The Tale of Two Spies Ch. 01-02

Chapter I - Prelude

Yareah, one of the oldest cities on earth, became quiet.

A hushed stillness as dusk came over it, the brilliant sunset fading fast. But a new brightness came from the east, and illuminated the sky and the dark clouds in the distance. The thousands of the city heard a distant thunder, and held their breath to listen, wondering if they might hear the gods speak.

Rachab stopped walking in mid stride, one sandal hovering from the dusty stone of the street for a moment, and then she turned and looked up.

And as she gasped, so did the whole fortress-city of Yareah.

Those that had not been paying attention, still distracted with their pleasures, men and women in allies rutting like animals, nipples being suckled, and cocks deep into the mouths of women on their knees; all eventually turned their attention to the sky.

And they began to whisper, and mutter, and even whimper and cry.

"The rumors are true! The Host of Slaves has come from Kemet!"

And indeed, a needle of fire blazed in the distance into the clouds, and the clouds rolled and broiled with fire and blue lightning. The air seemed to fill with energy, and a presence as ominous as any spirit seeking to possess an unwary soul.

Rachab thought she heard trumpets from a great distance, from beyond the Eastern River that bordered Shinar. Dreadful dreams of a great storm coming, of a powerful god that would send clouds before its army to cool its march into all Kena, was coming to pass.

The East Gate suddenly crashed open, and Emim Jabburim stormed into the city, marching in two columns. They were tall and muscular and fierce, often deformed and ugly, gray of skin, far removed from the beauty of their angelic ancestors. The Seren leading the warriors into the city stopped, and then cracked the whip on anyone he saw standing around, gaping at the distant menace.

"What are you all looking at, dogs! Back to your labors!"

A lanky slave, overworked and underfed, made the mistake of speaking up from some dark corner. But the Emim could see well in the dark, as the Anakim and akharu could.

"But, the pillar of fire!" the fool said. "We hear rumors that many Kenaanim are fleeing to the Western Lands and Seas..."

The crack of the whip was powerful, and snapped at the slave's throat, and cut it wide open. The hapless fool gurgled and fell as blood cascaded down his naked body. Akharu came from the darkness, now that the sun was gone, and their fangs pierced his body to drain what they could. The slave's cock was torn off with teeth and devoured, and eyes sucked from skull. The people were use to this macabre spectacle, and simply moved away.

Rachab got out of there, her skirt and thick curly black hair swishing as she moved. But looking up, she saw the malik on the high rampart of the inner wall in purple cloak and pomp. His two high harlots stood beside him, naked but for enough jewelry to cover most of their slender and opulent bodies. His face glowed with the fiery pillar's light from the east, and revealed a look of fear. But the view of the malik was fleeting, and she dashed in between narrow allies, and pushed her way past the throng of people that were beginning to panic, her bare breasts being squished and bounced by other people as she pressed through.

Panic had gripped much of Kena. Drought had come first, parching all the land in dust and sand. Then heavy rains came, and washed whole villages away. And come also were hornets in such swarms that whole towns were found full of bloated bodies. For decades in fear of some nameless dread, many departed west from Sur, Sidon, or Gubal.

Yet still others remained, and the slave markets flourished, and the temples were full of those that deposited their semen into harlots, in their open mouths, or on their naked breasts as offerings. Rachab brushed past a line of naked young girls, still devoid of pubic hair, looking miserable and dirty as potential buyers felt their sex for tightness and virginity. One of them turned to Rachab, and smiled wickedly, and then cupped one of her breasts, but Rachab ignored this and kept moving. She use to have rings piercing her nipples, but too often they would catch on people's clothing and be ripped. She still kept a bullring in her nose.

As she moved through the city, dark clouds shadowed it, and a cool chill made her nipples harden. Despite the growing dread of some approaching storm of men and clouds, the city went about its daily routine.

She went past the temples, and there beyond the sacred pillars saw more women than ever on all fours as one man after another mounted them. Semen flowed from their shaved vaginas and pooled on the sacred stones of the temple between their knees. Rachab once enjoyed the perpetual bliss of being ravished all day, having one cresting wave of orgasm after another, her waist gripped hard as men took turns. Once she had been famous for being able to handle the most men, and accept the greatest amount of sacred semen. Sometimes she longed to return, to be a part of something larger than herself, to share her body with strangers. But she saw that many of the girls were there against their will, and their faces asleep on crossed arms as their asses remained high to be used by men. What had once been a holy thing was now defiled, for it was babies they wanted to sacrifice, not to keep unwed men from rape and able to focus on industry and progress as was its intent.

At hearing a baby scream before the dagger pierced its chest, she fled from the temple, and hurried home faster than ever. Some of the naked, semen-drenched priestesses looked up at the rolling clouds illuminated by interior lightning, and looked afraid. She was not the only woman that had the intuition that something more than the mere weather of the world was coming.

Something else was coming.

And the baby's sudden silence, a quiet gurgling, made her nauseated and almost trip and fall. Rachab went to a wall, stained with semen and urine, and vomited upon it. She had lost her first child this way, of her own free will. But remorse had turned her away from her old life, and opened her eyes.

Some said that he Host of Slaves was coming to kill them all for their sins. Perhaps they deserved to die.

Chapter II - Visitors

In the morning, Rachab went to the market to buy what she needed. In sandals, a skirt, and carrying a basket she rushed through the narrow hot and dusty streets. It was a cramped city, more designed to repel invaders than be occupied by people. But she liked this, for it was the least populated in Kena.

She also wanted to hear the latest news of the pillar of fire off to the east, invisible now behind a hovering storm that lingered, and did not move. Could the invaders command the very weather to protect them from the heat of the sun? Surely, they were not Atenim, or Kemet fanatics, for they had no love of the sun, or the moon as her people did.

"No one is to travel east this day," one man said as she passed by.

"They say they are the very Apiru bandits that escaped Kemet, from Goshen," another said.

"The people that escaped by separating the Edom Sea?" another asked. "But that was decades ago! How could they have survived the desert wildernesses?"

"Hush, just talking about the Apiru could get you killed! Host of Slaves, bah! They are probably the Hyksos, repelled by the Kemet!"

"If they are so sure these nomads have no good weapons or chariots, and we have a mighty army and Anakim giants to defend us, why do they fear us speaking of them?"

"Who knows? So many have fled already! Risking their lives and fortunes to invade distant lands. For Karthadast, and even the mysterious island of the Avalon where the Fomorrim giants have departed to."

"Only to be chased by the Danim to wage war! It is not just the land these new Apiru command, but a vast fleet of ships that menace the coasts of the Kaphtorim and Dorim as well, Ayran barbarians even fear the Danim!"

"It will pass, and we are well defended," another voice was heard. "The Anakim are those that first built mighty armies and empires, and built for the Akkadim. Why, they built the very Tower of Babel to challenge the gods! They will protect us!"

"At a high price!" another complained. "Our firstborn children, and sometimes more," a man said bitterly. "Why, the akharu priestess ripped the unborn from inside my wife's womb with her bare hand, such is there greed for sacrifice. They no longer wait for them!"

"Hush! Such words will get us all killed! The gods demand sacrifice to protect us, quit your complaining!"

Rachab kept moving, and shook her head, and wondered what was truth, what was exaggerated, and what was outright lies.

She hated her enormous breasts, the reason for her name, for Rachab, or Rahab in some tongues, being broad and large. Her name was also the same as that of a dragon that haunted the seas. A tattoo of a dragon was on her right thigh, breathing fire between her legs into her loins. She wore only a skirt like most girls, and sandals, and a necklace her father-husband had bought her.

"Repent!" a woman's voice shouted from a corner, a hermit in a torn and ragged robe, a witch some believed. "Repent! For Aten, the one true god comes!"

Atenim, priestesses of a heretical cult, mystic witches, had been vomiting from the ruined kingdom of Kemet. Rachab despised them, but wondered now if there was some truth in their assertions. All Kena paid tribute to the Kemet Empire, but the Edomim people had weakened it, and the Pelesetim, seafaring warriors and ironsmiths from a dying island civilization, threatened to take them all over. And adding to the turmoil, religious fanatics from every corner!

"Hush, you witch!" came the deep voice of a giant Jabbur. "Heresy will not be tolerated in these lands!"

The gray-skinned monster wearing black leather rushed forward to seize the witch. Rachab wanted to get away, but the crowd pressed in around her, and she was trapped.

"If your god is so great, then why doesn't he save you!" a woman from the crowd laughed.

"I fear nothing in this life!" the hermit shouted defiantly, shaking her fist. "Bring your worst!" she shouted with spittle at the giant warrior that seized her.

"Oh, I will!" the Jabbur replied with a big grin. There was nothing quite as ominous as a giant's grin, or as frightful as a giant's scowl. "I will indeed, puny she-dog."

He ripped her rags off and exposed her body. Wearing only a kilt, the Jabbur had no trouble holding her down and pressing her over a fruit stand with one hand, while holding his throbbing and enormous cock in the other. The Emim monsters were always virile and ready, and always possessed a bull's cock. Some called them the Bull Warriors, and indeed, some of their bronze helmets were fashioned into bulls with great horns. They were believed to have once lived in Sodom, before that city across the Eastern River was burned from the sky.

"Yes, thrust it all into her! Ravish her, Adon Jabbur!"

"Let her sun god save her!"

Nearly the length of both her feet in front of the other, and as thick as her wrist, he held his cock against the opening of her vagina. The dirty hermit woman did not struggle. Despite her dirtiness, she was attractive, which made Rachab wonder why she would throw her life away and not enjoy the pleasures that life had to offer.

Then the Jabbur thrust himself into her, ripping the heretic open before them all, stretching her flesh to the very limits of endurance, and making the woman scream in agony. He thrust as far as her body allowed, less than half his length, and pumped away with his teeth bared and a mad look in his eyes. The Jabbur's bronze sword clattered against his side as he thrust his hips.

"I am your god now, blasphemer!" the Jabbur declared.

And with that, he forced his entire length into her body, rupturing her bowels. The hermit shuddered and struggled and cried out at first in great agony.

Eyes glazing over, she died. The Jabbur released his vile semen into the dead body, into perhaps her very stomach or organs rather than the woman's vagina. When the giant pulled his thick cock out, clear white semen and blood poured from the opening, as well as entrails. The Jabbur left the body where it was, the woman's face locked in an expression of agony, eyes wide open.

Akharu came to drain it. Only the akharu dealt with the dead, and disposed of them. Always hungry for fresh blood, and flesh, it was not long before only a skeleton remained of the hermit woman.

When at last the crowd dispensed, she could returned to her inn, and the safety of her home against the great outer wall of the city. Better to be ravished by her father than any of those monsters.

Dusty from markets, she unstrapped her leather belt and the sheathed dagger, and naked she got into a small stone pool and sat on its edge, and washed herself with muddy water, better than nothing.

She once loved her kind, her race of people, so curious and industrious, builders and innovators that colonized the known world. They freed the world from the god-kings of the past, and the alphabet broke the monopoly of the priesthood over all knowledge, allowing the common person to read and write. But the god-kings had returned, and the priesthoods, using the people's liberty against themselves in their excesses and vice.

Outside her bedchamber, adjacent to the tavern hall, she heard customers talking and shouting as they got drunk, and her brothers and sisters take care of men's needs with grunts and slapping flesh. Her old father snored away in bed, too old to ravish her every day as he once had. He blamed her for not being able to get his manhood up, expecting her to have a daughter for him to marry next. That was what they had come to now, men who would hope for daughters to take as their lovers, and then granddaughters next.

That had become the norm in these lands, though many knew there was something wrong, something evil about it. It did not take any gods or moral code for humans to know the difference between right and wrong. Nonetheless, she still loved her father, and he was always kind. He had waited until she was at least and adult and willing to give herself over to him of her own will. Many fathers did not wait, and ruined their daughters, and left them weeping and bleeding as they died on the street for the akharu to drain.

Clean and refreshed, she put on a fresh skirt, a necklace of silver and precious gems, anklets of gold, and a gold band on her upper arm. She had an average face, and she was taller than most women, but her long muscular legs, strong arms, round and thick buttocks, and large breasts were all balanced out. She went out into the hall to serve her customers and help her relatives. It was her father's inn, but she ran it.

"Rachab," her older sister began, without love or emotion. "I am pregnant again. The priestesses want another offering after the quickening to sacrifice. Will you take over so that I may rest?"

Rachab was angry, but kept it to herself. She had implored her sisters to avoid pregnancy and use her rectum more to please men.

"Go and rest."

Her younger sister was happier and more outgoing, and too stupid to be anything but innocent, even when a customer paid extra to bend her over a table and have his way with her, as was done now by a young man. Rachab let them finish, ignoring the slapping sounds of her sister's flesh against a stranger. Her two younger brothers, having adopted the recent trends of various Sodom cults from old, and their black-robed priests, were dressed as woman and jeweled like the harlots.

It was not busy, so she at once noticed two strangers dressed in good linen. Their faces and hair were shaved, their necks and arms tattooed. But her eye caught that the tattoos were fake, made of henna. They spoke in the Kemet language, but she could not quite place their culture or tribe.

"Greetings, strangers," she told them with a smile. "How is your beer? Imported from Peleset. From the looks of you, you came past their lands, have you not?"

One of them looked a little nervous and unsure, while the other remained confident. They both reclined on the floor and pillows of hay covered with soft leather, and upon wool rugs.

"Not as good as Kemet beer, perfected there it since before the building of their pyramids, dark and foamy," he replied, raising his wooden mug to her. "Are you the innkeeper?"

"I am," she replied with a smile, liking the man at once.

He was handsome and strong, and unlike many men today in her land, very masculine and confident. His companion was mousy and small, but also handsome, though she did not think she could trust that one.

"Have you just arrived to Yareah?" she asked.

"We have," he replied. "I am called Rammu, and my companion is called Gabri. And what are you called by?"

"Rachab," she replied. "For the dragon, and my breasts," she replied, lifting up the weight of them as she spoke."

They seemed to blush at that, and she was amused by their prudishness. Though it was also refreshing. She sat next to him, and nodded to one of her brothers to bring her a beer. The brother, prettied with jewelry and henna, was not shy about his nakedness as he bowed to the men, and backed away before leaving.

"Would you like one of my sisters for pleasure," she asked, seeing he was not one to talk and boast of himself as most men.

It was a common offer in her land, as sex was as food, freely offered and given. Then when he did not respond right away, she prodded further.

"Or one of my brothers, perhaps?" she added with her arm outstretched to one to her prettier one, but reluctance in her voice.

Both men at once turned red-faced as the mention of her brothers, but had already been speechless when she offered her sisters. She knew then that they were not Edomim, or Pelesetim, or from any Kenaani land. They might be Kemetim, but she wondered if they were Apiru now, the feared nomads from the desert.

Looking around she saw them being watched by a hooded figure, an akharu she suspected. Amber eyes from the darkness beneath the hood assured her it was such a demon. But it was daylight out, and for them to be active was dire and ominous.

"Look, you are already being watched. Take up my offer for sex, or you will be exposed as foreigners and spies. You will be killed."

Then, in a louder voice, she laughed and giggled.

"Both of you, in a room together? Well, if you have the money, and are spending the night, why not? Handsome Edomim you are. Come, and I will bathe you both."

She gave them a stern look that the akharu could not see. But their senses were inhuman, and some could read minds. She was taking a grave risk with these men, but she was more curious and hopeful than afraid. But the fools did not move, too embarrassed and unable to speak.

So Rachab pressed her breasts against Rammu, and whispered into his ears.

"That hooded figure in the dark corner, he watches us. Why are you watched?"

"Woman," Rammu replied. "I cannot. My customs are very different from yours."

So she turned and sat on his lap, facing him, and rubbing her hips against him, and pressing her breasts to his chest. She could feel him grow hard against his will, and lust glaze over his eyes. But there was also a simmering anger about to explode. She kissed him, and then whispered again in his ear.

"You are in danger, and will die!" she seethed.

But Rachab also wanted this man, and felt aroused like never before. He smelled divine, clean, healthy, and vibrant. His green eyes were intense and intelligent. This was a real man, and his was well endowed. His name meant great, and she saw why, a name that was like her own, implying size and strength. She used one hand to guide his hard and throbbing penis into her, and felt then that he was without foreskin.