THE AMAZON QUEEN
by http://www.undergroundvideo.com




  Arila, the warrior queen, stood before him now in chains. Her smooth tanned
skin was shiny with sweat and glistened in the reflection of the fire.  On her face,
surrounded by net of tightly curled black hair, was the defiant look of superiority.

     "No men," reported the centurion who held her neckchain like a leash, "only
women.  And this one is their leader."

     Antonius stepped down from his mount to confront the woman captive. 
Others of her nomadic tribe stood in chains behind her, sharing her pouting,
defiant look.

     Antonius grew angry.  "Half of my men butchered, and you bring me only
women.  Where are their soldiers?"

     "We discovered the bodies of dead male children in an open pit behind one of
their tents.  Apparently, they kill the men after they have become pregnant.  And if
the babies are male, they are killed, too."

     Antonius' dark eyes flashed at the thought of the barbarism of this woman
tribe.  It had to be.

     "You are Amazons."

     Arila's chin raised petulantly.  She was proud of her kinswomen and of their
philosophy of total male subjugation.

     Antonius felt anger surge before he could control it.  His hand came down
hard on the woman's shiny cheek.  Her pouting lips bled and swelled under the
blow.

     At the same moment, a gasp was heard from the crowd.  They had never seen
their queen so mistreated by a man.

     Antonius felt his rage become lust. 

     "Well, perhaps, you will better know your place when a Roman or two has
finished with you."

     His men let out a cheer and proceeded to tear the clothing from the Amazons
in their charge.

     "Wait a minute!" shouted Antonius, and the men paused from their plunder.  "I
want all of them to see their queen enjoy herself first, so that they might learn
from her example of ecstasy.  Undo her bonds."

     The centurion did as he was ordered, but not before warning his commander,
"Watch her, my lord.  She killed five legionnaires before she was captured."

     "What?..."

     Marcus never completed his sentence.  Instead, he found himself travelling
through the air from a deft motion of the powerful woman's body.

     He rolled, then regained his feet, facing his attacker.  Arila was already in a
fighting stance, her swollen mammaries tipped with pebble-sized nipples, excited
from the fight.  She smiled tauntingly.

     Antonius roared toward her again, but felt iron claws grip his shoulder
harness and his codpiece, sending him hurling once more. Shaking the dust from
his head, he looked up at the woman again.  She stood there, hands on her
muscular hips, shaking her head side to side in a gesture of mocking.

     
     Antonius took his time rising to his feet.  Surveying Arila's sculptured,
muscular form, glistening in the light of the fire and clad only in a animal hide
skirt, he forced himself to remember that she was more than a tumble in a Roman
loft.  She was a warrior queen. To defeat her, he would need to treat her as an
equal.  But to defeat her spirit, and that of her tribe, he would have to conquor
her.

     He jumped for her, but stopped just short.  This was enough to force her hand. 
With a single misstep, she lost her balance. He was quick to take advantage. 
Grabbing her shoulder and leg, he spun her upside down.  Then he came down
hard on her back. 

     Arila struggled not to cry out, but let out a muffled grunt.

     He locked his arms between her beautiful muscular legs, and pressed
outward.  Any other woman would have been split in two. Pulling upward, he
rubbed her pouting face and breasts, shiny with sweat, into the dirt.  He pulled
her pink cunt upward into his face and bit hard on the sensitive labia.

     Arila cried out.

     Antonius controlled his lust, which was great after tasting the woman's sweet
secrets, and released his grip.  To defeat her, he would have to defeat her
unequivocally.  

     As Arila scurried away, Antonius ripped the tunic from her body.  His men let
out a cheer at his playful tactic.

     Arila rose up to her feet again.  She didn't try to cover her swollen cuntlips any
more than she had her breasts.  Her shiny cobalt blue eyes glowed red with
hatred for her attacker. How dare this man do such things to her!

     This time, she went on the offensive.  She bounced with three consecutive
cartwheels to land where the Roman beast last stood.  From the landing she
made, Antonius knew that bones surely would have been broken had he
remained where he was.

     He cheered, as though at festival, watching gymnasts perform for the pro-
consul.  Again, his men laughed and whooped with his mocking performance.

     Arila breathed hard.  This Roman was cunning.  She prepared herself for
another attack.  This time, as she ran toward him to deliver a kick, he stooped
and hurled a handful of sand into her face.  

     She hadn't expected this parry and fell once again to the ground.  The cheers
of the other men were muffled by her own rage.  She must kill this inferior, or die
in the effort.

     She made one last ditch effort:  her perfect body taut and glistening as it flew
through the air toward the Roman. 

     But again, the man was too quick.  She landed hard, the breath knocked from
her lungs, then rolled slowly onto her back. He was there, standing above her. 
He held his massive, swollen cock in his hand, and gazed at her lustfully.

     She was too tired to attack again as Antonius dropped his heavy body down
onto her.  His hands squeezed her swollen breasts roughly.

     Antonius freed his member totally from his leather skirt, and moving upward,
knelt on the woman's arms.  He smacked his cock into her shiny face and heard
the dull thud of skin on skin.  The contrast of his pink manhood against her sleek
tanned skin was almost overpowering.  He felt lust rise within him.

     Arila was petrified by the look Antonius gave her.  She felt her body begin to
quake with fear of what would happen next.  
But, in one final effort, she spat in the face of the man who had bested her.

     Antonius grew enraged.  He rained stinging, slapping blows down on her
cheeks. She wanted death more than she wanted him.  If that was how it
was to be, he would kill her with his cock.

     He turned her violently on her belly.  Then he took his
engorged cockhead into his hand, and thrust into her ass with
one great hump.

     Arila felt as though she would split open as the searing organ slammed into
her body.  She let out the pitiful cry of an small animal, but Antonius was not to
be appeased.  He gave her thrust after thrust from his lust-filled member.  When
he felt that her anus was no longer resisting him he withdrew.

     Arila lay whimpering on the ground, not able to see through the haze of
throbbing pain from her violated asshole.  She felt herself being rolled onto her
back for another assault. 

     Antonius yanked her legs apart and thrust deeply into her cunt.  A trickle of
blood rolled down her thigh, and Antonius smiled wickedly.  

     "Virgin queen?" he whispered.  "How does it feel to be fucked by your
conqueror?"

     Her swollen labia took each vicious thrust from his organ. 
She felt defiled and humiliated, but also vaguely stimulated by
his assault.  Something was happening to her.

     Almost as though by instinct, her shiny round ass and hips
began to rise to his every insertion.  She bucked and rolled her
hips in small circles.  This seemed to cause the Roman to quiet
his assault.  Opening her swollen eyes to slits, she saw that his
eyes were closed.  He was experiencing pleasure.

     The image both disgusted and intrigued her.  In an act of
defiance and pleasure, she dug her long shiny nails into the skin
on his back and locked her legs tightly around his waist.  They
had become one.

     Antonius felt his orgasm growing near and separated himself
from her shiny slit.  While enjoyable, he knew that he would not
communicate the right message to the others if he appeared to be
too overcome by the beauty of this woman.

     He stood above her, and she looked up at him lustfully. 
Slowly, with long slow strokes of his organ, he came on her face
and hair.  Her eyes rolled back in orgasm as his hot cream rolled
in droplets over her shiny, swollen red lips.

     Antonius turned to his men, who cheered mightily.  The looks
of defiance on the faces of the other tribeswomen had turned to
doubt and pouting.  One by one, they were pressed to the ground
and raped by the guardsmen.

     Turning back to Arila, Antonius felt a stirring.  She was an
animal, once wild and beautiful, now tamed, and somehow, even more of a
woman and more desireable then before.  
And, he instinctively knew that she would never be able to defy him again. 

Or would she?
to be continued....