Cleopatra knew not the gibberish in which the man spoke. It was another language, and more foreign to her ears than any of the dialects and languages she knew, which was quite considerable.<br/><br/>“Hmph!” she huffed, then released the weight on his shoulders, only to grab him by the scruff of his collar. The material between her fingers was also unfamiliar; coarse between her fingers, not unlike the clothing of her lowest slaves that worked in the fields.<br/><br/>She studied the man’s face. He was frightened and nervous, but she sensed that spark of arousal that all men felt when faced with her presence. Her nude body was glorious, save for a few patches of dust and fibers from the bandages. Enormous breasts pushed into his chest, nipples stiffening as the rough fibers stimulated them further.<br/><br/>It seemed the world had changed quite a bit, and the Queen was going to learn of it quickly. With a hungry gasp, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, forcing her tongue into his mouth. She gave him no room to control, and pushed against him, forcing him back onto a chair that was made of solid metal and then settling onto his lap. An uncomfortable fucking, but necessary.<br/><br/>Cleopatra ground her loins on top of his, the experience of hundreds of years working into his own crotch. With her lips still sealed tightly upon his, she grabbed his wrists, forcing them to her buttocks, then pressed his hands against them, inviting him to take part willingly in the seduction of her prey.<br/>