Victoria ordered another drink and opened her journal. When the dreams had started, Colin had bought the little leather bound book for her. He insisted that she needed to write down the dreams as they may have supernatural significance. While she deferred to his knowledge of the arcane, she also suspected that he simply enjoyed reading about her erotic dreams.

Last night’s dream was no exception, and she sipped her Raki and opened the journal. She noted all the mystical stuff that Colin insisted should be there, the phase of the moon and any significant planetary alignments before getting to the dream itself.

In the dream, she’d been in a stone building, something like a palace maybe. The marble floors were cool under her bare feet and a she could hear a fountain somewhere in the building. The room she occupied held a massive bed, festoon with cushions and pillows and a dressing table. She wore a dress, if one could call it that, made of an open woven net. It made her think of modern fishnet dresses, but this was clearly finely woven and included beads and jewels. But like its modern version, it covered nothing, and highlighted her nakedness under the mesh.

She heard a voice calling her name, and immediately recognized it as a Djet, her pharaoh. She’d served him since she’d inadvertently awoken him by masturbating in his tomb. Now, in this dream, she heard him calling her, heard his steps on the marble floor. Unlike her, he wore modern clothing, a perfectly tailored dark suit, as he strode into the chamber. His dark eyes devoured her nearly naked form, and he smiled obviously pleased by her barely dressed state.

Vicki paused, her face flushing as she recalled the dream. She took another sip of the anise flavored liquor and pressed her legs together more tightly. Colin had promised her that the journal was enchanted in such a way that no one but the two of them could read it, but she still found herself glancing around the hotel bar. It was nearly empty and no one was paying her any attention. She returned to her writing.

In the dream, Djet entered the room and simply grabbed her and kissed her. This was the daydream that had awakened him in the first place. The dream she harbored of being his sexual plaything. A woman kept in his harem to use for his own desires as he wished. And she melted in to his kiss that claimed her as his own. He pressed her to him, his hands kneading her ass before he pulled the net dress apart. She gasped hearing the tinkle of glass and metal beads roll across the stone floor.

The tatters of the net clung to her shoulders, as he pushed her to her knees. And she knew what he expected and quickly opened her mouth to receive his cock. He buried his hands in her hair, tugging at her, not allowing her to perform fellatio him, but rather he fucked her mouth. Vicki heard herself moan and did not fight his hands or his cock, even when the saliva slipped over her lips and ran down her chin. She ached to touch herself, to plunge her fingers into her own wet heat, but waited to hear his commands.

He thrust his cock into her throat before stepping back, and helping her to her feet. Vicki was dizzy, her knees weak, and all she wanted was his hands on her body, his cock inside her – to hear him moan.

“Come my priestess,” he said, lifting her and laying her on her stomach on the bed. The shreds of the beaded dress smacked against her skin, and her net trapped breasts presses into the silk bed coverings.

Before she could move, he pulled her to her knees, and shoved one of the larger cushions beneath her. Her face pressed into the bed as she felt his hands on flesh. His fingers on her thighs, slipping into her squelching wetness with the firm, roughness she craved. Her moans were buried in the bedclothes, as he continued to tease her body. When his fingers left her, she felt something cold and hard press into her, and knew it for the ancient bronze dildo that she had used in a magic. He pressed the heavy metal phallus into her, and she squealed as it stretched her.

The oil, warmed and perfumed, poured between her ass cheeks, and his strong hands rubbed the oil, pressing his thumb into her asshole. Vicki was certain that she said something in dream, some urging of his invasion of her body, some filthy begging for him to take her, to use her, to fuck her ass.

And he complied. She felt his cock press against her asshole, and slip into her. She could feel the thick bronze dildo in her pussy and she squirmed at the fullness, but longed to hear him express his pleasure. He filled her ass, fucking her in hard thrusts. In the dream, she’d cried out when she felt his fingers on her clit, rubbing and pinching her must tender flesh. His movement also pressed the bronze dildo slightly deeper.

In the bar, Vicki clamped her legs tighter. She could feel her panties getting damp as she wrote. Her drink was empty, but the bartender set another in front of her without a word. Vicki gave a blushing smile in his direction, and went back to her frantic writing.

Dream Djet’s cock stretched her ass, his thighs slapping against her as he took his pleasure. When she finally heard his moan, the growing orgasm finally crested and she shook as she came. Djet continued to tease her clit and thrust into her ass, regardless of her whimpers of pleasure and over-stimulation. When he came, with a roar, she felt the slick remainder of the oil and his semen in her ass. He removed the bronze dildo, leaving it wet with her pleasure on the bed.

Then he lifted her from the cushions and laid her on the bed. He sat next to her, brushing her dark hair carefully from her face. “My priestess,” he said his fingers on her cheek. The rest of his message was in the ancient Egyptian that she struggled to learn from Colin. She transcribed it as best she could knowing that the message was important. She only recognized a few words, mostly about Anubis, the god she and Colin sought to protect Djet from. It seemed the ritual, their pact with Anubis was running out, and Djet hadn’t found the correct spells to be allowed to remain on earth.

He gathered her into his arms, holding her against him. He body was sore, and she was strangely sleepy for a dream. The last few commands he gave her were to find specific magicians, who once again may know something about the magic he sought.

Finished transcribing the dream, she looked up again. This time, the bartender was looking directly at her journal. Colin had promised that no one could read it. She snapped the book shut and the bartender looked at her, his eyes glinting in the dark bar.

“I’ve heard about your master, Bishara.” He said, setting another drink down.

She raised an eyebrow, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” And she felt herself chafe at hearing Colin referred to as her master. She served no one but Djet.

He laid a card on the bar, and as she had come to learn and be annoyed with, it carried a series of arcane symbols she didn’t know and was written in Turkish. The only thing she could read was Evren.

Read the entire series here. 

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