The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Caesar was dead. Hail Caesar.

Octavian paid me well to endure the miserable trip to Egypt. The voyage was rough, the food was not fit for pigs, and I was tired of the smell of Romans. How eager I was when the lighthouse at Alexandria came into view. How pure the sands of Egypt smelled after tar and garlic.

I swore with joy, for in the last of seven days I had slept on the deck because my poor nose could not take any more of Roman sweat, swill and farts.

And they feared the night like children, these Romans. They were up early and worked the day through. It annoyed me that the Salamander played at this role of Octavian. Pox the glory of Rome. Give me the gold of Rome and let me be.

Give me the night.

Mother Night was seductive with her scented airs. She comforted and sent dreams of wealth and wenches. She gathered up the shadows of the past and presented them for future lessons and wisdom. I loved Mother Night.

These Romans feared the night and they should fear me as well. I was Blessed of Mother Night. I was one of the Chosen.

I was in Alexandria on profitable business. There was a certain joy in walking about the old city taking in the sights and smells. I love the smells of a real city like Alexandria. Harbor mud. Dogs. Humans. Camels. There is a choice blend of smells for a connoisseur like myself.

Later I would get drunk and find the accommodating whores of Alexandria. But first, I needed to talk to Bilchus Marius and find out exactly what this pretend sorceress Cleopatra had done to Marc Antony. I would look at Antony’s strength here and take the measure of this Pharaoh Cleopatra. And if Isis the Cat was gathering support for Marc Antony—.

Well, I would find that out, too.

Egypt is sacred to the Temple That Walks. For over four thousand years on the calendar of man, She had ruled over this powerful river and its wealth. The Salamander knew that the strength of Egypt was the strength of Isis. Even in my Sumeria when I was a little girl, we had heard stories of the Ancient, Isis the Cat.

Still, I was not terribly interested in meeting the legend for reasons of self-preservation. For one thing, I had been informed She held secret court in Bubastis and I would only need to study Alexandria and Cleopatra’s court. I would roam here, deliver messages to certain people for Octavian, judge the situation, fornicate with the excellent whores, and steal the Pharaoh’s court mantle and rods. The omen of their loss would put Cleopatra’s priests in a daze for months and also give me the boatload of gold that was my due.

If there were any political opponents to her reign left, they would be strengthened by the loss. The Salamander knew his business. I was certain those opponents existed without knowing much more than that.

That was one of my many character flaws. My thoughts have never soared in strategy or arts. My mind is uneducated and my energies are attracted to pleasure. Some folks thought me stupid. Some admired my earthy character.

Actually, I was mostly a coward. I happened to like living. It was a good thing to not meet Isis. It was said that Isis had eaten the brains of the Ancient Monkey King while he had gasped his last seven hundred breaths.

As the Romans would say, “Cave felis.” Beware the Cat.

Bilchus Marius was a retired soldier with good taste in slaves. He had two of the prettiest Egyptian bitches I had seen in many a year waiting on him. They smelled of scented oil and pure sweat. The trip was long enough that I was thinking more about the coming night’s possible games than the next move in my mission.

Bilchus seemed to be an understanding and informed fellow.

He stopped recounting the troop placements of Antony; “You are looking at Silca like she has snakes for hair. Don’t worry about my slaves, they don’t speak Latin.”

“I’m not worried about her hair, but I’d like to hear more about her tongue.” I grinned.

He gaped at me and then started laughing. He had a good laugh. Practiced, but honest. “So you like her? You should see her sister. A mouth twice as large and made for sin and just as good looking as Silca. When I took in your manner, I thought you a fresh young man and rather innocent of carriage. I think I know better seeing deeper into your eyes and hearing your words.”

I tried to look properly manly and roughened my voice, “You say you have more slaves? A sister to this one that I might lure to my bed tonight?”

“I wish I had the sister. Choth is a dancer in the sacred court of Bast in Bubastis. I’d buy her if I had ten years wages. She is said to send a man to paradise with her skills.”

My mouth watered. “Well, I don’t plan to do more than look around Alexandria. So I’ll just accept your word of the woman’s worth and skill.”

He nodded, “You’ll want to look at Antony’s encampment. It lies west of here. Let me show you a map.” He got up and pulled scrolls from a standing bin.

I winked at Silca.

She smiled and ran her tongue around her lips.

Antony’s forces in Alexandria were considerable. More than I’d been led to expect by the esteemed Salamander.

Under the deepest cover of Mother Night, I moved about the camp assessing quality of the men. I wore the dress of a Roman sergeant and knew the walk as well.

I had a stroke of interesting luck. Pharaoh Cleopatra was present. I used my Talent to move nearer and nearer the temporary royal court arrayed near the shore. The fine colored tenting above the formed rods was a flickering draw. The wind off the Mediterranean was brisk and playful. The lapping of waves covered even the sounds of the wind.

Salt hung heavy and intoxicating upon the sweet air, a smell I could relish now without the dried sweat of unwashed Romans clogging my head.

I stopped when I saw the curse wards and crystals dangling from the pennants outside the Pharaoh’s tent. Interesting but not surprising that here in Egypt the Ancient ways would still be understood. I knelt and put my palms upon the sand and took the pulse of the local Breath of the Land. Taking hold of my will, I moved by the crystals and found a nice patch of tenting that shared the same color of light as the bottom of the sea. I heard enough of voices and sounds older than voices to realize that Marc Antony and Cleopatra were in conference of loins.

I grinned and listened. I liked what I heard. A moment’s effort and I was through the tenting like smoke. I crept upon a good viewing point while blending my will with Mother Night’s embrace. They could not see me.

Only one oil lamp was lit. Antony was a young man, a good Roman man and a soldier. The soldiers readily followed his actions and words, and it was also his loyalties and intentions I was to learn about while I was here. He grumbled his pleasure as the silhouette of long hair and curved shoulders prayed over his manroot.

I shifted position, sliding to the right. Now I could see light on Cleopatra’s face and Antony’s. She hollowed her cheeks, taking his glistening root deeply into her mouth. He stared at the heavens. Her head lowered and rose with the prayer of her lips upon his flesh.

Down again. Rising slowly. Down in supplication. Rising, her dark eyes watching him.

I grinned, contemplating joining the ritual. Bad idea.

Cave felis.

There was a small chance that Cleopatra was a student of Isis. I did not fear the student, but—.

Then Cleopatra let her lips pull free of Antony’s swollen root. “You love Egypt.” She had the voice of a hoarse siren.

“Lovvve Eeegypt,” he breathed.

Only a spectator, I was wet as Poseidon’s favorite horse.

She licked his cock’s head, “You will rule, but you will honor Egypt.”

“Will rule. Honorrr Eeegypt.”

Her hand sought something set aside in the darkness and came up with an ivory tool of pleasure. I knew what it was immediately. In Rome, it was called ‘Luna kissing Gaea’, a small sculpture of the globe with the second sphere of the moon touching Rome. Some pleasure slaves wore it as a sign they were available for any diversion. She turned it in her hand, “This seals your pleasure to Egypt. Feel it enter you and become a whore of Isis.”

I swallowed and shifted my sex against the calf tucked under me.

Cleopatra pushed Gaea between Antony’s cheeks until it was buried and only Luna shown in the night.

Antony arched his back and sprayed seed, “Whorrre of Isisss.” Cleopatra stroked his chest and stomach, cooing softly to him and smiling.

Dog shit! I felt the rough Kiss of the Great River as I pushed my sex against my calf. I gushed pleasure. As Cleopatra began cleaning his root with her tongue, I backed out of the place. Cleopatra shifted her ass very high as she lowered her head onto his cum slick root. I saw a gold Luna glowing between her shadowed cheeks.

Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur. Even a god finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time.