The Forbidden Throne
Copyright© 2025 by Tharnoren
Chapter 12
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 12 - After their parents’ murder, the priests crown young Nakht pharaoh and force his sister Merit to become his queen. To end famine and restore the Nile, they must conceive a pure-blooded heir—an unholy union that will twist duty into forbidden desire.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual NonConsensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Incest Brother Sister MaleDom Rough Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Oral Sex Pregnancy Royalty
Nakht positioned himself above her, arms braced, his swollen cock sliding against the wet entrance of his sister. He drew in a deep breath, head lowered, as if to wrestle back control. His body screamed to plunge in, to take her fast, but he held himself back.
Slowly, he pushed. The thick head of his shaft parted her folds. Merit gasped, her eyes snapping shut. The sudden heat seared through her.
Nakht froze, panting.
“Slowly...” he muttered to himself. His hips trembled, but he restrained his hunger. He eased in, inch by inch, until half his cock was buried inside her.
Their breaths tangled. Merit, rigid, clutched the sheets, her belly tight. Nakht bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, every nerve screaming to pound harder, faster. But he stayed gentle, held back, afraid to hurt her.
At last he was fully inside. He groaned, his face contorted.
“Oh, Merit ... you’re so tight...” His voice came out hoarse, broken.
She lay still, the sting slowly giving way to a strange, spreading warmth. Her brother was inside her. Truly inside her. She opened her eyes briefly, and what she saw pierced her: Nakht, her little brother, face flushed, on the brink of losing control, his cock throbbing deep in her belly. She remembered his face as a child, his clear eyes, his innocent smile. The image struck her like a blade.
She turned her head away at once. She didn’t want to see. She let it happen, her body trapped beneath his.
Nakht began to move, slow and careful. His thrusts were shallow, restrained, yet his pleasure bled through every ragged breath. Words slipped out between gasps, crude despite himself:
“Your body ... it swallows me...”
“I’m lost inside you...”
“I’ll never ... let you go...”
His rhythm stayed gentle, almost hesitant, but his cock rubbed every tender place within her. Despite herself, heat swelled low in her belly. Her hips twitched, just barely, a reflex she couldn’t contain, and a sigh escaped her lips. Shame hit her instantly. I’m feeling pleasure ... with him. She turned her face further away, biting down hard to silence herself.
Nakht was on the edge. Each thrust dragged him closer to the abyss. His cock throbbed inside her, ready to break. He pressed his mouth to her ear, breath ragged:
“Merit ... look at me...”
She kept her eyes shut. Her cheeks were wet with tears she refused to show. She stayed silent.
Then he broke. His head dropped to the crook of her neck, and he came, unable to hold back. His whole body locked, his hips driving hard against hers. Powerful spasms ripped through his cock.
Merit felt every pulse, every hot spurt flooding her depths. The thick burn spread in waves, filling her belly. Nakht groaned her name into her ear, his voice shattered:
“Me ... Merit...”
She squeezed her eyes tighter shut. Her brother was spilling inside her. His cock kept jerking, twitching through the last burst of seed.
At last he collapsed, arms trembling, panting. After a long moment, he pulled out. The wet sound filled the chamber, and Merit shivered with disgust tangled in the remnants of pleasure. The bed creaked as he lay down beside her, spent, chest heaving.
She, legs open, felt the hot fluid leak out at once. Thick, viscous, sliding down her thigh. She didn’t move. She lay still, drained ... until the tears came.
Silent tears, no sobbing. They rolled down her cheeks, unchecked.
Nakht, lying beside her, said nothing. His heavy breath filled the room. His chest rose and fell, slick with sweat. His eyes stared at the wooden ceiling, but his thoughts were still trapped in her body. After a while, he sat up, his cock still wet and oversensitive. He reached for a cloth on the floor, wiped himself first with slow, weary care.
Then he turned to Merit. She didn’t move, eyes shut, cheeks streaked with tears. Gently, he parted her thighs. She flinched, but didn’t resist. Nakht pressed the cloth to her sex, dabbing, wiping with almost reverent care. Merit lay motionless, arms at her sides, letting him do it.
Not a word was spoken.
When he finished, he laid the cloth aside, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. A tender gesture, almost brotherly. Then he turned onto his back, drained. Within minutes, his body slackened into heavy sleep.
Merit lay awake a little longer. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling, her belly still warm with the semen trickling out of her. Thoughts tore at her, but her eyelids grew heavy. At last, she closed her eyes, and despite the storm inside her, sleep pulled her under.
Morning light streamed through the wooden shutters, flooding the chamber with clarity. A servant entered, bowed low, and spoke softly:
“Pharaoh, Great Wife ... the meal is ready.”
Nakht grunted and pushed himself upright on the wooden bed. Merit did the same, her face instantly aflame. She realized they were still naked, bodies marked with sweat and the traces of the night before. In a rush, she snatched up the veil that had fallen near the bed and pressed it against her chest. Her cheeks burned.
Nakht, by contrast, remained still for a moment, then calmly pulled on a clean tunic.
At breakfast, neither of them spoke. They shared the meal in silence, without once meeting each other’s gaze.
The morning council convened soon after. In the hall, shadows stretched from the columns, priests and viziers waiting on their stone benches. The air was taut.
Nakht entered, Merit following in her plain veils. She held her head high, though her heart beat fast.
Seated on his throne, Nakht spoke. His voice carried, steady:
“Today, my sister will take the lead.”
A ripple of murmurs passed through the assembly. Merit lowered her eyes briefly, unsettled, but her brother added, a smile in his tone:
“My sister is wiser than I am.”
The words struck like a whip. Heat spread across Merit’s face. Between humiliation and pride, she didn’t know how to react. But Nakht’s gaze, fixed on her, invited her to sit and answer.
The priests questioned the state of the harvests. Merit, hesitant at first, regained her poise. She cited the numbers relayed by the stewards.
One vizier dared to press her about the temples. Merit replied clearly, reminding them that Aton’s gold had been squandered and that investment must return to Amon’s sanctuaries. The priests, though stiff, had to admit the truth of her words.
Another raised the matter of border security. Merit questioned the captains present, took notes, proposed inspections. She didn’t impose; she organized. Slowly, her composure earned respect.
The subjects continued: taxes, the grain storehouses, preparations for festivals. Merit sat straight, answered precisely. Nakht let her speak, only nodding from time to time.
Little by little, a strange confidence rose in her. The fear of the bedchamber gave way to the pride of being heard.
At last, a priest spoke, his voice heavy:
“Good. But royal duty does not end in council. Each night, you must continue your unions. Without an heir, all this will be vanity.”
A cold shiver ran down Merit’s spine. She felt as though the old man already knew, as though he had divined what had passed the night before. Her cheeks burned, her hands clenched on her knees.
But she said nothing. She only bowed her head, letting silence answer in her place.
Nakht, impassive, lifted his chin and closed the session.