. You are the first to hear it. But Dagan had seen my true inner being before even I had. That over-familiar honorific I'd spoken earlier had not, for him, been a transgression. It had been a revelation.

"My Lord," I said again, and slowly put my open lips around his cockhead, barely not touching. He tensed. His head tilted back and he eyed me with an intense focus. I swear, he gave me the same fierce look as in one of those warrior statues you find in museums, but which I hadn't seen for real yet. I did my best to envelope and then suck him so slowly that he wouldn't know exactly when he'd crossed over from not being fellated to being fellated. As the touch of my lips sliding down his rod became apparent, I slowed from unhurried to a stop, and simply hugged his cockhead in my mouth. His eyes softened while his cock grew even harder.

"I'm only a slave girl, totally at your mercy," I said, lifting off him and glancing at the short sword that lay next to us. "I want nothing more than to please you, in every way that a slave girl can please a handsome and brave prince."

I returned my lips to his cock, not even pretending to ask permission, exercising my newly won right to fellate him. "But it is possible for the goddess," I continued after I'd given him a few deep sucks that got his lungs heaving again, grunts as if he were sparring, "to descend into any female, including a foreign outcast who is grateful simply to be the lowest slave in your great kingdom." I explored his little slit with the tip of my tongue. "So please allow the goddess, through this slave girl, to offer herself to you. A prince deserves a goddess."

He sat up and I had to pull away. He laughed and clapped his hands. "You are even more delightful than the rumors, which seemed unbelievable."

I knelt before him with my legs open. I knew he'd love my bald pussy as much as his sister did. "My Lord," I said, "Your words make me the happiest slave girl in the kingdom. Please, I beg you, enjoy me to the fullest."

"Eat," he said. He opened his skirt and undid his loincloth. Gesturing toward his erection, which was pointing somewhere above my head, he uttered an unfamiliar term. Thus I learned the word for cock in his language. I realized that I needed to enlarge my vocabulary. I didn't want to do the wrong thing when he gave me a command. This first time with him I could perhaps plead nervousness. But next time-- and I was already sure that this would prove to be the first of many sexual adventures with this man-- I would need to know my way around Assyrian dirty talk.

I crawled between his legs and gave him some gourmet fellatio. We were both ready. I could tell I was not the first person to perform oral sex on him. As soon as I began, he relaxed back on the divan to enjoy me. But I could also tell by the way he looked at me when I did certain things, taking him really deep, doing that thing I can do with my tongue that you love, that he was not that experienced. He'd probably only known his three former virgins and a slave or two. The way he resisted opening and lifting his legs for me, and his extraordinarily strong shudders when I did it, told me that my sweet mouth may have been the first one his testicles had ever been in.

But he was quite a man. Even as I was torturing his cock with little bites and licks, which produced endless muffled groans, he put his hands on my head and pulled me off him. He stood suddenly, forcing me to hop back, and walked about the room, gathering himself. This was going to be a long battle that he was determined to win.

And I was determined to lose, in a way that would make him feel like the ultimate sexual hero. I didn't bother with some obsequious plea that a real slave girl might try. His wagging erection was too inviting. Time to shift into full goddess mode. I crawled to an open spot and pointed my cute little ass at him. "I chose to give you this slave girl," I said as I looked back at him, in what I hoped sounded like an imperious tone in spite of my whorish position, "because I knew you would love her young pussy." My princess had taught me that term. I wished I'd known the term here for what you call doggy style, but my body language shouted my desire. He was soon behind me and entering me.

I love doggy anyway, and Dagan had an upcurving cock that was perfect for hitting my G-spot. It was instant heaven and nearly instant orgasm. I let myself go. "Oh, my prince, fuck me, fuck me!" That, it turned out, was two transgressions at once, either of which should have got me whipped. My appellation for him was too intimate, extracted by scholars from a love poem on a cuneiform tablet written centuries later; and no one except the king gave a prince commands, even trivial ones.

It was a lucky error, even serendipitous. "As Ishtar commands," the prince replied and only fucked me harder. I babbled something between gasps about how he was pleasing the goddess and she would shower him with endless gifts for his magnanimous granting of such ecstasy to a poor slave girl. Or something like that. The princess knew her way around a clit, and had a collection of obsidian and marble dildos that curators of any museum would kill for. But there's nothing like cock, real cock-- a whole different kind of orgasm and I'd really missed it. I especially love it when a man, like this one, doesn't stop at my first orgasm, doesn't lose control, and makes me come until I lose count. Like you.

He left me splatted on the wood floor, drooling from both ends with the scent of dust and cedar in my nose. I slowly recovered, playing up the wreckage he'd made of me. He stood there, observing like a conqueror, his cock even stiffer, if that was possible. I'd never been into military types, but I was into this soldier. I reverted back to full slave mode, which was a new and surprisingly natural state for me with this man. I scuttled to him and put my forehead to the floor at his feet. "Your majesty, I'm so sorry! I don't know what-- please-- I was, I was possessed, please," and on like that. He really had given me a great fuck, and I really was aware that he could punish me severely.

I looked up at his face, past a cock that could have been cast from bronze, it was so stiff and swollen and glistening. "If it pleases your majesty, this slave girl is ready to accept your--" damn, I didn't know the word for 'come', not a word you'll find on government edicts-- "your sweet ram-milk." That was the best synonym I could think of at the moment. I moved my head up to cock level.

"No, goddess, I am not worthy."

He saw through my slave persona. Fine. If slave girl mode was proving to be natural, goddess mode was becoming even more natural. "You are, my prince, you are so worthy." Ishtar was the goddess of war as well as sex, so technically she was his superior. And this wasn't some kind of pretend sex scene-- what do you call it here? Costume play? Homosexuality was not a problem in this era, just the opposite, but a good soldier did not come in his superior's mouth. I took his shaft in my hand and put my mouth to his tip. "The goddess accepts your offering."

With that I sucked off my first prince.

I was very pleased, both with my new lover and with myself. They really did believe in gods back then, a charming innocence in a people who could be shockingly violent and brutal at times, a violence my prince once displayed in front of me-- I'll get to that part eventually. But now he was a lamb. Our eyes were locked, mine filled with the erotic power fellatio gives a woman, his filled with what could only be a contest between his desire to worship me and his desire to come in me. Two desires I intended to help him fulfill simultaneously.

I held his balls in my hands as if they were the crown jewels, which in some ways they were, and worked him slowly up and up with my very talented mouth, gauging with each stroke exactly how much he could take and giving him a tiny bit more. His hands moved to my head but backed off. He struggled to maintain his balance. His discipline was winning but not for long. I moved my hands from his balls to his thighs and grabbed them, using my strength to help him stay upright-- I'm way stronger than I look, as you've found out-- while I sucked his cock hard, maybe harder than he'd ever had his cock sucked, if the sharp cries he made with each suck were any indication.

Dagan came as hard in my mouth as any man has ever come anywhere in my body, as if he were firing liquid arrows out of his cock. My tongue was the bull's eye for every spurt, of course, and then, as he limply receded from my lips and regained his balance, I let him watch with wide eyes as his white fluid leaked down my chin and onto my small breasts. With his jaw gaping, he watched me collect it back up with my fingers and lick it off. And then lap the last dregs from his slit. Even if he'd ever been able to convince, or force, one of his women to take his ejaculation in her mouth, I couldn't imagine that they would ever do such slutty come-play for him. He was mine.

He staggered back a few steps and put a hand on a pillar, but recovered in a minute, faster than many men after lesser orgasms. He put his hands on his hips. I bowed as I knelt, then prostrated myself before him. "Your majesty, I hope the princess's meager gift has amused you for at least a tiny bit of your precious time."

He laughed again and knelt. "Rise, please, my goddess." It now seemed that the more obsequious and groveling I acted, the more he was sure I was a goddess. He held out a hand and we rose together. When I got to my feet he pointed at the robe I'd worn when I arrived. I was about to first put on the belly dancer outfit, but he shook his head. After I'd covered myself he clapped his hands loudly. A man appeared and bowed.

"Food," Dagan said, "in my private rooms. Wine. And take care of this." He waved a hand. We'd made a bit of a mess, wet spots and pillows and clothes strewn all over.

The servant gave the tiniest glance at me as he bowed again. "Yes, Your Majesty. At once."

# # #

Dagan led me to a big bedroom and pointed me to his toilet, where I found basins of fresh water to clean myself with. By the way, the poor people pooped outside, but the rich had indoor bathrooms. No plumbing, but plenty of servants to keep it all clean and well-supplied. A lot of technological progress, I've found, comes not from some breakthrough unprecedented in history, but from the spread of innovations from the very few privileged to the many. For example, they also had refrigeration back then, at least the very highest classes did. Teams would head up to the highest mountains in the winter with scores of donkeys to collect blocks of ice. The rich nobles kept the blocks, well-insulated, in their palaces. Scented or spiced water cooled on the ice is quite refreshing on a hot summer day. Princess Sherua enjoyed that often.

When I came out, food had been laid out on a low table: lamb, fruit, barley dishes, much the same as the princess ate, though usually we servants only got her leftovers. Their food, by the way, when it was available, was always fresh. No refrigeration, but no need to transport prematurely harvested produce thousands of kilometers. Modern Age food is maybe the worst in the whole timeline.

I tried to genuflect and play the slave, but he would have none of that. He sat me at a low table with him. I did remove the robe I'd worn out of the toilet because I'd expected to find servants. I like being naked. I appreciated the freedom that being alone with this man gave me. He definitely appreciated the view. Women in this culture had to dress very modestly, covering almost everything, even in the heat of summer, and married women also had to wear veils.

He let me feed him bits of fruit and meat; I let him explore my body. It was a very nice meal. I filled cups with wine and encouraged him to drink. Their wine is not the sophisticated beverage of your era. You would find it quite raw and young, maybe undrinkable. They dilute it with honey water and flavor it with resin. Imagine mead mixed with retsina. But it gets a person drunk just the same.

"And so where is this slave girl from?" he asked.

I gave him the personal history we'd worked out at the Org before I'd superpositioned. He didn't believe a word. He knew who I really was. I'd just demonstrated to him in the most intimate ways that I was not an ordinary woman, had not originated anywhere close to this land, and was definitely not a slave. He knew I was literate. I'd mysteriously cured his nanny of a deadly disease. I'd seduced his sister. There were many crazy rumors about me floating around, not all of them fabrications. From his perspective he was entirely correct. How did I differ from a goddess? What could a goddess do that I couldn't?

There was a difference. I was mortal. But I thought I could manage that vulnerability. "My Prince," I said as I stroked his chest, still bare, "Let me give you a massage." I stroked his chest but then stood. I'd noticed that there were torches placed around the room. The day's light was fading, so I lit a candle-- this was a task I'd performed in the princess's household-- and went around the prince's bedroom lighting them. His eyes followed me. I made sure that the warm, flickering light from each torch bathed my naked form as I lit it. I really was a goddess for him.

I give a surprisingly strong massage, don't I? Naked on his bed, he allowed me all over his body. I made him groan, this time from pain as I worked the kinks out of stiff muscles-- he trained with his troops. When he was on his back and I'd gone over him on that side, I gently massaged his genitals. I wasn't being especially sexual in my attention, but he got hard.

"Your majesty, one moment." I got off the bed and went to the short sword, which a servant had propped against a pillar, sheathed. Back on the bed I pulled it out of its scabbard and inspected the bronze blade. It was simple but well made, meant to be used rather than ceremonially worn. Nonetheless, in any museum in your time or mine it would be considered priceless and be prominently displayed. "Beautiful weapon," I announced, playing up my Ishtar aspect.

He waved the compliment away. He had an armory full of such items.

Faster than he could react I put the sword to his neck. The point, honed to razor sharpness, pushed into the soft, hirsute flesh under his chin. I rose up and looked down into his horrified eyes. I'd caught him off guard, got easily under his defenses. He was at my mercy.

"My Prince," I said softly but firmly, in full goddess mode, "do not try to cry out. Your sword will be in your throat before the sound leaves your lips. I could kill you in a second." I waited a beat for that to sink in. "But have no worry." I put my free hand between his legs and felt his balls, then his cock, shrunken in fear. I stroked it lightly and he struggled, his hips trying to rise up for more in spite of his neck's vulnerable situation. Still with the sword poking into his jaw and my eyes on his, I bent down and kissed his cock. "I would much rather have your sword in me."

With that I dropped the sword onto the mattress and gave him the most intense cocksucking I could, doing my best to get him as hard as possible as fast as possible.

He responded. Soon he was as hard as ever in my mouth. The shock of facing death and relief of regaining his life acted like an aphrodisiac. I wasn't done sucking-- his cock tasted especially delicious after my little scene and the aftertaste of the wine-- when he pulled me off, pushed my shoulders back on the mattress and his body between my legs and shoved himself inside me.

It was glorious. He fucked me so furiously, thrusting as if we were in combat and his cock really was a sword that he plunged over and over into my body. I let him lift my spread legs and double me over and pin my arms back. "My Prince," I tried, "my Prince," but he wasn't listening. He pounded and pounded me.

But then he stopped. He reached for the sword and put it to my throat. "Now whoever you are, Tahsin the slave girl, I could slice your head off as I fuck you."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I answered, more calmly than I felt, "and if that is the pleasure you wish, then please enjoy me." I tilted my head back a little to expose my neck as an easier target. "But then your delicious ram-milk will no longer flow down your devoted slave girl's throat."

He laughed heartily at that and threw the sword away. It clanked against a wall and clattered on the floor. He resumed his fucking, as hard as before but steadier. I knew what he was doing and what he wanted. I pumped my hips in rhythm with his thrusts and said, "Yes, Your Majesty, honor your worthless slave girl with your seed." And then, softly as he bent toward me, his ear close to my mouth and his cock close to exploding, "My Prince, give your goddess your most precious offering."

That did it. Dagan pumped and pumped his semen into my sex, forcing every drop in his body into me. He collapsed, exhausted and used up, on me, letting his full, considerable weight press me into the bed.

It was perhaps the most satisfying orgasm I'd ever experienced up to that point in my life, satisfying on every level, even though I didn't come myself. As a woman, nothing is as satisfying as to have a man, a strong, virile, successful, beautiful man, empty himself completely into my body. As a goddess I'd cemented a powerful prince's worshipful devotion to me. As a slave girl I'd satisfied my master in a profound way he would never forget. As a lesbian lover I'd ensured the safety of my princess. And as a historian I'd made a breakthrough in the historiography of Bronze Age sexuality that would, when I reported back to the Org, establish my reputation for generations.

When he finally rolled off me I cuddled up to him. "My Prince," I whispered, as his breathing settled and his body calmed, "it was important to show that you can trust me. I am not a fickle goddess. I have chosen you. You are always safe when I am by your side. Sleep, my Prince. I will protect you."

# # #

The next few months were some of the most wonderful I'd ever enjoyed, in any age, including my own. Professionally, I was learning a vast amount about how the royalty lived and made decisions, and how the common people lived, and tried to make their own life choices. Personally, it was a whole new culture to explore, totally different from mine. And sexually, what could be better than having both a prince and a princess for lovers?

Princess Sherua used every opportunity to take me with her on trips, to the farms, to certain temples where it was her duty to make a sacrifice, to visit trading partners. I was useful and I was learning a lot; but at least as much, she wanted a reason to have me all to herself. Once, at my urging, she let me eat her in a small outdoor shrine, but she never had the temerity to eat me in a place of worship. That would just be too perverted.

It was clear that she had informants in her brother's household who told her at least some of what happened between the prince and me. Okay, I told her a few things myself. I whispered in her ear about how I taught him the pleasures of cowgirl, considered a very mild transgression because the woman could be seen a dominant. That was just to amuse her. What really got her attention-- I knew it would-- was my story about convincing him to go down on me. Not only did that neutralize the blackmail he held over her for her own perversion, but it also made her laugh out loud in our bed when I described, so only she could hear, his inept attempts to make me come.

And my stories also earned me some really great royal pussy licking in return. I was the benefactor of some sibling rivalry. I couldn't hide my excitement when Dagan called for me. She could see the effort I put into preparing myself for him. I learned, with her girls' help, how to do makeup. I persuaded her to have her seamstresses sew new costumes for me to wear for him.

Of course, I never said a word about what Dagan had put in the delightful pussy she loved to eat, nor the many positions in which he thrust it deep into me, some of which I introduced him to; and I never mentioned the titanic, multiple orgasms he was able to force my body to endure, or the bolus of semen he sometimes enjoyed leaving in my vagina. I always made sure to have a thoroughly clean and fresh little treat for her pleasure when I returned from servicing him.

I did tell her, after some hesitation, about how much he loved my blow jobs. She took that news well-- you can never be sure with royalty, they can be surprisingly fickle-- and I helped by describing the parallels of pleasing her and her brother orally as I serviced her orally. Sometimes I would call her clit her "little cock" when I licked her. She liked that.

But then one night after she'd made me come particularly hard, several times, and I lay on her bed with my clit and my whole body trembling, she whispered, "Is it true about the Nubian?"

I tried to hide my shock with a post-orgasm shudder, but my princess was neither imperceptive nor stupid. She had in fact set me up. I could only nod.

# # #

I'd noticed the Nubian, as she called him, right away, at the initial meeting where Prince Dagan had come to deliver his concubine and collect me. He stood out, a big, handsome, very dark soldier among the prince's guards. But I didn't actually meet him until nearly two months later.

Dagan and I were lounging in his rooms after a session when a servant discreetly announced from behind a partition, "Commander Sobek is here, your Majesty, as you ordered."

"Sobek!" Dagan called out, and in walked the Nubian. I was immediately enthralled. That first time I'd seen him I'd only had a moment to glance at him before I bowed and knelt at Dagan's feet, and then, per instructions, kept my head down all the way to the prince's private apartments. Now, when he walked through the doorway it was as if a panther had been somehow transformed into human form.

I was also aroused. I'd just in the past hour been very well fucked, was still a bit sweaty, not yet having cleaned up, and my cunt was full of my prince's semen. I was still naked, except for my bracelet and a couple of gold necklaces Dagan had recently given me and that I only wore in his rooms and in his presence. And I'd been petting my prince in preparation for our next intimacy, in which I intended to show him how delicious he was. Being well-fucked always makes me very oral, as you have discovered to your immense benefit.

Sobek noticed me, of course. He began to kneel before his prince, but Dagan was already up and took him in his arms with a generous and affectionate hug. "Sobek and I," Dagan said to me, "are brothers. He has saved my life many times." He kissed Sobek's cheek.

"No, my Lord, it is you that have saved my life." He had a rich voice, not as deep as I might have expected from a man who stood half a head taller than my prince, but with a complex timbre that made my little twat vibrate.

They laughed together at what had to be an old joke between them. "Sobek, my brother, I want you to meet Ishtar."

That last word told me everything. I knew why Dagan had allowed me to be seen naked by this big, dark soldier, what my relationship would be to him, and most important what was going to happen to me in my immediate future. With a nervousness I couldn't and didn't want to hide I got up and approached my prince's "brother"-- brother-in-arms was a bond often stronger than biological brothers-- and knelt before him.

"I am your slave and servant," I announced. "Please use me as you wish."

"No, no," Sobek replied, "I am only my master's slave."

He reached out to lift me up but instead I took his hand and put it to my cheek. "I am the servant of all warriors," I replied.

Dagan was still naked and his cock was very close. I wanted nothing more than to eat both of these men right then. Dagan put his hand to my other cheek. Together they caressed my head, which was heavenly. I put my hand on Dagan's thigh, then carefully, watching for an objection, put my other hand on Sobek's thigh below his leather skirt. I thrilled when Dagan put a finger between my lips and let me suck it while the big black man watched. I could feel his dark thigh tremble. I wondered if I should reach up further. I wanted to.

"Isn't she magnificent?" Dagan said.

"This is the slave you told me about?"

"She's not a slave. She is... but come, my brother, sit with us and have some wine. Tahsin, serve my brother."

They moved to the divan where Dagan and I had been lounging. I poured some wine and, after waiting for him to remove his sword-- Sobek was allowed to wear his sword in the Prince's presence, a rare honor and expression of trust-- handed the cup to Sobek, taking the opportunity to sit next to him and prop up pillows for his comfort. I kept my naked and gold-laden body against him. I stroked his thigh and ran my fingers over his hair, his ear, his cheekbone. He was fascinating. You can't imagine all the wonderful pleasures I wanted to share with this beautiful male. Okay, laugh at me. Maybe you can.

I fed Sobek fruit, meat, and delicacies the way I'd been feeding Dagan. He was reluctant at first, especially with the dates, which were expensive luxuries, but I can be persuasive. As my prince looked on, amused, I climbed on and straddled Sobek's thigh as if I were riding a tree trunk. Grapes and dates went between his lips, and copious amounts of wine, while I rubbed my wet pussy on him.

He was still wearing a leather cuirass, had probably just come from the practice field. "May I, my Lord?" I asked him and unbuckled it. It was not lost on either of them that I'd promoted Sobek from slave to nobility with my honorific. That's how I felt right then: if I could assume the identity of Ishtar then I could do whatever I wanted. Which was to service this warrior.

He was bare-chested underneath, almost hairless, smooth skin like soft coal. Beardless, which I liked-- I've never been fond of beards. I bit on his nipples. "Your-- your--" he tried to say, and to push me off. I think he was afraid that somehow he might be offending Dagan. After all, that's who I belonged to.

Dagan saved me. "Enkidu," he said, putting a hand on the man's black shoulder, "I order you to let Ishtar do whatever she wishes with you. That is my command as your prince."

I didn't know what Dagan had called Sobek, and he was still nervous as ever, but he relented and gave me access to his body. I got off his thigh, revealing a puddle of my juice and Dagan's come. Sobek didn't seem shocked to have another man's come, his prince's, on him, which gave me a strong clue about the two men's relationship. Another clue was that Dagan's cock was fully erect without anyone touching it.

"I'm so very sorry, my lord," I said with exaggerated slavishness, "please allow me to clean you." I bent down and licked the mixture off his thigh. Dagan was smiling broadly. I let them both watch me swirl my tongue around my lips with exaggerated sluttiness. Then I crawled across Sobek, making sure to slide my hip against him and raising my bare ass as close to his face as possible, and slid my juicy lips onto my prince's very stiff cock, letting him feel how lubricious our fluids had made them while Sobek's hand caressed my ass. The two men groaned in unison, a small but heavenly duet choir.

At the same time I was fellating his master, I was also reaching under the black man's leather to find his cock, not difficult at all. He went commando, to use your term. I released my prince's cock, slid down to kneel between Sobek's legs, opened his skirt, and took his cock in my hands.

He really did have a gorgeous cock, maybe the most handsome one I'd ever held. Or even seen. It was like a piece of obsidian, the veins standing proud and sharp as if carved by a master sculptor. He was clearly extremely horny. This was a special moment, and though I wanted nothing more than to take this splendid piece of male flesh into my mouth, I had to mark the moment. "My prince," I said in a formal voice I thought Ishtar might use, "I accept the precious gift of your brother." With that I opened my mouth and went down on Sobek's black rod.

Sobek hissed and writhed as I fellated him. His legs alternately squeezed my shoulders and spread wide apart. "You see, Enkidu," Dagan said to him as he stroked Sobek's thigh, "She is real. She is here with us." Dagan worked his fingers into my hair and guided my head as I sucked Sobek in and out. I let him use me that way. It was such a total turn-on. What could be more slavish than to be used by my owner-- really, by a man my owner had lent me to-- to masturbate another man with my mouth?

I was tempted to let Dagan continue until the big Nubian emptied himself down my throat-- I definitely wanted that as much as they did-- but beyond being Tahsin, the most slavish of slaves, I was also Ishtar and I was not done with my new warrior, not even close.

I gently pulled back and released my new cock. I stood and climbed onto Sobek and sat down on it. He trembled and groaned as if I were digging an arrow out of him and he was trying not to show pain. My well-reamed pussy was still tight, but his master's semen had turned my insides into a paradise of slickness. I had to smile. It's really so satisfying for a woman to take a man inside her, in any orifice, and know he's yours. And I knew instantly that I had my very own giant Nubian warrior. Let's hear it for time travel.

But my Nubian warrior also had his very own goddess. He quickly recovered from the initial shock of having me sit down on his cock and began pumping his hips in syncopation with mine. That black cock was even more wonderful inside than it looked from the outside. I confess I began to lose control. I looked in those big brown eyes and was ready to beg him-- I wasn't sure what for, for him to make me come, or him to come inside me, or just fuck me without end, I just wanted him and my prince to hear me beg-- when he stood up.

He didn't put me down, he just stood with my pussy still enveloping his erection, holding me up with arms nearly as big around as my thighs. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and just held on, still being fucked because he bounced me up and down, first just hefting me, then walking us over to the bed.

He dumped me on my back on the bed and followed me down and I found myself with my legs straight up and my small pussy being pounded by a big, muscular man as black as ebony, who had to weigh at least twice what I did.

It was a spectacular fuck. I just gave up. I opened my legs as wide as possible, spread my arms out across the mattress, and yelled with each thrust, over and over, and came faster than I thought possible, especially given that Dagan had just spent a long time thoroughly fucking me in multiple positions and I had already come as much as I thought I could.

Maybe it was the extra lubriciousness from the semen that Dagan had left in me. Maybe it was just the thought that my second man of the hour was going to fill me up with his own seed. I had to have him come inside me. I had to beg him to come inside me. I didn't care if I was supposed to be Ishtar the goddess or Tahsin the slave or a future woman from beyond their imagination in superposition. "Come in me, come in me," I begged. I'd had a chat with the nanny and she'd explained some useful new vocabulary to me. "Your milk! Give me your milk!" My ram-milk neologism had been close.

He kept pounding my twat, pounding my whole body into the mattress. I may have come again, I couldn't tell anymore, we were both heaving and yelling and sweating so much. "In your prince's seed," I said in his ear.

That did it. A long, drawn out sound, half groan, half scream, emerged from deep inside his lungs. I could feel the vibration in my own chest. His hips pushed his cock into me as far as I could take it and then my butt halfway to the floor. My overworked cunt gave up and spasmed and leaked a mess onto the linen while I gave up and tried to breathe until the giant on top of me had finally finished the fucking he kept doing in small thrusts.

"Enkidu," I heard, and Sobek moved off me to the middle of the bed, where Dagan had placed himself to watch. I had a moment to do some recall. That name the prince kept calling the Nubian, Enkidu. Their pronunciation was a bit different from what archaeologists had deduced from written records; that had confused me at first. Now I understood: the name was from the Epic of Gilgamesh, which I'd skimmed long ago in the distant future. Many scholars considered it the first great literature, the first hero epic. Gilgamesh was the hero and Enkidu his loyal companion. Many ages, including yours, call them brothers, even twins, ignoring the facts: the first great saga in literature is a gay male love story.

I rolled over and crawled to them, lying together. Now Sobek was soft and Dagan was hard. A woman's work is never done. I took the Nubian's soft but still mostly swollen cock, glistening with our juices, and licked him clean, a thank-you for a superb performance and a tease to help him think about what I planned for him next. Then I slid between Dagan's legs and began to give him a very well-deserved blow job, my mouth lubricated with his brother-in-arm's and my fluids. He let me service him for a while, but then drew me off his cock and up to his shoulder. "I have to visit Fatim tonight."

I understood. She was his oldest concubine. So old that even in your age she would be a legal adult. I also understood that she and the others had to be jealous of me, not only for taking up too much of Dagan's time, but also his royal seed. "You are a prince," I stated. "You have a prince's duties." A king's most important duty to his kingdom is to produce an heir, thus providing continuity of his kingdom; a prince's most important duty, especially the crown prince's, is to get ahead of the curve and have heirs ready for when he inherits the throne.

I assumed a kneeling position between the two men and put my head down to the mattress. "Your majesty, may I continue to prepare you for your woman?"

"She's amazing, isn't she?" Dagan said to Sobek.

"You don't deserve her, my Lord. If I may be so bold."

"No man deserves a woman of this quality, my brother. She is beyond any man's, even a prince's, just deserts. Ishtar," he continued to me, "I give you Enkidu while I am away. Use him as you wish."

He began to get out of bed. I stopped him. "Perhaps, your majesty, after you return from performing your duties, your slave girl Tahsin could be ready to thank you on behalf of your people for performing your service to your kingdom." I pulled him to standing and, on my knees, did some of his favorite things. He was soon as stiff as could be. He'd complained that his concubines didn't know how to turn him on.

"Is there any other service this slave girl can perform for your Majesty?" I wiggled my butt.

They both laughed. "Just make my brother happy."

"That is what Ishtar has also commanded," I answered.

I fed Sobek in bed, and made him drink more wine. I wasn't sure it had any effect on him. I did get him to let me massage him, as I'd done for Dagan. His body carried multiple scars and some areas of muscle stiffness which I worked on. He fell asleep. I used the opportunity to clean up, and also to apply my monitor, which I'd brought along in a pouch of some makeup the girls had lent me, to record the DNA I'd been given. I had to spend some extra time in the bathroom reconfiguring the monitor's processes-- it could handle vaginal fluids during its sequencing, but the geneticists hadn't foreseen having two different genomes to sort out. But the monitor was a field tool, so flexibility was designed in. And it was well worth the trouble. This was going to cause a minor revolution in the Org: germline DNA from ancient Nubia!

Egypt, with its annual inundation by the Nile and the vast tonnage of alluvial soil it deposited, was a moving target and had proved impossible so far to locate precisely enough for Org technology. Sobek's genome was a breakthrough, or would be in 4500 years when they found the writable fiducial I was going to plant. It would seal my professional reputation and ensure my access to more superpositions. And to extraordinary primitive men such as you.

I lay with him while he slept, stroking his side. I couldn't keep my hands off him. When he woke I got a brief history: he'd grown up in Egypt in a small village on the upper Nile, was noticed at a young age for his size and agility, joined the army, got sent on a mission to the edge of Assyrian territory, got captured, got sold-- that's what they did back then-- got found by Dagan, and was now in the prince's personal guard. That left out a lot but I didn't press. My stroking had relocated to his testicles.

"And where is Ishtar from?" he asked me in turn.

"Ishtar is here, always," I replied, and bent down between his legs to massage his balls with my lips. Of course I knew what he really meant. I rose up after enjoying his salty black eggs. "She has honored this poor slave Tahsin by inhabiting her body."

"And where is Tahsin from?" It turned me on that he let me do intimate things to him, not resisting, but also did not allow himself a strong reaction the way Dagan, and even the princess, did when I serviced them.

I knew better than to try the standard backstory on him. He deserved the truth, at least whatever I could convey in the local dialect and state of civilization. "I am from a land so far away it is not possible for me to explain how I traveled here." I fellated his long but still soft penis. It was just a penis now, but still handsome and still a pleasure in my mouth.

My service began to stiffen him, but also seemed to relax him. He stretched out. "Tell me how Tahsin became a slave, and how she came to be here in my prince's bedroom."

Ah. Of course.

One of my most valued pleasures is to have a deep, sincere conversation with a man. The right man. Your minds are so different from a woman's. I feel transported, like superposition, to a distant land, one of spirit and thought rather than time and location, when I can see the world from a male perspective. And I've found-- as you have found-- that sex is a wonderful means for moving beyond the barrier between the sexes. We become just a woman and a man. Pretenses, cultural inhibitions, and egos fall away, so we can truthfully communicate. At least for me. I understand that some women refuse to suck cock, and even to fuck. I feel sorry for them.

My tongue caressing his erection, I could also sense his continued loyalty and love for his prince, and his sense of duty to protect him. There was no way I would allow that same tongue to voice a fake story. This experienced and wise man deserved better. I tried my best to find a way to explain truthfully why I was here.

"I appeared magically in the main courtyard," I said.

"That's what they say."

"I have been sent here to learn about your great empire, and to tell my people all about the wonders I witness."

"Not my empire."

Of course. My mistake. He was not Assyrian and Ishtar was not his goddess. He was almost fully stiff now. I applied my skills to take him the last bit, and in a minute, with his obsidian rod in my hand, I mounted him. I didn't need an orgasm. The afternoon had been a series of them. I needed to have this man inside me.

Sobek did not protest at all at being under me. I looked down at him and dredged up the little bit of ancient Egyptian I knew from my various studies and spoke a sentence to him in praise of his native country.

He laughed. "You sound like a government official."

Oops. I only knew what we'd learned from inscriptions. He would speak hieratic, the people's language, which I hadn't studied. "Teach me."

We began with simple vocabulary, words for face, mouth, nose, ear, as I touched each part of him. Chest, arm, stomach. I moved up and down on him and learned my first new ancient Egyptian verb, 'fuck', and another noun, 'cock'. I'm a quick study and have a good ear. Soon we were enjoying verbal as well as sexual intercourse together.

"Your cock is beautiful," I said to him in his language as I rode him. Or maybe I said it was magnificent, or pretty, or delicious. Definitely something good.

"You are Isis!" he said, amazed. I got that sentence clearly. We fucked and talked for a long time. I didn't need to come and he seemed to get as much pleasure from speaking and hearing his native language as he did from having my talented pussy slide up and down on him, one of the great pleasures of being a man that I don't in any way mean to belittle. Maybe sometime in the distant future I'll change my sex. Yes, we can have that done in my time. Some people do that, live one century as one sex, the next as another. Don't worry. I love being a woman and won't consider it for a long, long time.

Dagan returned from his "duty" while we were still fucking. I invited him on the bed but first he spent some time in the toilet. "With your help," he told us when he returned, "I was able to perform for her."

He was grateful. I got him to remove his clothing and join us. Still fucking Sobek, I persuaded him to kneel on the bed next to us and I began sucking him affectionately. He made appreciative noises.

This was my first time with two men. I mean exclusively, not those teenage orgies I mentioned. I know you see me as a total slut, and I am one, I won't argue, but my sluttiness has developed gradually and this was a milestone. And what better first time for it than with these two exemplary male specimens?

"She is Isis as well as Ishtar," Sobek said. "She spoke to me in my own language! She spoke to me in Egyptian." I think Sobek would have kissed me if my mouth hadn't been preoccupied.

"What? I can't believe it, even from her."

"She did." And to me in Egyptian he said, "Isis, goddess, speak to me."

"You are my pharaoh," I replied in his language and stroking his muscular thigh, "my god-king."

"See! See my Lord!"

Dagan took his time getting hard again, which I totally understood, but after some leisurely sucking I thought his kneeling position might be interfering with his concentration on what I was doing to him, so I rearranged my men, as I thought of them. I got off Sobek, nudged them together so that their waists and shoulders touched, straddled their joined thighs, and then began the most wonderful fellatio I'd ever experienced, at least until I met you. I enjoyed both cocks, one after the other. I was in cocksucker's paradise. I could suck both men as passionately as I desired, which was the purest fellatrix joy. It was more than either could take, but by alternating between them I could extend my stay in paradise indefinitely.

Dagan rolled onto his side, which brought his cock closer to his brother's, very convenient for me, and also let him embrace the man. I watched them kiss while I put their cockheads together, touching, and licked both at once. They seemed to like that, and what a treat for me!

Dagan was hard, but I could tell he was still far from a third orgasm today. "You really do love your Enkidu, don't you, my prince?"

"I do, yes, Ishtar."

I brushed my lips over Sobek's tip, looking in Dagan's eyes. He got the message. He sat up and as I lifted my mouth off Sobek's cock he put his own mouth down on it.

It was my first in-person experience of man-on-man sex. My heart overfilled to see how these two men truly loved each other. It was exhilarating. And an irresistible turn-on. I watched for a while. Both men had their eyes closed, both concentrating on their bodies. This was clearly not the first time the prince had had this man's organ in his mouth. Still holding Sobek's cock, I could sense what the prince was doing. I bent down and took Dagan's very stiff cock into my mouth, joining them in this mutual ecstasy.

I would have been happy to drink my prince's come right then. He felt and tasted ready. But he seemed stuck on the edge. He sat up again at the same time I released him. I also sat up. "My prince," I said calmly, letting the Ishtar persona show in full radiance, "I am going to grant you a special love gift." To Sobek I said in hieratic Egyptian, "I am going to use you for your man's pleasure." I didn't know the right honorific for 'prince' in Egyptian, certainly not pharaoh, and 'man' had an earthy ring to it.

While they watched I began to suck on Sobek. He was ready, after having both Isis and his prince doing him, and I showed them through my actions that I was not going to let up until I had a mouthful of Nubian come. It's what I'd wanted for myself anyway from the first moment I'd seen him. I drew it out a bit, but not too long. This was only the initial phase, the appetizer, the first movement. Dagan's stare pierced me, as if he could see into me and experience with me the moment we both longed for, a moment he'd surely experienced himself in my place.

With a quiet "ahh", Sobek released his come into my mouth. Quiet, yes, but forceful, his hips pushing his cock through my lips and over my tongue, his body trying to find exactly the perfect contact to trigger more ejaculations. My body responded and soon he emptied himself and sagged back.

I sat up and looked in my prince's eyes, letting him see my mouth full of his lover's come. I still had his cock in my hands, stiffer than ever. I bent down on it and slid my slick lips on him. He tensed instantly, as if a god-- or goddess-- had struck him with lightning. But he didn't come instantly. I was able to slowly sink myself down on his length, doing my best to coat his flesh with the black man's fluid, as deep as I could, and as slowly sucked back up and let his cockhead bathe in his slave/brother/warrior's come.

To his credit he lasted a few more strokes, but then with a sharp spasm he shot his own come into me, warmer, less viscous, saltier. I sucked hard then, without mercy, and made him jerk again and again, long after there was nothing left for him to give me.

He trembled in Sobek's embrace. I caught their amazed stares and let them watch me swallow their combined miscible ejaculate. "You are both great warriors," I said, "and deserve the greatest gifts that goddesses can grant you."

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My thanks to my beta readers, @AlexFourways, @MormonJack, and @shelleycat1.