EXTRACT FOR
The Last Pharoah
(Author Unknown)

CHAPTER 1

    

    He could hardly recall his beginning. The sands of emptiness trickled through his tired fingers as he watched the sluggish Nile God as it headed towards the everlasting sea. Egypt was never the same again, at least not since those arrogant Romans came with their course language and even courser manners. 

    He'd been there to greet Caesar, of course, as he'd been there when Queen Hatshepsut had finally met her end at the hand of Thutmose. He'd been there when the land had almost been destroyed during the evil time when he'd had to intervene as Imhotep the deliverer, late in the 8th dynasty. Of course they hadn't known it as that then. Provincial governors or nomarchs had ruled Egypt, many of which styled themselves as a pharaoh. It was foolish of course. After all there could only be one living God among men. But how could you convince some upstart that he was just a mere mortal? Naturally, he'd had to protect Memphis from the Heraclian party and as a result, the land had reeled from the ravages of civil strife from those renegade monarchs. It took centuries to recover. 

    Even before the middle kingdom, the lofty pyramids had loomed large and majestic because Snefru and Khufu had used him as the master builder. He'd been known as Imhotep, he who was sent to Pharoah by Amon Ra. At least that is what he'd claimed as he'd stood in front of the man of power whose monument Imhotep would have to build. Those had been glorious years as he'd designed and overseen the construction of those three immense tributes in stone to the living Gods who'd condescended to live among men. but that was then. This was now. 

    The sand was oily from the gas that the barges used for fuel as they dragged their payloads up and down the Nile. Amin knew at that moment that the Nile God was dead. It had been killed by the science of men and the new, strange Christian God descended from the Hebrews and the very press of civilization itself. And all his memories swamped his cluttered mind as he stared with hopeless, obsidian eyes at that which had been the life of Egypt.

    Alanda was getting concerned with her new husband. He was passionate of course, but he was also distant. His thoughts seemed to wander as they spent there honeymoon, searching the ancient ruins of a dead world that only he seemed to be able to see. Sometimes he frightened her with his matter-of-fact comments. "You see that pylon? It was built by Amenemhet the second to commemorate his triumph over the Nubians of the south. Of course then it was known as Upper Egypt beyond the fourth cataract."

    To her it was but a pillar of stone with markings barely visible. Yet her new love seemed to know all about it as if he were an expert in antiquities. He was a bank manager in downtown Boston for heaven's sake and yet he knew these ruins so well, he hadn't even bothered to hire a tour guide. It was most strange.

    He looked at her with sad eyes. "This was once a beautiful river. It was the heart and soul of Egypt. Now it is a putrid, dead mess. I'm actually sorry we came here Alanda. It would have been better if we'd gone to London or Hawaii.

    She gave him a look of utter perplexity. "But Amin, this trip has been so wonderful! The pyramids are magnificent and the sphinx is so mysterious and eternal looking. These have been the happiest days I've ever had. It isn't just these great monuments, but you seem to bring them back to life. You stir my blood like no other man ever has."

    His lined face took on a look of infinite pathos. "It's most kind of you to say so, young one. To you the world is fresh and new and life abounds and is magically reborn in every glorious dawn. Yet, my honey sweet, you have no idea what true beauty is. It is the inner you that I worship. The flesh profits nothing. It is that which is you that is the beginning of immortality."

    Now it was her turn to stare at this strange new husband who spoke in riddles. "I don't understand Amin. You speak as if you'd been here forever. It must be the romantic antiquity of this place. I've never seen you so melancholy and poetical like this before." Then she laughed, "I know, I'll cheer you up." She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "How about we sneak back to our room and you can explore something soft and wet and aching for you. What do you say my darling? Does it sound like a plan?"

    He put his hand on hers. "How little it takes to make you so happy. That is why I love you as much as I do. You are like some little princess from an earlier time. We have a one-bedroom apartment, a television and a microwave back in Boston. In spite of such a humble dwelling, you act as if we're royalty. My umbrella is a scepter and my rain coat a princely robe. Your smile is like the dazzling radiance of Nefertiri. You bring back memories, so long forgotten. I find that most remarkable, my sweet."

    She raised her perfect eyebrows, "Nefertiri, indeed! You're mine now dear and I don't intend to be competing with some downtown Cairo trollop for your affections."

    He laughed then. Alanda hadn't even known that Nefertiri was dead some three thousand years or more. His tone became dry and a bit sardonic. "I don't think you have anything to fear from her my newest love. Nefertiri has been dead quite awhile. She had a lovely smile though. 

    Alanda practically beamed into his reflective face as Amin went on. Oh well it's not important. I suspect a leisurely tryst in our hotel room will be a pleasant relief after the scorching afternoon here under the remorseless sun God. Did you know they once called him Ra?

    She smiled but a bit uneasily. "I didn't know that. Amin, are you some sort of closet historian or something?"

    He shook his head. "I'm afraid in my case it has been delivered to me quite naturally. I was a child once but it seems like a faint, barely remembered dream. But you are real, for this fleeting present. You are now, Alanda Chefron, the mild, affectionate woman who fell in love with a strange man who no longer wishes to be a stranger to you. However, I must apologize, my sweet, sweet darling. This trip is bringing back to many memories. I'm afraid I'm not very good company for a honeymooner." He gave her a charming, yet deprecating smile as if to accent his words.

    She snuggled up to him and looked into those distant eyes. "I think you are fascinating, Amin. From the day I met you to set up that silly account, I knew that you were the man for me. You have such dignity without effort, such understanding without being told a word. It's as if you know more about me than I do myself. You're so understanding and considerate. The least I can do is cheer you up when you're saddened by what you perceive to be the ruin of a once beautiful country. You'll never be a stranger to me, you silly man. It's as if I've known you all my life. God was kind when He led my steps to yours."

    He brushed her honey-colored hair gently with a knowing hand. He thought to himself wistfully, wondering which God actually had brought them together. "I suspect its time to re-discover each other in the privacy of our cool, air-conditioned room. You are kindness incarnate, my sweet Alanda."

    She licked his ear lobe. "It sounds marvelous. Besides, I'm beginning to burn from this unmerciful Ra of yours."

    

***

    

    Alanda lay stretched out, glorious in her total nakedness. They lay on the cool linen sheets, joined together in their journey towards the boundless realm of ecstasy. There was no need for blankets in the fierce Egyptian afternoon heat. Even the air con didn't make much progress in cooling the love inflamed couple. His cock was buried deep in her writhing cunt and her moans and gasps testified to the brilliant pleasure he was giving her. She didn't know what it was but she'd never been taken quite like the way Amin Chefron penetrated her. He knew precisely how to lick her cunt into a mushy swamp of burning lust. He knew exactly which way to twist and turn his prick inside her, increasing her urgency until she screamed with climax time after time. She knew she was being selfish and wicked. They'd already made the beast twice that morning and now she was arching her back upward to meet his magnificent down strokes and it was still an hour before supper. However Alanda didn't care if she was being too greedy for Amin's affection. All her body knew was that it required more, much more. "I don't want supper! Just fuck me all night my darling! Ooooo! Amin! Amin! Just love me! No one ever loved me like you do! You're like two or three men! God! Oh God! Fuck! Aaaaaahhhhh! Fuck! God, you're so deep in my pussy! It's so bloody marvelous! Again love! Again! Just put it to me and fuck me! Aaaaahhhhhh! Aaaaahhhh! More! It's so hot! Yes! Just like that! Oh yes! Deeper!"

    He felt her cunt convulse and ripple with passion as he slowly stroked his cock in lazy circles around her sloppy cunt. Her juices ran like the muddy Nile outside and he shuddered involuntarily at the image. He remembered when the Nile was blue and shimmered with life as rosy dawn crested the east and gave glory to the fountain of life that flowed through upper and Lower Egypt. For a short time, he'd been the living God, Pharaoh Imhotep and now he was a mere bank manager, enjoying a twenty-two-year-old girl who barely knew what life was really about. He almost laughed at the utter irony of it. Here he was, a living God, fucking some former co-ed until she screamed in unbridled bliss. Her body was strong and lusty and her life force seemed to flow into him, making him feel a little younger. This always happened when he made love with the right woman. There was no doubt in Amin's thoughts that Alanda Chefron, formerly Alanda Howard was definitely the right woman. 

    The priest had told him that this would be so. Yes, the old priest of Amon Ra who'd taught him the many secrets of Ma'at and the transmigration of the life force through the house of the dead. The Gods had chosen him for this long journey of which he could see no end. How he longed for an end as month after month became year after year and he witnessed the gradual destruction of the very world that he'd tried to save. Yet, the inner drive for life would not permit him to find release in welcome oblivion. There was always the temptation of the unexpected, beckoning to him over the horizon of the next day. The throb of "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow" kept surging through his mind as if he might miss something important, had he dared wink out of existence. 

    They were too powerful for him, these new men with their ridiculous wealth and even more ridiculous science. They ran the world with oil and didn't care in the least that the very air and water was becoming polluted by their insatiable search for wealth.

    What was wealth anyway? To Amin, this tight, squishing pussy was sheer riches. He would treasure Alanda's devastating carnal urges like Midas, himself! At this moment, as his prick surged and slithered inside Alanda, he felt like one of those gods that the old priest had told him about. Each whimper and moan that Alanda made, convinced him that the joining between them was right, good and infinite. Life would spring from his loins and fill his new wife's eager womb. Even now, he suspected that he'd sent the beginnings of child into this gasping woman who writhed under his loving embrace. Again and again, he rammed his manhood deeper and deeper into that blessed tightness that gripped him with utterly abandoned ferocity. 

    Amin glared deep into her eyes, letting her read the passion that was building in his very soul. "You are mine, my sweet. My life is better because I met you, Alanda. Give me your heart! Open yourself to me! I want all of you, every part of you, my other half!"

    She giggled and gasped at the same time. "Oooooo! Amin, you're such a romantic! Amin, my mysterious one! Show me how much you love me! Do it harder! Plow it right through me darling! God! You are so fucking good!"

    Alanda bucked upward and arched her legs until she'd captured his rump and locked her ankles around him. With all her strength she strained on him, forcing him to drill her deep and hard. "Now really give it to me Amin! Fuck me hard, you lovely, savage beast! Oh yes! Like that!" 

    Amin knew for an absolute certainty, that this woman wanted him with love and desperation. He'd known many women over the uncounted years. He'd lain with both the beautiful and the ordinary and he knew when they were sincere and when they were simply playacting. This one was urgent and eager for every part of him and he renewed his assault with a fierce frenzy of penetrations that triggered a series of blazing eruptions inside his beloved Alanda.

    Again and again she cried out and still his hard cock sought release inside her wet, softness. "I can't believe it! You're staying hard so long for me! It's all right baby! Squirt that hot cum into my cunt! You're so divine, Amin! Oh God! You're such a fucking animal! I love it! Again! Again! I want all your sweet love inside me! Ooooooo! Amin! Amin! Just keep fucking me!"

    His hands moved over her plush tit mounds as if to hold her in place so she couldn't escape him. He lunged deep into her, enjoying that tingle that told him he would soon fill his new love with his precious essence. At last he groaned, "Take it love! Take my seed! Yes! It comes! Now!"

    She felt his flood of potent liquids pour into her little cunt and inner self. It felt to her like her soul had just been pleasantly drowned with his exceptional lust. It was like a dam had busted and her womb was being filled full with all his sticky, spermy spunk in one vast river. Her arms and legs held him to her as she greedily milked his cock. Alanda determined to force out every drop of his cum to fill the emptiness that she'd endured inside her innermost being for far too long. "Give it to me you hot fucker! Yeah! Shoot that cum into my pussy! Oh Amin! It feels so great! Squirt that box full! Fuck a baby into my cunt you wicked stud! Hmmmmm! It's so wet and warm! You just stay right there baby! I need a lot more! You're not getting away from me this time, my randy darling!"

    He thought his head might explode from the power of his eruptive ejaculation. Those all too welcome tingling sensations engulfed his prick and this awesome pleasure triggered the tell-tale dizziness which so often overtook him during these intense moments of utter rapture. He felt young again as his fluids rapidly drained into her carnal orifice. He lay on her, attempting to get back his breath while her hot flesh encompassed him and held him close as if she were afraid he would vanish in a cloud of vapor.

    To his surprise, Alanda's vaginal gripping and caressing quickly revived him. It was rare that a woman could make him rigid so quickly after fulfillment. He hissed in her ear, "You are a witch my sweet. You are a cock craving, seed greedy bitch and now you'll pay the price! Fuck me, my winsome bride! Work me until I flood you again. I love you, my sweet Alanda. I love your face, your enticing kiss, your lovely blue eyes, your light brown curls and most of all, that hot little pussy hole that sends joy zipping from the tip of my cock to the core of my very soul! Fuck me you wanton wench! If you want more of my seed, fucking work for it!"

    Alanda loved it when he spoke that way to her. He showed how much he wanted her by the assumption of possession in his trembling voice. It was as if she were a slave girl being taken by the all-powerful master. Her cunt spasmed around that buried bone. Yes, he was going to take her again and again. Her body was a rippling temple at which Amin Chefron worshipped and yet she had no idea of the incredible secret that lurked inside this man that was humping her with such ferocity and adoration. Her squeals and gasps were as music in his ears as they continued to be one. Yet at the back of his mind, visions and momentary flashes of previous women flickered through his fevered brain. 

    Thanks to the deep secrets mentioned to him by the high priest of Amon Ra he'd enjoyed a very long existence. It was one reason why he kept the sacred scarab in safe, hidden places. It was that powerful, magical talisman that was responsible for his centuries of continued life. What he would never tell nor never dare to tell his knew wife, was the terrible price at which his own longevity had been purchased. So as their coupling went on beyond the supper hour, he tried to forget it all for a time, without success.

    



CHAPTER 2

    2910 B. C. E. 

    

    Amoz swam leisurely in the cool, crystal clear spring water that bubbled and foamed just rods from the mother of all rivers, the Nile. Amoz favored this quiet time, just after dawn to bathe and cleanse himself for his daily duties in the temple of Ra. It seemed that all his life he'd been studying about the Gods, the natural world he lived in and the power of the priesthood. Well the early morning time was his, when all was tranquil. Only the chirping of birds added their welcome melody to that serene, sacred place. 

    It was the tenth year of Semerkat, pharaoh and the living son of Osiris. The land was rich in peace and stability. No man living could remember a time of war or want. The land flowed with the abundant life that spilled from the Nile God each spring during the inundation that brought one magnificent harvest after another. Amoz seemed to reflect this prosperity with his very person. Amoz was unusually tall for his age, with long, dark brown hair, solid muscles and warm brown skin so typical of the Northern kingdom people. From an early age Amoz was able to read and write the complex hieroglyphics that constituted the expressive Egyptian language. He possessed a brilliant mind, eagerly seeking as much knowledge as his instructors would allow him to study. His progress was swift and he mastered subjects more effectively than any of the other priests in training. However, what struck Amoz the most was the early realization that with all his knowledge, he glimpsed the unsettling revelation of just how much he did not know. 

    Sekhemib found him drying in the early morning sun. The lad was stretched out with only a simple loin cloth to cover himself with. His young, muscular body glistened in the blessed beams of Ra. Sekhemib had approached quietly, knowing that this future leader would be resting for a few minutes before the rigors of the day took over. "Amoz, it is time for us to talk. "

    Amoz stood up and slid on his thin linen robe. The cloth felt cool to the touch as he obediently followed the old man to the sanctuary of the greatest God Ra. They walked in silence as was the custom when within the holy precincts of the deity. No shouting or loud talking was permitted there on the sacred grounds of the holy Gods. Most of the time, the priests spoke in whispers unless important discussions were taking place in the many classes that Amoz and the others had to attend. 

    Sekhemib thought with some amusement, that Amoz probably could have taught over half the classes already and he was only 15 summers old. It was amazing when he thought of it and the vision he'd received last night had confirmed what he had suspected for many months.

    They sat in a large room that Sekhemib used to privately question and lecture students. Amoz was quiet, awaiting his master's pleasure. His alert, obsidian eyes flicked around the room, noting with satisfaction that the jackal god image was still in its corner as if guarding the high priest from harm. Several scrolls were neatly bound on a shelf behind where his master sat. 

    Directly in front of them was a simple table upon which stood two cups of last summer's wine. 

    Sekhemib spoke at last. "I have much to tell you, but before I begin, I swear by the immortal Ra that what I am about to tell you is the absolute truth. Tell me Amoz, how old do you think I am?"

    Amoz was used to Sekhemib's trick questions. He smiled a little, wondering what the trap was this time. "Kindest of masters, you appear to be perhaps some sixty winters old. I know you have seen much."

    The old priest shook his head in mild amusement. "You judge by your eyes, young one. No, I am not mocking you. In ordinary circumstances your assessment would have been close to the mark. However, I am much older than that. This will surprise you but I was old when the scorpion king brought unity and prosperity to our world."

    Amoz gulped but he was afraid to speak. "I can see the disbelief written in your dark eyes, best of my students. You are thinking to yourself that I would have to be a thousand years old. Let me assure you I am much older than that. Fear not, I will give you some evidence so that you may fully believe my words.

    Amoz saw no hint of mirth in the old man's face. Either the high priest was telling him the truth or the man was mad. Amoz would have bet a year of his life that his teacher and mentor was definitely not deranged. Yet, how could Sekhemib be so aged as to have met the scorpion king? 

    Many centuries ago, I was a wealthy scholar in the fabled city of Atlantis. Our knowledge and power was unsurpassed among the primitive nations of this world. We grew fat and lazy as our wealth and power grew. We developed flying machines and challenged the very clouds for sway. We made boats that could go under the sea and still it was not enough. We would have challenged the very stars had not our impertinent pride been checked. 

    The Gods in their infinite wisdom and justice, looked down at our impious knowledge and arrogant pride. They were not pleased. In one day, our beautiful city, our science, at least most of it, our commerce, our pride and most of us perished in that single terrible day. The great ocean overwhelmed our Island home. Oh we'd been warned. The Gods would not be that unkind but we fools cursed the Gods and refused to listen to the seer. To hearken to the Gods is the beginning of wisdom. Never forget that Amoz."

    The older man refilled his wine goblet and drank deep. This speech was certainly thirsty work. Amoz just sat there, transfixed and shocked by these incredible revelations. What could he think? Was the old priest finally mad from strong drink and old age? Wisely, he held his speech and patiently listened.

    "For centuries I wandered about the world, looking for a glimmer of intelligence or a promising culture. My travels ended at last when I met the scorpion king. He was a man, compared to which today's men cannot compare. He was immensely strong, being almost five cubits in height. He could run like the wind and his voice was thunder when he gave his commands. I told him I was sent to him from the immortal Ra. The great man believed me. You see I showed him a talisman and proved to him my power. I was the only man in that generation that he feared and he always showed me respect because you see, he'd heard the legends of Atlantis and he knew I spoke truth. I had a different name then, before I met this Narmer, the great scorpion king. My former name is of no importance. My current name is sufficient for me to die with."

    Sekhemib raised his hand, anticipating a question. "Hear me out, young one. This talisman I speak of dropped from the heavens in glorious light. I found it a few short years after I'd escaped from doomed Atlantis. It was in the shape of a sacred beetle and I've worn this scarab around my neck ever since. It has the power to prolong life, to take life and to impart life. I have been instructed by Ra himself that it is time I was gathered to my fathers and this sacred token be placed in your hands, sweet lad. It is a possession of great price, worth more than entire kingdoms that will arise and fade like the summer flowers. Ra revealed to me that you will be a greater man, even than myself. Your name no longer is Amoz. Your name will be Imhotep, which means, He who should come into the world. You are the blessed son of Amon Ra. You are the chosen one to guide Egypt into her greatness." 

    The old man paused here and his face became sombre. "Yes, you will also guide her through her ultimate destruction for it is the curse of men that no matter what they build, it will come to nothing. All their laws, buildings, political systems and governments will fall, sooner or later. Yes even your beloved Egypt will someday be a lowly back water. I have seen this and it cannot be amended or altered. It is as if the future were chiseled in living granite, young one. You cannot dislodge the hand of the immortal Ra. You will pronounce doom in the ears of the mighty and they will not listen. Men will someday call you fool and misguided idiot to your very face. But you will be strong because you have the gift of Ra that you will wear around your neck like I have done for so long."

    Sekhemib drank some more while the eyes of Amoz grew with wonder. The young man looked much closer now at this familiar man who had become a stranger. For the first time it dawned on Amoz that the high priest had a different skin tone than his own. The old man's skin was almost a parchment yellow and his gray eyes were unique in the two lands. Amoz had never seen anyone else with eyes of that coloring. They looked at him with a disconcerting coolness, like the impenetrable fog of a winter dawn. 

    "Be not afraid of their faces, neither give heed to their false words. Though they reach the very stars, yet shall there destruction be as fixed as the North Star that never changes direction. You will live many, many centuries. You will see men advance from knowledge to knowledge until their pride crafts their own extinction. You must endure all this and be a witness to the last ones that in every age, you were there to warn them. However, young one, your end will not be for thousands and thousands of years. I promise you that when you near your end, you will thirst for death much as I thirst for this wine. Death no longer holds any perils for me, he who is now to be called Imhotep."

    Amoz found himself holding the strange object which Sekhemib quietly handed him. It was small but it felt inordinately heavy for its tiny size. It was a beetle shaped object as Sekhemib had told him. The strange object felt unusually warm in his hand as he slipped the golden chain around his neck. The heavy metal seemed to throb against his chest as if it were a living thing. Amoz looked at Sekhemib with wonder. "It lives! I feel force from within."

    "You feel the power. It is a gift from the God and the eternal one has chosen wisely. Only a true believer can detect that special essence that pulses through your soul. It can grant you many powers, Imhotep, but you must find your own wisdom. You have been a fine student until this very day but now your studies will increase. You've only just begun the path of knowledge. Ra will not be mocked. You now possess great power and the God demands wise use of that gift you have been allowed to command. Fear not! The sacred spirit of Ra has chosen you and his wisdom will flow through the talisman and into your very soul. Just remember with such power is an even greater responsibility. You must only drain the life from the evil or wicked. Thus only may your life be righteously prolonged. The truth is your greatest weapon and your greatest danger. Most men prefer darkness to light. For this reason you should keep your own council unless you find a man worthy of your truth."

    Amoz heard someone playing a flute somewhere in the distance. For a fleeting moment he mentally caught a glimpse of a younger friend by the name of Talmat. The soft, sombre tones seemed an appropriate background for the exceptionally important moment in both his life and the great man who had just given him the keys to an almost eternal life.

    At last Amoz spoke and his voice trembled with emotion. "Honored master, I am not worthy of such power and honor. Are you certain you do not wish to continue your life among us? I feel like I am full of ingratitude towards you by taking this object and shortening your days in the land of the living."

    The high priest smiled, "Surely the God ahs chosen wisely. Your very compassion proves your worthiness. Fear not, young one. Of a truth I am very weary of this world. I yearn to rejoin my ancestors who perished so long ago in the temples and pleasant cities of Atlantis. I have had a long, rich life. The deathless Gods have been very kind to me. It is time I passed the torch to you, he who has been chosen by Ra."