Defend: A Trans, Pegging Ancient Egyptian Erotic Romance (Beautiful, Doomed, #2)

By Soledad Triunfo

Plagues of frogs, boils, meteorites, and death. Trans* ritual threesomes, pegging, orgies, and tentacle-like tendrils. More problems only she can solve. Mutnofret, Second Wife of Pharaoh, gets more than she bargained for after ascending to the throne in Defend, Book II of the Beautiful, Doomed Trilogy, an erotic ancient Egyptian retelling of the biblical Book of Exodus.

Disclaimer: This is an erotic romance. Read no further if explicit content may offend you.

Excerpt: Balancing the cucumber at the mouth of his puckered hole, she released her grip of the vegetable, and moved her right hand to grip the space behind Pharaoh’s right knee. “Are you ready, your excellency?” she asked as she squatted with the device of their pleasure suspended between their gaping slits. “Yes, yes, Mutnofret,” he croaked hoarsely, moving one hand to her bottom as the other furiously pummeled his shaft. “Take your God’s pleasure hole.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: BreakWave House
• Release date: Jan 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524206482

Book preview

Chapter One: Burned

Mutnofret sat – resplendent – at a scribe’s desk in her harem room. While she had been given many sumptuous gifts by the Pharaoh in the month that had passed since their marriage, she still preferred to wear her vulture cap of lapis lazuli, a long, pleated sheath dress, and an armful of plain bangles. As always, green and black kohl rimmed her eyes, a sleek shoulder-length wig adorned her head, and her beaded tattoo remained tantalizingly visible through her thin garment. Long, slatted windows – gaps for spear-wielders to defend the palace – let light stream into her vast new quarters, and bathe Mutnofret’s desk in the warm summer sun. Mutnofret had an enormous papyrus unfurled in front of her, as she had taken to drawing, sketching hieroglyphics, and writing in her spare time.

Truthfully, she had always longed to commit her own ideas to print. At her behest, her first husband – Thutmose’s father’s chief scribe – had taught her to read and write. But being a slave after his death had left her neither time for scholarly pursuits, nor money to buy papyri and ink. And even if she’d had time or money, women scribes simply did not exist. An educated woman – especially a well-educated poor woman – presented a threat to Egyptian male hierarchy, as she possessed all the experience and knowledge to inform others of her oppression. Especially with Hebrew slave uprisings brewing in the Valley of the Kings, the idea that slaves might unite, and press for change, seemed particularly threatening. Female literacy was therefore taboo. But that hadn’t stopped Mutnofret from lusting for knowledge, from asking her husband to teach her, from tracing letters and glyphs in the dirt and sand to keep herself from growing illiterate as a slave. The absolute luxury of being able to order papyri and ink brought to her chamber – and to have someone acquiesce without question – was not lost on Mutnofret. No doubt her skills were the gossip of the harem, especially among her slave friends like Auru.

Truly, Mutnofret’s status and education were gifts she vowed to hone for all Egyptian women. As Queen, change began with her. She silently pledged that she would use her private writing to grow her talent, so that she could press for other women’s right to education, too. It was with these goals, with this attitude of reverence, that Mutnofret approached her papyrus today.

Once a near dedicant to Bes, the household god of fertility and luck, and now the earthly personification of the mother goddess Mut, Mutnofret held religion in high esteem. So, she hoped to use her experiences to create a religious text. As life centered so wholly on religion, she had also thought men might more easily accept a woman writing about it, than some other topic.

As fertility was based in sex, Mutnofret ended up recording the many ways in which she had worshipped Bes with her new husband. Glancing from her scribe’s desk to the door, Mutnofret smiled placidly at her chipped clay statue of the tiny, rotund God. Moving it to the Pharaoh’s chamber had been a formality. Luckily, too, as she drew inspiration from gazing at his wry, ruddy smile. Bes now retained his rightful place at home with her and Seth.

When she had ascended to rule Egypt, guaranteeing Seth’s safety had been her only thought. Although certain members of the royal household had been less than welcoming to her, everyone had taken to Seth. Because he wasn’t added to Pharaoh’s lineage, he presented no challenge to Ahmose – the King’s first wife – or her only child, a son. Everyone had gladly accepted the emergence of another semi-royal child. So to her great relief, Mutnofret no longer worried about Seth. In fact, he was out taking riding lessons from his new brother.

Named Ahmose after his mother, the Egyptian heir was a fifteen year-old boy. Although Ahmose had birthed two other children – a boy and a girl – both had died in infancy. Ahmose II had been the oldest sibling, old enough to remember their deaths, and enjoyed having a younger brother again. Ahmose II had been born shortly after the 13 year-old Thutmose, then a prince, had married. He was tall, strong, commanding; nearly a duplicate of his father.

It felt strange for Mutnofret to send Seth off with the rather adult Ahmose. Besides being the adult son of her supposed rival, Ahmose II was also a soldier. Since birth, he had been groomed for leadership in the Egyptian Army. He’d assumed the rank of general last summer. He would rule Egypt after Thutmose had died. Mutnofret wished for a more peaceful profession for her son. She was familiar with his strange status at court; it mirrored her own in childhood. Without ties of blood it was just as easy to fall from royal favor, as rise to it. Still, she hoped it afforded Seth the power to choose his own path. For now, he seemed to be enjoying riding lessons and sibling camaraderie.

Mutnofret knew it would be easier for Seth to live freely if she could bear the Pharaoh another son. But if she conceived, she’d hate feeling like she was subjecting another one of her children to the military to save Seth. Still, Egyptians believed in divine right. And the gods had ordained a millennia ago that a son conceived of the King, and any of his Wives, would fall into the line of succession. So regardless of Seth’s existence, if Mutnofret conceived, that child’s fate was already written. Only part of its destiny would be potentially saving Seth from a violent life.

Mutnofret looked at her abdomen. She knew one failed moon-cycle wasn’t enough for her to worry she was barren. Since their marriage, the Pharaoh had lavished her with attentions every night. Although he’d seemed to enjoy himself, Mutnofret knew her failure to conceive had frustrated him. In turn, puzzled her. Instead of asking them for a child, her Pharaoh-brother seemed to demand one from the gods. It was as if some spirit had visited him, promised him a child. Given his attentions, it seemed that spirit had promised him a child by Mutnofret and no other.   

Arching her back to stretch, Mutnofret took a small break from her papyrus and her daydreaming. She rose, and paced quietly around her room. Looking out of her archer windows into the courtyard, she saw a naked slave – Pi-Ram – bending over, sorting beans. Mutnofret had been that slave, sorting those beans, mere weeks ago. She suddenly felt ill at ease with the lines of light filtering in through her window, hitting her skin through her soft clothes. She felt different than who she had been, and that difference seemed dishonest.

While she felt relief knowing Seth was safe, the feeling of dread that’d reflected off the Nile – and followed her down the hall after her first night with the Pharaoh – still lingered. She suspected her feelings of dread had something to do with Pharaoh’s desire for a child, with Pharaoh’s secret plan for her. Heaving an exasperated sigh and rushing back to her papyrus, Mutnofret tore off a small corner of her salute to Bes. Fingering it in her hands, she then slapped it down, and began to write a list. Time to get everything out.

‘What might the King want with me, specifically?’ she thought to herself. She never spoke of her doubts, even when alone, as the royal harem’s walls had ears. But she could write to organize her thoughts. And then, to be safe, she would burn what she wrote.

Confident her doubt could not be catalogued, Mutnofret proceeded in scribbling down her list of reasons why the King might have taken an interest in her. Could the king actually love her? Although his version of events seemed plausible, Mutnofret’s intuition told her he wanted more than he was willing to admit. So, she kept thinking. Perhaps his jealous wife had learned Thutmose had once loved her, and sought revenge by somehow elevating her to power? No, that could not be it. It seemed more likely that Ahmose had her hand in the five years Mutnofret had spent in slavery. She would answer to Thutmose – who had indeed launched an inquisition – and the gods for that. Mutnofret refused to dwell on the distinct possibility Ahmose I had always hated her, so she focused back on her list.

Could it have something to do with the connection between her late husband and the Pharaoh’s father, the Great Amenhotep? She knew little of that Pharaoh, and relatively little of her husband’s work. But she considered it significant that she sat in Amenhotep’s palace now, scribbling her woeful list using the art form