White Queen g7-g8, check!

The White Queen stared at the crew of the Rook that impeded her passage to the final rank to threaten the Black King. The battlefield was tight here in Black's home ranks, and the battle was finely poised. The mobile castle was swift and powerful, but position was all, and it was a **** move to risk such a powerful piece. She smiled hungrily at the Rook, her lips curling back in a broader, toothier smile as she saw them tremble in fear and anticipation.

Beside the White Queen was Black's King's Bishop's pawn, ill-clad and trembling at the Queen's furious nearness, the Queen's ivory phallus glistening with her next-file sister's juices, the pawn still hearing her neighbor's climactic shriek echoing in her ears. Beyond the pawn was a confusion of knights and pawns and pieces at close quarters, but most importantly, beyond the terrified pawn was the Black King, his shoulders shaking, his member dangling, putting the lie to the proud face he was making.

The White Queen waited to hear her controller's command, her limbs poised for action. The Black Queen had taken blood, and now it was her turn. The controller would agree because she was so far advanced in her attack that it could be disastrous to pull out and give Black the initiative with Black's rampaging Amazon Queen in White's home rank. Things were finely balanced, and there would be blood for blood. She menaced the Black King, held back by a Rook, and the Black Queen menaced her liege, the White King, again defended by his Rook. Yet all was not in balance, for Black owed her a Rook. That haughty Amazon champion had had the impunity to take her Rook, the Queen-side Rook, her castle full of beautiful, admiring boys cast down in defeat and disorder, leaving only a pearly smear on the Black Queen's cunt. Though Black's Queen-side was far away, the King's Rook was staring her in the face. She would take that gladly.

And so the command came echoing across the field from behind White's home rank. There would be blood. She adjusted her harnessed dildo, the sculpted ivory member perfect in detail but larger and harder than any of the men on the battlefield.

"Queen takes Rook, check."

The White Queen sprang forward, leading with her hand and her ivory dildo. Before the crew of the battle-tower could secure a defensive position, she burst through the closing door and barred escape, turning their mighty fortress into a trap. As the terrified crew retreated, she seized the unlucky door guard who had sealed the whole crew's fate. Leaving the Black defender no time to oppose or submit, the Queen pressed her to the wall and lifted one knee high, spreading her deep brown labia to reveal bright pink inner folds, dripping with traitorous desire to be filled. The Queen met the Amazon's cock-hunger with a swift home thrust of her ivory spear, striking the warrior woman breathless like a punch to the gut. The defender gaped, her jaw working like a landed fish as White Queen held her transfixed on her elephantine manhood. In the next moment, the Queen pulled back, letting the Amazon gasp in a quick breath, then started thrusting, wringing out gasps and moans as the rigid phallus battered her innermost gates. Sensation overcame fear, hope, and will to resist, and the warrior's broad brown hips rolled forward to meet each thrust of the Queen's silk-draped white hips. The furious dance of thrusts pumped her full of pleasure, obliterating any thought of loyalty to her King, to her sister soldiers, and as pleasure conquered all, even her loyalty to herself. Pleasure boiled over into climax. She convulsed like a puppet on strings, clutching at the White Queen's robes. Her brown eyes rolled up, her head strained back, and her chin dropped, letting her mouth open wide with a full-throated cry of helpless pleasure, her juices spurting out and bedewing the White Queen's platinum-blonde pubic fleece with the crystal pearls of her surrender as her hips shuddered and her toes curled in ecstasy.

Dropping the first unlucky defender in a senseless heap, the Queen turned her ****-filled desire to the rest of the Rook's crew. With nowhere to retreat, the White Queen took each Black warrior woman in turn and made her surrender to pleasure, just as the dwindling crew had witnessed their predecessors compelled by the Queen to ride her ivory weapon from defiance to despair to pleading, then swiftly from pleasure to climax and then to unconsciousness. The Queen treasured the way each defender met her orgasmic defeat, each one different in the expression on her face, from complete blankness to holy transport to clenched grimace, each voice singing out a different song of praise to pleasure, from sobbing whispers to throaty moans to brassy howls.

The final defender's will was unbreakable, so the White Queen sweetened her **** by holding her shoulders to the floor, straddling the defiant Amazon's face and riding her, grinding her cunt from nose to chin, taking her pleasure from the defeated woman's struggles until the Queen reached climax and kept riding until the last defender had fallen limp.

"My work here is done," the White Queen murmured to herself, tugging at her silken robes and fanning herself. She stepped from the door of the sacked battle-tower and blinked at the pieces of the contest still continuing, meeting the fearful gaze of the Black King, almost close enough to touch. Her smile returned, broadening to a wolfish grin.

Of course, this was a contest in which the next move belonged to Black.