The Egyptian Princess
Copyright© 2025 by Drcock666
Chapter 9: What Was Written Must Be True
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 9: What Was Written Must Be True - 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
Reborn from Hatchepsut’s blood.
Isis was back in the land of black sand. She stood at the foot of the slope, right beside her long-dead ancestor, Hatshepsut. The massive mortuary temple loomed, carved straight into the stone cliffs on the west bank of the Nile. They’d never met, never touched, but Isis knew her. Always had. Something primal, a blood memory.
Now she understood. Hatshepsut had never left her side, hidden just beyond sight. When the sun sank west beneath the earth, it entered the Duat. The Duat, beneath, beside, inside everything. This was where Hatshepsut waited. This was where Isis was now: the Neter World.
They climbed the ramp in silence, side by side. No wind stirred. The stars above hung still, frozen in silence. Isis glanced skyward and saw the ocean swell there, black water, endless and deep, swallowing light. Strange shapes flickered, shadows swimming just out of reach.
A river poured down from that sky-sea, spilling onto the black sand at their feet. Thousands of tiny boats floated on the current, each glowing with a single flicker, each light a soul. Isis stared, seeing children, men, old women shifting shape with each glance, child to adult to ancient, all at once, all the lives they’d lived or might live.
“I’ve something to show you, child of my blood,” Hatshepsut’s voice came, not from her lips, but deep inside Isis’s mind, rough and cold, like stone grinding.
“The history of my divinity. How Amun disguised himself as my father to seduce me. My fate was to rule as Pharaoh.”
In a blink, they were inside the temple, thought had ripped them through space and time. Hatshepsut’s voice echoed knowingly:
“Here, will and desire move you differently.”
“So this is the Neter World?” Isis asked, voice low.
“Yes. The land beneath and within, where gods dwell. The place of dreams, where the dead and the living walk as shadow and shape. Timeless. Infinite. Where the spoken word becomes destiny.”
Around Isis’s head, the painted eyes of Horus floated, watching, drilling into her soul, forcing her to see.
They stood together before the temple walls, two women tied by ancient blood. The paintings weren’t still; they shifted, alive. Isis watched her ancestor as a baby, cradled at the breast of the goddess Isis. Suckling divine milk, the immortal’s gift. Hatshepsut’s divinity was proven. She was God-fed.
What was written had to be true.
Heka, Hu, Sia, and Werethekau stood watch. Heka pressed the Ankh of life to Hatshepsut’s lips. Khnum spun clay on his wheel, shaping her body. The child was shown as a boy, proof of her right to rule. Thutmose II’s declaration rang out:
“This daughter of mine, Khnumetamun Hatshepsut, may she live!, is my chosen heir. She will lead, command, and unite the land. Obey her. Let her reign be eternal.”
What was written was the truth.
The walls shifted with time as they moved down the corridor. Hatshepsut’s skin turned from black to shining gold, divinity’s color. Her name was enclosed in a shenu, crowned Daughter of Amun, ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt.
The oracle of Amun declared her reign by divine will:
“Welcome, my sweet daughter, my favorite. King of Two Lands, Maatkare, Hatshepsut. You are Pharaoh.”
What was written must be true.
Hatshepsut pressed a reed brush into Isis’s hand.
“Write your history. Write your future.”
Suddenly, Isis was somewhere else, in the palace of Thebes, centuries earlier. The air thickened, time running backward. The chamber belonged to Thutmose I, not her father, Amenhotep, whose name was carved deep into the walls.
The gods stood around the bed: Amun, Atum, Shu, Tefnut, Osiris, Isis, Set, Nephthys, Thoth, Anubis, Neith. Eternal and glowing.
Ahmose, the Great Wife, waited alone, blind to them. No touch, no sound, just mortal. Only Isis saw the gods.
“The Queen will carry the divine child,” Thoth’s ibis head whispered to golden Amun, eyes flicking to Isis.
Hatshepsut was dead. But she was here, showing Isis what to see.
Amun, red-skinned and crowned with plumes, tapped the ground with his staff. A flash of sunlight in his palm formed an ankh. The ceiling darkened with storm clouds, eternity roaring in their ears.
Amun swallowed the light, morphing into Thutmose I, the God and Pharaoh merged. Isis stood alone in a dimly lit throne room, the torchlight flickering along the polished tiles. The Pharaoh Thutmose I, was impossibly tall, robed in gold, crowned in glory, but there was something monstrous in the cold stillness of his eyes.
Without a word, he lifted the front of his royal kilt, revealing his hard cock, rigid and swollen with a terrifying, unnatural arousal. Isis froze, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.
He stepped closer, towering over her, an inscrutable expression on his face as he took his shaft in one massive hand and stroked himself, his movements slow and methodical, as if this were a ritual only he could understand.
The atmosphere was thick with incense and dread, every torch casting leaping, monstrous shadows across the walls. Isis tried to look away, but the dream bound her in place, forcing her to witness the unsettling scene.
Thutmose I’s breathing grew heavy, the sound echoing in the vast, silent room, and Isis felt her stomach twist with a sickened horror, unable to reconcile the powerful father she knew with this grotesque, almost godlike figure, consumed by a primal need.
Hiss enormous cock seemed a foot long or more, and as thick around as a softball bat. Isis gasped.
“Suck on,” he told Isis and placed his huge purple-headed cock frighteningly near her mouth.
He lowered his hips slowly down toward her face. Isis reached up and grabbed his monstrous tool with both hands. She needed both hands to capture it and guide it toward her mouth, for her little fingers wouldn’t go clear around its throbbing width.
She opened her mouth wide and reached for the one-eyed head that filled her vision. Her tongue reached out and licked the tip of it, and she felt him jerk an inch as her hot tongue first touched the sensitive point of his cock. She licked it again, wondering how she could ever get the massive shaft inside her baby- mouth.
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