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Lando
Khafre
Ancient Egypt, the 25th Dynasty:
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Egyptian Pharaoh Thutmose III's army tracked the wide path of a small Nubian convoy migration, but when they reached the dense jungle that barred the southern passage into the wide high valley of Asmara, Nubian warriors assaulted them from all sides … cutting the Egyptians down with spears, shafts and poisoned darts. Two hundred Egyptians died in the place, and four hundred were injured. They struggled back home to Upper-Egypt, unaware that a Nubian army had already invaded Karnak while the bulk of the Egyptian army was busy being defeated in their humiliating campaign in Asmara.

The Nubians killed all the Egyptian men in Karnak. They then took all the Egyptian children and pretty women off for sale, leaving only the old women behind to keen for them. One of the Egyptian children captured and sold was a boy named Khafre. He had been a slave in Nubia for more than three years when true "danger" came his way….


A fellow Egyptian slaveboy woke him early that fateful morning.

Khafre … now eighteen years old … felt the heat of the tropical Nubian sun through his thin muslin blanket, and he was a bit sore from having slept on nothing but a worn-out reed-woven mat on the floor all night. He sighed deeply and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Obviously it had been Olisa, his mistress and the queen of Nubia, who'd sent one of the other Egyptian slaveboys to awaken him alone. She always did things like this. It was her way of showing that she liked him … that she favored him above all of her other Egyptian slaveboys. This was due mainly to the fact that Khafre didn't look like most Egyptians, whose racial stock included mixtures of Nubian and Assyrian blood. Khafre had been born of an Assyrian field worker and a Semitic Hyksos Hebrew who had been brought into Egypt as an Israelite slave. Thus Khafre was a fair-haired, fair-skinned very exotic-looking boy. Still, he often wondered why the nymphomaniacal Nubian queen choose him to be her play thing. If she favored Egyptian boys over her own kind, she could have surely chosen a better specimen than a mix-up like himself.

'Thank you, Queen Olisa,' he thought as he yawned and stretched. 'I am almost flattered that you could consider a fair-skinned crossbreed like me to be attractive.'

He looked down at himself. He was currently clad only in a muslin kilt and was barefooted. Having never seen a mirror, he couldn't see that his muscled body appeared to be chiseled to perfection … strong shoulder, thigh and calf muscles to accompany his already flat belly. His hair was slightly curly, and was almost the color of the rich red clay which bordered the Nile at Karnak. His eyes, through thick lashes, were intensely green. By Egyptian standards, an easily sunburned person with blue or green eyes was not only uncomely … he was downright monstrous. And self-depreciating Khafre was very aware of this.

Perhaps this was why he couldn't help but be flattered by the Nubian Queen's attraction to him. With a devious smirk on his young face, the fellow Egyptian slaveboy told Khafre,

"She wants to see you in her bedroom. And she wants you to come as you are."
The normally dauntless lad was stunned. Why would she want to see him in her bedroom? He considered one vile reason … then immediately dismissed it. She wouldn't try THAT again. There had to be another reason she wanted him to appear before her in her room, but what could it be? He was often summoned to the main hut, but only to receive instructions on some errand he had to perform at one of the other villages or such … never to visit the mistress of the land in her private quarters!
"Keep your eyes on the floor," his fellow Egyptian slaveboy told him.
And he wasn't smiling as he said this. It was a warning. And Khafre finally considered the possibility that Queen Olisa was straying too close to the fire again … calling a male Egyptian slaveboy into her quarters while her husband, King Shabaka, was many many miles away overseeing the construction of a temple in Mogadishu. Rather shakily Khafre made his way to the main hut.

When he arrived at Queen Olisa's quarters, he did indeed keep his eyes focused on the floor. Still, he knew already what the temperamental matron would look like at this time of the morning. He had been reared in the slaveboy's quarters of her household for almost four years, after all.

Though she had to be pushing thirty-five, Queen Olisa's tropical metabolism aged her so slowly that she appeared to be only in her early twenties. She had an attractive round face, delicate features, a full mouth and eyes that glinted in the morning sunlight. These eyes were black, but not a dull, flat colorless black. No, her eyes were a pure-blooded Nubian black that glowed with inner lights … a bold, mysterious darkness that shone like onyx. Her skin was also like onyx … smooth and alembicated.

From where she stood near her bureau, the temperamental woman commanded,

"Come forward, Khafre!"
Nervously, the young Egyptian held his ground, not knowing what to expect.
"Hand me that corset over there," Queen Olisa demanded.
Khafre picked up the floral-patterned article of clothing that his mistress was referring to. He gave the corset a shake, and held it up so that Queen Olisa could slip into it. temperamental woman asked As she gracefully slid her waist into the cloth of the corset that the boy held out to her, the temperamental woman asked,
"Why are you so nervous, Khafre?"
The look in her dark eyes made it clear that she wanted to eat the dauntless lad up … devour him from the crown of his reddish head to the smooth soles of his young feet.
"No reason, mistress." Khafre replied.
In his mind, the usually dauntless slaveboy was recalling the last time his beautiful employer had made a pass at him while her husband was away. He had respectfully turned her down then, for his virginal hormone-ridden body had reacted to her advances in spite of the fact that he was aware that his lust for her could mean his death.

But he paid a price for spurning her advances that day. She had decided to starve him as a punishment. He was not allowed any food whatsoever that day, but he was still required to perform the harsh task of preparing seed-yams and splitting wood under the blazing Nubian sun.

And, of course, he'd passed out in the middle of one of these tasks. When he'd awakened in the slaveboys' quarters, he discovered that he was dehydrated to the point where his eyes were barely able to form tears.

An hour or so after he'd come to, Queen Olisa entered the Egyptian slaveboys' quarters and gently turned him over on his sleeping mat. She spoke to him quietly … stroking his hair and fervently apologizing for having doled out such a harsh punishment.

She then had other slaves bathe and feed him for three days until he was back in peak condition. Khafre had thought that his troubles were over. But soon he realized that the Queen had restored him to health only because she had another punishment planned for him. One that would be less of a danger to his health than starvation.

Two Nubian warriors showed up at the slave-quarters and announced that he was to be severely tortured.

He tried running to escape, but was thwarted by strong arms pushing him back onto a bed of straw in the center of the village … a bed with two posts positioned at it's head and foot. Khafre's hands were brutally lifted above his head and secured very tightly to posts with reed-woven thongs. His crying and pleas for mercy were ignored as his ankles were secured to each of the bottom posts.

"You should not be fearful of what we shall do to you, Egyptian," the Nubian warrior called Ubani commented, "Our task is merely to make your body more sensitive to the tortures that the Queen's Ochu-Agbalas shall bestow upon you."
Khafre knew that "agbala" was a Nubian word meaning "woman". This didn't disturb him so much. What did disturb him was the word "ochu" … a Nubian word meaning "murder" or "manslaughter". He knew that, after the male warriors were done prepping his body, he would be tormented … perhaps even killed … by Queen Olisa's "murder-women"!

Two Nubian warriors sat down there on the ground in front of Khafre's soles and take a good look at the boy's slender, helpless bare feet. But first the young Egyptian was poked and jabbed on his sides to the point of insanity, the feather-armed warriors teasing him unmercifully all the while.

One Nubian had the toes of the boy's left foot gripped firmly in his hand, slowly bending them backward. Khafre … aware of what was about to happen … began to struggle frantically against his bonds. But it was no use. The warrior slowly dragged an ostrich feather down Khafre's sole from toes to heel.

When the Nubian began to use the feather to tickle the young Egyptian's privates, one of the female Ochu-Agbalas stripped naked and began to play with herself while witnessing Khafre's torment.

This murder-woman looked good. Her corn-rolled black hair was shoulder length and studded with colorful beads, her eyes were black, and her lips were full and soft. Her five-foot-six form was smooth and firm with youth. Her skin was a very dark brown and possessed a smooth round ass, soft pussy, and pert breasts. Her thighs and calves were firm and curved.

As she touched herself, her nipples grew hard and her skin seemed almost to visibly tingle tingled. She spread her legs apart, left hand cupping her own breast, and the right rubbing her pussy.

Massaging her own pussy clearly felt good and … as she continued … it grew wet and the sensation slowly increased. Still intently watching Khafre's torment, She let go of her tit and used her free hand to fondle herself all over. She ran her hand over her dark face and licked her fingers, then rubbed her tits again and teased her own nipples. She moaned at the ecstasy building and spreading through her body.

Meanwhile, the warrior continued to slowly and lightly drag an ostrich feather down Khafre's body … pausing to torture his feet more. He dusted the feather from the boy's soles to his toes to heels, reversing course and slowly drawing it back up to the top again. He repeated this over and over. Cries of helpless laughter erupted from the Egyptian slaveboy as the Nubian carry through with his patient feather-trek up and down the boy's bare soles. The warrior eventually began to lightly trace circles inside Khafre's thighs, over and over, around and around and around … tickling his penis and balls mercilessly.

The masturbating Ochu-Agbala girl continued to watch Khafre's light torture and began bucking her hips against her hand, and she increased the motion. She spread her pubic lips apart and made circles around her aroused clitoris with her middle finger. Her skin seemed to smolder, and she was sweating.

The ecstasy clearly seared at the center of her being. She bit my lip to keep from crying out, and arched her back, thrusting her breasts at the image of the Egyptian boy being tortured with feathers. With what must have been an endless shudder of intense pleasure, her intense orgasm came just as the Khafre lost consciousness from being uncompassionately tickled.

The male Nubian warriors retreated away from the limp, motionless young Egyptian … and several nubile Nubian females stepped forward.

Khafre, after being forced to ingest a sizable amount of palm wine, was then hung upside down by his ankles by these Ochu-Agbalas. The male Nubians stood by and casually watched as the young Egyptian … who had regained consciousness by this time … was strung up. It was the murder-women, though, who tended to the task of tormenting him. For some time these harpies … with their long, claw-like fingernails … used the boy's entire fair-skinned upper-body as a scratching post. The young Egyptian was covered in savage, bleeding scratches by the time these women grew bored with using Khafre this way.

The boy was then treated to a new horror … and his inverted body shuddered and bowed in powerful contractions as a metal spearhead was pressed against his sphincter and brutally forced on into his tight asshole. The cold, sharp iron blade hurt above and beyond descriptions as it tore and cut at the boy's ring. Khafre screamed, writhed and twisted in agony.

But though he was experiencing unimaginable pain, the palm-wine he had been given was causing him to become sexually aroused … his penis extruding down in a rock-hard erection. It was even dribbling precum!

Soon a Nubian warrior's head was bobbing between Khafre's thighs, sucking like a ravenous calf going after its mother's teat. He sucked until the boy shot off.

Two of the Ochu-Agbalas were positioned on each side of the suspended, inverted Egyptian eighteen-year-old. Both held the end of a rope which was bound tightly around the boy's neck. Slowly they pulled, tightening the rope encircling Khafre's neck and gradually strangled him … progressively crushed the delicate structure of the boy's throat.

Soon the hanging youth became completely limp, apparently dead. The murder-women were somewhat concerned about this, for their queen had not wanted Khafre killed. Still there was nothing they could do about it now.

So the female murderers impassively cut down and dragged the young corpse out to the bush where Khafre's lifeless form would become hyena-fodder. To the Ochu-Asaba's pleasant surprise, the young Egyptian was still alive, and so … instead of being dumped unceremoniously in the bush … the lad was returned to the slave-quarters and was allowed to completely recover.

Khafre shook with the memory of that torture which had nearly cost him his life. And now he was being set up for another potentially bad time.

"I've got my bodice on, Khafre," Queen Olisa reminded the dauntless slaveboy. "It is all right for you to look at me."
Khafre shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. The rug, which had been hand-woven and intricately adorned with Nubian kinte designs, felt rough and rather ticklish beneath his bare soles.

The temperamental woman waited, but the boy flatly refused to look up at her.

"Come here and help me get this necklace on, will you?"
The boy came forward, took hold of the necklace and positioned himself behind the chair where his mistress was now sitting. If it were possible to escape the royal household of Nubia, he certainly would have done so.
"You see where the clasp is?" Queen Olisa asked him.

"Yes, mistress." Khafre replied, almost whispering.

With timorous fingers he eased the necklace around the woman's neck and began to fasten the clasp in the back. Surreptitiously Queen Olisa attempted to take this opportunity to kiss his bare arm. He grew light-headed at the mere thought of the touch of her lips to his skin. He nearly fainted.

And while he was in this weakened state she stood up and faced him … tried to use her tongue to press past his lips and invaded his mouth. She tried to kiss him and the boy … weak with fear … tried to fight her off. It wasn't long before Khafre, head spinning, became like a rag doll in her arms. When Queen Olisa's finally gave up with trying to kiss him, he was barely able to remain standing, so dizzy that he could do nothing but cling weakly to his mistress.

"Okay, calm yourself Khafre."
The temperamental woman said as she turned away from the boy and checked herself over in her bureau mirror made of glass which had been brought all the way from Persia.
"Go over to the closet and pick out a pair of sandals for me."
Khafre's agitation doubled. It was an impossible moment for him. How was he to know how his mistress coordinated her attire? He never looked at her long enough to notice how she does it.
"Did you hear me, Khafre?"
The lad was about to explain that allowing him to pick out her sandals was not a wise decision, but suddenly he grew cold all over. He turned towards the flap-door opening. Standing in the threshold with his arms folded was Queen Olisa's husband, King Shabaka!
"Young man, I would speak to my wife alone for a moment. Wait for me outside."
Khafre's feet were already in motion. He wanted to say something … to offer the king some sort of explanation, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He hurriedly sprinted past the huge ruler of all Nubia and waited outside as he had been ordered.

The greatness of the Shabaka … this man who ruled all of Nubia from Asmara to Nairobi … emanated off the king in waves. He was monolithic, one of the biggest men Khafre had ever seen. He was a mountain of muscle, and his black skin was in sharp contrast to the gleaming gold necklaces he wore around his neck.

For several minutes, Khafre stood outside in the Queen's gardens, absolutely terrified of the fate that awaited him. He realized now that Queen Olisa had known perfectly well that her husband would catch her in a semi-compromising position … that she was just playing games with King Shabaka in order to keep the spice in their relationship.

The slaveboy thought to himself: But she's playing games with my life too. And today her games just may get me killed.

And this last statement very nearly turned out to be true.

King Shabaka first considered the option of having Khafre lashed unconscious. But then he devised a more fitting punishment for the impudent young Egyptian slaveboy.

Soon Khafre was tied up, spread-eagled and face up in the courtyard, to a bed of straw, to endure a session of intense, unrelenting tickling for indefinite period of time. Nubian warriors smeared honey all over the boy's warm, sweaty, trembling bare feet. Young bare feet with beautifully formed, fair-skinned toes. The warrior then smeared the honey all over the boy … coating him from neck to navel.

A third Nubian warrior appeared with two leashed jackals in tow. With an evil look that made his already blue-black face appear even darker, the warrior let the wild dogs loose.

Almost immediately these jackals explored bound Khafre's young toes and sensitive soles with their tongues, and the boy instantly began to giggle. The giggles deepened into outright laughter.

The boy spasmed against the straw bed. He panted, puffed and screamed. Using their tongues, the jackals traveled their way down Khafre's legs . . . then back to his honey-coated beautiful feet. Working almost as a team they licked Khafre's toes, one bound foot each, several toes at a time. They did this until both of the boy's feet glistening with dog slobber . . . and young Khafre was bucking, spasming, heaving and twitching with hysterics.

As they watched this, several members of the Ochu-Agbalas stripped naked, lay on their backs and brought their knees up touching their shoulders, with their feet in the air. This way I had a clear view of their own pussies. They spread their lips apart and slid a finger into their tight, self lubricated twats. They slipped their fingers in and out while rubbing their clits with their other hands. Due to the sight of the boy being licked into hysterics by the wild dogs, and combined with the erotic joy of getting themselves off, they came almost simultaneously.

When their shudders ceased, they dispersed their excess wetness into their inner thighs and breasts. After panting quietly there on the ground, they sat up and continued watch the dog-tormented Khafre.

The wild dogs were still licking the boy's feet and two Nubian warriors began tickling the boy's ribs with their fingers. Later the warriors used feathers to tickle Khafre's tummy while the jackals licked his honey-coated neck, ribs, and armpits.

Khafre screamed and screamed with laughter. Eventually he fainted and was untied and carried away. But the boy was not carried back to the slave-quarters in the royal household. Instead King Shabaka decreed that Khafre be made an example of.

So for Nubian citizens … blue-black Nubians and captive mixed-breed brown Egyptians alike … the unconscious green-eyed boy (who was so fair-skinned that he resembled neither race) was put on public display. At least one person from every corner of Nubia saw the unconscious thirteen-year-old hanging limp against the ropes that bound him to a palm tree. One citizen smeared palm wine oil all over the boy and watched as more wild jackals licked Khafre all over again. But, because they boy remained unconscious, this spectacle was less than entertaining.

The boy was eventually cut free by the Ochu-Agbalas and placed in a bent-over posture, wrists tied to a suspended bar, ankles to steaks in the ground that were positioned in a way that kept his legs widely parted. Then a spear … which had been heated over an open flame was forced up his asshole. His sphincter fought against the agonizing intrusion but it was no use. Kafre's blood-curdling screams made it clear how much it hurt. Onlooking Nubians wondered how the boy remained conscious.

The burning spear was up his ass, tearing muscle and skin. One of the murder-women pushed it in and twist it round …fucking the boy with the red-hot meal. Then she yanked it in and out repeatedly, delighting in the young Egyptian's piteous screams,

After yanking the spear out the final time, the other Ochu-Agbalas proceeded to See how many objects they could shove up the boy's ass … seeing how far objects could invade his sphincter before the skin ripped.

Khafre releases a scream that could be heard a village away when one of the murder-women eases a dagger's blade into his hole … a hole with dried blood and palm wine flaking around it and down along the crack. Soon the dried blood is joined with fresh oozing blood, and the boy screams himself hoarse before passing out cold.

The unconscious boy's limp body was then re-tied to the palm tree.

After a couple of hours of hanging, someone … though Khafre was still senseless at the time and had no idea who it could have been … cut him loose. Eventually the Egyptian lad recovered and found himself laid out on his stomach beneath the tree. Angry, degraded, and with his young body still twitching with spasms, he limped back towards the main hut. He passed Queen Olisa along the way.

"I am sorry, Khafre." she said.
And she almost sounded as if she meant it. But the young Egyptian slaveboy was too angry to care. So instead of replying verbally to her words. He bowed reverently to his Nubian mistress. It was a mocking gesture because the boy clearly had felt everything but reverence towards the temperamental woman at that moment. Then he continued on his way towards the slaveboys' quarters.
"Look, I said I was sorry, boy," Queen Olisa said following swiftly behind him. "I had no idea Shabaka was going to have you tortured in that way."
This news did not make Khafre feel any better. He turned to glare incredulously at his mistress.
"And stop looking so huffy. I honestly did not want you tortured at all. You know that."

"Yes, mistress." Khafre said through clenched teeth.

Her dark face grew hard,
"You are angry and humiliated ... I can see that. And because you are angry and humiliated I will forgive this attitude of yours."
Khafre cringed with genuine fear. He doubted if he could survive being tickle-tortured a second time that day, so he made a quick attitude adjustment.

Queen Olisa's mounting anger apparently melted away when she saw the fright in the boy's green eyes. After a few moments she said,

"Well, we cannot stand around here staring at each other all day. Lets get you to the quarters so we can get one of the girls to cleanse the honey and dirt from your body."
Such scenes of forgiveness would be commonplace between the temperamental woman and Khafre . . . who continued to spurn her advances for years. Always, after he had been severely punished, he would trudge his way over to very woman who was responsible for his torment. And Queen Olisa would pat his head as if he were a puppy whom she had spanked, but was now sorry for it.

Some things never changed ….

On an oppressively hot, humid day weeks later … not coincidentally when King Shabaka was away on an explorative campaign to investigate the performance of his Egyptian vassals in Karnak … Khafre was once again summoned to the hut of Queen Olisa. The Queen lay on an ornate pile of animal skins, gazing lustfully at the Egyptian slaveboy. She licked her lips and smiled at the fearful look on Khafre's face. She patted the skins next to her, inviting him to lie beside her.

The boy's heart thudded,

"No, my queen … I cannot … I WILL not!"
This was the final straw for the Queen. Olisa summoned the Ochu-Agbalas, and the cadre of murder-women dragged Khafre off with instructions to do with him whatever they pleased.

The lead Ochu-Agbala pushed the boy to the edge of a stone slab beyond the environs of the village where two other murder women were waiting … one with a rhino-hide whip, another with a newly-sharpened machete.

The bullwhip-armed woman raised the lash again and, spotting the most vulnerable-looking areas area on Khafre's muscular back, she whipped the boy … continuously whipped him even after his knees began to buckle.

Khafre, weakened by his savage lashing, eventually fell face-down on his chest and stomach over the stone slab and the machete flashed in the intense Nubian sunlight.

WHOMP!

Khafre's reddish head came off neatly and tumbled to the ground. The Ochu-Agabalas then rolled the chiseled, though headless, body off the slab.

Queen Olisa arrived a moment later to halt the execution, but it was too late.