The night begins to fall upon the warm desert plain... And in the distance, he sees the faint glow of the bonfire. He moves onwards, his camel rocking gently along the dunes, as his eyes stay transfixed on the oasis.
As he reaches it, a convoy approaches. He dismounts, his tall frame and broad shoulders casting a darkness behind him. Dressed from head to toe in the traditional white desert garb, he speaks to the one who approaches him, the latter bowing in obeisance to the tall mysterious man...
He is led into the tent, the sound of music trailing off behind him as he enters. The large tent, held within it a plethora of smaller, coloured tents...
The man's shrouded face showing only those dark, piercing eyes. He peers into each one, looking disappointed seeing what's inside... His escort fidgets, desperate to win the man's approval.
He is lead to the inner most sanctum of this marquee, and shown to a yellow one, adorned with some of the most beautiful tapestry he had ever seen. It was different from all the rest. The man peers into it, the light smoke of incense clouding the entrance... Her name is Dhiab Alssahra, as he is told, she is jewel of man's deepest darkest desire... He concurred...
You lay there, sprawled out on the plush cushions, firelight dancing off your caramel skin. You shift your gaze now upon him, with eyes defiant, yet with a hint of something truly wicked and exciting. Utterly stunning, unlike anything ever seen. He undoes his shroud, and his consort, now arches in his presence, for he is the King himself, who had paid them the privilege of his visit.
He snaps his fingers and asks for his entourage. He whispers into his chaperon's ear and comes closer to you.
You stare into his face, that half smile that allures you, and that rugged unshaven jaw that tantalizes you of the things to follow...
He examines your form, gauging every every curve and cambers of your body, as you seductively move your thighs against each other. Your upper body draped in a yellow silk veil with little metal discs hanging off the creases, and a yellow silk hip scarf wrapped around your loins...
I reach forward now and cupping your delicate chin, make you point your lips towards me... I bend lower and lower, inching closer and closer, my lips nearing yours... Your arousing scent stirring my manhood. And as I graze to touch, my chaperone coughs and gestures apologetically...
I am disappointed, but I smile at you and leave your tent... for a moment.
You see me now, a large scale behind me, I sit down on one arm and snap my fingers. Four servants bring out a chest of gold from the entourage and raise it onto the other arm. The scale creaks, but is still stationary... I smile boastfully and snap my fingers again as another chest is brought in. It too fails to raise me above the floor. And much to the four servant's dismay, I snap my fingers again and they bring in another. It makes the scale even enough and I get off, causing the other to slam into the ground with a thunderous thud, spilling the gold outward... The light shimmers off the gold and I see it in your eyes and then I have you know at that moment, That you are mine.
You come outside, your bountiful curves proudly displayed in the bright moonlight, I approach you, and drape over you my shroud and attire.
You see my bare arms, well developed, and strong, and trace the outline of thick chest from under my plain cotton vest... I lead you to my camel, and pick you up and rest you upon the saddle, before getting on it behind you myself. It rises at my sharp whistle and we set off toward the city, with the cool desert breeze blowing beside us, you secured firmly between my arms...
You arrive at the palace and are lead into the royal bathing chambers... A fleet of royal attendants, nude from head to toe, await you inside with rare and exotic essences and oils, their bodies bared to your gaze... They disrobe you, as they stare enviously at your perfect form...
They guide you into the warm fragranced water and wait on you hand and foot, soothing and exfoliating every part of you, their breasts gleaming with the sheen of the hot steam of the bath.
They delicately massage every part of you, and knead you, preparing you for me...
A handmaiden now beckons to you, and with a thin shiny blade, addresses your womanhood, pulling along it, and baring it in bald nakedness... She smiles and bows, as another takes her place...
With a small felt tip pen, she begins etching upon your newly hairless parting...
You lie back, feeling the light stokes and embellishments stirring you within... You rise now, out of the water and make your way to the large silver mirror. You see now what is etched onto your loins: Ψ―Ψ¨ of "The Bear"
You run your palm over it, the King's taken name upon you, laying claim on what is his.
