The queen's parade

Queen Tyrana of Wysteria, considered by most historians to be the single hottest woman of all time, tossed back her head and laughed in scorn at the trembling mass of peasants who lined each side of the road of the city of Quorn. Quorn, Jewel of the Highlands, greatest of the Seven Towns that commanded the trade routes through the Trembling Mountains. Fiercely independent for seven hundred years, until yesterday, when her Legion of Dread had conquered it.

She glanced back at her Legion of Dread. Terrifying warriors, in their horned helmets and armoured breastplates and leather skirts and copper greaves. Five hundred of them. All women, of course, each one as beautiful as she was mighty in combat. They sneered at the quivering citizens of Quorn, laughing as plump tavern-keepers and soft-handed merchants flinched away from their intimidating gazes. The greatest fighting ****, Tyrana thought, in all the known world.

And she had led them to the greatest triumph in history. All of the Seven Towns were hers now. Their pathetic militias had given up without a fight, and their mayors had surrendered on bent knee to her power. It had been a long, hard struggle, but she was now the undisputed ruler of everything between the Trembling Mountains and the Forgettable Sea. This was, she thought, with a rush of pride, the single greatest moment of her life. She would be remembered for all time as the smartest, bravest, strongest, richest and, of course, the sexiest woman ever to live.

"Tremble, mortals," she laughed, raising her hands high into the air in triumph, her raven-dark hair cascading down her back as she stood before the crowd. Faces peered out of windows and people crowded onto rooftops to watch her victory march. "For I am now, truly, the greatest woman in the world!"

But the crowd didn't tremble. They didn't quail. They didn't even whimper. Instead, they did a very strange thing.

They laughed.

Tyrana was only puzzled for a second, before other emotions overcame her.

"EEEEEEEEK!"

The shrieks were loud enough to split the heavens as the entire Legion of Doom, stripped stark naked in an instant, whimpered pathetically and tried to hide behind each other. They weren't having much luck. The shackles on their wrists and ankles, chained to iron collars around their pretty necks, got in the way.

Tyrana, blushing bright red, heard the cackles ring in her ears as she stood in the middle of the muddy street, shackled and nude. This wasn't right. She was a mighty conqueror! But somehow, some way, her triumphs had all been stolen from her. Yes... the citizens of Quorn had laid a trap. Her Legion of Doom had been ambushed, tricked into a mud-pit and **** to surrender. And then...

Tyrana's face glowed as the memories slotted into place. Her full breasts glistened with sweat. Her plump pale bottom wiggled. Her lovely blue eyes darted over the laughing crowd of inferiors, scorn replaced by surprise and humiliation, every giggling peasant a lash against her bare back. It couldn't be! No! She was supposed to win! She knew in her heart, somehow, this was supposed to be her moment of triumph.

But, instead, she'd lost. And so it was decided that Tyrana and her Legion of Doom would be paraded with no clothes on from one end of Quorn to the other. The Queen at the head of her army, naked and chained, on display for the amusement of all the innocent people she'd hoped to subjugate. Hundreds of thousands of people would bear witness to her exquisite humiliation as she was marched through each of the Seven Towns in turn, **** to apologise to every mayor and ritually spanked outside the city gates by anyone willing to wait in the hour-long queue. And then she would be sold as a ****, to toil as the lowliest chambermaid for the benefit of...

"Raider! What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"You can't screw around with the timestream!" snapped Emrelle. "Anything could happen!"

"Um. Like what?"