The massage chamber

"Wow," you say. "They weren't kidding about that hakunda."

You and Daisy are standing in the Queen of War's private chamber, invisible, watching a team of topless masseuses rub rose-scented oil into the well-muscled back of one of the most remarkable women you've ever seen. She must be almost seven feet tall, a mighty Amazon goddess who could lift an entire horse over her head and probably look good doing it. She'd remind you of She-Hulk, if you knew who She-Hulk was.

Her long dark braids hang down almost to the floor as she lies face-down on the massage table, her mountainous breasts pressed into a towel, her buttocks rising like hills above the rolling plains of her strong thighs. She's wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy white panties. They're the biggest undergarments you've ever seen, but they're still almost too small to hold onto that magnificent derriere.

The masseuses are all warrior women, but the Queen of War makes them look small and weak by comparison. They're hard at work massaging her shoulders and thighs, rubbing the small of her back and even her feet. They're also wearing nothing but panties, and their breasts sway as they work. Your eyes move from one pair of lovely round D-cups to the next, fascinated by the scene.

It's tempting to have some fun with them, but you should probably focus on the main target. The Queen of War is right there, half-naked and ****. She has no idea you're there. It's time to have some fun.