Egypt's Erotic, Esoteric Female Pharaoh Hatshepsut

By Victoria Veritas

This erotic drama of love, power, mysticism, betrayal and death tells the story of Hatshepsut, or “Foremost of the Noble Ones,” Egypt’s most powerful female pharaoh. She lived 3,500 years ago and was a wife, mother, queen, high initiate, co-regent and usurper of the throne. She battled royal plots, a licentious court, and power-seeking generals and priests, while falling in love with an architect in an exotic, pulse-pounding battle to return Egypt to its former glory.

This is a story of vision and ambition, of mighty projects and heartrending setbacks at the height of Egypt’s power and riches. It’s the story of Senenmut, a priest, architect and lover of Hatshepsut, who is in charge of building her temples, raising her obelisks and tutoring her daughter. She rules Egypt for 21 years and creates or rebuilds much of Egypt’s architectural splendor, while a voluptuous non-royal wife, Iset, will do anything to put her son Thuthmosis III on the throne. In a royal court where nightly wine, women and song lead to debauchery, Hatshepsut works to retain her throne, fulfill her powerful womanly desires and return Egypt to its former glory.
The recent discovery of Hatshepsut’s mummy is being hailed by Egyptologists as the most important discovery in the Valley of the Kings since that of King Tutankhamen, also called Tutankhamun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Veritas
• Release date: Feb 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9780991644803

Victoria Veritas

Victoria Veritas is the pen name of the author of “Egypt’s Erotic, Esoteric Female Pharaoh Hatshepsut.” The author, who has worked in editing, reporting and reviewing positions at various metropolitan newspapers, is a free-lance travel writer, photojournalist, and international correspondent. Now retired, the author has written four books, two of which are historical novels.“Hatshepsut” and the upcoming Ebook entitled “The French King’s Mistress, both concern powerful, brilliant, beautiful women of their times. Diane de Poitiers (1499-1566) was one of the great minds and beauties of France; Hatshepsut wielded more power than any other female pharaoh.If you enjoyed “Hatshepsut,” you’ll not want to miss this Smashword’s tale of Henry II of France, a ne-‘er-do-well dauphine who falls in love with a lovely courtesan 20 years his senior who turns him into a great French king. Henry was a skilled swordsman, hunter, rider and military campaigner who died jousting at age 44 in July of 1559.

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Egypt’s Erotic, Esoteric

Female Pharaoh Hatshepsut

Victoria Veritas

Copyright © 2013 by Victoria Veritas

Smashwords Edition

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter-28

Epilogue

CHARACTERS (WITH PRONOUNCIATION)

Hatshepsut: (Hat-shep-soot) Daughter of Pharaoh Thuthmosis I, princess, Great Royal Wife, and co-regent who usurped the throne of Egypt.

Senenmut: (Sen-en-moot) Commoner, priest, architect and lover of Hatshepsut, who became the most powerful man in Egypt under her rule. He was in charge of building her temples and raising her obelisks.

Neferure: (Ner-fur-er-ray) Thought to be the royal daughter of Hatshepsut and Thuthmosis II, but in truth the daughter of Senenmut.

Thuthmosis I: (Tuth-moh-sis) Pharaoh, father of Hatshepsut and conqueror.

Thuthmosis II: (Thuth-moh-sis) Half brother of Hatshepsut who wed her. She ruled in his name until his death.

Iset: (Eye-set) Non-royal wife of Pharaoh Thuthmosis II and mother of Thuthmosis III. She spent her life plotting against Hatshepsut to put her son on the throne.

Thuthmosis III: (Tuth-moh-sis) Son of Pharaoh Thuthmosis II by his non-royal wife Iset and next in line to rule when Thuthmosis II died. Hatshepsut, his aunt, ruled in his name when he was young, then usurped his throne. He was ancient Egypt's Napoleon, its greatest conqueror.

General Tehuti: (Tay-hoo-tee) Leading noble who plotted to take the throne from Hatshepsut.

General Nekht: (Neck-t) Friend of General Tehuti, lover of Iset, and a plotter against Hatshepsut.

CHAPTER 1

1452 B.C. EGYPT

The pharaohs believed they must maintain the sacred purity of divine descent from the gods who came from the stars. Only one of royal blood was worthy to wed another who was royalty. Often in the 18th Dynasty brother married sister if she was the eldest daughter of the pharaoh by his one Great Wife.

The Middle Kingdom embalmers practice their arts in a beige-colored limestone building on the west bank of the Nile across from the bustling city of Luxor, called Waset by the ancient Egyptians. The city is the equal of Babylon, Biblos and Nineveh. Here the god Amun once sat on a hillock and thought the world into being during the floods of July. This land was the first to rise from primeval waters. Here is the city of God, dedicated to his creation.

Life rules on the Nile’s East Bank, death on the West Bank. Here is the sphere of the dead, the beginning of the Beyond, where the living toil for the dead, embalming them, preparing their tombs and performing rituals that will carry them safely through the Underworld and on into eternal life. Only the god Osiris knows the secrets of the dead on their voyage to eternity.

In the Pavilion of Death the solemn rites continue for 70 days. After the corpses arrive, the skillful surgeon-priests work swiftly. The viscera are removed and hooked wires draw the brain through the nostrils.

The priests know the brain is the seat of man’s wisdom, the heart and the bowels the seat of man’s emotions and mind. The priests understand that the preserved body is the link between the departed’s soul and those remaining on earth.

Today, a shaven-headed priest of Amun bends over a mummy tightly bound in precious linen. Above him looms the image of Anubis, the black, jackal-headed god who is the patron of embalmers and lord of the necropolis.

Only the mummy’s eyes and mouth are not covered. Slowly the eyes open and the pupils widen in horror. A woman’s piercing voice screams and her bound body struggles wildly. She knows her fate. Her emptied corpse will be dried, her preserved heart placed in her lifeless chest cavity. The heart scarab will be placed over her still heart. Chanting and incantations by the priests will follow.

But on this brilliantly sunny morning the shaven-headed embalmer, his forehead dripping with sweat, smiles as he leans over the horrified eyes of pharaoh. Underneath the wrappings a black-haired woman of great beauty twists and then spits into the embalmer’s face.

He recoils, wipes the spittle away and jabs a strip of linen in her mouth. She attempts to shake her head and roll off the marble table.

The embalmer bends low, presses hard on pharaoh’s chest as the air rushes from her lungs and forces her to gasp for air. The priest smiles and says, Pharaoh is ill-tempered.

He turns to a nearby surgeon-priest, who wraps Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s bandages more tightly.

Put her in her sarcophagus before she hurts herself.

Four embalmers lift the still breathing mummy into a sarcophagus and close the wooden lid. Then one lifts the lid and inserts a small wedge.

We wouldn't want you to suffocate, pharaoh. You'd miss your funeral.

That night Pharaoh Hatshepsut’s memories flood back as she realizes her death is near. She’s at a palace banquet. Her light-muscled co-regent, Thuthmosis II, her half-brother, relaxes as inviting concubines, their oiled skin shining, pour wine into goblets. The air is heavy with the scents of perfumes, flowers and wine. Three nubile young concubines of the co-regent’s harem, wearing only scanty loincloths, take turns kissing him. One pours fragrant oils on her soft hands, reaches under the co-regent’s fine kilt, gently grasps his warm testicles in her hand and squeezes them as his penis rises and his breathing increases. She massages his engorging penis firmly as a smile spreads across his face and he twirls her nipple in his fingers.

Beaded ornaments adorn the concubine’s breasts, arms and ankles. She wears brightly colored flowers in their hair and her eyes are heavily painted. The co-regent runs his hand through her shining black hair. The delicate bones of her checks and the flash of her dark eyes reflect joy and bewitch him. She slips her tongue between his lips in a deep kiss and pulls him into her embrace. Her painted fingernails lightly claw his thighs as she purrs enticingly like a cat in heat. Slowly her soft fingers work their magic as he moves his hips easily to the rhythm of her fingers. He arches his back as he pushes his hips forward and his passion overtakes him.

Across the room I, Hatshepsut, dance, my lips rouged, my dark eyes beckoning as I sway to the musicians’ seductive rhythms. I wear a sheer linen gown cinched at the waist that hides none of my soft curves. My roughed nipples become enflamed. The fragrance of my myrrh overcomes me as I find myself swept away in the night’s revelry.

As the music stops, I laugh and curl my sweating body into a mahogany chair, my trim, muscular thighs pressing together. A servant brings me a savory red wine. I sip it and feel a rush of passion as I remember my plan for the evening: to bring forth an heir.

For months I have planned it. A concubine has found me a tall, handsome, well-muscled, black Nubian slave. His public hair has been shaved and his penis and surrounding area oiled. He drops his cloak as he enters my private rooms where a concubine quickly brings his long, inviting organ to a stiff erection. She motions for me to kneel and observe the purpling head of the slave’s shaft, a testicles and the underside of his engorged organ. Then the concubine drops to her knees, licks his penis slowly and expertly and takes his testicle, one at a time, into her mouth and sucks it gently, working her tongue and lips as she has done so often. She explains each move to me. I find a trickle of my feminine juices slipping down my thigh which surprises me.

After leading the slave to a soft, low couch, the concubine moves the Nubian slave through many enticing positions of intercourse, explaining the various lovemaking positions to me while slowly driving him wild. Suddenly, he can no longer control himself and he explodes into a powerful orgasm. Instantly she removes his penis from her vagina as his semen shoots into her open mouth. Then she wildly strokes his shaft with her hand as her lips move up and down his shaft until he collapses in ecstasy.

Soon, he pulls the concubine atop him again, but she pushes him away. He rises, politely bows to me and leaves. I have wine brought and the concubine and I discuss further the arts of love and my wishes to learn more with the help of her and her Nubian lover. She agrees and entertains me with her tales of the life of a concubine. She is blessed with beauty and intelligence and finds ways at court to improve herself after a dreary life in a small village. Before leaving, the concubine hands me a white marble penis-shaped object and instructs me concerning how to exercise my vaginal muscles twice a day, learning to squeeze the marble more firmly over time.

I’ve worked so hard to learn to ride chariots, to learn to hunt, to do all the things that a male ruler would do, but I forgot I’m a woman, unskilled in the arts of love. I’ve done everything to please my father, the pharaoh, but I’ve overlooked this aspect of my character. Now I must produce an heir, do it skillfully and, yes, with pleasure. I’ve learned a new respect for concubines, gained an insight into these women of my court and have begun to learn their arts.

I’ve chosen my lover, Senenmut, carefully. I am too powerful for other men at court. They kneel before me, but seek only to use me and do not excite me. And Senenmut has agreed to my plan. That is the most important part. He’s older than me, but he will do. I must produce an heir.

I remember the first time I met him years ago. I was wearing a large wig of natural hair curled in hundreds of tight black curls. I am wearing a remarkably beautiful transparent dress of finely pleated mist linen embroidered with gold wheat ears. My fingers and toenails are gilded with gold to match my sandals. My dark eyes appear larger and more elongated with the green-blue paint applied artistically to them. The gods have blessed me with a beautiful body and fine boned face.

Senenmut is quick with a smile, tall and lean. His dark eyes hold a gentle, dreamy look. His white robe is embroidered on the neck and sleeves with golden mystic symbols. Around his neck hangs an exquisitely carved gold ankh. A golden, embellished girdle circles his waist.

His eyes seem to drink in my virginal beauty as he congratulates me on my musical talents. My father introduces him as a magician. I challenge him to cast a spell over me, but he says I am not yet ready for his magic. He’s right. But he says I have an ageless beauty. That thrills me.

Will his magic work tonight? I wonder. My plan is working well so far I think as I disrobe on my bed and send for Senenmut. I am relaxed in his presence and ready to practice my new found talents. The gods know I’m beautiful, but this is my first foray into the arts of love.

I love the fragrance of my myrrh. It is expensive but never fails to overpower me with its fragrance. And candles. I love candles. The friend the concubine has recommended red silken sheets and pillows.

After a relaxing wait, a figure, wearing the mask of the jackal-headed god Anubis, appears. This divine guide, with his homing instinct, guides souls through the Duat, where humans live after death and officiates at the one’s embalming. Later, the god weighs the deceased’s heart. If the scale’s balance tips against the male or female soul, Anubis throws the heart to the crocodile monster.

The eyes behind the mask of Anubis gleam and Senenmut bows.

Any problems slipping through the palace, Anubis?

None, your Majesty, I’m a god, remember?

It’s your lucky night, Anubis.

Let me weigh your heart, precious one. I do not wish to throw it to that monster crocodile.

My heart is good, Anubis, and my wish is to please you. Make me a son, I command softly. I notice his eyes are slowly exploring all parts of my nakedness from behind his mask. Then he removes his mask and looks down on my fine, rouged facial bones, the soft curve of my neck, my flashing eyes, the curve of my hips, the shining hair of my mound, my shapely thighs and perfect legs, even my ankles mirror perfection I’m told. My breasts swoop forward and my nipples are hard and flushed with excitement. They are roughed and welcoming. I bend down and slip off my golden sandals; my golden bracelets, finger rings and earrings accent my beauty.

Senenmut has prepared himself too. During a powerful meditation before his arrival, he sought to drive his kundalini energy down, not up his spine, to a lower chakra, to empower himself sexually. It takes time, but later he says he felt this energy engorging his organ, warming his testicles and the flesh around his groin.

Now, with Hatshepsut’s shapely flesh before him, his erection feels like a flaming sword. He surprises himself when he says, I have dreamed of this moment, but never expected it to happen. Thank you. It is my desire to fulfill your wishes.

I feel his powerful energy as he removes his mask, and his outlandish outfit drops to the floor. My heart is pumping faster and my breathing is growing faster and faster and he has yet to touch me. This power is beyond me.

I pat my bed and Senenmut sits beside me and gently takes me in his arms, and draws my face to him. He kisses me tenderly on my forehead, behind my ears, on my closed eyes and softly licks my neck as my pulse becomes rapid. He weaves his fingers in my hair and pulls me face even closer. I open my mouth and my lips welcome his warm tongue setting me afire. He probes my mouth with his tongue and I feel lost in his warmth, his powerful energy. My supple fingers knead his back softly as he cups my warm breast in his hand sending tingling feelings throughout my body.

I am shocked by his loving energy that sweeps through my body, excites every cell, and enflames my desire for him. Lost is my control over him. I only wish to excite and give him pleasure. I just want him to take me.

I moan softly as he lowers his head to my warm, erect nipple. As he suckles my nipple, I push my breast deeper into his warm mouth. He massages it, caresses it and suckles it before returning to my nipple that he licks and sucks longingly. His lips press on it and then he sucks it harder, nibbles it and lightly chews it.

My hand takes his and guides it to my wet mound, where he caresses my moist hair and rhythmically massages my labia majora while his attention turns to my other breast. His warm lips suck my hard nipple and then he circles it with his tongue. I’m lost in his power as passion overcomes me. My body welcomes his touch and urges him on as it undulates slowly, enticingly in his embrace.

He returns to my other breast, enjoying its warmth and worshiping it. I want him to enter me quickly, I want to thrust my hips and draw him deeply into me, but know I must savor every second. My breasts fascinate him, their shapely beauty continue to draw his lips. He licks and sucks slowly, keeping pace with my arousal. Again he places my other nipple in his mouth and sucks gently, slowly. As his movements become more passionate, I gently take his member in my hands, twirls its purpling head gently, and firmly massages it.

Lost, in my passion, I slide his