Flail of the Pharoah by Rosanna Challis Page A

handle that was studded with precious gems and decorated with figures of Horus and Maat, Goddess of Justice. Although not made of gold, it was nevertheless a tool of exquisite workmanship and serviceable as well.
    ‘Hand the flail to the prince,’ Mira said. ‘Then strip the girl.’
    Iras went up to Kiya and, with a slightly apologetic air, slipped the straps from her shoulders and rolled the garment down her body, revealing her plump nakedness. Neshi stood a few feet away, his gaze transfixed by the sight of those protruding breasts, oiled and polished like ebony, the dark nipples hardening upon exposure to the air. Beneath her slim waist and jewelled navel, the shaven mound and swollen lips of her sex were clearly visible.
    He is truly a man now, Mira thought, seeing the flush rise in his cheeks. Beneath his tunic she knew his organ must be hardening with desire for the girl. Had this been the cause of all the trouble? Had he perhaps been the instigator of some sex play that Kiya, mindful of her duty, had gently rebuffed? The thought was disturbing, but there could be no going back now. Besides, this would be an object lesson to Charmian.
    ‘Iras, move that stool into the centre of the room,’ the queen commanded, pointing to a low cross-legged stool with a curved seat and jackal heads at the four corners. ‘Now, Kiya, you must bend over that stool so you are ready to receive your punishment.’
    The slave girl walked slowly to her doom, and then knelt before the stool. She put her hands on the other side, her breasts squashing up like huge brown pillows as they rested on the seat.
    ‘No, that will not do,’ Mira called, rising. ‘You must let your bosom fall over the other side of the stool, so your stomach is on the seat.’ That way, she noted with satisfaction as the girl obeyed her instructions, her fat rump would be higher in the air and easier to whip. She looked at her son; his eyes were gleaming with anticipation as he clenched his fist around the wooden handle. Charmian’s fingers were at her mouth in a childlike gesture of apprehension, but Iras stood to one side now, watching impassively.
    Mira walked all around the girl to check that she was well positioned. The bell-like breasts swung free now, their dark nipples still erect, and her fat bottom raised provocatively in the air. She looked ridiculous, like a stranded animal, and Mira wanted to increase her humiliation by letting her know it. So she asked Iras to fetch the long mirror and held it in front of the unfortunate concubine.
    ‘Look, Kiya, see what your slander has reduced you to. You shall be beaten like a donkey for your transgression.’ She looked up at Neshi, hovering nearby. ‘Get ready to strike the first blow, my son. Remember that you strike each blow for the honour of your family, the royal house of Seti. Do not spare this whore, for she has deeply sinned.’
    There was a tense atmosphere in the room as Neshi gripped his flail and strode forward, positioning himself directly behind the prostrate girl. The full cheeks of her posterior offered an ample target and Mira saw his eyes glitter with appetite for the task ahead. Perhaps he would have preferred, given the chance, to plunge his fleshy sword between those buttocks and probe the inner chamber, riding her with increasing frenzy until he gained his own sweet satisfaction. The Pharaoh’s concubines were out of bounds, however, and her son must be content with expressing his pent-up desire in the form of wrath, rather than lust.
    How like his father he must feel now, administering justice to a slave. Pride surged in the queen’s heart as she watched him raise the flail in his right hand, his feet firmly planted and his handsome head erect on broad shoulders. What a magnificent Pharaoh he would make some day.
Chapter 4
    Charmian sat transfixed by the sight before her. Only once had she witnessed a flogging, when she first arrived in this alien land, and the prospect of witnessing