The Egyptian Princess
Copyright© 2025 by Drcock666
Chapter 4: The Laughter of Little Nefertiti
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4: The Laughter of Little Nefertiti - This is the story of my life. I am Mutnodjmet, and when this tale begins, I am fifteen years old, on the very day of my wedding. I am to marry Pharaoh himself: my father. The year is 1350 BC, in the ancient city of Luxor, Egypt.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Teenagers Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction High Fantasy Incest Brother Sister Father Daughter
The sun poured gold through the high, carved windows of the palace, spilling warm light onto the smooth alabaster floors. In the central courtyard, fragrant myrrh drifted from a nearby brazier, mixing with the scent of blooming blue lotuses that floated in a shallow stone pool.
Tiny Nefertiti, barely five, darted across the tiled floor, her feet pat-patting softly against the cool stone. Her linen dress fluttered like wings behind her as she ran, giggling.
“Mutbenret! You can’t catch me!” she squealed, her voice ringing like a bell through the colonnades.
I was taller and about eight, chasing after her with a grin, her long braids swinging behind her.
“Oh, I can and I will, Little Bird!” I called, leaping over a low bench carved with falcons.
The palace echoed with our laughter. Servants paused with baskets of pomegranates and garlands of palm fronds, smiling at the royal daughters’ joy. In the distance, musicians rehearsed softly, plucking the strings of harps and shaking tiny sistrums, the bells whispering like wind chimes.
Nefertiti dove behind a painted pillar, hiding from me. She pressed her back against the cool stone, heart thumping, giggling into her hands. The pillar was decorated with scenes of gods and sun-discs, Aten’s rays reaching down with tiny hands.
She peeked out.
Too late.
I leapt around the pillar and scooped her up, spinning her in the air. Nefertiti squealed in delight, her chubby arms flung wide like she was flying.
“Caught you, little lioness!” I said, setting her down gently.
Nefertiti beamed. “Next time, I’ll hide in the garden. The papyrus plants will protect me.”
From above, in a shaded balcony, Mother watched us with quiet pride, her hands folded over her linen robe. The sound of our laughter danced upward like sunlight on water, echoing through the palace halls.
And in that moment, before crowns and temples, before gods and kings, Nefertiti was just a little girl with dusty toes, a sunbeam in her hair, and the whole world at play.
It was expected that we, the children of the Pharaoh’s court, would be nothing short of perfection wrapped in obedience. We were born into a world where every word, every gesture, every breath was weighed against the legacy we were meant to uphold. We were not merely heirs or servants; we were living symbols of divine order, meant to embody strength, wisdom, and unwavering loyalty.
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