Lion Head Mesa lebanon

"kasmut."
her greeting filled him with the glimmering cinnamon scent of her withers.
ramesses watched her worshipfulness appear as a cloak around her narrow milkwhite shoulders. and the blood was a perfect juxtaposition. he slid from his throne to kiss her, to taste what she had wrought.
"mmm," the pharaoh purled. "spears behind a veil of silk." 
ramesses smirked and pulled away. "tell me how belen is receiving her instruction," he invited, having not yet summoned their newest to him.