Chicago Spanking Review

Kemet 2

By Queen Tutankhamun


Fiction Section


A female pharaoh receives a much-needed spanking from a rival monarch.


Web-Ed's notes: Queen Tutankhamun sent me this excerpt from a very long story she wrote in which her alter-ego is publicly humiliated by multiple spankings. Now I am of course very fond of the "powerful woman gets humbled" type of spanking, and apparently Queen Tutankhamun likes to imagine herself receiving them also, so I am of course pleased to publish her story. It is however rather atypical of the genre and perhaps just a trifle hard to follow, so at the bottom I provide a link to the entire unabridged version.

This story is intended for mature adults and is not suitable for children.

"I rubbed my butt; it burned with a slow pain."

I laughed; I couldn’t hold it back – he looked so comical, strutting around like an overripe fruit ready to burst and spill its guts, gushing evilness onto the marble. He turned to me with the speed of a cobra.

“If you keep pushing me-“ his pudgy fingers touched his knife hilt- “I will rape you like I rape my wives.”

This forced a snort of laughter from my lips. “You fat moron! You’re such a loser that this is the only way you can get it?”

I stretched myself out on the bed, raising a leg lazily then drawing it back, my foot dragging along the coverlet. His hungry eyes tracked each move.

“Nefertiti is pale, from the lands beyond the Sun. So rape me and give me a cocoa-coloured heir; a beautiful princess with eyes of jet, who will kill you and take your empire as her inheritance.”

“You are mad!” he breathed, and the old rage was hard in his eyes. “You would turn your tragedies into your victories? You are no woman.” He drew the knife slowly, gently, from its engraved leather hilt and turned it over in his hands. “And as if I would ever risk you having my child. You know why I hate women, Ka-Fiera? Khefurah? Whatever you’re called?”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I scrutinised him with a detached amusement, wondering what he would do next.

“Because, dear Khefurah, women are multiorgasmic. They know joys I will never feel. Secondly, they are insatiable; and they are always ready to go. They can push their spent mate off them, and mate with another, and another, all before the first man is capable of performing again. Thirdly, women always know who their children are- what does a bitch care who her baby’s daddy is? The man might tear out his hair in endless wondering, but she knows her brats are hers.” I smiled and he glared at me, panting with fury. He reached out and touched my braid, rolling it between his fingers.

“Fourthly, dear Tari, a man’s bitch, once pregnant, is in control of it all. She may keep his child, or give it away, or drink the herbs and miscarry – and he must pray, Tari. He must pray day and night, to the uncaring gods, that she will spare a thought – even for a moment – for his wishes. And fifthly, we bring up other men’s children and when we sleep around we lose our children to our bitches’ husbands or future husbands; our children lose their inheritance and our wives’ lovers’ children gain our inheritance. But when a woman – when she does this, Tari – her children are brought up by her current man, whether or not they are his, and she will never lose a child to another woman.”

He yanked my arm and flipped me over onto my tummy. “What do you say to this?” he snarled.

“N-nothing. It’s true – that’s why I’m glad I’m female.”

“Why did the gods favour the women? They gave them the gift of erotic pleasure! Your gender is designed to fuck!” And he smacked me in the middle of my butt. I felt heat rise in my face as the memory of the spanking he had given me two years ago unrolled itself in glowing colours before my eyes. “And always you pursue us! Come to us in the dead of night with sweet words and promises of forever – promises you cannot keep. You are sows, bitches in heat, your minds following your furrows-“

“And our minds follow our little cucumbers too,” I broke in happily, “We have them too, just smaller because we have what you don’t have, so Ptah thought it was unfair for us to be given big cucumbers too. That would have made us superior to men, but he wanted us to be equals. Though of course the vegetable analogy does not fit with ‘furrows’. If you really wanted a good analogy-“ A hard swat landed on my unsuspecting behind.

“Shut. Up.”

“I was just trying to help. Not that what you’re saying is exactly news; everyone knows that. It’s the way of the world.”

“When we give you what you want,” continued Quinox through gritted teeth, “You no longer respect us. You treat us like conquests. And you, polyandrous beauty that you are, tell me about Hora.”

Cold shock swept through my body. “I’ll never tell.”

“Not state secrets, Tut. Not politics. Just tell me about the time you got with him, a spy overheard a conversation between Hora and his friend and I want to know more.”

I went rigid, staring at him – he was quite serious. I flicked through my memory, struggling to light on what he was referring to. Ah, I had it; three months ago, or perhaps a year ago – I wasn’t sure – I’d hooked up with Hora after a party or at one…had it perhaps been a celebration of a diplomatic victory over Quinox? I’d been too intoxicated to even remember how far he’d let me go. Instantly a surge of resentment rose behind my eyes - Hora had been perfectly courteous to me the next day when I met him in some corridor somewhere; he had that shy grace and amused smile that some of my conquests have when they next see me. At any rate there was nothing to suggest that I had been improper or aggressive, as Quinox seemed to be implying. Not that it was any of his business, anyway!

“I certainly shan’t tell you anything intimate without his permission – not that I would tell you anyway. Suffice it to say that he is a silly boy and he was asking for it. And I assure you I did not come on too strong; he was an easy lay,” I snapped, tossing my braids proudly. “You have no right to pry into the personal life of a very competent and professional highborn servant of Kemet.”

“No right? You unlawfully invaded my country and trespassed in my home; and you are to be spanked for it, very soundly indeed, until you cry like the baby you are. And I ask the question because it concerns a basic right, the freedom to choose where, when and whom to mate with. Even animals for the most part are given that right by the gods. But it is the duty of government to destroy basic freedoms. I ask you, is there anything more lovely than the sight of a female toddler whose delightful curiosity about the world and her form is nipped in the bud? And lovelier still, ‘Fiera, are the pretty girls on the edge of womanhood, sharpening their intellects into daggers of formidable steel. They practise for diplomacy and war, whether they wage it in their careers, in politics, the home – but their femininity is perverted and their grace broken. They glory in their beauty and covet silks but their bodies wither and they grow old without ever knowing the freedom to take pleasure. Physical veils that cover the face are quite unnecessary. Psychological veils are much more powerful; they cannot be plucked easily from the mind once entrenched there. Shame is a powerful political tool. Even women police their sisters, using scandal to enforce abstinence or at least more chaste behaviour.”

Illustration by Queen Tutankhamun.

“You are pure evil!” I hissed, my eyes brimming with tears. I rubbed my butt; it burned with a slow pain.

“With abstinence education I am free from all the natural occurrences I mentioned before. Multiple orgasms will also not occur when shame is felt about the body; there is less pleasure in general when one feels one has no right to one’s sexuality. It is women’s fault – you would use men to get children and then leave them, you would treat us as objects, you would seduce our brothers, violate our sons- abstinence education is needed to curb your uncontrollable urges.”

[The rest of this story may be found here on Anime OTK -- Web-Ed]

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