FSE

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Chapter** four *:* Transitioning**

The Thunderhawk was already fueled and ready to go. The Gladius-class frigate, the Russ's Suspicion had been refueled and ammunitioned for the flight to the Furia system. In addition to the Wulfen, a contingent of Blood Wolves, a few vehicles, and some of Ishmael's servants would make the trip.

Erik stood on the platform in armor and barked orders to the staff. He was still boiling inside. The whole operation was a disaster.

When the cargo elevator at the far end of the platform opened to reveal his elite guard, he was relieved. Soon this problem would no longer be on his planet. In battle, this issue would quickly be resolved. His guard exited the elevator with the typical lumbering steps of the Terminators, forming a cordon on either side of the elevator. Then his eyes fell on the Wulfen. They had looked brutal before, without armor and without weapons, now they were nightmares on two legs. The Iron Priests had done a great job.

Ivar was the first to leave the elevator. He wore unaugmented armor of ceramite and adamantium. It was sharp-edged and crude, but it covered the main weak points. Erik recognized parts of Ivars old power armor in it. In terms of armament, the Iron Priests had opted for two chain axes. Suitable for an uncontrollable beast that wanted to inflict as much damage as possible before it died.

Several tubes had been connected to Ivar's neck. Erik recognized injectors in them. They led to containers on his back. His Pack were similarly equipped. Either with energy claws or axes.

Ivar went down on his knees in front of Erik and bowed his head, his Pack behind him did the same. Erik recognized the containers on their backs. Frenzon, Adrenox, 'Slaught and Psychon... combat drugs. Once they threw themselves into battle, they would be unstoppable killing machines that knew no pain or fear. Probably, even if they survived the fight, they would die from the effects of this cocktail. Erik nodded grimly.

"Rise."

Ivar and his Pack slowly rose. Erik cleared a path to the Thunderhawk.

"Your death awaits you. Die upright, atone for your sins, and Russ may be merciful to you."

Ivar nodded mutely.

"There are plenty of greenskins on Furia. Good hunting."

Added Erik, pointing to the landing ship.

Ivar bared his teeth, it was a very bizarre variant of a smile. Something that sounded remotely like a laugh escaped from his throat. He gripped the axes tighter and trudged to the landing craft, followed by his Pack. As they entered the Thunderhawk, the ramp closed behind them and the pilot started the engines. As the Thunderhawk slowly lifted off the platform Erik felt a great relief, as if a weight weighing tons was lifted from him. Erik opened a channel in his vox.

"Let the Russ' suspicion know, the cargo is on its way. Good hunting."

"As you wish, my Yarl."

Erik nodded silently and looked around.

"Clean everything thoroughly, I want the Wolf Priests here. All corruption must be eliminated. I want all personnel who have had contact with the Wulfen debriefed and checked for corruption. I don't want anyone else here to fall prey to the forces of chaos."

In the Thunderhawk, there was a tense silence. After the transporter had left the atmosphere and all the noises in the vacuum of space had fallen silent, nothing more could be heard. Ivar and his Pack sat in the cargo hold and waited for the moment when the cargo lock opened and they arrived back at the Russ' suspicion.

"ETA 10 minutes."

Came the robotic announcement of the loudspeaker on the wall. Enough time to just "lose" them on the transport. But Ivar trusted the word of his Yarl. Why, after he had taken on so much now, should he have them killed now, in this dishonorable way?

Ivar examined his chain axes. Martial tools of death. Normally the Order did not use these weapons, they preferred energy weapons. But he could understand that they did not entrust these venerable weapons to him and his Pack. Chain axes, however, would do just fine. They would plow through the ranks of enemies like glowing knives through butter.

Greenskins. Orcs. Wonderful opponents for a penance. They would throw themselves against Ivar with everything they had, and Ivar would face them with the Emperor's wrath.

*For Russ, for the Allfather.*

He thought. What a shame not to be able to yell the venerable battle cry when they charged into battle. A guttural howl would have to suffice.

He looked at the two runes on the handles of the axes. One would start the axe's engine, the other the injection pumps on his back. The Iron Priest had told him that the cocktail of combat drugs would ensure that even shot to pieces, he and his Pack would still be fighting.

"Enough Frenzon to turn a Crox into a Primarch."

Had been his words.

"ETA 1 minute, prepare to dock."

The announcement snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked to the red light that was beginning to glow next to the cargo bay door. Slowly, he and his Pack stood up. Even though their minds had clearly moved away from being Astartes of the Order and toward being vile beasts in the last 72 hours, they still knew that some discipline was the order of the day.

So Ivar's Pack positioned themselves behind him in two rows and waited patiently. The loud banging of the docking aids clinging to the hull of the Thunderhawk and the subsequent audible sounds of the servo motors told them that they had docked at the Russ' suspicion. Now the landing craft was pulled into the frigate's hangar and as soon as the atmosphere there was restored, the airlocks would open and allow the Wulfen access to their transport ship. It took a short while and the pilot said through that first the escort had to come into the hangar.

When the ramp finally lowered with a loud hiss, the hangar was bustling with activity. Fleet personnel were everywhere, carting ammunition and spare parts around. Officers worked through lists and servitors carried heavy loads back and forth between the individual Thunderhawks.

At the foot of the ramp stood two Astartes of their Order in full armor and under arms. Without saying a word, they indicated with a toss of their heads that Ivar and his brothers should follow them. The servants of the fleet were not quite so eager to throw themselves on the ground in front of each Astartes of the Order, but they cleared the way without hesitation, even if they were busy with something important. One Servitor wasn't quick enough and was cleared out of the way with a careless blow with the butt of a bolter. The wreck that had once been a human before being lobotomized and having its limbs replaced with grappling arms now lay in an overturned pile of ammunition crates, giving only its last twitches as its robotic voice frantically shouted down damage reports.

"Ha ha ha... did you see that one...?"

Came the distorted voice from the helmet of one of the Astartes. Ivar closed his eyes. Corius would have flayed him for weeks in the training cages for such behavior. Of course, the subordinates were not on the same level as the Order as such, and the servitors were even less than that. Some were of the rock-solid conviction that servitors were basically not even living beings. But still. Such behavior caused delays in the schedule, and maybe in those boxes were the ammunition for the company's bolters, and if now some duds would result from this "accident", it could cost lives. Lives of Astartes of their Order. He heard a slight laugh behind him and before he had even thought about it, his elbow had already found itself in the pit of one of his Packmembers' stomachs.

His brother slumped and before any of the others could help him back to his feet, Ivar's look made them stop as if rooted to the spot.

*He can stand up on his own, he knows what that was for...*

His Pack only nodded as Ivar turned back to the Astartes. They walked briskly out of the hangar. In the cramped corridors of the frigate, one realized once again that these ships were not built for the Astartes, but for the "normal" people. The Order normally used attack cruisers. These ships were much more spacious and built for crews that consisted to a much greater extent of Astartes. Here, on the other hand, it was necessary for the human crew to stay out of the way of the Astartes, otherwise they would never get past each other.

"Your quarters are in cargo hold 3. Ishmael's servants are already waiting for you there. Erik has sent three artificers here, they will take care of your weapons. The training cages on level 4 are reserved for you. You will want to familiarize yourselves with your weapons and armor."

Gave one of the two Astartes to understand. Despite the distorted voice, one could hear something like compassion in his tone.

"The flight will only take about two weeks. We'll be leaving within the hour."

He added as they reached a large gate that read "Cargo-Hold 3."

"The captain does not want any incidents with the crew. This cargo hold is directly connected to the vacuum. One push of a button..."

The Astartes performed the familiar cutthroat gesture.

Ivar nodded, and looking over his shoulder, he could see his Pack nodding.

The gate was opened, revealing a spacious storage room. Several containers were open and labeled. The artificers had their own, as did Ishmael's servants. And then on the other side were four more containers, these were probably for them then. Ivar bowed his head and walked through the gate. The height of the ceiling allowed him to stand upright. His Pack also entered the camp one by one. Behind them, the gate was closed and locked. Ivar grinned. They did not trust them. This was not surprising.

One of the artificers approached them. He stopped a few meters in front of Ivar and bowed deeply.

"My lords, I am Hendrik, my colleagues and I have been assigned to take care of your weapons and armor. If you will please follow me, I would like to show you your camps."

His voice seemed warm, but the tremolo in it showed Ivar that he was afraid. Ivar nodded slowly and followed Hendrik to the four containers on the other side of the storeroom.

"We had little time to prepare anything, but your kind are used to little comfort, aren't you?"

Babbled Hendrik on, it seemed to put him at ease. He showed them the chambers they would occupy for the next 2 weeks. They were sparse, even by Order standards. A sleeping quarters made of three crates pushed together, over which some pelts had been laid. A water dispenser and a small lumensphere, that was all there was in any of the small compartments. It would do. They had had worse. Ivar nodded.

"We can take your weapons and armor from you in a moment. Besides, Brother Ishmael's escorts will certainly want to do some more research. So if you will please follow me once more?"

Hendrik spoke quickly but cleanly, the tremolo in his voice almost completely gone. They crossed the storeroom once more and arrived at the containers of the artificers and Ishmael's servants. They were other women, not the ones from the dungeon, kneeling there by them. Ivar could not place the smells; he had not yet encountered these women. He growled softly and gestured for them to rise.

"Oh, that's right. The Yarl had informed me that you have lost the ability to speak. We will find a solution. Most certainly. Yes... Yes..."

Hendrik nodded his head eagerly as the women rose. They were as scantily clad, or not clad at all, as their comrades on the planet.

He could already hear a slight panting from one of his Packmembers behind him. Ivar tilted his head and looked over his shoulder. His eyes flashed and his Packmember seemed to almost swallow his tongue. When Ivar turned back to the artificer, he handed him his axes and then turned to face his Pack.

By means of sign language, he made it unmistakably clear to them that he would not tolerate any assaults on Ishmael's staff here and now, even though his body was certainly making an effort to betray him. Ivar fixed two of his Packmembers in particular. He would keep an eye on them.

The artificer handed the heavyweight axes to one of his colleagues and pointed to a large crate in front of their container.

"Please my lord, take a seat, we will relieve you of your armor, there is much work to be done."

Ivar nodded and made his way to the crate. It was quite large, but he could easily sit on it and waited patiently for the servants to peel him out of the armor. It wasn't that he couldn't have done it on his own, but it was a nice gesture to be assisted. It didn't take very long to remove the armor pieces from him, since they were working in threes and his armor was basically just individual elements that had been attached to his body with straps. Perhaps the artificers were even able to make some improvements to it.

When the last leg brace was also removed, Hendrik nodded with satisfaction and gave way.

"My lord, our work is done for the moment. Now you are expected by Ishmael's ladies. When we are ready, we will notify you."

Hendrik bowed and followed his own briefly into the container. Ivar stood up from the crate and looked to Ishmael's servants. He walked slowly to them, while behind him Hendrik picked up the axes of the nearest Wulfen. He was already awaited by one of Ishmael's servants.

"My lord, you must be Brother Ivar."

He nodded and allowed himself to be led into the container where the four women had set up their quarters.

"Master Ishmael has ordered us to do some more research before you will be lost forever."

Ivar nodded again and sat down on the throne that was in the middle of the container. Two other women joined him. Each held a tray of various medical equipment.

Ivar eyed the various injectors and containers. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced over at the woman who had ushered him in. He raised an eyebrow.

"Master Ishmael wants samples of all body fluids again, as well as tissue samples. Furthermore, we have been instructed to verify reactions to various stimuli once again."

She said as she returned to him with a smile. The sway of her hips that accompanied her gait and the subtle hints in her movements did not go unnoticed by Ivar. The monitor next to him did not miss the reaction of his body either, registering an acceleration of his heart rate, a rise in blood pressure and the release of several hormones. Her smile widened and her pale blue eyes sparkled in the semi-darkness of the container. She leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear.

"Sister Brunhild told me you've been quite tender."

Ivar's ears twitched and his heart gave a little jump. As he looked back at her she couldn't quite interpret the look in his eyes. It was something between surprise, curiosity, shame and... desire. She turned to her female colleagues.

"Men are all so simple... even demigods."

This struck deep, but Ivar could not deny the accuracy of her statement. The words, her smell, her permissiveness, that all had not missed its effect. The eyes of her colleagues were fixed on Ivar's nether regions as she stood in front of him again. Ivar attempted a smile, which, however, resembled more of a snarl than he really wanted.

"Sister Ingrid, access please."

"Yes Sister Freya."

One of the women stepped forward, a blush on her face. She handed the woman in front of him a syringe of some sort, its long needle looking menacingly large. In an extremely exaggerated good-natured tone, Sister Freya turned to Ivar.

"Now this is going to sting for a moment."

Without waiting for approval, the woman pushed the needle into Ivar's arm. The latter didn't even bat an eyelash but just watched, fascinated, as she stirred around in his arm. After a few seconds, she proudly announced.

"There you go."

Accompanied by a trickle of red blood that ran from the end of the syringe. One by one, Sister Freya filled the small containers handed to her by Sister Ingrid. When she was finished, she pulled the needle out of Ivar's arm again. The bleeding stopped almost instantly. She put the syringe back on Ingrid's tray and smiled at Ivar.

"Now we need another saliva sample. That shouldn't be too hard."

Ivar took the container presented to him and forked it to his muzzle. After "depositing" some of his saliva in it, he handed it back. Freya accepted the container and picked up another.

She held it in front of her chest like a prize and her smile grew even wider. Slowly the blush rose in her face. She licked her lips.

"The next sample will be a little more special..."

She turned the jar in her hands and her eyes traveled down Ivar's body. Ivar relaxed. If Ishmael wanted "that" sample, then his servants should go get it. This was not his doing, he and his Pack would not be scolded for this. He sat back and presented himself with an inviting gesture of his paws.

Sister Freya had tilted her head down and was looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Ivar tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow.

*Take what you want...*

He would have loved to tell her, but he was not able to. But Freya understood what he wanted to imply. She knelt down in front of him. His manhood had not yet fully awakened, but not too much was missing. Nevertheless, he enjoyed a size not to be underestimated, especially compared to a mere mortal. In a fully erect state, his member would probably serve most men as a forearm. He could see the fascination in Freya's eyes now that his tip was almost at eye level with her. With trembling hands, she reached for his member. It was red, hot, already slightly wet from his arousal, and it pulsed with each of his heartbeats. She could feel it getting harder under her hand. The feeling had something infinitely wild, primal. And its smell was indescribable. The Astartes of the Order always had a rather pungent, sour smell about them, but this one was different. He smelled of mochus, of fresh sweat, and of something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. Carefully, she encircled the shaft with her hand. Even at the tip, she barely managed to get her fingers all the way around it. A low rumbling sound could be heard from Ivar as he closed his eyes and put his head back in his neck. Freya set the container on the floor beside her and turned to her colleagues.

"Document everything, we connect the fluid extraction with experiment 3."

She then focused on Ivar again. She took her second hand to help and began to carefully move her hands up and down along his shaft. The fact that he had already produced enough lubricant helped immensely. Her initially hesitant movements quickly gained confidence as Freya noticed that Ivar continued to relax and was clearly enjoying the ministrations. Ivar's breaths deepened and the rumbling in his throat gained volume. Her hands began to move more purposefully. Freya tried more pressure and twisting motions as she rubbed his shaft. Each time she reached his tip, she circled it and let her palm polish the tip. She could feel his muscles slowly tense and move under his fur. His paws closed around the armrests of the throne and the material creaked under the pressure of his claws. Freya took one of her hands from his member and carefully reached for his testicles.

"Get ready sisters."

She said, looking at the container at her feet. Sister Ingrid picked up the container and held it ready for the moment when Ivar would distribute his seed. She did not have to wait much longer. Freya's efforts were rewarded as Ivar's body seemed to slowly tense in a wave until he really reared up and finally slumped back down with his orgasm and the spurting of his semen. Meanwhile, Ivar gave a mixture of whimpers and howls, followed by relaxed panting. Ivar opened his eyes and looked into three very horrified faces, one of which was completely covered with a whitish, viscous substance. Sister Ingrid was standing next to Freya and was so shocked that she was unable to fill the container with a sample. The third in the group looked around frantically and seemed to be looking for something. Freya just sat there, still holding Ivar's member in one hand and the other hanging somewhat out of place in the air between Ivar and her face. She had opened her mouth, though this must have happened after the creaming, as there was no semen in it. In her eyes the following expressions were reflected quickly alternating: By the Emperor!... Oh my God-Emperor!... Wow!... Oh no!... Disgusting!... Help!... The sample?... I wonder how this tastes?

Absentmindedly, she caught herself fishing for a thread of ejaculate with her tongue, while her third colleague finally came with some sort of spatula to secure a sample in the container.

Ivar was not sure if he should feel sorry or if it was allowed to laugh in this situation. The expression on Sister Freya's face when she finally got hold of some of his semen, much to the dismay of her colleagues, and noticed that the taste was not quite what she had hoped for, then pushed him into a kind of laughter.

It took a short while for Sister Ingrid to secure a sample with the aid of the spatula and for Freya to be freed from the rest of the ejaculate by means of a cloth. In her face there was something like anger, but in her eyes there was something completely different. She remained motionless just a moment too long, and so Ivar raised his paw to her face. He leaned forward, propped his left elbow on his knee, and placed his right paw on her cheek. His paw was so large that it covered almost the entire left side of Freya's head, and his claws reached far to the back of her head. He was eye to eye with her and she felt his hot breath on her face. In the same gesture he had shared with Brunhild a few days ago, he lowered his head and touched her forehead with his. His warm, soft fur on her forehead calmed her. Ivar radiated an incredible calm and self-assurance. Freya closed her eyes and surrendered to the Wulfen. Not that she was in any position to resist. Ivar ended the touch by slowly moving his head away from hers. She went along with the motion for a moment before she realized his hand was holding her back. His ice blue eyes were piercing as he looked into hers again. After a moment, he looked down at her breasts and then back into her eyes. His lips twitched and a muffled growl escaped his throat. He slowly straightened up and gently pulled Freya to her feet. As he sat upright and she stood, he released her cheek and his claw stroked tenderly down her neck to her shoulders. Once again his eyes wandered to her breasts and he tilted his head. It seemed inviting, lovely.

*Come on, play with me.*

He seemed to say. As he let himself sink back against the back of the throne, Freya's eyes fell on his privates. It was already fully ready for use again. She swallowed and now knew what Ivar wanted. What should she do. They had started it, now it was up to them to finish it. Secretly she hoped that his Pack would be less demanding, there were only four of them and Ivar's brothers were eight, and none of them was smaller than him.

"Sister, that's not in the protocol. It's not right."

Sister Ingrid tried to stop Freya.

"Are you able to stand up to an Astartes of the Order?"

Freya asked as she loosened the straps of her leather apron. When the leather fell, she stood naked before him. Unlike Brunhild, she felt no shame. She was proud of her body. A lot of time and work had gone into her body. She knew that Brother Ishmael had an eye for shapely bodies and being accepted into his retinue brought some bonuses for her and her family. The runes tattooed on her snow-white skin were razor sharp and extremely accurately placed. Every muscle was perfectly trained and every decorative scar was exactly where it belonged. She was perfect in every way. Only the fact that she had had to shave off her red hair had disturbed her, if only briefly. Ivar regarded her calmly. He took his time to study the offer. He liked what he saw. She was strong, she showed no fear, at least not anymore. He lowered his head ever so slightly while his flews twisted into a grin. Freya stood slightly wide-legged in front of the Wulfen, who grinned at her with his ears erect. He looked like a devil, a demon who wanted to seduce her to turn to the dark side. His whole posture reflected his absolute superiority. He had a certain charm in his self-assurance and the way he extended his paw to her was almost arrogant. She fell for him completely.

She took his paw and let him lead her. She climbed up to him on the throne. She put her feet next to his legs on the seat and now stood above him. Whereby his eyes were still at about the level of her breasts. He was simply huge. He continued to hold her hand while reaching for her hip with the second. Tenderly but firmly he put his paw around her hip and held it tight. Freya put her hand on his paw and waited what would happen now. Would he simply rape her here and now, wild as a wolf? No.

Ivar had other things in mind. Her breasts in front of his eyes he opened his mouth and started licking her cleavage and sucking on her breasts. His caresses were tender, but there was a wild impetuosity in them. Several times he nibbled on her hard, aroused nipples and sometimes he sucked on them very intensely. It was painful, but it was that kind of pain that only excited you more. Freya moaned and her muscles twitched every time he bit her nipples again. She could feel her arousal running hot down her thighs. She wanted him so badly. It didn't matter if he was an animal, a demon, or an Astartes.

In her world existed for this moment only her body, which burned from the inside out and this phallus, which promised her redemption for her torment.

Had it been the same for Brunhild? She had not been able to speak to her for long before Ishmael had led her and the others away. He had had that mad look he always had when there were new experiments to be done.

She bit her lower lip and looked down where a Wulfen was feasting on her breasts. He released her hand and brought his second paw to her thigh. His claws dug lightly into her soft skin as he gripped her tighter. His muzzle moved slowly from her breasts down over her belly. She put her free hand on his head and without having any control over it herself she pushed it further down. Her breathing was rapid, always interrupted by short moans or short cries when Ivar touched her in sensitive places. She braced herself for what would happen next, but nothing could have ever prepared her for what happened next.

In one fluid motion, Ivar first ran his tongue over her folds only to penetrate her afterwards.

"Haaaaa... nnnghh... Oh my... it's so long..."

It escaped from her. Her legs threatened to give out, but Ivar held her upright while he drank his fill of her. Her hand buried itself in the fur on his head and her legs trembled. Ivar was merciless. Again and again he licked her lips and again and again he penetrated her. She tasted delicious. Sweet, sour, salty and a hint of stern. He tasted every nook and cranny, every fold and every milimeter of her sex. When he set his sights on her pleasure button it was all over her. He circled her clitoris and took it between his lips and sucked on it.

Freya had her eyes closed and was curled up over the Wulfen. Her muscles no longer obeyed her and the sounds she made were only partially human. But when the Wulfen bit into her clitoris, it pushed her over the edge. She opened her eyes and reared up against the beast. Pushing through her back, she screamed her orgasm into the container and nearly tore a clump of fur from the head of the Wulfen beneath her. Her muscles twitched and quivered as Ivar continued to hold her down. He drank all the juices she provided and only when her violent twitching subsided did he slowly let go of hers.

When he pulled his muzzle out from between her thighs it was dripping wet and he licked his lips with relish. He looked up at her. She was breathing heavily and continued to hold onto his head. His smile was back first, hers followed as she looked past his muzzle to his throbbing member.

Freya swallowed. This would now be a much more difficult task. To relieve the Wulfen by giving him a hand job was one thing, to surrender to him and agree to a cunnilingus was something else, but to corpulate with him was on a whole new level. His size alone would push her to her limits. Ivar allowed no resistance. His paws gripped her pelvis and forced her to her knees. She braced herself on his shoulders as she gave in to his urging. When the tip of his manhood touched her, she once again briefly revolted. Ivar looked into her eyes. She had fear written all over her face. His eyes seemed like deep, calm mountain lakes. Infinitely deep, blue and full of peace. They seemed to say, "Don't be afraid, everything will be fine, trust me..." She continued to brace herself against his paws, but she had no chance, his strength far exceeded hers. He didn't even seem to be straining as he pushed her further down onto his phallus. As his tip penetrated her, her breath caught. The sensation of being stretched and filled in this way was overwhelming. Her eyes widened and she forced herself to keep breathing. It was not so much the pain that threatened to overwhelm her, it was a mixture of pain, excitement, lust and desire. Ivar growled softly while, after a brief moment of pause, he continued to impale her body on himself. Tears came to Freya's eyes and her breathing went in short uncontrolled bursts. She gritted her teeth and tried to relax, but her body resisted this uninvited intrusion. She shook her head and tried lightly slapping Ivar's shoulders, unable to form meaningful words. Ivar paused and tilted his head. The feeling of his member enclosed by her, the pulsing of her muscles around him was glorious, it had to be for her too. Her sister had enjoyed it, after all. At least later... Freya's face was contorted.

"M-my L-lord... please... chance..."

Tears rolled down her face and her voice seemed pressed. She clawed at the fur of his shoulders and pressed against his paws. Ivar waited, but as Freya looked pleadingly at him and continued to struggle against him, he gave a little. He allowed her to stretch her knees a bit and thus lift herself a bit off his phallus. The relief in her eyes was clear. She gasped and swallowed hard. Ivar remained unmoved and continued to hold her captive in his grip.

"... j-just one... one mo-moment... my lord..."

Freya pressed out, frantically trying to relax her muscles and let herself go with his size. She knew that Astartes were not necessarily known for their patience, and Ivar and his Pack could hardly be called more civilized than one of the Astartes of the Order. She was already glad that he had not simply imposed his power and will. She was well aware that he could kill her just by performing the sexual act. Her breathing slowly calmed and she noticed her muscles slowly adjusting. She swallowed again and looked down at herself.

"... My lord... let me be of service to you... let me set the pace..."

Ivar looked to her and his eyes narrowed. Freya became frightened. Had she angered him? Had she undermined his authority? She was about to apologize when Ivar visibly relaxed and closed his eyes. Nodding slowly, he opened his paws, maintaining contact with her hips, but it was more of a supporting than a holding. Opening his eyes, he looked deeply into hers.

*... well slave, then move or I will move you...*

There was a certain good nature in his gaze but she was well aware that she must not strain it. She began to move with trembling knees. Carefully she slid up and down along his member. Slowly she tried to take in more of his length.

It was quite painful, but now that she controlled the movement and could thus determine how far she wanted to take this trial, it slowly began to feel good. She hadn't had a lot of experience before encountering Ivar, and none of it was even remotely comparable to the Wulfen who was about to stake her. She moaned out each time she allowed him to penetrate her deeper. Each time he filled her more. Would she even be able to take him all the way inside her? She tried to breathe in time with her movements, exhaling with each penetration and inhaling with each lift of her hips. An initially slow but steady rhythm developed. Ivar joined in with her. His pleasurable growl grew a little louder with each time he slid into her shallows. Each time her hips lowered onto him he gripped a little tighter and guided her movement down a little further. She leaned forward and rested her head on his shoulder, her moans muffled by his fur. Her hands dug harder into his shoulders as she increased the pace. It was a divine feeling. Her insides pulsed around his member and each time she seemed to pull him deeper inside her. He could feel a pressure in his guts that was slowly but steadily increasing, it was hard not to just let himself go, but to let the little woman take control. When she stood back up she was drenched in sweat, and her breasts were bouncing in time with her movements. When Ivar looked up at her face, the expression on her face was radically different. She had given herself over to pleasure without restraint, and the pain was no longer a pain to her, it had given way to a lust, a lust for more....

"... Deeper my Lord..."

She moaned as she let herself fall deeper onto his shaft. The sensation of advancing so suddenly into her depths caught him completely off guard. Ivar could feel a resistance as he pushed deeper. It was as if he was hitting a wall. They had reached the end of her love tunnel and with each thrust he rammed his member against her cervix. There was a fire burning in her eyes.

"... Yes... yesss... just like that... faster..."

It was not so much a permission, it was not a request, it was an order. Ivar, in his eagerness, was only too happy to comply and helped her efforts with his brute strength. She let go of his shoulders and reached for her breasts. With all her strength she squeezed, pulled and massaged her breasts, literally screaming her pleasure to the room as she continued to ride his lance.

Her colleagues had backed away. They had not expected anything like this. While Sister Ingrid had retreated to the back corner and prayed to the God-Emperor, her other colleague at least tried to document the event as best she could.

Ivar had bared his teeth and his breath came in short gasps accompanied by a grunt. He felt Freya building more and more tension in her muscles and her movements became more and more uncontrolled. When she let go of her breasts and held onto Ivar's head, deep red handprints were visible on them. That would leave marks. She pulled his head towards her and pressed it against her chest.

"... lick me... devour me..."

She screamed while her knees finally gave in to the effort and Ivar had to carry her entire weight. He began to frenetically lick her breasts and it was unspeakably difficult for him not to actually bite into them. He could feel that she was close and so he tried to increase his efforts a bit more. He was about to explode as well.

"... haa... haa... hnnn..."

She writhed above him and he felt it rising inside him. He tensed his muscles, trying to drag it out a little longer. At that moment Freya jerked violently on top of him, her spasms so strong they almost hurt him. Her legs kicked out completely uncontrollably and her fingers clenched around his ears, digging her fingernails into them. At the same time a soundless scream left her lungs and for a moment it seemed as if her heart would stop. Everything around her brightened and her brain shut down. At the same time, Ivar released his tension and came violently inside her. He pulsed several times in her and kept her firmly anchored on his member. He could feel his semen being pressed past him to the outside. It ran burning hot down him and formed a small puddle between his legs. The feeling spread in waves inside him and a pleasant warmth filled him. Only now did he notice the dead weight on his shoulders. Freya had lost consciousness. But Ivar could clearly hear her heartbeat and he could feel her hot breath on his neck. Carefully, he lifted her off him. The slapping of his manhood as it flopped limply on the throne was accompanied by a wet sound as the excess of his seed dripped out of her. Ivar leaned back and laid the young woman on his chest. Her expression reflected complete relaxation and bliss.

She was completely relaxed, everything around her seemed meaningless. The light that surrounded her was glaringly bright, but still it did not seem to blind her. Was this what was referred to in ancient writings as "Le petit mort", as "the little death"? If so, she was in favor of experiencing it more often. But the feeling did not last long, the light grew dimmer and had the feeling of falling. Just before she regained consciousness, it was as if she could hear a distant voice. It was sweet, engaging, but also demanding.

"Not enough... more..."

But that was all she could hear. When she opened her eyes, she was overcome by an incredible longing. She wanted to experience the feeling again, she needed more. It had to become more intense. She looked around. Her colleague was still standing nearby, typing furiously on her datasheet. She couldn't see Sister Ingrid. What she could see was a huge gray Wulfen looking down at her with a very satisfied expression on his face. His tongue was hanging out of the side of his snout and his breathing was in quiet, deep puffs. She could hear his double heartbeat, which had already completely calmed down. She lifted her arm and placed it on his cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment and with a slight moan she tried to squeeze some more of his semen out of her. When she opened her eyes again and the high slowly subsided, the afterpains began. She had put her body through a lot. Her abdomen felt like someone had been at it with a steam hammer. Ivar looked down at Freya. She had put up a good fight, but she would definitely need a break. When he looked around, his Packmembers were standing in the entrance of the container along with a completely shocked fourth servant. This situation needed explanation. He left Freya in the capable hands of her colleagues and stood up. There was quite a bit of evidence sticking to him and it was also completely clear that denying what had happened was completely impossible. He took a deep breath and then signaled to his Pack.

"She started it... She did it..."

It took a moment, but when the penny dropped, his Pack burst out laughing. It was a rough mixture of growling, barking and howling. Ivar rolled his eyes and made a hustling gesture, followed by some signs.

"Get out of here, I have to finish something here."

The grins on his Packmembers' faces were indescribable and one of his Brothers countered:

"Oh I think you've finished them off enough, leave some for us."

Ivar tilted his head. They weren't wrong, he had had his fun. Several times. They hadn't. But that wasn't the point now.

"You'll get your chance if you don't push it, but there's something I need to do here."

His posture changed subtly, but noticeably.

"And... now... out!"

The fun was over. Instantly. His Pack nodded and silently left the container. Ivar turned to the sisters, who were still tending to Freya. She was uninjured, in the broadest sense. She probably wouldn't be walking for the next hour, and definitely wouldn't be undergoing any examinations, but otherwise she was fine physically. Mentally was another matter. She kept talking about a person who was thirsty, or something like that, and she really wanted to see Ivar again. Ivar and his divine appendage. Yes, that one too, but she clearly meant the other one.

Ivar crouched down next to the sisters and looked at the little woman, who began to smile as the Wulfen came into her field of vision.

"My angel..."

She purred and extended a hand to him.

"... Take me again... now..."

Her voice sounded strangely transfigured. Ivar looked to the other nurses.

"She will be fine, her symptoms correspond to those of Sister Brunhild, only stronger. My lord, I do not wish to appear rude, but we would like to refrain from this last activity. We are aware that we must take samples, and we will do our utmost to make this as efficient and satisfying as possible for your Pack, but this..."

Sister Ingrid pointed to Freya....

"... This here we cannot answer for. There are only four of us."

Ivar nodded, he could understand that. He would explain it to his Pack.

Of course, Ivar's Pack wasn't exactly happy about the fact that he had had all the fun, was allowed to break one of the sisters, and now they had to look down the tube. But they finally accepted it. Nonetheless, at least some of what he'd had was also given to them. But perhaps in the course of the journey one or the other opportunity would arise. When finally all the samples had been collected and all the Wulfen were considered at least fundamentally satisfied, the individual parties went to rest. For the sisters, a lumen sphere burned the longest. Sister Ingrid took care of Sister Freya for a long time, who seemed to be slow to catch herself.