I consider myself a lucky man, as lucky as one can be who doesn’t own their freedom. There are numerous tasks for a slave, and my job isn’t among the best - I build. But I am young and it makes me strong. I reside in one of the more respected areas of the kingdom, and as such, I have my own sleeping quarters. I, and the other men who live in this corridor, are treated well with food and amenities. They are young like me, tall and muscular, and on occasion, the female nobility will visit us privately.

Politically, it is frowned upon, and punishable for both parties. But if there are no witnesses, there is nothing to contest, so they come. Seeking our comfort in the dark, always wearing masks to conceal their identity. Even if you don’t want to take the risk, as a slave, if a woman comes to your bed and you deny her, she may surely punish you in other ways.

When the sun goes down, I wander past the unfinished monuments, back to the corridor to rest. Pulling aside the tapestry, I enter my room, and I am not alone. In the light of a burning candle, a woman sits perched on my bed - a stone slab covered with reed and fabric. She is beautiful, though the top half of her face is hidden behind a gold mask. It is elegant with detail, strands of it in her black hair, a lace gold torque necklace at her throat. Other than her jewelry, she is naked; beautiful breasts and round hips, every inch of her skin a golden bronze.

I pause the moment I see her. I have never been visited before.

“Hello,” she speaks, and it is soft as silk.

“Hello,” is all I can muster in my shock.

“… Do you wish I hadn’t come?” she says with uncertainty, and I immediately shake my head.

“Forgive me. I’ve never had a visitor before.” I bow at her.

“Never?” she asks in slight surprise.

“No. And I suppose if I ask who you are, you wouldn’t answer,” I say. She smiles a little, slowly shaking her head. “Why me?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me. She rises, elegant like a cat, a gold chain dripping from her small waist. She is groomed to perfection, walking toward me.

“I have seen you,” she says, craning her neck to look up at me. Behind the mask, her eyes are a cloudless sky blue. If she has seen me, I must know who she is, but I cannot figure it out. Being a builder on many projects, I have met many wealthy citizens, perhaps too many to remember her. Though they wear masks when they visit us, every now and then, a slave may still recognize them - the rumors only among the help.

“And what is it you want?” I whisper, lips inches from hers.

“… To forget who I am,” she replies just as quietly, gazing at me intently. I reach up and hold her neck, my masculinity encompassing her.

“Then tonight, you are mine,” I say, and in the next moment, my mouth is on hers.

Her lips are soft and full and delicious. I have never laid with a woman before, but feeling her against me, I know exactly what to do. Like instinct, her naked and wanting makes me desperate to please her.

My mouth goes to her neck, her hands roaming my shoulders, breathing heavily. If we  are too loud, we’ll draw attention - the last thing we both want. My hands slide down her back, one reaching down to grab her firm, round ass, the other moving to her front to graze between her thighs.

She gasps as I rub her, testing out the pressure, and when she shivers, I repeat my last action, earning a quiet moan. I don’t know if this is part of biology, but feeling her in the palm of my hand, my need for her transforms into an uncontrollable desire. I pick her up, place her on the bed, and drop to my knees. My head goes between her thighs, and she gasps again, fisting the sheets. My tongue is slow and precise, trying to feel every inch of her as it licks long and hard up her pussy. She tastes so sweet it’s intoxicating, my mouth ravishing her, aching to taste more of her wetness. And wet she becomes.

My mistress is entranced with my movements, holding my head against her, arching her back. When I rub a finger around her opening, pushing inside, she moans again. Still licking her sensitive flesh, I curl the finger that’s in her, and she nearly screams. I look up at her, silently begging her to be quiet, and she bites her lip. When I do it again, she orgasms. I may not have done this before, but I’ve heard plenty of stories. I can tell the moment she cums, her muscles contracting around my fingers, the way she’s moaning into her hands.

When she’s shivering and exhausted, I remove my hand, but keep my mouth on her. I eat her for a long while, and after she cums again, she pulls me up and makes me sit, trading places. She gets on her knees, undresses me, and when my already hard dick is exposed, she inhales sharply. Her gold mask doesn’t hide her arousal when she looks up at me.

I sit with my cock in her hand, breathing hard, and when she puts it in her mouth, I nearly groan, humming and trying to contain it. Her mouth is hot and wet and perfect, her tongue tasting my thick, engorged head. I could cum right now, but she’s only getting started, so I do everything in my power to hold it back.

She strokes me and sucks me, and I wonder how I ever lived before this moment. It is amazing and I tell her so. She hums around me, pushing me into her throat, and I immediately put my hands in her gold adorned hair. She is so enthusiastic, I cannot help but encourage her. I push her head on my lap, over and over, and the harder I push, the more she loves it.

When I can’t control myself any longer, I hold her head, stand up, and start fucking her mouth. She’s on her knees, hands holding my hips, helping me use her mouth like a cunt. Not once do I feel her teeth, all warm and soft and pink in her throat.

“I need to cum,” I tell her, fisting her hair, and she hums, looking up at me, not stopping in the slightest. The moment I know she wants it, I can’t hold back any longer. I cum the hardest I ever have in my life, throbbing heavily in her mouth as she swallows it.

“Fuck,” I curse as she keeps suckling me.

Any reservations I had about this affair before are nonexistent now. I would risk anything to always be with this woman. I am nowhere close to done with her.

I lay her down once more and lick her shimmering skin, tasting her nipples and pussy, biting her neck and breasts and hips. Her hands roam my muscles, her own mouth tasting the skin of my neck, chest and cock. We spend an infinite amount of time on one another. At one point she’s on her hands and knees and I’m under her, my mouth on her pussy, her mouth on my dick, and when I start licking her ass, she moans around my meat.

I do anything she asks, and I’m not shy about being rough with her either. She likes it; me taking control. I still treat her like royalty, while also trying to help her forget that she is, if that has any merit. Who wouldn’t want to be the higher class?

When my mistress is near another orgasm, she stops me.

“Wait.”

“Are you certain?” I ask, my fingers still moving inside her. Her head rolls, teeth on her lip.

“I was hoping you would use something else.” Her words are woven with intention, and I don’t waste a moment, pulling myself up to kiss her.

“Tell me what you want,” I say into her mouth.

“I want you to make love to me,” she responds, her sure tone ringing with innocence.

I grab myself and guide my head to her heat, my member anticipating what’s about to happen. Every moment between us has been unreal, as if I walked into a dream the moment I returned to my room. Though I still know not who she is, nor can I see her face, I am in love with everything she does. We fit together perfectly, her petite, hourglass figure just the right size for my large grip. We were made for this.

I push into her, and just the head stretches her around me, both of us roughly breathing. I thrust again and she moans, mouth open wide, holding onto my neck as she lays under me. Her wet warmth feels better than anything I have ever experienced. Every good thing I have ever experienced does not equate to this. For a moment I want to believe I can see what’s under her mask, and know who she is so I can put a face with the woman I suddenly need to have.

She can see me, she knows me, and she wants this. I give it to her.

I give myself to her - everything I am in this moment is now hers, and for tonight, we are in love. I fuck her as if it’s the truth.

We roll into many positions, any way we can fit together, and at the same time I thrust into her. I fuck her slow and deep, fast and hard, kissing her sweetly or pulling her hair. We do it all. The feel of her pussy on me is a heaven I never want to leave. She bends over for me, and when I’m buried completely, that heaven intensifies. She rides me, hips rolling on my lap, and when I think it cannot get any better, she climbs off, puts me in her mouth, and sucks me clean.

I have to pull her off before she makes me cum.

I lay her down and make room inside her cunt once again, my thickness ensuring every inch of her is being stretched out and touched.

“Setep,” my goddess whispers, and I kiss her. She knows my name.

“Tell me your name,” I beg her, moving inside her.

“I am your lover,” is all she says, though it is clear she wants to tell me. I may not know this woman, but I would need to be pure fool not to see that she is being quite unlike herself. She is showing me someone that people never see, a uninhibited side of her that is always locked up, and she chose me to share it with.

“You are mine,” I say, hand holding her face, and her eyebrows come together above the mask.

“Yours,” she repeats, breathless.

I fuck her until she cums, and the moment she does, my long awaited release joins with her, and I am lost. Her fingers are at my lips, trying to contain my uncontainable reaction. My cock jerks over and over, cumming harder than I did the first time. I don’t stop for a countless space of time. Her and I is all there is.

I lie panting in her neck, listening to her own quick breath and still racing heart. I pull out and lay beside her, no longer able to move, and neither does she. We are quiet for a long time, basking in the comfortable silence between us.

My hand is softly stroking her arm when she speaks.

“You’re certain you’ve never done this before?” she asks, and I laugh.

“First time.”

“Well… I will tell you a secret,” she says, and I turn my face to her. “I have never sought comfort before tonight.” Her words make me strangely happy. It’s certainly relieving to know I am not at the end of a long list.

“Would it be rude to ask one more; Why me?”

She sighs. “I told you, I have seen you before.”

“And I have seen you?” I ask. A parcel of time passes before she nods her head. “You’re leaving my question unanswered,” I say, and she smiles a little, shaking her head.

“Why does one need to eat? See the sun? Drink water? It is part of who we are. I saw something in you that I simply couldn’t ignore… Now I hope you can forgive me for my actions.”

“What is to forgive?”

She sighs again. “With us, it can only ever be this.” Her words are short and heavy. We both know it’s true, though we don’t want to believe it. Once this moment is over, it will be as if it never happened, no proof that it existed. Right now she is in my bed, I can touch her, taste her, and I already dread her absence.

I kiss her until we both need to breathe, then we lay staring at the stone ceiling, and I am so lost in thought, I realize she’s fallen asleep without a clue when it happened. Her breath is slow, eyes shut, perfect lips slightly parted. She is a goddess deserving of a name, one I cannot give her.

This thought passes through me, clearing way for something unforgivable. My fingers twitch as I debate with myself. Do I really want to know who is behind this mask? All my expectations gather no extra consequence, what we have done is already forbidden. Knowing won’t make any possible punishment worse or better.

I reach up and place my hand on the gold, seeing if she moves. She is unresponsive, so I slowly begin to slide the mask upward. When it is lifted enough to reveal the structure of her cheekbones and the shape of her face; her identity, I freeze. I don’t even breath. An uncountable number of things rush around my head, all of them ending with me being tortured to death in some awful, terrible way. Being sent into the Nile with crocodiles, or mummified alive are enough to make me slowly slide the mask back down to cover her face.

The woman I just made soul fire, passionate love to - the woman I am in love with- is the Pharaoh’s wife. The highest royalty. THE Pharaoh’s queen is in my bed, and when I hear a march of footsteps down the corridor, my heart jumps out of my chest.