Hello again. Since it is Halloween, I wanted to write a Halloween theme story. I have to apologies because the theme I was going for was mummy based, but it soon became less Haloween-esq and more historical-fantasy.
Still, I hope you enjoy!
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In my dreams I travel through time,
The sands whisper to me,
The black pyramid calls,
Tum Hora
Queen Asra stands at the precipice of the Sahara desert, the resting place of her ancestral kin. The home of the pharaohs of old. Here she traveled under the cover of the stars, dressed in traveling attire as she prepared to traverse the Egyptian desert alone. Her advisors protested such recklessness, but the sands beckoned her and like her mother before her, and her mother before her, she had to answer.
Pulling her hood up, Queen Asra covered her pristine face and headed south. The queen lived a life of luxury, for Egypt was a land of wealth and power. Its vast empire stretched from north Africa to parts of western Asia. Her family had ruled for thousands of years, each queen preserving the line of Tum Hora, first pharaoh of Egypt. Many foreigners had tried to take her lands by force, all have perished in the desert heat. Diplomats, merchants, and even kings offered gold and land for her hand in marriage, all were turned away. Her mother told her that a pharaoh’s life is destined from birth, a destiny she rebelled against during her youth. Princess Asra, daughter of Asra the first, was much more belligerent than she was now as queen. Known as the viper of the sands, princess Asra courted many men and women before duty beckoned her, before the sands whispered to her.
Asra had been traveling south for hours. Sand filled her boots and her legs weakened against the uneven ground, yet she continued forward. With no map to guide her, the princess relied on the whispers to show her the path. “When you hear the whispers for the first time, run towards their voices,” her grandmother told her once. “For they are the voices of our ancestors and we must honor them.” So she did, she ran towards the whispers. She ran and ran, until she could hear the sound of her own breath, until her chest felt heavy and she nearly coughed up sand. Soon the voices became clearer and as she reached the peak of a small dune, she saw it. Buried in a grand sandpit, a black pyramid rested. The surrounding sand had parted, revealing a simple path of rocks and dirt to the entrance of the black pyramid.
“I am the viper of the sands, I won’t be intimidated,” she whispered to herself, pulling on the strap of her leather bag before following the path.
When she reached the entrance of the black pyramid, a warming present itself. Written in the ancient language of the pharaohs, it said “All but the ones who share my blood may enter the resting place of Tum Hora, first great pharaoh of Egypt.”
Without much thought, the queen entered the blck pyramid only to be stopped by an invisible force. She looked perplexed, looking up and down before stepping forward again. Once more, she was halted. She stepped back, looking upwards to the great pyramid. “I am Pharaoh Asra the Second, queen of Egypt and descended from your line. I heard your call and I have answered,” she yelled, hoping he would hear her, yet only the turning of the sands filled her senses.
The whispering ceased.
Chomping her teeth together, the queen crossed her arms and glared at the entrance. The pyramid face was carved from a black stone of some kind. It was completely smooth with no openings whatsoever. It looked like nothing she had ever seen before. Frustrated, the queen thought about turning back, retreating to her palace where she was worshipped, but she knew the whispers would return so she stayed. She stayed until the hot Egyptian sun rose, beating down an unforgivable heat onto her. “By the gods,” she groaned, standing now. “How do I enter?” she pondered. “I am surely a queen of Egypt,” she thought, quickly removing such thoughts from her mind. “Of course I am! Then how…” she paused and on close inspection of the smooth stone, she noticed dried blood over the crest of the entrance. Only drops remained stained to the stone. “Only the ones who share my blood may enter,” she repeated the warning. Quickly, the queen removed a dagger from her belt and held the blade against her hand. “Only your blood,” she said, cutting herself and smearing her hand across the entrance crest. She winched, retracting her hand against her chest and waited and stepped forward, the invisible barrier withdrawn from the entrance.
Kneeling just inside the pyramid, the queen opened her bag and began to remove her traveling attire for something more alluring. The ancient attire featured heavy black eyeliner. Her hair was short and straight, her black hair braided with gold. Her skin was sunkissed, the color of sand and as she stood bare, she situated herself in more revealing clothing. The dress she wore was made from white linen and stopped at her shoulders. The dress revealed her smooth stomach and mothering hips before stopping a few inches above her thighs. Applying black powder to her skin, she drew symmetrical lines from down each shoulder to fingertips. Examining herself one last time, the queen left her traveling attire and bag and proceeded towards the resting place of Tum Hora.
There was only darkness. The queen continued towards her ancestors’ tomb knowing what was to come. “When you hear the whispers do as they tell you,” she remembered her mothers words. “Life comes from death.” Asra was queen and she did not bow to no man, living or dead. If the line of Tum Hora was to prosper, it needed strong leaders, not submissive ones. If Egypt was to rule the mortal realm, Asra would need to rule by example.
When Asra entered the inner tomb, the room was lit with white lights, reflecting off the smooth ebony floor. The room itself was empty, except for a single coffin and dias at the center. The queen approached, confident with her movements until she reached the dias where a black book rested. “The Tome of Tum Hora,” it read. She rested her hand on the book, closing her eyes as the whispers pierced her skull. Turning her head, she resisted the pain as the words slowly turned to shouts causing her to withdraw her hand.
“No, I will not submit to your will. I am Asra of the Golden Sands and you serve me.”
The book was written in the ancient language of the pharaohs, unseen for ages, yet the queen seemingly read from the book as if she was fluent in the language. She read each word with confidence, her voice direct and clear while the whispers dug into her mind once more. She did not let up and as she flipped each page, it became less and less tolerable until she finally finished and closed the book.
The whispers stopped.
The white lights dimmed, narrowing on the coffin itself.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Parts of the coffin shattered, cascading onto the ebony floor.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
A hand, decayed and diseased, pushed through the opening, followed by a shoulder and soon skeleton-like face. It was Tum Hora, the first of the pharaohs.
Rising from his slumber, Tum Hora stood. His body was contorted and bent in a strange manner. Bandages from centuries prior covered his black flesh, or what little flesh there was. He stood over seven-feet tall, and even as time weakened his appearance, he still looked the part of pharaoh.
“What ye—ar d-o I ri–se?” Tum Hora said, its jaw dislocating and locking with each word.
The queen stood erect, pushing her shoulders back. “The year of Asra the second, 91 A.D., pharaoh and queen of Egypt.”
Tum Hora whipped his head towards her. “Th-ere onl–y on-e pharaoh of Egypt.”
“Your rule has ended. Your name is a memory to all except the ones cursed with your name.”
The mummy laughed, climbing off his coffin and onto flat ground. “Yo-u..” it paused, stalking the queen. “Yo-u wish to par-take in the rit-ual of Tom Hura?” Circling the queen, Tum Hora breathed in her essence, pressing his bony nostrils against her hair. “Yo-u sme-ll per-fecc,” it laughed. “Jus-t like yo-ur mo-ther and he-r moth-ers before he-r.”
A shiver ran down the queen’s back, but she did not budge. “I am queen of Egypt and you will obey my commands, beast. No longer will your line be binded to…”
Tum Hora dashed around her, his empty eye sockets glaring into hers as he gripped her throat. “I am a pharaoh! I’ve liv-ed thous-ands of ye-ars through the rit-ual of Tum Hora! I liv-ed through your grand-mothers eyes, mothers eyes, and even yours,” it said, its free hand tracing down her exposed stomach before stopping. “I will live once more, through your childs for the rit-ual will not allow an he-ir of Tum Hora to bear a child with-out my seed. Now…dis-robe.”
“I will not,” the queen defied. “You will not treat the pharaoh of Egypt like a common whore.”
“You will not bore an heir with-out me!” it yelled, as it opened its decayed mouth. Inside all manner of foul things traced the lining of his mouth as the queen stared into the abyss itself. “Egy-pt will crum-ble and di-e with-out an he-ir of Tum Hora. For the cur-se can-not be bro-ken.”
“From life comes death,” the queen whispered. “From life comes death,” she repeated. “I will leave your cursed home after the ritual grants me the blessing of my first child. You are nothing more than a vessel to do so. But I’d rather die and end your wretched line than follow your orders!”
Tum Hora’s smiled, half a tongue spilling over onto the queen’s face as he tasted her. “In li-fe I would have made you my qu-een. Su-ch pa-ssion and fi-ght you have, but…” it paused. “Like yo-ur mo-ther, you do not have a cho-ice.” Tum Hora took the queen by the throat, ready to squeeze her life essence from her when he noticed her holding a small blade to her wrist.
The queen opened a small cut across her wrist. “Poison,” she smiled. “It’s not powerful, but in a couple of hours I will surely be dead and so will you. Your immortality, your godhood will surely pass when the ones who fear you cease to exist.”
“YOU LIE!”
The queen coughed as Tum Hora squeezed her windpipe. “The antidote rests just outside your reach, at the entrance of the black pyramid itself. If you wish to continue living, you will do as I say,” she said. “You will most certainly enjoy the pleasures that I can offer you.” Asra pressed her wounded palm against Tum Hora, fingers finding flesh, bone, and bandages as she slowly trailed downward until she felt the beating of the pharaoh’s member. “Even in death men only care for one thing, right great king?” she laughed, cocking her head to the side. Pushing the pharaoh back against his coffin.
Tum Hora stumbled back, bent at the waist as half his body leaned against the coffin. His long nails pierced his coffin, tearing out chunks of stone in frustration. “You think you can con-trol the great TUM HORA!” he screeched, his voice filling the entire room.
“Yes,” the queen answered with delay, her hands had already unclasped the straps of her dress as she pushed it past her waist, exposing the queen’s sand kissed skin and olive nipples to the decayed king. “Tum Hora will obey the daughter of Osiris, daughter of the Nile, mother of all Egypt, Queen Arsa of all of Egypt,” she erupted, pushing her dress further down until she stood bare in front of the mummy.
Sauntering over to Tum Hora, the queen didn’t fear the great king. She was not her mother or her mother before her. She was a pharaoh and all obeyed her. Pressed against the mummy, her weight forcing him against the coffin, she locked her lips with his tongue plunging into its abyss-like mouth. She moaned, sending vibrations down her ancestors throat while her hands did away with the remains that covered his manhood. To her surprise, the mummies cock was smooth and pulsed with much vigor. Without looking she knew he possessed a wonderful length that most living mortals would envy and as she broke her kiss, her eyes flashed and she smiled. “Even in death you are blessed with such a wonderful gift between your legs. Was this one of your conditions when you made your pact with Set? A wonderful staff to fuck your descendants with when they come crawling to your little hole in the ground begging for an heir?” She released his manhood and gripped the back of his head and violently kissed him once more before releasing. “I am not going to bed like they did. I will take what is mine,” she added, instantly dropping out of sight.
Tum Hora seemingly didn’t know how to react. When his whispers reached his previous heirs, they worshipped him. They obeyed his commands. The god Set promised him immortality when he sacrificed his sons to the god of the underworld. “From this day forth, you will bear only daughters and when you die, they will traverse the sands to your resting place to be seeded and plowed,” he remembered the words of Set.
“See-ded and…” he stopped, his jaw unhinged and an audible moan escaped its lips. He gazed down at his heir, situated on her knees before him, yet he was the one praying to her. Her lips were planted around his engrossed member while her lips had already swallowed him whole. His bony legs shaked in the open air while he leaned on his elbows, staring down at the queen.
The queen knew how to pleasure men, living and dead. With Tum Hora’s entire girth situated in the back of her throat, she hummed, sending vibrations across his member. She felt his legs shake and quake and her hands instantly gripped his thighs, holding him in place while she thrusted herself against his groin. Her mouth watered, coating his staff and spilling onto the floor. She shifted her knees, pulling back half-way on his member while her eyes flickered up at the once great queen. She could only smile as the tip of her tongue teased him. “Does the king wish for me to show mercy?” she laughed, stroking him violently. “I think not,” she added, opening her throat once more to the king’s staff.
The only sounds that escaped Tum Hora’s split lips were the sounds of his increasingly loud moans and pleas for her to not stop. He had not experienced the divine pleasure that the queen displayed. It was obviously a new technique of the newer generation or the great king would have been readily prepared for such trickery, still he did not stop her, in fact, he begged her to not do so all the way up to the point he painted the back of the queen’s throat with his rancid black seed.
The queen lamented when she felt the pharaoh’s eruption. Her fingers rubbed her aching clit in a manner that would make most whores of Cairo blush. She was ready. Her sex was dripping and another load inside her aching cunt would surely seed her, but first she needed to clear herself.
Holding Tum Hora’s staff in her free hand, slowly jerking him from the base, she made sure she wasn’t cheated from every drop that escaped him. She allowed herself to moan greedily, lips sealed around him while she kept eye contact. He was shaking and his engrossed head dripped seed into her throat before the tap ran dry. She smirked with his cock inside her mouth and quickly popped off and licked her lips. “Nasty cum for a nasty being, yet…” she smirked, “I love the rancid taste.”
“You.,.” Tum Hora huffed, “trick-ed me.”
“Tricked you?’ the queen stood. “No,” she said. “I gave you pleasure because I willed it. There were no tricks. Now, my sex runs like the Nile itself. I will take your seed once more and after I extend my gift of pleasure to you once more, after my body swells with child, you will return to slumber dreaming of my return, but I will never return. Your immortality will be your curse as every moment you lie in your coffin you will never, never see me again.”
Tum Hora did not move. He did not speak. He was as useful as a corpse, well, slightly more useful than a corpse. He was pushed back. Or did he lean back himself? He did not know. His mind was a blur. He could not discern the past from present and as he stared upward, the queen herself smiled down at him. He watched in silence as she mounted him. Her breast bouncing against gravity while she rode him to his slumber. Her sex soaked him, constricting him like the great serpents of old. He tried to move, but her hands fought with his, holding them in place over his head. “Life comes from death,” he whispered, allowing himself to be taken entirely.
“Life comes from death,” the queen mimicked, bouncing herself against his groin. Her thick hips giggling with each forceful thrust while she grinded her sex against him. “Give me the life that I command and die!” she hissed, riding him even harder, forcing herself to take every inch the king had to offer. “Give me life!” she moaned, releasing her grip as she lashed her head backwards. “Give me life! Give me life!” she cried, her fingers tracing every curve of her body. Without hesitation, without thought or reason, she slapped the king’s hands against her round bottom as she rode him to sleep. “Give me life! GIVVVEEEE!!!” she cried out, her body contorting inwards as she collapsed onto the king, his seed flooding her womb.
When she came to, the queen was panting. She opened her eyes to see the lifeless corpse of Tum Hora beneath her. She smiled, “Life comes from death.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/qk07qe/the_tomb_of_tum_hora
Well written.