Date: Sun, 29 Apr 2007 22:11:37 -0400
From: Mango
Subject: Cleopatra: Chapter 1

	Standing in the back of the throne room, half hidden by a painted,
sandstone pillar, Cleopatra, Princess of the Nile, third in line for the
throne of Upper and Lower Egypt, shivered as her older sister's hand raised
the back of her short silken shift and slipped between her legs.
Tryphaena's fingers caressed the wetness they found there and slid one,
then two of their number into Cleopatra's tight, sixteen year old cunt.
Their royal father, the Pharaoh, was busy issuing a tax decree, and half
the household was in attendance. It would incredibly easy for anybody, from
the lowest palm-frond slave to the royal senechal, to glance their way.
They would immediately notice the soft red blush emanating from the
youngest Princess' olive cheeks, the soft pants coming from her pink,
slightly parted lips, the slight thrusting motions of her hips as she
strove to fuck herself with the teasing fingers.

	Tryphaena leaned forward and gently bit her sister's ear lobe.

"You hot little slut, you'd love it if I made you come, screaming, in the
middle of court, wouldn't you?...Wouldn't you?"

She whispered seductively. Cleopatra moaned and half-tried to twist away,
half-wiggled her hips, trying to impale herself further on those twin
fingers, those annoying little digits that were her entire world.  She
moaned in surrender.

	"Yes. Please make me come, 'Phae. Make me come like a hot, wet,
little slut."

Tryphaena, never taking out her fingers, used her other hand to rip off her
sister's loincloth, now soaked with the latter's juices. She scrunched the
wet linen with her fist and told Cleopatra to turn her head. As she did so,
Tryphaena pushed the ball of bunched cloth savagely into Cleopatra's wet
and pliant mouth. Now gagged, and overwhelmed with the slightly
bitter-sweet taste of her own pussy, Cleopatra felt her older sister's
fingers speed up, and already on the edge, it was mere seconds before a
moaning Cleopatra shuddered and closed her eyes as her world shattered.

She blacked out for a few seconds, and when she came to, she was acutely
aware of her own cum dribbling down the insides of her thighs, a draft of
cold air on her now exposed cunt, and several household slaves and a few
maids staring at her. Now completely hidden by the large pillar, Tryphaena
pushed her up against it and finally slid her hand from between her
sister's thighs. In front of the few amazed watchers, Tryphaena licked one
of her fingers clean, and slid the other all the way into Cleopatra's
obedient mouth. Tucking the now thoroughly wet loincloth gag into her
dress, Tryphaena ordered her sister firmly to suck--a command the latter
willingly obeyed.

	Cleopatra's maids were mostly Tryphaena's creatures, through and
through, and when she got back to her rooms, she was gently but firmly
pushed onto her large, plush bed and bound in place with cloth strips, with
a small rag in her mouth as a gag. Too worn to resist, she lay there,
cum-stained and still gasping from her orgasm, until Tryphaena, changed and
washed, glided in an hour later.

	"Hmmm, my little sister, the whore. Perhaps when I am Queen, after
I tire of you, I shall lease you to a pleasure-house. Men would pay
handsomely to bed a Ptolemy."

Cleopatra squirmed and growled helplessly through her gag. Now that the
dark, uncontrollable tide of pleasure had receded from her brain, she felt
indignant, humiliated, and furious. It was she who should be Queen of the
Nile after their father! It was she who mingled with her people nearly
every day, rising well before breakfast! It was she who spoke their native
Egyptian and Arabian tongues, not only court Greek like her sisters!
Cleopatra did not know if Tryphaena's words were serious, or merely a
result of pure kink, but they infuriated and shamed her either
way. Tryphaena had always been the dominant one, since the beginning of
their little games when they were children, and Cleopatra had never really
been sure of her sister's heart, whether her words were sexual fantasy or
the cruel musings of a cold mistress who discarded her play toys on a
whim. There was no doubt Tryphaena could be cruel. She delighted in the
bloody gladiatorial games that Cleopatra shunned, and in the punishment and
tyranny over those who were at her mercy.

	Tryphaena reached out and caressed her sister's smooth, flushed
cheek, then continued and began stroking the bound girl's dark, silken
tresses.

	"Worry not, my sweet Cleopatra. For today I have a gift for you."

 Tryphaena snapped her fingers, and a slave-girl stepped forward bearing
something. Cleopatra strained her head forward in an attempt to see what it
was, but there was no need. Tryphaena brought it to within a few inches of
her face and waggled it. Cleopatra's eyes widened.

	Cleopatra had seen dildo's before, but this was a masterpiece. Not
a crude wood or stone tool this, but a long, smooth shaft of ivory, carved
with erotic scenes and inlaid with delicate gold tracery. Little bumps and
ridges covered its slender length.
	Tryphaena laughed, half delightedly, half wickedly, and lowering
the tip to her Cleopatra's lips, she teased them around the gag. All of a
sudden she withdrew, pushing up Cleopatra's knees so they were tucked
against the younger princess's firmly mounded chest, giving Tryphaena easy
access to her sister's slit. Cleopatra felt the cool tip of the penile
instrument playing with her lips again-this time her nether ones-and
doubled her muffled protests and struggling. She felt Tryphaena's hot,
sultry, whispering breath in her ear.

	"You will be wearing my Gift until I tell you otherwise,
Cleopatra. The consequences for it not being there when I check will be
swift and harsh-I haven't quite decided, but perhaps a public flogging, or
letting a barracks full of gladiators line up and use you. This is the
beginning of your training. Now get out of here."
	With that, Tryphaena slid the Gift fully into her sister with one
smooth stroke, her eyes watching greedily as Cleopatra's face contorted
silently in mixed pain and pleasure. Finally, the glazed look in her eyes
receded and she gave a little moan. By the time she had recovered the
strength to sit up, the room was deserted, and her bonds were
gone. Cleopatra quickly found a new change of clothes, and after dressing,
she hiked up her dress, and bent over to examine the object inside
her. Cleopatra soon determined it would not slip out by itself, and
satisfied, turned to go. By the time she made the first few steps to the
door, she knew she was in trouble. Every time she took a step, the Gift
moved inside her, and working itself, minutely, in and out. In essence, it
was slowly fucking her. The ripples and bumps on it scraped the sides of
her vaginal wall, teased the edges of her labia, and ever once in a while,
tweaked her clit. Cleopatra leaned against the doorway, breathing hard and
blushing. It would be a long walk back to her rooms.

	In the next week or so, the Gift changed Cleopatra's lifestyle
completely. She had to stop her daily walks in the city, and ceased seeing
her friends in the Library of Alexandria. It was pleasurable torture just
to walk across the room, and the trip back to her apartment had made her
come four times, usually in front of surprised servants and confused
nobles, even with frequent stops. Her favorite maid, Neva, whom Cleopatra
trusted completely, and she kept trying to come up with solutions to the
problem, but to no avail. The matter was not made easier by a constant
array of guardsmen and slaves, all Tryphaena's, who slipped quick hands up
her skirt, (her skirt, the Princess of the Nile!) to verify that she was
wearing the Gift. It was ten days before Cleopatra saw her sister again. A
small, large breasted girl, Tryphaena's favorite dancing slave, delivered a
message to Cleopatra's rooms. The Princess had just finished a hot bath,
and she was drying off, when the knock came. Neva, who was tidying her
rooms, went to answer it. Moments later, the dancer-slave arrived in the
room led by Neva.

"Introduce me!" the newcomer told Neva sharply.

Neva gasped a little, which Cleopatra thought odd, then in a rather tight
voice, said, "Princess, this is Jahara. She comes with a message from you
Royal sister."

 It was only then that Cleopatra noticed that Jahara had a hand up the back
of Neva's linen shift. Jahara noticed her staring, and pushing Neva to one
side, she strode forward gracefully. Grabbing the drying towel from
Cleopatra's shoulders, she threw it to the floor, leaving the Princess's
slender, high-breasted form naked. Before Cleopatra could relax, Jahara had
the Princess's stiff nipple in a firm grip, and was twisting and pulling it
savagely. Cleopatra gasped with a mix of pain and pleasure as Jahara's
ministrations sent lances of pleasure shooting to the invader in her pussy,
which the dancer promptly checked, letting her hand linger there a moment
too long.

 "Princess," said Jahara, "Your sister requires you to meet her at the
royal stables immediately. I will escort you, and dress you. That is all."

	A few minutes later, Cleopatra arrived, wearing a short dress and
nothing else. The open air on her bare legs, slit, and slightly exposed
clit made her feel vulnerable and extremely exposed. The royal stables were
just across a courtyard of busy activity; shouting merchants and caravan
leaders binging in goods for the palace, royal hunters and kennel-masters
with their dogs and cats and caged animals, and marching soldiers. Crossing
it, with the Gift deep in her, was arduous, to say the least. Tryphaena had
two horses saddled up, and she was on top of one. A small party of
attendants and bodyguards surrounded her, on foot, so as to not compete
with her stature.

	"Cleopatra! My sister, you must come for a ride with me. We shall
journey to some place of entertainment in the city. Come, mount up."

	Cleopatra was not about to argue. She had a suspicious feeling that
Jahara, right behind her, would flip up her short skirt-like clothing at a
word from her mistress, should she show disobedience. The Princess of the
Nile felt like a common slut as she mounted-the attendants helping into the
saddle had only to look up to see her slick pussy and the ivory toy
protruding slightly from it. But that embarrassment was banished as she
settled herself into the saddle-a newer problem presented itself. As she
sat, the ivory dildo was thrust even more deeply into her, and Cleopatra
actually felt it grind against her pelvic bone. The ridge of the saddle
connected every time with the butt of the Gift every time she touched it,
sending tidal waves of pleasure coursing through her. She gasped sharply
and blushed, looking over at her sister, half-pleadingly,
half-accusingly. Tryphaena smiled sweetly back at her.

	Every time Cleopatra rose in the saddle, the dildo slid slowly out,
and every time she came back down with the horse, it pumped sharply back
in; it's ridges and bumps scraping the walls of her vagina, and teasing her
clit. Half delirious and panting softly, her sweaty, shoulder length brown
hair tossed and brushed her perspiring, olive skin. In, out, in, out,
slowly, then sharply, tortuously and teasingly. Cleopatra lost count of the
number of mind-blowing orgasms she had before they arrived at a clean,
whitewashed building in a prosperous, respected area of the city. The horny
Princess of the Nile didn't notice the pleasantly green and clean courtyard
they dismounted in; her whole world was devoted to the hard, unforgiving
ridge of her saddle, now soaking wet with her juices.

	Cleopatra looked up, a complete mess, only when they were in the
doorway of the place and Tryphaena gave a sharp pinch her stiffly erect and
aching nipples and a servant was opening the door. The teenager could hear
raucous laughter and men's shouts inside. "Where...where are we, 'Phae?"
She murmured weakly. Tryphaena laughed, almost callously, mostly amused,
and somewhat aroused. "One of the more respectable houses. Don't worry; we
know exactly what part of it you belong in. See you when the show starts,
or maybe upstairs." She answered, and swept inside, smiling with an
anticipatory gleam. "What kind of house?" protested Cleopatra, still
hovering on the threshold. Jahara whispered from behind her, sensually,
into her ear. "A House of Pleasure." She cupped and squeezed the firm
globes of Cleopatra's rear and propelled her through the door before she
could look back.