Victoria's Journey: Chapter 2

: Victoria Makes a Discover

Photo by AXP Photography on Unsplash

The next few weeks continued in the same vein: the tiring and sometimes tedious work at the tomb, broken by waiting for more permits, and the exhilarating nights with Leila. They kept finding hilarious ways to dodge Tom and his constant attempts to insinuate himself into their time.

After a couple of weeks, Vicki woke and reached out, seeking Lelia in bed, but found only the empty blankets. “Lelia?” she called out, wondering if the other woman had returned to her bed. When she heard only silence, she sat up and brushed her hair out of her face. She blinked, clearing her eyes, but as she suspected, found the tent empty.

She wondered if Lelia had gone to shower or maybe breakfast. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed and a little hurt that Lelia had left without waking her; they had become nearly inseparable since that first night. She dragged herself from the bed and pulled on whatever clothes were to hand.

Dressed, she put on a wide-brimmed hat and stepped out into the camp. She spotted Dr. Edwards seated near the kitchen tent. Vicki went to join her, stopping only to grab a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Victoria,” Dr Edwards said, her French accent more pronounced this morning. “Good news. Our permits have come through, so we’ll be getting back to work today.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Vicki said, stirring sugar into her coffee. “Have you seen Lelia this morning?”

Dr Edwards looked concerned. “She didn’t tell you?” She glanced across the campsite, then back to Vicki. “She had a family emergency arise last night. I thought she would have spoken to you, but she had to leave. She got the message while you were on kitchen duty.” Dr. Edwards frowned.

To Vicki, it felt like a blow. She wondered why Lelia didn’t tell her, why she hadn’t left a note, or a message of any kind. “She just left?” Vicki heard the quaver in her voice.

Dr. Edwards laid a hand on Vicki’s. “She said her brother contacted her, and she had to return home as soon as possible.” Dr. Edwards patted her hand. “She seemed genuinely distraught, maybe she simply didn’t know how to tell you she must go?”

Vicki felt her eyes prickle with tears and fumbled into her sunglasses. She spent the next few days avoiding everyone, choosing to work on organizing the rubble being cleared from the tomb entrance. It was mind-numbing work, but it forced her to keep focused on the nearly indistinguishable mud bricks and rocks. And it meant that she didn’t have time to think about Lelia’s sudden departure and lack of contact.

After being left alone for a few days, Dr. Edwards joined her at the screen trays and sorting table.

“Victoria,” she asked, “How is the work going?”

Vicki looked up from the bricks she’d been trying to reassemble. The worn carving of hieroglyphs made the job into the world’s worst jigsaw puzzle. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I think I’ve found a name.”

Dr. Edwards looked surprised and walked around the table to join Vicki.

Vicki loved that the professor didn’t scoff at her claim, nor did she try to take over. She waited for Vicki to show her evidence and explain her reasoning. Vicki pointed to the lines on the brick she was reassembling. “See here,” she pointed, “those are the lines of the cartouche.” Vicki glanced up at the woman, “At least I think they are.”

Dr. Edward’s eyes gleamed with interest. “And the name?” she asked.

“I think your hypothesis that this is the tomb of Djet is correct, look,” she pointed out the various hieroglyphs explaining why, even broken and missing pieces, the name would be his – and not perhaps his similarly named son. She pointed to a misshapen or mis-carved hieroglyph. “I think this brick was mis-carved and so was reused to seal the entrance rather than just being thrown away.”

“This is good scholarship,” Dr. Edwards said, leaning in to look more closely at the stones. “You should start writing up your paper now.”

Vicki stared at her, stunned. She hadn’t considered writing a paper about the find. “Really?”

“Of course,” she smiled at the young woman. “If you start now, you can set down the argument you laid out.” She looked at some of the other pieces of broken stone that Vicki had gathered. “Maybe this will bear out your hypothesis, and of course, once we open the tomb, we will both have confirmation on whose tomb this is.”

That night, Vicki tried calling Lelia again. But she once again got Leila’s voicemail. With a sigh, she logged into her laptop and checked her email. As she expected, there were no messages from Leila, but there was a message from Julia. Vicki had reached out to her, explaining what had happened with Leila, and filled her in on the magical findings at the site.

As usual, Julia had a lot of follow-up questions about occult information - more than Vicki could answer. But she didn’t shirk in being a best friend in commiserating about Leila. She reminded Vicki to give the other woman a little more time for travel and to get settled before writing her off. Vicki had to admit that was reasonable. She had no idea what Leila’s travel plans would entail or what she was traveling to.

So Vicki threw herself into working the excavation. Instead of spending her nights with Leila and the hashish pipe, she wrote the paper on the cartouche.

It was her enthusiasm for the work and an effort to divert her sexual frustration into something useful that led her to be alone after midnight. She was brushing centuries of sand and dust from a fresco. Earlier in the day, Professor Edwards had translated as they cleaned, regaling Vicki and Tom with the major events in the life of Pharaoh Djet. Much of the story was about him and his Queen Merneith. The Queen was some sort of magician, and she’d been searching for the key to immortality. Vicki wondered what Julia would make of the magical experiments outlined on the frescos. She’d been documenting them during her late-night work to share with her friend and to avoid Tom.

Vicki could understand a modern person not believing in magic, but Tom’s derisive sighs and comments about the foolish beliefs of primitive people had gotten old long before the frescos.

And the Victoria was a little abashed at her growing crush on the long-dead king; she decided it was just a distraction from Laila’s silence and abrupt leaving of the dig. Victoria still hadn’t heard anything from the other woman, and after leaving her messages and sending a couple of emails, she was accepting Leila’s silence. Leila knew how to contact her if she wanted to. Vicki worked on her paper and tried to answer Julia’s questions about magic.

She continued working on translating the tomb to learn about the story decorating its walls. Technically, Dr. Edwards forbade anyone from working in the tomb after dark, and no one was ever supposed to work in the space alone. The professor had explained that it wasn’t safe and could potentially compromise any findings if no one else was there to corroborate them, but Vicki reasoned that she was only cleaning the walls. She wasn’t going to uncover anything doing that. And the dig site had guards. The only threat to her safety had been Tom, and at this point, his annoying behavior made her more of a threat to him than the other way around.

She pushed aside her twinge of misgiving and stayed in the tomb working alone and after dark. She also couldn’t take one more night alone, wondering what happened with Leila or fantasizing about the long-dead pharaoh and his magician Queen.

Instead, she carefully cleared away sand and debris. She brushed away more sand and noticed a slight protuberance of stone. She knelt and rubbed at the protrusion, trying to decide if it was debris or intentionally included in the tomb. As she pressed on it, it felt solid, and like part of the wall. Then it shifted.

She heard a scraping sound and fell back as a section of the wall slid open. “Oh my God,” she whispered as the dust settled around her. It was too much like a movie to be real. No one built sliding doors and booby trapped tombs. Yet, she was staring into a new room, a room no one had seen in centuries. She pushed herself to her feet, pushing an errant lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

Victoria knew that she should go and wake the professor. It was after all the woman’s dig, but the allure of being the first to see the room was too much for her to pass up. She grabbed one of the work lights and stepped into the chamber. And her eyes were blinded by the glitter of gold. It was an untouched chamber, and even more, it was a burial chamber.

Victoria slowly walked into the chamber. She felt a small jolt run through her as she crossed the threshold. She gazed at the sarcophagus and felt pulled toward it. She ran her fingers across the image of his face. It was stylized, of course, but from the image on the lid and the ones she had spent days cleaning, she’d decided that Djet had been a handsome man.

After Leila left, she’d begun fantasizing about life under his rule. If she was being honest, it had morphed into a fantasy of being the King’s concubine. She masturbated alone in her tent, imagining being the plaything of the powerful pharaoh. What would it have been like to be fucked by a God-King, she’d wondered as she rubbed her nipples. In her fantasies, he’d burst into her rooms and toss her onto the bed. He’d tear away whatever clichéd harem girl costume she imaged and fuck her until she… well in the fantasy, until she came and fell asleep.

Unconsciously, her hand drifted to the waistband of her shorts. She fumbled with the button, unwilling to take her other hand off the sarcophagus. When she had the cut-offs unbuttoned, her questing fingers found her pussy already wet.

She rubbed at her clit, wriggling her hips to get her shorts to slide farther down. They were barely held up now, but Victoria didn’t care. Her mind was filled with a fantasy of the Pharaoh, a large, virile, muscled man. A man used to getting whatever he asked for - no, she decided, he wouldn’t ask, he would demand.

She worked her hand lower, plunging two fingers inside. She shifted her hand so the edge of her palm kept pressure on her clit, and while her fingers kept pumping inside.

She imagined Djet bending her over the sarcophagus, tearing her shorts away. She pretended her fingers were his cock. The cock he’d slam into her, using her for his pleasure.

Her moans echoed through the chamber, and she realized she was crying out his name as she shuddered to a climax, and pulled her hand out of her shorts, resting both her palms against the sarcophagus to keep her balance.

Without meaning to, she smeared her juices over the lid of the sarcophagus. After she caught her breath, she noticed what she’d done. The last thing she wanted was to have the whole expedition learn what she’d done in the chamber.

Blushing, she used the hem of her tank top to wipe away the evidence.

Victoria turned to leave the chamber. She'd had her moment, but it was time to tell the professor she'd discovered the hidden room and what she was certain was Pharaoh Djet's sarcophagus. She thought about her paper and the bricks she was putting back together. The story she found about them would only add to explaining this discovery. It was likely that she was correct about the name after all.

She heard stone scraping against stone, followed by something light and wispy brushing against her arm. She grimaced and gritted her teeth against a scream. She was still being mocked for screaming when she found a scorpion in her boot during her first week, so she wouldn't add spiders to the list.

She brushed at her arm, silently praying it was just a spider web, but whatever it was, it curled around her wrist. She looked back, but she couldn't manage to scream. It was too bizarre to be real.

This couldn't be real. Standing before her was... No, it was too ridiculous to even think.

But the thing around her wrist was still moving, and that was something she could focus on. It was a piece of linen wrapping around her arm and moving up.

"This is a joke, right?" Victoria choked out, watching as a strand of linen unraveled from the figure in front of her. As she said the words, she knew this was real - it was too elaborate for a joke.

"Please," Victoria said, "what do you want?" Her voice was soft.

The figure before her didn't answer, but the wrapping was revealing more and more bronzed skin. Her racing heart was becoming less about the terrifying situation and more about the man being revealed before her.

The linen wrapping around her arm reached her elbow, and a second piece grasped her other wrist.

Before she realized it, she was on her back on top of the sarcophagus with her arms and legs bound by the linen straps.

The mummy was fully revealed, unbound. He certainly wasn't a desiccated husk. This was a muscled god, all rippling abs and chiseled features.

"This can't be happening," Victoria muttered, as she pulled against the bindings.

Her words drew the mummy's attention back to her. He took in her bound form and smiled.

He reached out and tore her tank top away, and raised it to his face.

Vicki frowned, not sure what he was doing, until he looked from the top down at her, and his grin grew salacious. She was almost certain he knew that she had masturbated in his tomb. He was smelling the evidence she’d wiped away with her shirt.

He said something, but it wasn’t in any language she recognized. It didn’t sound threatening, even if she was bound and half-naked. He said more words and seemed to notice that she didn’t understand. He looked frustrated and rested his hand on her chest over her heart. His hands were large enough that his fingers brushed her nipple. It grew instantly hard. He spoke again, and it felt like electricity coursed from his hand into her.

“Lust awakened me. Your lust,” His voice was rich and resonant.

Vicki lay stunned, understanding him. “I think so,” she answered. And the tingle of electricity flooded her with lust again. “You awoke after I touched your sarcophagus.”

He nodded, “understanding short,” he said, and his words changed, becoming unintelligible to Vicki again.

The Pharaoh said something, it sounded appreciative, but it wasn't in any language Victoria understood. His hands closed on her breasts, and Victoria wriggled in her bonds, arching her back.

His warm hands enveloped her breasts, and Victoria’s moan echoed in the tomb. He gave a throaty laugh, and he rolled her nipples between his fingers. He pulled at her nipples, stretching her breasts. She found herself responding to his touch, just like in her fantasies about him. He was a king, a god, and he was used to being treated as one. He was going to take whatever he wanted from her. She felt herself grow wet at the thought of him using her for his pleasure.

He dipped his head and began lapping at her nipples. He moved quickly to sucking and biting softly. She hissed a low "yes," and nodded vigorously. She knew he didn't understand her words, but he seemed to understand her body language. She bucked her hips in vain against the bonds. He sucked at the flesh of her breasts, leaving his mark upon her.

He spoke again, brusque and demanding. Victoria could only listen and wonder what he wanted. His hands went to her shorts. The modern clothing slowed him down. He finally took a dagger from the collected artifacts to cut them away. He pulled the scraps of fabric from her body, leaving her naked and bound on the stone sarcophagus. She whispered his name, finally admitting that this was the mummy of Pharaoh Djet. Hearing his name, he stared at her.

"Do you like hearing your name?" She asked, and she repeated his name, in almost the same moan she’d used when she had masturbated in the tomb.

He smiled and ran his hands down her body. His fingers reached her lower lips, finding them dripping wet, she was sure. She bucked her hips at him, wanting more. He ran his fingers over her, collecting her wetness. He raised his fingers to his lips and tasted her. He licked each finger slowly, his eyes half closed, savoring the taste of her. He repeated the process with his fingers slowly sliding between her thighs. Victoria whimpered, struggling against her bonds, wanting his fingers to go deeper. He laughed at her struggles and continued his slow, torturous stroking of her.

He once again raised his wet fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. She watched his thick fingers disappear between his full lips and the flash of his tongue over his fingers. She wanted those fingers, and she wanted that tongue with a physical ache. He wasn’t interested in giving in to her demands. The linen bonds tightened around her limbs, further limiting her movements.

Djet waved his hands, and she was pulled along the sarcophagus. Her legs were spread wide, and her feet could almost reach the ground. Her ass rested at the edge of the cold stone. Djet slowly unwound the belt that held his remaining clothing in place. He let it fall away, revealing his arousal. Victoria panted in anticipation. He ran his hands over her body again, speaking. Victoria didn’t know the words or what they meant, but they reminded her of a prayer or poem.

His fingertips grazed her collarbone, and she shivered, feeling her desire reaching a peak. He continued his words, while his fingertips softly brushed over and around her breasts, but not straying to her hard, throbbing nipples. His fingers tickled over her belly and down her inner thighs. He continued his litany as he ran his fingers behind her knees.

Victoria felt the words bubbling up in her throat. She bit her lip, but couldn’t stop the torrent of begging that burst forth. She begged and pleaded for him to fuck her. She implored him, using his name, using the modern Egyptian she had learned for “please.” She didn’t know if he understood anything beyond his name and recognizing the pleading in her tone. Or perhaps he had finished his invocation.

He stood between her thighs, his erection jutting between them. He spoke a few more words, his hands raised to the sky. Then he plunged into her soaking wet pussy. Victoria cried out in pleasure. Djet thrust into her in slow, measured strokes, filling her, only to pull back, almost all the way. She moaned, shifting as much as her bonds allowed. She wanted to fuck him, or him to fuck her, to pound into her willing body. She continued her litany of begging, demanding, and cajoling – only to have her words ignored.

He reached between them, his fingers unerringly finding her clitoris. He toyed with the nub, teasing her, continuing the same slow, deliberate pace. The pressure on her clit was driving her to the edge, but not giving her enough for release. She gave up her words and gave in to moaning. He increased the pressure and speed of his touch on her clit, finally giving her the release he had denied. She almost screamed as she felt the orgasm wash over her. That feeling of weightlessness, the wave of nerves firing, washed over her, drowning her in sensations.

Then he began to thrust in earnest. He seemed to enjoy watching her orgasm crest. He grasped her thighs, and his hips thrust with strength and speed. His voice rose in a chant or prayer once again. His words were fast and sounded almost like a growl. Finally, he came, and she felt his cock twitch inside her. He let his head drop, breathing heavily.

Victoria whispered his name as he pulled out of her. He waved a hand, and the linen bonds fell away. Victoria sat up slowly, feeling the blood flow return to her limbs. The rough stone of the sarcophagus had abraded her skin, but she didn’t care. Djet spoke again, and the world went dark.

Victoria felt someone shaking her shoulder.

“Vicki, what are you doing in here?” A concerned voice pulled her out of the darkness.

Vicki blinked up at Professor Edwards. “What?” Victoria found herself lying on the floor of the main portion of the tomb. She looked frantically toward the hidden chamber, but she found only the wall she had been cleaning. Had she fallen asleep in the tomb? Had it been just another strange dream?

She looked at her clothing, a pair of coveralls, but she could feel from their roughness; she wore nothing underneath. Why would she be wearing the coveralls? Certainly, the coveralls were all over the worksite. They weren’t needed often, but they would be a convenient cover for her nakedness. She blushed, recalling Djet tearing and cutting her clothes away.

“I guess… I guess I fell asleep last night,” Victoria said, her voice unsure. “I’d been working on cleaning the south wall.” She mumbled.

Professor Edwards looked at Vicki, “I know how easy it is to get caught up in the work, but you must be careful. It isn’t safe to sleep in any tomb.” Professor Edwards pulled the zipper up farther on Vicki’s coveralls. Vicki blushed, realizing they had been gaping open, showing her nudity beneath.

“I’ll have to tell you about one of my early excavations when I had a similar late-night experience in the tomb of a general,” Professor Edwards said with a sly smile.

Later, Victoria stood under the spray of the camp shower. It wasn’t the hottest shower or even the most water pressure, but the water stung every abraded patch of skin on her back. And as it ran between her breasts, she saw it. Something that looked like a cross between a brand and a tattoo. She rubbed at it and found that it did not hurt, but it also did not budge.

She recalled the Djet running his fingers over that spot during his prayer or perhaps spell. As she looked more closely, she thought she recognized the hieroglyphs. She hurried to finish her shower, wanting to return to her tent and a mirror.

Tom was waiting at her tent when she arrived.

“Vicki,” he looked concerned. “I heard you fell asleep in the tomb.” He shifted to block her entrance to her tent. “You have to be more careful.”

Vicki raised an eyebrow at him, “You know I’m an adult, right?”

He looked as surprised at her tone as she felt. She wasn’t sure what had come over her, but she felt a deep burning rage at him and his constant failure to simply go away.

Before he could speak, she took a step toward him, “You aren’t in charge of this dig, and you certainly aren’t in charge of me. I’ve been collegiate, I’ve been polite, but you just can’t take a hint.” Her voice rose.

His face grew red. “Keep your voice down.”

“Keep my voice down?” Vicki’s voice rose, and she felt a rush of energy starting at the mark between her breasts, and felt it flowing through her. “Let me be absolutely clear – I’m never going to fuck you, so piss off.”

Tom started to sputter a response, and Vicki turned on her heel and returned to her tent. Fuck that guy, Vicki thought to herself, as she hurried to her mirror. She pulled off her shirt and examined the mark. The lines had changed from dark black or blue, they’d been in the shower, to a glittering gold. As she watched, they slowly faded back to a lapis blue.

Wide-eyed, Vicki slowly read the words that named her a High Priestess to Djet.

“What the fuck?” she muttered, rubbing at the mark again.

Before she could decide what to do, her phone chirped, and she saw it was Leila calling.