The Egyptian Princess
Copyright© 2025 by Drcock666
Chapter 7: A Daughter Crowned
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 7: A Daughter Crowned - 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 Black Female White Male
The oars slowed, gliding us into the long, thin strip of water lined with palm trees, then into the rectangular lake of the temple, thick with lily pads.
Ahead, the Temple of Karnak rose in all its splendor: two enormous white arches covered in hieroglyphs and painted gods towering above broad stairways.
“My Queen, your Royal Highnesses,” the captain called, bowing low, “we have arrived at the City of the Living.”
At once, the plank was lowered, ready for us to step ashore and greet our people.
The High Priest Ptahmose stood at the edge of the Nile, his powerful frame draped with a leopard skin that revealed his sun-kissed chest. As my family and I approached the temple steps, he bowed deeply to us. Ptahmose was no ordinary man; he held the titles of High Priest of Amun, Vizier to Pharaoh, and Mayor of Thebes all at once.
“Em hotep nefer weret, em hotep my dear friends!” he called out warmly. “My heart fills with joy to see you again so soon, and on such a happy day.”
My mother, Tey took his arm with a joyful smile, and my brothers and sisters followed behind, exchanging peaceful greetings with him.
“Come, come, my Queen. Your brothers are already here, as are your parents and the rest of the royal family. Amenhotep, son of Hapu, Paatenemheb, Horemheb, all await you.”
Behind our royal barge, a procession of lesser nobles arrived, led by Huya, the mother’s steward. The temple courtyard was alive with cheers, songs, and laughter. Children climbed onto shoulders, waving flowers and throwing wreaths at our feet. Every detail was perfect: music, petals, the beat of drums in rhythm with our steps, the entire procession was a dance of power and grace.
Mother led the way down the road lined with stone rams. My stomach churned with anticipation. Soon, I would see Pharaoh. Yet my face betrayed none of this; I was the embodiment of beauty and grace, serene like Hathor herself. Behind us, a crowd of priests, musicians, dancers, and attendants formed a long procession.
Karnak’s splendor overwhelmed me, more magnificent even than the Opet Festival months before. Yellow and white flowers littered the smooth stone steps and the path leading to the temple. The incense braziers on either side sent fragrant smoke drifting on the breeze, mingling with the scent of frankincense, myrrh, and blue lotus.
As we passed statues of the gods, Osiris, Isis, Horus, Amun Ra, and many more, offerings lay at their feet. The holy monks bowed to us solemnly, their heads shining with oil.
“This way, my Queen,” the High Priest said, guiding us toward the stadium. “The crowd today is like none I have ever seen.”
“Have my guests from Mitanni and Babylon arrived?” Mother asked.
“Yes, Great Lady. They arrived yesterday and have been well cared for.”
“And Pharaoh? How is he?”
Ptahmose smiled. “Your husband is well. He has fasted and purified himself for the rites. Today will be perfect, Lady of Two Lands.”
The grand stadium was filled with ten thousand voices, the energy electric. We entered our box.
“Is that my Mutnodjmet? My ibib!” my grandmother Thuya exclaimed, hobbling over to me.
I kissed her worn cheeks as she clutched me for balance. With her, I walked over to Yuya, greeting him with respect and love.
Soon we settled down to watch the games. I sat beside my mother, my heart quietly racing as I glimpsed Pharaoh enter the stadium. He wore his ritual robes, arms outstretched, skin glistening with oil, gold adorning him. The crowd’s excitement washed over me, but my eyes never left him.
Horemheb, my older brother, observed Pharaoh with a mixture of pride and worry. He whispered stories of the old Heb Sed festival, the ancient, grim rituals that no longer took place, and of how the festival today was meant to renew Pharaoh’s strength.
The rituals began with Pharaoh racing the Apis bull, wearing the red crown of Lower Egypt, then the white of Upper Egypt. He ran with ease, and the crowd roared.
“Look,” I whispered to our cousin Refi, “Pharaoh is going to raise the Djed Pillar soon.”
The priest’s words filled the stadium, proclaiming Pharaoh’s rebirth and strength. Then Pharaoh heaved the great pillar upright, muscles straining, to the crowd’s thunderous applause.
Suddenly, my father’s voice rang out, “On this day, I take my eldest daughter Mutnodjmet to be Great Royal Wife at my side.”
My heart stopped. All eyes turned toward me.
I was no longer just Mutnodjmet, princess; now I was queen.
When Father announced I was to be his Great Royal Wife, my heart pounded like a drum in my chest, part excitement, part something deeper, harder to name. The cheers of the crowd washed over me like a roaring river, lifting me, but inside I felt a strange stillness, as if a great tide was turning, carrying me into a future I had only glimpsed in dreams.
I kept my face calm, serene, like the perfect princess I was expected to be, but my mind raced. Pride and honor fluttered in my chest, yet beneath it all, a shadow of uncertainty stirred. To be chosen, recognized, was everything I had ever wished for, yet the weight of the role settled heavily on my shoulders.
The voices calling my name echoed in my ears, warm and thunderous, yet I felt alone in the middle of the crowd, caught between the dazzling brightness of the moment and the quiet question, what would come next?
Father continued, naming my steward and naming Horemheb as co-regent. The crowd cheered again.
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