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She couldn’t say she truly understood what drove Shai, apart from his status as her personal slave in exchange for the lives and security of his parents.
They both upheld their end of the trade that day. And he’d gotten more than a fair bargain, given that they’d been prisoners of war. If left to those slavers, he would have been sold to gods knew what kind of Master, separated from his family, and his parents would have perished from lack of urgent care.
She didn’t know much about Shai, despite all of the time they spent in each other’s company. He wasn’t someone to know, after all. He was merely a slave. She had dozens of slaves in her household dedicated to serving her.
But her instincts told her that even when his parents were gone one day, Shai would never renege on his promise to her the day they met. He was a man who kept his vows, or he’d never make them. She knew this much about him.
Her thoughts flitted back in time even as her eyes never strayed from Shai now.
Heba had remained a maiden on her marriage night. But she plotted to make the next encounters more successful.
It was her duty, after all. Not to fight her husband, but to bear his attentions and beget a child. Most critically, a son.
The next time she visited Thutmose, she put a sedative in his wine. She secured Shai’s promise to never interfere no matter what he heard. He never did verbally commit to it, but he’d nodded with every reluctance.
Sedated and malleable, her step-brother king was putty in Heba’s hands. She even brought an unguent to aid the rise of his staff, that her nursemaid Sitre In smuggled into the Palace secretly.
It had still been difficult to mount the semi-erect cock, as Thutmose lay partially insensate on his back while Heba sat astride him. But she managed to get it done, finally piercing her hymen and riding him awkwardly to his release.
He’d immediately slipped out, flaccid as a slug once more. It took all of five minutes, maybe less. The beginning was most difficult. Trying to shove him in deep enough to hold.
Heba didn’t have anyone to directly compare Thutmose to in terms of experience, but she’d seen enough nude bodies to know that he was quite underdeveloped in the size of his maleness.
Which seemed appropriate, given that he was the least worthy representative of his sex that Heba had ever met.
Shai on the other hand…
Heba didn’t quite know how to think of him.
In so many ways, she’d grown up with him. Even though she was always conscious of the boundaries between Master and slave (Papa had drilled into her from birth how the strata of society worked, like a pyramid, with the Pharoah and his Queen at the top of it), she couldn’t helpcaring.
Or, perhaps “caring” wasn’t the right word. It seemed too intimate.
Shemindedwhen Shai got hurt, for example. She was never as furious as when he’d been punished for coming to her rescue on her marriage night.
She didn’t know what she’d do without Shai. And since she was an eminently practical woman, she didn’t think about it. She simply trusted that he would always be with her. No matter what.
By law, he was her property. He was the lowest of all slaves, a prisoner of war. And she was the highest of all royals, with the exception of the Pharoah. Although it had been ingrained in her tonotcare, people became attached to property all the time. Whether it was a much beloved heirloom or a pet.
Never mind a living, feelingman.
Since her marriage, and as she grew more mature in her womanhood, she’d become very much aware of Shai’smaleness. Perhaps because of the sharp contrast to Thutmose’s lack.
She’d always thought of Papa as the epitome of a wise and worthy man. If she could have chosen, she might have wanted a husband just like Papa. Someone who could guide her, be her confidante and partner. Provide protection and affection, kind words and warm hugs.
Perhaps with a man who was her equal, she would want more physical things. Perhaps she would even learn to enjoy the marriage bed.
She was too practical to think romantic thoughts about any man; she didn’t dream of poetry and kisses. But she might have looked forward to his company, instead of dreading every moment she spent in Thutmose’s.
Of course, she didn’t think of Shai as a potentialpartner. He was a slave; that would never do. Just as the pyramid must be built with precise foundations, a place for every limestone block, so must the architecture of Egyptian society remain intact.
Imagine a royal and a slave trading places. The pyramid would surely collapse.
But she noticed at least his physicality and the way this particular slave carried himself. This particularman. So quietly confident in his own strength, so sure in his actions.
When she’d first seen him at the market, she thought he was a giant, slightly gangly foreign boy. Neither attractive nor ugly. Just verylargeand veryintense.
Now, a decade in his constant company later, he’d somehow grown on her. She found that she preferred taller, broader, more muscular men, despite her own average height and size. She tended to find them more attractive.
