Nefer, the high priest of the temple of the vulture goddess Ama, showed no surprise as the guards of King Menes of the upper river Kingdom of Anama filed into and along the walls of the temple throne room, a chamber that could be violated by none but the temple’s priests of the year during times of ritual, all of whom were virginal royal males in their fourteenth year. Nefer had already become aware that there would be a ritual in which the high priest would participate in sexual rites that fell short of losing his virginity to win aid from the goddess in the coming battle to save the kingdom. He had been elaborately prepared for the ceremony earlier in the day. As soon as he had seen the approach of the king and his retinue, Nefer summoned the priest of the spear and the priest of the seed, also comely virginial boys of fourteen, to his side from the stone balcony off the ceremonial throne room that overlooked the city.

Out beyond the approaching soldiers and king of Anama, beyond the walls of the city of Anamaian, out on the dusty plain beyond the narrow strip of fertile fields between the mighty river and the desert, Nefer could see the legions of the Assyrian army under the feared monster general, Achillas. And he could hear the beating of their drums as well. The drums had beaten through the night—the death knell of the Kingdom of Anama as it once had been. Nefer was a realist. He knew that bestowing of the victory blessing would have little meaning against the legions of the Assyrian monster general, Achillas.

Nefer also knew that King Menes no longer could avoid battle; indeed, he should have engaged the enemy long before they arrived on the plain outside the city’s gates. King Menes’s decision to engage in battle meant that he would have to come here for the victory blessing.

It also meant Nefer would engage in sexual rites during the ceremony, although he would continue to be high priest until the end of his fourteenth year. If the Assyrians won, of course, it was doubtful he would live to see his fifteenth year.

The two priests, the one of the spear and the one of the seed, came to his side as Nefer stood at the top of the steps to the vulture throne—a magnificent structure in marble, with its series of foot and hand holds rising up on the wings at each side of the high priest’s throne. Nefer held his arms straight out from his body, spread his legs, and planted his bare feet in the foot indentations in front of the throne wings that pointed outward, toward the secular world. His body was perfectly formed, as was required to become high priests. The two priests untied the vermillion sash from the waist of the gleaming white robe and pulled it off the magnificent, bronzed, and youthful, pampered, soft-skinned body of the young high priest.

Nefer’s body was one of perfection, muscled but not overly muscular—lithe and willowy. It was a body of a developing man who yet has the innocence and beauty of a boy. The hair of his head was black and curly, reaching down to his shoulders. He otherwise, however, was hairless, except for a close-cropped, curly V below his belly pointing down to a thickish, but not overlong, shaft and two pert balls. His robe now stripped, he was clothed only in gold jewelry—a thick yoke of gold on his shoulders; gold bands snaking up his upper arms; gold wristbands, with narrow golden roping down to twist around his middle fingers; and gold bands snaking around his calves, with golden roping down to twist around his middle toes. A ring of gold also surrounded his head, sitting low on his forehead. The root of his cock was set in a gold ring from which gold netting descended to encase his balls.

He was clothed for the ceremony of the victory blessing, having realized in the early morning light, at the sound of distant drums, that the dreaded Assyrian general, Achillas, and his army had arrived outside the gates of the city. The ritual of cleansing, massaging, and oiling his lithe body had lasted into the afternoon.

The king’s guard entered the chamber on the half run and poured around the sides of the room. The men were naked except for their gold breastplates, sandals laced up to their knees, gold bicep bands, and helmets with gold flaps descending to protect the bridges of their noses. Each carried a lance, pointed at the ceiling of the chamber. All were magnificently built, as required to be in the king’s guard. All also were magnificently equipped in the shafts and balls of men. The two captains of the guard were more magnificently endowed than the others. Most were at least half hard in anticipation of the ritual to come.

Striding into the temple hall in their wake was a tall, muscular man, who was an older, coarser, hairier version of Nefer himself. Adorned—clothed or dressed would not be an accurate description—much like the soldiers of his personal guard—King Menes directly approached the throne, mounting the steps and standing, feet in the foot indentions directly in front of and facing the throne—toward the sacred aspect of the kingdom. As King Menes presented himself, almost pressing into his high priest, Nefer stepped back, seated himself in the throne, and raised and spread his legs, placing his feet in the foot indentions at the edge of the wings on either side of the throne. King Menes leaned over him and took the hand holds in the marble beside and above the high priest’s head.

Both symbolically and physically, the sacred aspect of the kingdom, in the form of the high priest, was open, legs raised and spread, pelvis raised, to the mastering of the secular aspect of the kingdom in this time of the need for physical force.

“We must do battle. I have come for the victory blessing,” was all the towering, muscular man said, looking down into Nefer’s eyes.

“I know,” Nefer said. “Begin,” he then said, turning, first, to the priest of the spear on his right and then to the priest of the seed on his left. He raised his arms behind his head and grasped the hand holds in the marble there above and closer to his head than the holds King Menes was grasping. The marble seat of the throne was in a curve and raised and rolled his pelvis up toward the front of the throne. The leaning angle King Menes was naturally placed to thrust his pelvis down to the lap of the high priest, so that the cocks of the two lay on top of each other.

At the “Begin” signal Nefer had given, the two priests at the side reached a hand each over between the high priest and the king, grasped their cocks together and frotted them, stroking them together, causing them both to harden.

All along the side walls, the soldier guards were taking their own cocks in their hands and stroking them to erections. The guards and the two side priests were chanting. The high priest and the king were panting hard.

“Now,” the high priest commanded, looking at the priest of the spear, who produced an enamel-covered box from which he extracted a thin gold rod the length on a man’s index finger. The priest of the seed held the now-erect cock of King Menes cupped in his hand while the priest of the spear slowly inserted one end of the gold rod into the king’s urethra canal, burying half the length of the rod in the king’s cock. The priest of the seed then brought the high priest’s cock bulb in place and slowly, as Nefer moaned, tensed, and then relaxed, while the priest of the spear caused the exposed end of the gold rod to pierce the high priest’s urethra canal, and brought the two bulbs together, making them kiss. The priest of the seed pulled King Menes’s foreskin over the high priest’s bulb and held the two cocks docked and cupped in his hand. The priest of the spear joined the cupping and slight stroking of the two cocks, which were joined together by the piercing gold rod.

With a groan, the sound overlaying the moaning of the high priest, King Menes began to tighten his buttocks and move his pelvis, his cock fucking the high priest’s cock, moving the gold rod inside the urethra canals of the docked cocks.

Taking the swaying of the king’s buttocks as their signal, the guards ringing the chamber began beating their spear butts on the stone floor in the rhythm of the king’s thrusts. His thrusts built up speed and intensity, which were accompanied by an increase of the sound of the chanting by the guards and priests in the hall and of the butts of the guards’ spears on the floor, and the vigor of their own masturbating of their cocks.

Nefer let out a little cry as he came, his cum burbling out from the rim of King Menes’s encasing foreskin. King Menes came nearly simultaneously, marking his spouting by a victory cry. The guards around the wall each came as closely to that of their king as they could.

The side priests released the docking cocks, each to be pulled away from the king and the high priest by the two captains of the guards, who tore the minor priests’ robes from their bodies, pushed them down on their backs on either side of the throne, pushed their knees under the priests’ buttocks, thrust inside them, and fucked them hard on the stone floor.

Using the hand and footholds provided on the wings of the throne, King Menes climbed up the sides of the marble structure until his cock was at the level of the high priest’s mouth. Nefer opened his mouth to the king’s shaft, cleaning off the cum from the first taking and sucking the cock to a second ejaculation.

Around the sides of the chamber, the guards had paired off, with one of each set sucking off the cock of his dominant partner.

The king’s second ejaculation marked the successful completion of the blessing ceremony. He climbed down from the throne, turned, and marched directly out of the chamber, with his guards following, marching in step. Left in the chamber was the high priest, slumped on his throne, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes slitted, the ritual completed but not completely satiating for him.

Panting and moaning on the floor on either side of the throne were the priests of spear and seed. Unlike their high priest, they had been completed and satiated by the monster cocks of the captains of the guard. Their tenures as priests for the year were over and they would be replaced by virginal fourteen-year-olds.

Still fidgety and disquieted late in the night, as Nefer lay on his bed, he heard, with joy, the sound of the rustling of the curtains in the doorway to the imperial apartments. He raised his head to see the naked figure of Ahmose, the next youngest brother of the king, and the king’s chief adviser, approach. He was the spitting image of the king, except that his younger body was more athletic and pleasing than the king’s. He shaved his body hair and was not as coarse in movement and habits as the king. He smelled of roses rather than sour sweat, and he moved like a dancer. His kisses were sweeter than King Menes’s too. There were rituals of the kiss as well, although none of Nefer’s anal canal being penetrated. As high priest, that was taboo to all men.

“I wish for your blessings as well,” Ahmose whispered as he came up on the bed on his knees. He was holding a case with a gold rod in it.

“Yes, yes,” Nefer murmured as he arched his back to the surface of the bed and hugged Ahmose’s hips with his knees. The gold rod was longer and thicker than the one of the ritual. Ahmose’s cock was longer than that of his older brother, the king. The rod penetrated Nefer’s urethra canal deeper than the ritual one had. He moaned deeper and sighed even deeper, as Ahmose married their cock bulbs, kissing each other, the gold rod buried inside both of them, and pushed his foreskin over Nefer’s bulb. Leaning over Nefer’s torso, Ahmose captured Nefer’s lips with his and held their cocks together with one hand, while both of them moved their pelvises languidly to a mutual ejaculation in the rhythm of the cock fuck.

It was taboo for any man to be inside Nefer’s anus, but that didn’t hold the other way around. Four hours until the promise of a coming dawn, Nefer lay on his back and Ahmose rode his cock to a coming—and then another—and another yet. Nefer was purring from the visit of his lover until it was over all too soon and Ahmose had melted away behind the curtain into the imperial apartments.

Walking slowly and deliberately in from the stone balcony off the temple throne room, with the new priests of the spear and seed in his wake, Nefer, the high priest of the Raven goddess Ama of the Kingdom of Anama, mounted the steps to his throne and turned and faced the beaten gold-clad outer doors to the chamber. The two minor priests took up positions at either side of the throne.

A mighty thud was sounded on the double doors, they swung open, and a magnificent figure of a man strode into the hall, followed by two lines of his battle-bloodied soldiers, who marched around to positions along the inside walls of the chamber. The tableau was much the same as that of the victory blessing ritual earlier in the previous day—but with an entirely different, ominous cast.

Achillas, commanding general of the Assyrian army, strode slowly, deliberately, proudly up to the steps of the throne. Nefer looked coolly down into the general’s eyes, gleaming with battle lust. The high priest was calm on the outside, but inside he was in turmoil. He had heard much about this monster of a man, taller than any other man, more massive across the chest, albeit solid muscle, than any man Nefer had seen before. Achillas’s reputation had come to the land of Anama as that of a conquering, vengeful god whose power and wrath could not be escaped. At this moment, Nefer could well believe in this. It should lodge fear in Nefer’s heart—and it surely did—but it made his blood boil as well in arousal.