The battle is over. The white men are defeated.

The old white king on g1 was a clever man. He has long since noticed that all his subjects have swarmed. Without plan or strategy, the young warriors, driven by lust and an excess of testosterone, are always on the lookout for unprotected female bodies.

No one kept it still in the back, near their king. Even his great support, the white queen, had engaged in a pointless catfight with the black pieces, losing her way and sacrificing herself.

Now he was alone. In moments of immediate danger, there was only one thing for a ruler to do - flee!

The king's eyes were no longer quite so good, but it was easy to see that the group now approaching him from the left was up to no good.

Hastily he descended from his throne. Supported by an ivory-embellished walking stick, he made his way to the front.

"Finally step aside!" he shouted angrily to his pawns, who were tilling their fields directly in front of him, blocking his path.

But they seemed to have either gone deaf or were unwilling to obey their king. Wherever the king turned, there was a white pawn blocking his way!

The realization struck the old monarch like a lightning bolt: his escape route was blocked, even worse - it has never been opened at all!
With no option to flee any more, the white king has to face his fate. Slowly, he turned left, just in time to see the black queen arrive right before him on her carriage out of naked, humiliated white pieces.
All three of them were breathing heavily, uncertain whether out of physical effort or out of arousal caused by the queen's tools, which were constantly stimulating their exposed private parts.

The king gulped in disgust. Throught his reign, he put the greatest emphasis on dignity. Thus he was deeply shocked to see his trusted subjects in such an unbelievable form of degradation before the enemy. Nevertheless, the white king knew that his fate was inevitable. Taking a deep breath, he prepared for the unavoidable next action, which would be his last.

He took off his robe and laid it carefully folded on the floor in front of him.

Soon the sceptre and crown joined the robe on the floor - insignia of his power. Power over a kingdom on the brink of extinction.

One by one, the royal garments followed, until shortly afterwards only a pair of plain white underpants covered the bare essentials. The bare skin was blotchy and full of wrinkles, but underneath it was possible to glimpse the toned body of a proud warrior.

The man, stooped, broken, stripped of his dignity, looked up to the black queen, who had meanwhile descended from her human carriage. Her tall, outgoing figure towered over him by almost an entire head. Her gaze left no doubt that she was enjoying the complete triumph to the full.

The defeated king fell to his knees before the enemy queen. "Your Majesty, my Mistress. I hereby submit to you completely and unconditionally. All my possessions shall be yours. My subjects are at your and your fellows' free disposal.

I beg you, please accept me as your obedient ****!"