Heart of the Oasis
Copyright© 2026 by Snekguy
Chapter 7: Game of Pharaohs
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 7: Game of Pharaohs - The priest Meritamun spends his days performing religious duties and maintaining the temple in which he lives, content in a humble life serving the Gods. His routine is turned on its head when he receives a summons from Anput – the living Goddess of death, and the consort of Anubis. He has been chosen to become her personal attendant, but why, he cannot say. His new role will require him to unlearn many of his assumptions about the Gods, and to open himself up to serving his deity in new ways.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Historical Furry Magic Exhibitionism First Massage Oral Sex Petting Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Size Royalty
“That’s three,” Merit declared, counting the sticks on the table. He reached over to the board and moved his conical piece three squares, passing some of Anput’s pawns.
“House twenty-seven,” she said as she observed, pausing to take a sip from her cup. They had been playing for a while, and she’d had him bring in a jar of her wine, along with a now-empty plate of honey cakes. “Do you remember the special rule associated with that house, Merit?”
“I believe so, my Lady,” he replied as he considered. “Twenty-seven – the House of Water. Any pawn that lands on this house must move to the fifteenth house – the Ankh.”
“Very good. And if there is a pawn already on fifteen?”
“Then, the next empty house preceding it.”
“Good,” she said with a nod, taking another generous gulp from her cup. She reached for the jar and refilled it with the red liquid, giving him a smile. “I find your attentiveness endearing, Merit. You always pay close attention, and you are an eager student.”
“It is a privilege to be instructed in the game of Pharaohs by a Goddess,” he replied. “I quite enjoy it. I believe that I am slowly becoming more capable. Perhaps I may be able to challenge you yet.”
“I’ve noticed you copying some of my blocking moves,” she said, her narrowed eyes joined by a wry smile. She lifted her cup, taking a sip and seeming lost in thought for a moment. “What say we add some higher stakes to the game?”
“How so, my Lady?”
“A wager,” she explained, gesturing with her cup and making the wine slosh around. “Any endeavor is made more exciting when a prize is at stake.”
“What manner of prize?” he asked suspiciously.
“Oh, it is something that you would want,” she replied with a toothy grin. “I am most certain of that. Here are my terms. If you should best me in a five-pawn game, I shall do something for you.”
“And if I should lose?”
“Then, you shall do something for me,” she said with a sly glance. “I will teach you something new – something that will be of value. You have my word.”
“Very well,” Merit conceded, straightening a little in his seat. He reached for his own cup of wine and took a drink, staring back at her. “I accept your wager.”
“Then the game is on!” she laughed, setting down her cup and clapping her hands together excitedly. “As the more learned player, I grant you the opening move.”
They began a new game, the sticks clattering on the marble table, and the pawns moving across the board. While he was still a novice, Merit had quickly picked up the rules, and their matches went smoothly with the occasional input from his teacher. She really did seem to have a love for Senet, watching his every move with interest and taking obvious pleasure in a play well executed. He remembered the dust that had caked the box, and he considered that this might be the first time she’d had an opportunity to play in a very long time.
As the game went on, it didn’t take long for him to realize that he was losing. Anput had been gentle, as she had promised, but she was still the more skilled of the pair. She wasn’t trouncing him, but she was playing a little more aggressively than she had before. What might her vaunted prize be?
“Very clever,” she cooed, grinning as he cut her off by blocking three houses across the board. “But ultimately futile. That is house twenty-eight – the House of Three Truths.”
“Damn,” Merit hissed. “That means I can no longer move that pawn unless...”
“You must toss three white sticks, and only then can you remove your pawn from the board,” she said as she raised three fingers. “What appears to be a sound strategy is revealed to be a trap. Even the cleverest general must be wary of feints. When an enemy appears weak, it can sometimes be a ruse to conceal their true strength. And now...”
Anput picked up the sticks and tossed them, clapping again excitedly as she rolled high.
“Damn!” Merit chuckled.
“Because the House of Three Truths cannot be captured, I can pass through your block,” she announced as she moved her last piece off the board. “The victory goes to me.”
“Well played, my Lady,” Merit marveled as he examined the board. “I feared that you might have allowed me to win, but we seemed evenly matched. It must take a great deal of knowledge and skill to play a fair game at the level of a novice such as myself.”
“I would not want to be cruel,” she replied, collecting up some of the pieces. “I am the more experienced player, yes, but you will never have the opportunity to develop a real love for Senet if I don’t give you a fair chance. If you never develop a love for the game, you will never grow skilled enough to truly challenge me, and I am the loser in that scenario.”
“You are the winner in this one, my Lady,” he added with an exaggerated bow.
“And I promised to teach you something new,” she said, swirling her wine around in her cup before taking a long draw. “Something that will be of value to you as my attendant.”
“What is it?” he asked eagerly.
“You shall find it beneath the table,” she said in an all too familiar tone, refilling her cup. “And bring the cushion from your seat.”
Already guessing that she had something odd in mind, he slid out of his chair and ducked beneath the marble table, finding nothing out of the ordinary. When he glanced to his left, he saw Anput’s furry legs emerging from beneath her linen skirt, her paws resting on the floor. She reached a hand into view and beckoned to him with a clawed finger.
“Come, Merit.”
He had to crawl on his hands and knees to get closer, but Anput’s end of the table was high enough that he could kneel beneath it without hitting his head, elevated to her Godly stature. Almost forgetting, he pulled the silk cushion from his chair, stopping just short of her feet. His heart was already starting to beat faster, the honeyed tone of her voice not lost on him.
“I’m going to teach you one of the most valuable lessons a consort can learn,” she began, that hand moving to the hem of her skirt. “How to please his mistress.”
She lifted the skirt away, revealing her soft thighs, keeping them tightly pressed together. Her legs seemed even longer from his new vantage, those thighs padded with fat and muscle, becoming slender and tapered below the knees. Like a jackal standing on its hind limbs, they had an extra joint at the ankle, but there was nothing bestial about them. Her fur was as shiny as ever, her feet oddly dainty for their size, which was what gave her such an alluring gait – like a woman balancing on her toes. Kneeling before her with the cushion clutched in his hand, Merit watched, captivated as she slowly parted her legs.
Between them was a pronounced mound, the thinnest sliver of gold nestled in her black fur, glittering in the light. He wondered for a moment whether it was another piece of jewelry, but Anput reached down a hand, covering it with two slender fingers. She parted them, spreading herself open to reveal the truth of it. Between two soft, pillowy lips was a blooming, gilded flower. Just like her eyes and the bands that encircled them, her flesh resembled molten gold, the delicate folds shining with a wet luster as though they had just been pulled from a forge. The midnight hue of her thin coat made it seem all the brighter in comparison, but this was not hard metal – it was warm and alive, flexing in invitation.
“Come closer,” she cooed, her voice irresistible. As he shuffled along the marble floor, he realized why he needed the cushion, placing it beneath him to shield his knees from the hard surface. Perhaps she expected him to remain there for a time...
“W-what would you ask of me, my Lady?” he began as he watched a sparkling strand of fluid form from her golden flesh.
She reached out a hand, cupping his cheek, her fur as soft as silk against his skin. She guided him in, and he dared to touch her, sliding a hand from her ankle to her knee. There wasn’t much fat there, but he could feel the powerful muscles in her calf beneath her coat. He rose to her thigh, its familiar texture welcoming him as he let his fingers sink.
“Show the same care and attentiveness here as you did in our Senet games,” she said, her voice slightly muffled as it came from above the table. “Kiss me.”
Her hand left his cheek, his eyes lingering on those shining folds, an overwhelming desire welling up within him. Until now, he had always been on the receiving end of Anput’s affections, and she had asked nothing of him in return. She had been content to have him trembling in her arms as she teased him with her hand, or gasping on the flagstones while she buried him in her bosom. This was his chance to please her – to prove that he could be just as doting and generous as she was.
He leaned in, rubbing his cheek against her inner thigh, finding it softer than any pillow he could imagine. She was so warm, her fine fur even more luxuriant against his face. He felt her body respond to him, so he kissed her there first, feeling the muscle beneath her flesh firm up as she flexed. Good – she was sensitive here.
Remembering how she had teased him in the pool, he peppered her with lingering kisses, running his fingers through her coat and delving them into her paunch. He wanted to make her feel what he had felt – his heart racing and his spine tingling with each light brush of her fingers. It appeared to be having the desired effect, his mistress shifting in her seat, her clawed toes scraping on the marble as they flexed.
“An eager student indeed,” he heard her sigh, his mistress arching her spine as he planted a kiss on her thigh. “I have been fortunate today, so I feel safe wagering that you shall take to this duty with all the same vigor and enthusiasm as the rest.”
“I am your consort, my Lady,” he replied as he inched closer to her golden flower. “Nothing could please me more than mastering this most intimate of duties. I shall learn every way there is to pleasure you just as I have memorized all the houses of Senet.”
He felt her hand on his bald head, her claws pricking his scalp, her grip more demanding now. Maybe it was his words, or maybe it was his teasing, but he could sense the desire building within her. She drew him closer, the scent of her Kyphi growing stronger, the dark fur of her thighs filling his field of view until her golden loins were all that he could focus on.
He spread them just as she had, her lips soft and plush, revealing more of that lustrous flesh. She had told him to kiss her, so he did, planting his lips against her petals. Even before they made contact, he could feel the heat that she radiated, her folds like wet silk. They were soaked with something slippery that formed fine droplets and matted her fur, its sweet taste reminiscent of honey. Merit felt a sudden impulse to lick her, and there was no reason to deny it, his mistress shuddering in delight as the flat of his tongue grazed her.
“Always so willing,” she sighed, stroking his head in encouragement. He could feel those sharp claws on his scalp, but she was as gentle as ever, the sensation akin to the teeth of a comb. “Do you remember how I kissed you, Merit? I want you to kiss me there the same way I kissed you.”
It was passion that she demanded, then, and he was all too happy to oblige. He shuffled closer on his cushion, pressing his face between her thighs, reveling in the sensation of her coat encompassing his cheeks. It was like having two more velvet cushions to either side of his head. Slowly, he began to crawl his lips across her loins, leaving gentle kisses, ever attentive to how she reacted to his touch. He had never seen a woman in this way before, never so intimately, and he had to assume that she was larger than a mortal would be in her place.
Anput sighed as he traced her delicate folds with the tip of his tongue, her wide hips shifting in her seat when he began to lick more ardently, doing his best to map every inch of her womanhood. He could not forget their first kiss – it was seared into his memory like a brand, and he strived to mimic the agile motions of her tongue. With slow, doting licks and quick flurries, he painted her flesh as though his tongue was a brush upon parchment. Below was her opening, clenching and twitching rhythmically, and above was what looked like a bead of burnished gold. His mistress gasped and flinched when he grazed it, and he drew back for fear of displeasing her, but her grip on his head grew tighter.
“No, no,” she mumbled from somewhere above. “That’s good, Merit. Don’t stop...”
Encouraged, he returned to that golden bead, feeling the Goddess shiver as he began to lick it. He could feel it pulse against his tongue like the beating of a heart, and he pursed his lips around it, Anput’s spine arching when he drew on it softly. He lashed it, sucking gently, making slow circles around it as he drank in her gasps and low growls of desire.
“That’s right,” she breathed, her voice low and husky now. “You’re doing well, my consort. Very well...”
She had always seemed so supremely calm and in control. Even during their steamy encounters in the oasis and the bathhouse, she had dictated their pace with Godly poise, wrapping him around her finger with alarming ease. Now, her perfect composure was slipping, the massive body that had once seemed so untouchable dancing on the tip of his tongue. Maybe Anput was more like him than she was different – maybe she could fall victim to the same vices and carnal needs. That fact didn’t make him think less of her – rather, it made him feel closer to her than he ever had before. He could reach her – bring her pleasure in new ways.
“If there is one skill to devote yourself to, it is this one,” she groaned as he mouthed and kissed at the hood of golden skin just above her sensitive bud. Her wet fur brushed against his face, his lips coated with her nectar, a strand of it dripping from his chin. “You shall have all the practice you can desire.”
“You taste so sweet,” he sighed, resting a hand on the edge of her seat as he paused his licking for a moment.
“It would not do for a Goddess to taste any other way,” she chuckled, his eyes lidding as she dragged her claws across his scalp softly. “We are pure of body, and gold flows through our veins.”
That explained the color, at least. He resumed his work, striving to pour his love for her, his admiration – his worship, into each stroke and lick. He kissed her as he would a lover, just as she had kissed him, as though he could write a treatise to his desire for her with only his tongue. He slid his hands along her furry thighs, gripping them more tightly, pressing his face between them with renewed fervor.
“Merit!” she gasped, her giggling making her legs shake around his head as he probed her winking entrance. Her flesh was impossibly smooth, slick and wet, reminding him of the feeling of Anput’s flat tongue licking his inner cheeks. He kept expecting it to be cold and firm due to its golden appearance, just like the statues that he had pored over in the temple, but nothing could be further from the truth. “You are taking to this like a duck takes to water...”
“Something has come over me, my Lady,” he replied with a shuddering breath that served only to fill his lungs with her perfume. “I do not know whether it is the wine, or simply my desire for you, but I feel ... overcome.”
“Welcome that feeling,” she purred, Merit hearing the sound of her cup leaving the table above as she took a generous swig. “Revel in it. Let it drive you to greater and greater feats of lust.”
Her words filled him with an unbearable need, and he plunged in again, his mistress leaning back in her seat as she enjoyed his work. She kept an encouraging hand on his head, guiding him, rewarding him with caresses of her soft fur. He could hear her breathing growing faster, her wooden chair creaking as she shifted, her clawed toes scraping on the marble.
“I need more,” she grumbled. “Your fingers – put them inside.”
Merit didn’t need to ask for clarification, his eyes lowering to that clenching opening, her golden flesh giving way to shadow. Wanting to keep her guessing, he first brushed her velvet folds with his fingertips, wetting them with her nectar and provoking a low growl of frustration from her. He then trailed them down to that winking entrance, circling it, his touch as light as a feather. She did not want a servant who merely obeyed her every order, meek and submissive – she wanted someone with the boldness to entertain her. Still letting his fingers rest near her opening, he brought his lips to her bud again, lapping at the swollen organ.
“You dare leave me wanting?” she asked, her amused laughter overpowering any menace in her voice. “I knew you were a good pick...”
A few moments more, and he pushed his fingers deeper, sliding them past her slippery folds and inside her. A ring of muscle gripped him fiercely, strong enough to halt his progress despite the honey that coated his digits, the way that it pulsed as it bore down on him making his heart flutter. He could feel every squeeze and every throb, that soaking-wet, satin-soft flesh caressing him in waves.
With a little more pressure, he pushed through the resistance, sinking two fingers to the knuckle. Her sweet taste still on his lips, he watched drunkenly as her gilded loins flexed, more of her glistening fluid seeping out around them to dribble down his palm. She was palpably hot, powerful enough to crush his fingers together, the textures and subtle folds of her reaches stroking his fingers. Merit was not so naive that he didn’t know how men and women lay together, and the thought of burying anything more sensitive than his fingers in there had him seeing stars.
“Now move them,” Anput pressed. “Stroke me.”
He began to move his digits inside her, caressing her from within – a challenge with her innermost muscles fighting him all the while. He curled them against the roof of her tunnel, moving his hand back and forth slowly, going faster when he noted her positive reaction.
“K-keep licking,” she stammered, the waver in her usually commanding and level voice more beautiful than any music he had ever heard. He returned his lips to her golden flesh, drawing on that bead, painting her folds with amorous licks. His heart raced just as quickly as hers, her pleasure bringing him to a different kind of climax, basking in the knowledge that he alone was the source of her rapture.
“There are some who might do well to learn from your generosity,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
She held his head close now as though fearing he might pull away, her wide hips thrusting rhythmically in her seat, her clawed toes scraping against the marble as they tried in vain to find purchase. Her pillowy thighs pressed around his cheeks tightly enough that he could feel the firm muscle beneath the fat, and it might have been alarming if he did not trust her so implicitly. Her breath came in increasingly ragged gasps, her loins gripping him so tightly that it felt like they were trying to wrench his fingers from his hand, the soft parts of her figure quivering with each tremor that wracked her.
“How did I go without this for so long?” she sighed, gripping the edge of the table as he licked her bud. “I had almost forgotten...”
Sensing that she was near her peak, he began to move faster, her rolling hips and arching spine suddenly halting. She became as rigid as a board, her muscles tensing, including those that had a death grip on his fingers. Only now did she let him pull his head away, releasing him as though the pleasure had become too much to bear, a sharp cry escaping her lips.
All of the tension that had been building seemed to melt from her body, those rigid muscles beginning to spasm, Merit hearing the sound of a cup rolling across the table above as she spilled her wine. It was wonderful to watch the waves of pleasure wash over her, her long legs trembling and her hips bucking against his hand, desperate and primal in their need for more. After her musical cry, there came only sharp gasps and low groans, her shivering slowly calming like a candle burning through its wick. As her throes subsided, she released his fingers, and he slid them out along with a drooping rope of her nectar. He was content to kneel there and admire her for a minute more, satisfaction radiating from her, the comely sound of her deep breathing all the praise he needed.
After a couple of minutes of enjoying her waning euphoria, her finger curled, and she beckoned for him to rise. He reemerged from beneath the table and returned to his seat, replacing the cushion, finding his mistress gazing back at him with lidded eyes of shining gold. She looked drunk, but he knew that it wasn’t just the wine, her breathing slow and deep now. He could see the cup that she had spilled in her excitement, the red liquid splashed across the white marble, the Senet board resting not far away from it. She gave him a satisfied smile, then reached across the table with a long arm, using her thumb to clean away some of the nectar that still clung to his lips.
“An admirable first showing,” she said, transitioning to stroking his cheek. Her affection was tangible, radiating from her like warm rays of sunshine. “I want you to get very good at that, Merit. I want it to become something that you do often, and well. Would you like that?”
“Of course,” he mumbled, momentarily overcome by her gentle touch. “Anything for you.”
What he didn’t tell her was that he was aching again, his member tenting his schenti, showing no signs of receding. She wasn’t making it any easier to take his mind off her, the way she was gazing at him, her pink tongue emerging to wet her lips.
“Good. I am glad to hear it. What say you to another game, Merit?”
“Another, my Lady?” he asked. He eyed the board and its pieces, unsure of whether she really wanted to play again, or if she meant for him to repeat his service beneath the table. Surely it was too soon? Surely she needed time to recover?
“Our wager still stands,” she said, starting to collect up some of the pieces.
“We should ... really take nefer, my Lady,” he stammered as she began to arrange her pawns. “I have ... we must bathe if we are to maintain our purity.”
“It’s just a little honey,” she said with a smirk. “Here...”
She reached out and took his hand – the same one that had been inside her only a short while ago. His skin was still slick with her nectar, and she leaned closer, bringing her long snout down towards him. Merit felt himself throb beneath his linens as she slid his fingers past her dark lips, drawing on them softly, her agile tongue cleaning away the residue with a few slow licks.
“There,” she said, releasing him. “Better?”
“I ... I suppose so, my Lady,” he stammered.
“Good. Then you can play another round.”
“At least allow me to clean the table and refill your cup, my Lady.”
“Very well,” she conceded.
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