The Forbidden Throne
Copyright© 2025 by Tharnoren
Chapter 9
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 9 - 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!”
Merit’s voice snapped like a whip, shattering the trance he’d sunk into. He jolted, as if dragged up from deep water. His fevered eyes sought hers. She, burning with shame, instantly turned away. She had seen what consumed him, that fire that flared each time his gaze touched her.
A heavy unease spread inside her. She had just agreed to something she hadn’t truly wanted. The words she had spoken moments earlier already weighed like lead. In her stomach, a dark anxiety swelled: Had I made a mistake? She had dreamed of escaping, of running far from these walls, far from Thebes, to live as a simple woman in a white house by the Nile. Far from the priests. Far from him.
Her breath quickened. And in that instant, Nakht moved without thinking, pulling her into his arms.
It was such a simple gesture, almost childlike. Yet it carried too much weight. His hands gripped her shoulders with trembling gentleness. His voice, low and raw, brushed her ear:
“I’m glad ... I won’t lose you.”
Merit’s cheeks flushed hot. Her heart hammered. She stayed frozen in his embrace—an embrace that was neither royal, nor brotherly. Their eyes locked, faces close, their breaths mingling. Words failed them. Yet both knew exactly what the other was thinking.
A shiver tore through her. For one fleeting second, she imagined herself beneath him, pinned down by his weight, his burning gaze hovering above her. Terror shot through her like lightning. She recoiled sharply, crouched, breath ragged, hands trembling.
“If ever...” Her voice cracked. She clutched her veil to her chest. “If you ever hurt me again ... even once ... if you turn violent...” Her words dissolved, swallowed by panic.
Nakht didn’t move. His face was carved with pain. Then he dropped to his knees before her. His forehead touched the stone, his palms pressed flat against the ground. Pure submission.
“I swear it, Merit.” His voice rasped, strangled by emotion. “I will never harm you. Never. I will always listen.”
Silence wrapped around them, thick with solemnity. Merit lowered her gaze to him. His shoulders trembled. That humility, that total surrender ... it carried a heartbreaking tenderness, almost love. But love flowing only one way.
They walked back to the palace side by side. Neither spoke. Their footsteps echoed through the galleries, the only sound broken by the faint rustle of their veils. The nearness of what had just passed—and the shadow of what awaited them—clung to them like an awkward veil of silence.
Once they crossed the gates, they slowed, as though uncertain where to go. Each should have returned to their chambers, their duties. Yet something still bound them, an invisible thread they could not cut.
It was Merit who broke the silence first. Her voice was barely a breath:
“Nakht ... I said yes. But ... I don’t know if I can do it.”
He turned to her. Seeing her like that—trembling, eyes darting away—almost shattered his heart. For the first time, she was showing her fear bare, without mask, without anger.
He searched for words, clumsy. His lips moved twice before sound finally came:
“Then ... let’s find a way ... to tame what must come.”
She stared at him, startled. Her lips parted slightly, as if that one word—tame—had struck her. A faint spark lit her eyes, fragile but real. The thought of a gentler path, less brutal, offered her a fragile breath of relief.
They sat on a stone bench, in the shadow of the columns. Their bodies remained stiff, but between them lingered a new unease, almost tender.
Nakht spoke again, hesitant:
“Maybe ... to make things less harsh...”
Merit frowned slightly. He turned his gaze away, shame burning, and muttered:
“A bath ... like before. When we were children. We bathed together ... we could ... we could do it again.”
Silence. Merit’s cheeks flared crimson. She looked away sharply, her breath quickening.
Nakht instantly panicked, convinced he had said something monstrous. He shook his head, fumbling:
“No, forget it ... it was stupid. I didn’t mean ... that’s not ... I wasn’t trying to...”
But Merit stood abruptly. Her eyes locked with his, steady, almost fierce. Her face still flushed, lips trembling with leftover modesty. Yet her voice struck clear, sharp:
“I’ll tell the servants. They’ll prepare the basin.”
Without waiting for his reply, she spun on her heel and vanished into the corridor.
Nakht remained frozen, breathless. His stomach knotted, his cock already straining beneath the linen. He lowered his head, fists clenched tight on his thighs, as if he could hold back the brutal surge that consumed him.
Time stretched. Nakht couldn’t tell if Merit had meant a bath right away, or if it was something for later. The uncertainty burned through his mind.
A servant freed him from his doubt, bowing deeply at the entrance to his chambers.
“My lord ... the baths are ready. Your Wife awaits you.”
Nakht’s heart leapt. His hands trembled despite himself.
He walked through the corridors with measured steps, though his breath quickened. As he entered the bath hall, warm steam enveloped him instantly. The air was thick with lotus and damp wood. Lamps cast a soft glow on painted columns.
At the center stretched the rectangular pool, clear water rippling with reflections of perfumed oil. Merit was already there, her back to him, loose hair floating lightly on the surface. No servants lingered. They were alone.
Nakht slipped off his veil, then his tunic. He kept a linen wrap around his hips, out of modesty as much as fear of imposing his nakedness on her. He stepped to the edge, inhaled, then let the last cloth fall. Slowly, he descended into the water.
The cold contact sent a shiver up his body. He moved toward her, but stopped at a safe distance.
He spoke first, voice low.
“The last time we shared this bath ... we were still children.”
Merit tensed slightly. She didn’t turn, but her voice carried through the mist, unsteady.
“And back then ... you still saw me as your older sister?”
He closed his eyes briefly, sighed. “Of course.” His tone tried to be firm, but he caught the accusation in her words. So he added:
“I know you feel it as a betrayal. But believe me, it wasn’t simple for me either ... when I realized.”
She made a faint movement, barely visible, then said flatly:
“I don’t know if I believe you.”
Finally, she turned. Only her head broke the surface, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Her eyes locked on his, forcing him to speak without evasion.
“Then tell me. How ... how did it happen? That you stopped seeing me that way.”
Nakht’s smile came nervously. His throat burned with tension. To ease it, he risked a touch of humor.
“Maybe you’d like to know how you could stop seeing me as your little brother, and start seeing me as your lover?”
Silence. Merit’s cheeks deepened scarlet. She turned away, vexed and unsettled all at once, then splashed the water with her hand. Droplets struck her face.
Nakht shook his head, laughing, water streaming from his lashes. Despite herself, Merit let slip a quick breath that sounded dangerously close to amusement.
Then the calm returned. Steam wrapped them in its embrace, their breaths echoing in the closed space. Nakht lowered his voice, more serious now.
“I’ll tell you for real.”
He inhaled, his fingers stirring nervously in the water. His eyes stayed fixed on her, half turned away, her cheeks aflame.
“You always protected me. Like a sister ... more than a sister. When I was a boy, that’s all I saw. Your strength, your knowledge, your way of always having an answer. I wanted to be like you.”
His head bowed, thoughtful.
“Then I grew up. In the courtyards I met other girls. Nobles, servants, dancers at feasts...” A rough breath escaped him. “None struck me the way you did. Your voice, your walk, your gaze ... everything always brought me back to you.”
Merit’s arms tightened around herself, her neck rigid.
“And then I understood. Even when I tried to look elsewhere, I was comparing them to you. And your body ... it changed. Day by day, I saw it take shape. And every day it consumed me more.”
His eyes clouded for a moment, his lips trembled.
“I’m ashamed to admit it ... but I watched you. Three, maybe four times. Whenever I could.”
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