The Forbidden Throne
Copyright© 2025 by Tharnoren
Chapter 17
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 17 - 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 froze, his breath still uneven, his body slick with sweat under the wavering torchlight. His eyes, still glimmering with that wild fire, locked onto Merit’s. Her words hung in the heavy air, sharp as a blade thrown to provoke: “You haven’t done to me yet what you did to her...”
At first, he thought he’d misheard. For a heartbeat, he blinked, his mind still fogged by the ecstasy that had consumed him moments before. Then a short, nervous laugh escaped his lips—unbidden, absurd. After what they had just shared—that brutal union, that feverish heat where their bodies had fused until nothing else existed—she dared bring that up? Tiaa? The servant he’d taken like an animal, in a moment of weakness he already despised himself for?
Merit lay sprawled on the bed, the linen rumpled beneath her hips, watching him with a new kind of intensity. The teasing smile was gone, replaced by a hard, unyielding stare. She stretched her leg and kicked his thigh—a quick, sharp motion, almost childish, but charged with enough tension to pull him straight back to her.
“Stop laughing,” she snapped, her voice low and cutting. Her eyes gleamed—not with tears this time, but with a fierce spark he’d never seen before. A spark of defiance, and barely hidden jealousy.
Nakht swallowed his laughter, his breath still ragged. He ran a hand over his face, wiping the sweat beading on his forehead. The whole thing felt surreal. After the raw, consuming passion that had just devoured them—after she’d given herself to him with a fervor he’d never dared imagine—she still found a way to bring up Tiaa. He almost found it endearing, that hint of jealousy in her tone, that glint in her eyes betraying a wound she wouldn’t name.
He slid closer, the mattress creaking under his weight, until their bodies nearly touched again, her warmth radiating through the loose folds of linen between them. His eyes sought hers, serious, almost solemn.
“Merit...” he murmured, his voice still rough, marked by the strain of what had just happened. “What we just did...” He stopped, words catching, his gaze drifting to her parted lips, to the curve of her neck still flushed from his kisses. “It’s the most insane, the most real thing I’ve ever lived.”
She didn’t answer right away. Her fingers gripped the sheet, her eyes darting away from his, as if she feared seeing something there she wasn’t ready to face. Nakht went on, his voice softening, almost pleading.
“Nothing—nothing—I’ve done before, with anyone, even comes close to this. To you.”
He leaned in, his breath brushing her cheek.
“You really think what I did with her...” He paused, the name Tiaa bitter on his tongue, a poison he refused to speak. “You think that meant anything? That it could ever match what just happened between us?”
He shook his head slowly, a disbelieving smile tugging at his lips.
“By the gods, Merit ... you’re the one driving me mad. Only you.”
But ... her reaction wasn’t the one he’d expected. Merit frowned, her gaze sharpening again, as if his words—meant to soothe—had instead stirred up some ember still burning inside her. Nakht, startled, couldn’t help but let out another short, incredulous laugh that rang through the room like an ill-timed echo.
This time, Merit turned sharply, offering him her back, her shoulders stiff beneath the rumpled linen. She said nothing, but her silence was deafening—heavy with a gravity he couldn’t ignore. Despite the lingering trace of amusement curling in him, Nakht understood she was serious—deeply serious. The jealousy he’d found so endearing, so irrational compared to the wild love he felt for her, wasn’t some game to her.
He tried words again, his tone gentler now, almost coaxing.
“Merit, listen...” he murmured, reaching to rest his hand on her shoulder—a gesture meant to soothe, almost brotherly in its tenderness despite the raw intimacy that hung between them. But she brushed him off sharply, her fingers tightening as if warding off an unseen blow.
Nakht drew back, frustration pricking at him. She’s jealous, when every part of me burns only for her? he thought, irritated, almost exasperated by this unexpected turn. It made no sense—none at all. How could she doubt him, after what they had just lived? After he’d given himself to her completely? But somewhere deeper, a clearer part of him knew: Tiaa’s shadow still lingered, and words—however sincere—weren’t enough to banish it.
Minutes passed. She stayed turned away, unmoving, her back a barrier between them. He stopped trying. The silence grew heavier, thick with disappointment. Lying there, Nakht felt a sharp pang of regret—disheartened by how quickly the fragile magic between them seemed to unravel.
Then, an idea surfaced—vague at first, instinctive. Before he could even name it, his body moved on its own. His cock, still sensitive from their last joining, stirred again, hardening beneath the sheet. If she wants me to show her ... then I will, he thought, heat rising fast in his gut. And I won’t hold back this time.
He set his hand on her shoulder again—firm this time. As before, she tried to pull away, a reflex, but he held her, his grip strong enough to make her react, to make her face him. When she finally twisted back toward him, Nakht braced himself for anger—a scowl, a flash of resentment.
But what he saw froze him. Her expression held none of that. It was as if she had been waiting for this—for that firm touch, that moment when he would stop restraining himself. Nakht understood it then, in a blur of realization: she had pushed him to this, goaded him on so he would finally let go, break free of the gentleness that kept him at bay. Her eyes gleamed with a wordless anticipation, a silent dare that set him ablaze.
What he saw froze him. Her face didn’t show fear at all. It was as if she had been waiting for this — that firm grip, that sudden claim. Nakht understood it in a blur, an almost sacred flash of instinct: Merit had pushed him to it, just so he’d lose control, so he’d finally break the chains of restraint. Her eyes were shining with silent challenge, with that mute provocation that set him on fire.
Nakht stopped thinking. His mind, still hazy from the high of their last embrace, emptied in a heartbeat, leaving nothing but a raw, animal pulse running through him like molten fire. His broad hands, trembling with renewed excitement, clamped down on her shoulders with a force he no longer bothered to contain. In one swift, almost violent motion, he flipped her onto her stomach, pressing her down against the wooden bedding. The linen cracked under her weight, and a muffled cry escaped his sister’s lips — half surprise, half something darker, deeper.
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