Heart of the Oasis
Copyright© 2026 by Snekguy
Chapter 9: Field of Reeds
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 9: Field of Reeds - 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
Merit spread soap suds on Anput’s shoulders, slowly moving down the curve of her spine, sliding his hands across her wet fur. Steam from the hot bath rose up all around them, the scents of perfume and incense making the humid air sweet. She shifted gently in the water, displacing it, the thin film that floated atop its surface only just concealing her rump from view. Serving her in this way never became any less entrancing, and he felt as though he would never get used to it, not even if he served her for eighty years. How could one ever grow accustomed to perfection?
It had been an interesting day. A week ago, he would never have imagined that he might meet a Goddess in person and speak to her, let alone three. He would never have imagined becoming her attendant, and then her consort. How could he have dared entertain such self-indulgent blasphemy?
But now, that was his reality, his heart quickening as he moved to her broad hips. He wanted so terribly to take her again, as he had done in the dining hall, but this was not the time. The sun had already set, and his mistress was preparing for bed with her final nefer of the day. His skin still tingled from where she had repaid the favor, the sensation of her soft, soapy hands mapping his body almost more than any man could bear.
The thought of leaving her was almost painful, but she had spoken of having him sleep in her quarters. Merit did not know if he would be returning home that night, or if more pleasures awaited him, and he feared to ask in case the question might influence her decision.
When their nefer was complete, and they were dried and dressed in clean linens, Merit waited beside the entrance to her bedroom. He was hopeful, and she noticed, giving him a smile as she left her seat at her dressing table.
“Why do you wait there, Merit? The day is at its end.”
“Apologies, my Lady,” he began. “Earlier, you spoke of me making this temple my home. I had hoped that...” He straightened a little, confident in his request. “I had hoped that I might stay the night.”
“I did mention that, didn’t I?” she conceded. The grin that she wore told him that she had not forgotten at all, but had likely wanted to make him speak his desires. “Have you ever slept in a bed like this one before, Merit?” she asked as she moved to the end of the great bed. He still marveled at its size – more like a barge than the reed mat he slept on in his humble dwelling. It was piled with a wealth of lavish fabrics to serve as sheets, its tall frame covered by curtains. “I don’t suppose you would have.”
“No, my Lady,” he replied as he watched her sink a hand into its plush surface.
“Another first for you, then,” she chimed. “I would have it no other way.”
“W-what should I do?” he stammered. “Is there some ritual I should perform?”
“Before going to bed?” she chuckled. “Not that I am aware of. You have taken a bath, and you have my invitation, so that should be sufficient.”
She reached down and unfastened the belt that held up her skirt, letting it fall away to expose her shapely rear, her dark fur gleaming in the firelight of a nearby torch. He was no stranger to seeing her nude at this point, but it was one more thing that never grew any less captivating. Her top soon followed, his mistress gathering her assets in one arm. Keeping her back to him, she lifted the curtain on the near side of her bed and climbed inside. When it fell behind her, all Merit could see was her silhouette, the light of the fire making its shadow dance and waver on the fabric.
He saw her beckon, and he quickly shed his schenti, stepping over her discarded clothes and lifting the curtain. It was heavier than it had looked, and as he climbed onto the plush mattress atop its raised pedestal, he saw Anput waiting for him. She had already hidden herself beneath a linen sheet, the tall curve of her hip visible beneath it, her head resting upon a goose feather pillow. As he knelt beside her, the bed so wide that two or even three people of her stature could have fit, she lifted the sheet in invitation. Beneath its shadow, he could just make out her ample breasts pressing together under their own weight. The pale linens around her had been scattered with purple, star-shaped flowers, and he realized that they were mandrakes from her gardens.
“Come, Merit,” she whispered in a voice that could charm the very moon from the sky. He crawled closer, then lowered himself to the mattress. It was so soft that he feared he might sink into it like quicksand. As soon as he was lying on his side, Anput’s long arm reached out to snatch him, dragging him beneath the sheet like a trapdoor spider ensnaring its prey. In an instant, he found himself sinking into her bosom as much as the bed, her fragrant fur enveloping him as she drew his face into her cleavage. She wrapped the sheet around him, along with her arms, his rising member pressing into the soft meat of her thigh. “Are you comfortable?” she purred, her breath blowing over his head. “Are you warm?”
“Yes, my Lady,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by her bust. There was that insidious perfume again, his every breath bringing with it a rush of floral Kyphi, each note linked in his mind to some sordid memory. “I feel as though I am floating upon still water.”
“I am accustomed to this kind of luxury,” she murmured as she ran her claws up and down his back. “Rarely does the thought of what it might be like to sleep on a hard floor or a simple reed mat cross my mind. Goose feathers, silk, and fresh linens are my daily reality. Not so for you. Revel in it. Seeing you drowned in pleasure entertains me.”
“I cannot imagine a greater comfort than this,” he sighed. Her fur was wonderfully soft, and still hot from her bath.
“Then I shall have to broaden your horizons,” she whispered. “Tell me, Merit. I have been preoccupied all evening. What were your prayers to Bastet? What did you ask for?”
“I only asked for what I thought you would want, my Lady.”
“And what do you imagine I want?”
“Bastet is the patron Goddess of many things,” he replied, letting himself sink deeper into her pillowy chest with a sigh. “She is a Goddess of grace, sensuality, and feminine strength. She is a fierce protector, but also a nurturer. She heals, brings pleasure, and relieves those in pain. In her, strength and gentleness are not opposites, but in balance – in Ma’at. I asked for her blessings of domestic harmony, pleasure, and joy. I beseeched her to grant us some of her grace and sensuality.”
“You pretend at modesty, but you are a sly little thing,” she said with a chuckle that made her bust quiver against his cheeks. “I give you the opportunity to make any request of Bastet, and you ask her to enhance our pleasure and sensuality – to grant us a joyous union?” She slid a finger beneath his chin and lifted his head, her golden eyes reflecting the firelight as she peered down at him. “That was exactly what I was hoping for. I am a Goddess of death,” she added, her voice lowering to a hiss. “I do not deal in revelry and rapture, but now...”
Anput drew closer, parting her dark lips, her flat tongue sliding its way into his mouth. Cradling his head in her hand, she subjected him to another deep, paralyzing kiss that left him shivering and breathless on the bed beside her.
“Now, you are going to experience what only a handful of mortals ever have,” she continued, breaking away and wetting her lips hungrily. “Sharing a bed with an immortal, all while being blessed by the living avatar of carnal delights.”
She locked him in another impossibly deep kiss, her tongue sliding across the roof of his mouth, barely giving the young priest a moment to catch his breath. He let his hands wander now, roaming across her silken fur, still warm and fresh from her nefer. His fingers were swallowed to the knuckle by her breast, flesh even softer than the goose feather mattress beneath him filling his hand, plush and tangibly heavy.
He was able to appreciate her body in different, more sordid ways now, lingering and enjoying the texture of her coat and the curves of her fertile figure rather than simply spreading soap suds or perfume. There was no pretense in this – no having to bury his feelings, and no trying to drive the carnal thoughts from his mind. He could indulge them now – kindle them into a roaring flame, his coveted mistress leaving no illusions as to her intentions.
He soon moved lower as she painted his inner cheeks with slow licks, finding her belly no less inviting, feeling her wriggle and chuckle into his mouth as he took a greedy handful. Desire was guiding him now, finally unchained again after the feast. She noticed his member pressing into her thigh, pushing her leg out, trapping his cock against his stomach and forcing it deeper into her luxuriant fur. The pressure alone was enough to drive a groan from him.
She broke off her kiss when his hand found something hot and slick, baring her canine teeth in a grimace. He slipped a finger between her pillow-soft lips, already matted with her excitement, her nectar coating his skin as he began to rub and probe. He quickly found her swollen bud, feeling it pulse against his fingertip as he made slow circles, her massive frame shuddering in response.
“Such eager little hands,” she cooed, letting her lips brush against his ear. “Do you truly find me so inviting?”
“You are the embodiment of perfection, my Lady,” he replied without a shred of hesitation.
“Even if Bastet is leaner and more graceful than I?” she added with a giggle. “Even if she dances better than I do?”
“You are abundant, my Lady,” he replied as he let his desire get the better of him for a moment. It made him feel aggressive – bold. “Every part of you seems tailored to tempt me – to draw my gaze and drive me mad with need. There could have been no greater cruelty than letting me lay eyes upon you, yet denying me this.”
“Does it please you to know that you shall spend hours each day laying hands on me?” she purred, biting his ear softly. “You shall know my body better than anyone – each nefer and each night letting you have your fill of my abundance...”
He took the opportunity to guide one of her breasts towards his mouth, his lips roaming across her fur until they located something smoother, pursing around it. Anput groaned as he drew her nipple into his mouth, Merit finding it firm and engorged with desire, swirling his tongue around it and gently pinching it between his teeth.
“Good,” she sighed, her claws pricking him as she curled a hand around his head to keep him close. “Hold nothing back. I want to feel your desire. I want it to be unbearable.”
He felt her arm cross over his beneath the sheets, her claws trailing down his stomach until her palm brushed the tip of his member. She let it pulse against her hand for a few agonizing moments, then closed her fist around it, starting to pump gently. Merit couldn’t help but thrust into her waiting hand, the low, sordid laughter that escaped her making his heart flutter. It was both loving and mocking, the sight of him squirming filling her with equal measures of amusement and affection.
“You are as hard as stone,” she purred. “Your manhood beats like a heart in my hand. Should we weigh it against a feather, do you think?”
“And condemn me, my Lady?” he joked as he let her nipple slide from his lips.
“Then you shall have to repent in service to your Goddess,” she chuckled, giving him a squeeze with her furry fist. He buried his face in her chest again, enjoying the sensation of her coat against his burning cheeks and reveling in her perfume as she stroked him, her slender fingers dancing up and down his shaft.
“What we did during the Senet game,” he began, shifting as she teased his glans with her fur. “I cannot drive it from my mind. All evening, the thoughts have tormented me. I could scarcely look at you without feeling my heart start to race and my manhood swell.”
“And yet, you kept your composure and performed your duties,” she replied as she trailed her soft fingers across his sack. “I have been a cruel mistress,” she sighed, leaning down to plant a lingering kiss on his neck. He leaned back, giving her more space, and he felt the intoxicating sensation of her teeth grazing his skin. “I have tested you and tormented you. I have given you brief tastes, like someone sharing only droplets of water with a thirsty traveler.”
“I understand,” he replied, faltering as her hot tongue glided across his throat. “You had to know for sure that I could serve you in all the ways that you require.”
As his digits played across her sensitive petals, he remembered the feeling of her innermost muscles bearing down on his fingers, stroking and wringing them ruthlessly. Bastet embodied feminine strength, where power and gentleness were in balance, and he found that same Ma’at in Anput.
They lay together for a few minutes more, enjoying their proximity beneath the linens, exploring one another’s bodies by touch and tongue. Merit could have been content with nothing more than Anput’s hand – the slow stroking of her silken fist was enrapturing, but he knew that she had not invited him into her bed for that alone.
She sensed that he was growing restless, releasing him and gazing down, her golden eyes shimmering in the firelight. Merit loved to look up at her – there was something about having to lift his chin so high that sent wonderful shivers coursing through him, and he could not explain it.
“And now, no more tests,” she said in a comely whisper. “I mean to quench your thirst.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder and rolled him onto his back, suddenly forceful, the adoration in her eyes taking on a fierce and covetous quality. She swung a long leg over him, and as she rose to a kneeling position, the white linens slowly sloughed off her back to leave her naked before him. Her breasts swayed as she shifted her weight, sinking deeper into the soft mattress, hips broader than his shoulders rolling with the motion. The flickering glow of the torches lit her from the left side of the bed, filtering through the curtains before hitting her fur, making her voluptuous figure gleam like burnished gold. She had removed her necklaces and headdress at the dressing table, leaving her braided hair to flow down over her shoulders, the bejeweled beads glinting.
She placed her hand on his chest, almost large enough for her fingers to span it, and pressed him down into the bed. She was forceful, but the soft fabric beneath him took the brunt of it, her weight resting to either side of him. His cock stood prominently, almost as though it was reaching up to her, his eyes wandering down her torso to find her loins. Her lips were glistening, a sparkling string of her nectar hanging between her furry thighs, like a strand of spider silk covered in droplets of dew. He could spy a small sliver of gold nestled in her black fur.
“I have drained you once already today, so you should last a good while,” she mused as the hand on his chest slid down his belly. Her fingers brushed his member, and she cupped it in her hand, guiding it towards her waiting lips as she lowered herself towards him. “If you don’t, it is no matter. You shall learn endurance as quickly as you learned Senet, I am sure.”
With that, she spread her long thighs wider, his tip squashing against her plush lips. They parted, the wet fur giving way to those delicate folds of golden flesh, their texture making him gasp as they raked over his glans. Her feverish heat struck him, her nectar coating his skin to let him glide past her opening, the muscles that had so captivated him earlier in the day halting his progress. She was wickedly strong, squeezing so tightly, but a little more effort pushed past the resistance.
Merit’s eyes glazed over as he felt the Goddess’ golden insides wrap around him, her hot, soaking-wet flesh adhering to his every contour like it was being painted onto his skin. She gripped him with a flex that rippled along his shaft, those powerful muscles kneading and squeezing, at once soft and firm. Her mouth had been one thing, warm and slick with her saliva, but this was even more exquisite. There was a thud as she took him all the way, hilting him like a dagger being thrust into a scabbard, swallowing him down to the base. More of her weight was on him, but she was cautious, letting the mattress support him. She had promised to drown him in pleasure, and she was true to her word.
Anput twisted her hips as though adjusting his position inside her, more squeezes and flutters from her depths taking his breath away. The Goddess lifted her snout towards the ceiling, letting out a long sigh of relief.
“Oh, this, I have missed,” she growled as she placed a hand on her belly just above her mound. It was easy to imagine how far he was reaching inside her, Merit’s eyes lingering on the space where his member should have been. “To go empty for so long must have seemed like madness to Bastet and Taweret.”
Initially dazed by the pleasure of their joining, Merit was coming to his senses now, a new frustration overcoming him. He wanted to move – to thrust into her, but her weight had him pinned beneath her. She seemed to sense it in him, a smile warming her expression as she turned her reflective eyes on him, her pink tongue emerging to wet her dark lips.
“All things in good time, Merit. Have I not yet taught you patience?”
She planted her hand on his chest again, then slowly rose off him, her loins fighting him for every inch as though the prospect of letting him go was blasphemous. Even as her nectar made his shaft slick and shiny, her tight nethers refused to relinquish their hold, dazing him once again as her pillowy walls and satin folds slid up his length. There was a rush of sensation as she dropped again, coming down harder this time, his spine trying to arch as she drove him into the mattress.
“I must ... pace myself,” she stammered, a tremor passing through her that made her reaches ripple. Her eyes were closed, the golden rings that encircled them still shining, her jaw hanging subtly agape as she slowed her breathing. “I cannot treat you as I would an immortal – I cannot be careless.”
Merit blinked up at her, taken aback. In the short time he had known her, this was the first hint of hesitation – of uncertainty. He had never seen the Goddess question herself, show any weakness, or have any lapse of control. It was jarring, but also endearing. Perhaps she was not as perfectly composed and infallible as he had imagined.
He lifted a hand towards her, but he was not reaching for her breasts or hips. She leaned down to meet him, pushing her face into his palm and letting him stroke her furry cheek, her golden eyes seeming to flicker as her long lashes fluttered.
“I trust you, my Lady. I put my heart in your hands.”
“You are a sweet little thing, Merit,” she purred as she placed her hand behind his. Her tone turned sly, and her tongue snaked out to lick his wrist. “I am going to take you in every way imaginable.”
Rising out of his reach, she returned her clawed hand to his chest and began to move, finding a slow and teasing pace. She lifted her weight off him, her gilded flesh sliding up his shaft, then let herself fall back to the bed with a thud that reverberated through him. She was palpably heavy, each downward thrust sinking him into the mattress and making him bounce, but she was careful not to put too much of her weight on him.
It was captivating just to watch her move, that full, fertile figure on display in the firelight. Every motion made her hefty breasts sway, bouncing against her torso when she hilted him, ripples passing through her soft flesh. The same was true of the subtle paunch of her belly, her plush thighs, and her padded hips. Her fat created small creases where the curve of her hips met her waist, the sight of them filling Merit with a hunger that surprised even himself. Her body was inhumanly perfect, as much an avatar of feminine power as Bastet claimed to be, soft and inviting in ways that no man could have resisted.
He reached out, gripping her thighs with both hands this time, letting his fingers dig deep into their covering of yielding flesh. Her fur was irresistibly soft and smooth, the warm, humid air in the bed chamber leaving it moist to the touch. Her figure gleamed in the torchlight, the flames picking out every contour of her body, accentuating each curve and muscle.
As she drove him into the bed with her measured, punishing thrusts, he began to slide a hand higher. His skin glided against her coat as he rose to her wide hips, so broad that she could have strapped a small millstone about them and carried it around with ease. They were no less plush than her thighs, providing perfect handholds as she moved atop him.
The Goddess altered her pace now, her rhythmic movements changing. She lingered at her lowest point, keeping him buried deep inside her as she pushed forward and back, grinding against his shaft. It created a different sensation, those exquisitely textured inner walls caressing him, every fold and smooth muscle sliding against his tender glans on a sheen of her fluids. Her eyes lidded, her black lips peeling back to expose her carnivore teeth in a grimace, the fluttering of her reaches as they cradled his shaft letting him feel a little of her pleasure.
Those grinding movements became twists and shimmies as she rocked her hips, displaying an incredible level of control over her core muscles, her torso almost seeming to stand still in the air as her lower body gyrated. She made lazy, maddening circles, swirling his member around within her like she was stirring honey. Merit gasped, gripping her hips more tightly just as a drowning sailor might cling to a floating branch, her burning flesh seeming to spiral around his shaft. She punctuated her movements with quick, teasing shimmies, making the soft parts of her figure shake and keeping him guessing.
“And you claimed that Bastet was a better dancer than you are,” he groaned as a percussive thrust left him reeling. “I never imagined that someone could move as you do.”
“You have never seen Bastet dance,” she chuckled, delivering another cruel sway of her hips as if to drive home her words. “You might change your tune.”
“I doubt that very much.”
She gave him another sordid laugh, accompanied by a swing of her hips, her body undulating in waves that had him gripping onto her for dear life again. He slid a hand to her belly, planting it in her soft flesh and feeling the taut muscles beneath bulge and flex, like coils of knotted rope beneath her fur. She might have a figure like a wine jar, but she was as strong as an ox, all of that power now directed solely towards the pursuit of pleasure.
Anput kept up her cruel dance for a while longer, then began to slow, doubling over to bring herself closer to him. Her smiling face seemed to descend from on high, her nose hovering a hair’s breadth from his own as she stared into his eyes, drinking in his every expression as though his emotions nourished her. This was as much about his enjoyment as it was hers. She wanted to be there to watch – to share in his novelty, excitement, and surprise. She wanted to taste his joy just as she might savor some new dish laid before her at the table. Through him, what was old could become new again.
“Your face is so red,” she purred, flashing her fangs in a grin. “How does it feel to lie with a Goddess? How does it feel to be the sole focus of my attention – the object of my affection?”
What could he tell her that she could not read in every roll of his eyes and bite of his lip? What secrets could he hold that she could not wring from him with her inescapable dance and her piercing gaze? There was no need to speak when his gasps, sighs, and moans told her more than words could convey.
Being with her in her bed was like stepping into another world – an afterlife of endless pleasure and comfort where no worries could reach him. He could focus on nothing beyond those curtains, as though her golden eyes were the only thing that existed – the only candles in a dark room. She subjected him to sensations that he had never felt before, his body doing things that he hadn’t known it was capable of, her guiding presence leading him through this unknown territory like a smiling shepherd. A Goddess of death she might be, but was guiding mortals to peace and pleasure not her vocation?
Anput was divinity made manifest, and her very flesh was living gold, her fur softer and more luxuriant than any fabric mortals could fashion. Just touching her was a sensory experience without compare, and now, he was as close to her as anyone could ever be. The body that he had so admired from afar – that he had so lovingly bathed – was now all his to enjoy.
His reply was a kiss, sudden and passionate, Anput’s golden eyes opening in surprise for a moment before lidding. Just like the rest of her, her tongue was so much larger than his own – so much more skilled and practiced, overwhelming him as it coiled into his mouth like a snake. He did his best to match her, shivers trailing down his spine as they embraced, their slow lovemaking doing all the talking now.
There was desire in every stroke of Anput’s tongue, her kiss deeper and needier than he had ever felt before. Her thrusting slowed to a more affectionate tempo, the pleasure coming in lapping waves as her hips pressed him into the bed, almost heavy enough to drive the breath from his lungs. That leisurely, teasing pace kept him on edge, giving him just enough stimulation to keep him wanting without ever pushing him too far. He marveled at her ability to move with such precision and restraint despite her obvious size and strength, balancing on a knife’s edge with immaculate poise. Her millennia of experience in the art left him completely at her mercy. So different was their skill that he might as well have tried to resist the river’s current or hold back the rising sun.
She broke off their kiss, moving down to his neck, his sharp gasp of delight only encouraging her as she brushed his throat with her teeth. The sharp prick of her fangs was followed by a hot, wet lick from her tongue, her dark lips crawling across his shoulder. Did he not trust her so completely, he might have worried that she would hold him between her jaws for purchase as she rutted.
“Just the taste of the sweat on your skin is enough to make me forget my propriety,” she huffed, pressing her canine nose into the nape of his neck as she gave him a stronger thrust that made the bed’s wooden frame creak. “Your scent ... even the most expensive perfume cannot mask the scent of a male. After all this time, I did not think it would captivate me so...”
She began to move a little faster, her restraint eroding, as though finally being able to have him in all the ways she wanted was too tempting to resist. Merit could scarcely think, her flat, slippery tongue and her pointed teeth scrambling his thoughts each time they found his neck. Was she making love, or trying to eat him?
Her new proximity presented an opportunity, and he reached up, delving into her hanging breasts as she rode him. When he tried to lift them, they simply draped over his hands, swallowing them almost to the wrist. Nothing could have been softer or more inviting, and he could take his fill now, kneading and squeezing as her lips trailed across his throat. Her doughy fat bulged between his fingers, her silken fur beyond compare, his lover faltering when he trapped a dark nipple between his digits.
“Yes,” she growled, her hot breath washing across his neck. “That is the desire I seek. Covet me – worship me. Not as a priest, but as a man.”
Frustration was building within him now, a new feeling coming over him. It was something that he had only felt once before – during their encounter in the dining hall earlier that day. It was fiery, it was aggressive, and it flooded his veins like adrenaline. He remembered taking her by the braids and driving his cock into her waiting throat, and how good that had felt – how right. Some newly surfaced instinct was demanding that he set the pace and take control, but he was powerless beneath her. All he could do was lie back as she peppered him with kisses and bites, each steady stroke of her hips sending a flurry of sensation rippling through him. He wanted more. He needed more...
“My Lady,” he gasped, the Goddess pausing with her teeth brushing his shoulder. “I want you on your back...”
“What?” she giggled, taken aback by the request.
“On your back,” he said, more firmly. “My Lady...”
“What a bold request,” she purred, giving his ear one last nibble. “No man has commanded me in a very long time. No mortal has ever commanded me...”
She rose away from him, narrowing her golden eyes, but the way that her lips curled into an eager smile told him that she was pleased.
“I have never felt more confident that I made the right choice in you,” she added. “Very well, Meritamun. Let us put your boldness to the test.”