Fighting a Savage She-Wolf (And Losing) (Femdom, Wolfgirl)

Vulflinde exited the arena, covered in blood. I went to her, and to the wound on her side. She heaved a great sigh. She did her best to look wounded and sad, but I knew it to be an act. She was beaming. Happy.

And very, very wet.

I cleaned and dressed the wound with a wet cloth, and as my hands worked over her body, as I washed her with water, she began to glow. She had her eyes shut, and a small, satisfied smirk on her face.

“I won,” she whispered quietly.

“I saw,” I replied, with a mixture of pride and relief.

It has been eight months, or eight moons, since my marriage to Vulflinde the fierce she-wolf. My barbarian wife had grown to love the arena. She thrilled at combat, and to her, I was a Roman luxury. The Romans had given her endless enemies to fight, and a husband to fuck. Her heart may have been unconquerably German, but her womb was quite happily Roman territory, as far as she was concerned. Her womb, I thought with bittersweet emotion…

I both hated and loved watching my Wolf girl fight. It is the cruelest fate that could be inflicted upon me; dying would not be so bad as the terror I felt when Vulflinde would enter into the arena to encounter some unfair challenge, like ten convicts at once, or a fierce Jinko from the East, or an angry rhinoceros.

Each and every sword thrust, snarl, or stampeding charge had filled my heart with fear. It is not natural, or normal, for a man to watch his woman fight while he waits from the sidelines. But then when she won, and I saw her flex her mighty muscles, and her eyes bright with victory, my heart would swell, and my loins would stiffen.

All this might have been borne, but there were recent…complications. Worry was not a normal part of Vulflinde’s life, for she conquered all problems head-on, but what was coming was very different. Unchartered territory for both of us.

After I had dressed her wound, we went to a private room in the Coliseum. We had only stayed in the cell until the first fight in the arena. I had not been allowed to watch, and could only wait, panting and exhausted. In those early days, I was raped unconscious almost as a rule by my savage she-wolf lover, allowed to be awake long enough to eat, clean, and pray, before she would ravage me into sleep again.

When she had returned, covered in blood, she tucked in next to me, and we drifted into a sleep interrupted only by her sexual urges. At any given moment, more of my semen was in her body than my own. A week after the first fight, we were moved to finer furnishings at the private estate of Terentius. A modest room, it nonetheless was far better than the cell. I was given proper clothes, and Vulflinde was given fine dresses and sparkling jewelry.

With the fight over, we departed the Coliseum and made our way back to Terentius’ estate. Soon we were back at the domum of Terentius, back in our room. We were on the second floor of the ancillary house, looking out over the barracks where the other gladiators lived, and the lit braziers and torches which lit the inside of the compound.

After a small meal (relatively small, at any rate), We lay together on thick furs, on the ground behind our table and couches. I felt at her womb gently.

“You are sure?” I asked.

She nodded. “I am never late,” she said. “And it has been two moons.”

I looked in wonder at her womb, and thought about the tiny life inside it. It would either be a proud wolfgirl or a scrappy young Roman.

“I don’t want you fighting with a child in your belly,” I said.

She sighed. “What choice do we have?” She asked. “You do not think it wise to tell Terentius.”

I shook my head vigorously. “No,” I said. We both understood why. “We must look to other options.”

“Coins?”

I licked my lips. “I have managed to save some of the money which Terentius has given us, both as your reward and the stipend he gives me for working on his accounts.” I said.

“I cost very much,” Vulflinde said. “Is it enough?”

“Not to buy our freedom,” I replied. I looked about, and lowered my voice. “Enough to get us out of the city…” I began.

Vulflinde’s eyes widened. “Escape?”

I nodded.

Vulflinde thought a moment, then clutched her womb. “Not enough just to leave Rome. Terentius will send men. Trackers. Arena likely better bet for baby to survive. At least, until I show. Will they make me fight?”

“I doubt it. Terentius will want his new prospective slave to be well secured,” I said bitterly. “For auction.”

Vulflinde looked pained for a split second. “Maybe we just take up swords, and cut our way out. Baby die in womb, but never slave.”

I took a deep breath, and I put my hand to her face. “I guess we must put our faith in God for now. I did not expect to ever be in this position, and yet God has given us each other. Perhaps if we pray, and keep our eyes open, we will see the path forward.”

Vulflinde grunted. “I like Keristan God, but wish He would be more direct.”

“He doesn’t work that way,” I said. But I took her paws in my hands. I felt a sudden surge of emotion, perhaps natural male instinct, or perhaps it was the Spirit within me. “But I promise you: our child will not be a slave.”

Vulflinde, with her simple Faith, smiled at me. She kissed me on the lips tenderly. “I believe you. I believe your God favors you.”

“I have been blessed by him,” I replied. “In the oddest of ways.”

Vulflinde nuzzled into my shoulder, which was a bit like if Cerberus were nuzzling a small child. “As have I. My dream is…” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I win the rudius.”

“I think you could,” I said. “But I fear for your safety in the arena.”

Vulflinde laughed. “I don’t fear that,” she said with a dismissive handwave: “I like to day dream it: You get lots of money, and one day you be the one sitting in important box, and having servants. You will be Senator, or Consul-“

“I couldn’t be one of those,” I replied gently.

“Why?” She asked, confused. As she thought, she answered her own question. “because Karistan?”

“It’s no little thing. Christianity is illegal, punishable by death.”

“That is stupid, stupid law,” Vulflinde said angrily. “You best man in Rome. Bravest. Cutest. Best dick. Should be Consul. Senator, even,” she frowned. “Which one higher up?”

I laughed. “Consul is. But the Senate doesn’t pick its members by best dick,” I said. “Although some say that the biggest dicks do wind up on the rolls.”

Vulflinde blinked at me a moment. “I mean, we could measure…”

“No, no. It is a figure of speech,” I said. “It means that some people consider the Senators to be jerks.”

“Jerk is dick?”

“It can be.”

“Oh. Well, Romans should make statue to your jerk. Maybe one day…”

“No, no, no…” I said with another laugh. “I don’t think I would want to sit long enough for such a thing to be sculpted.”

Vulflinde giggled (a delightful sound), and kissed me on the nose. “You are cute, Karistan Remus. I will have you.”

She put her paw behind my head. Her skin was covered in dried salt from sweat, and moved slowly with tiredness. Despite this, her bulging arm muscles contracted, and she brought my face in between her legs with steady force.

“Lick, Roman slave,” she commanded. Her breathing was deep. She loved to he serviced, to be worshipped, after she had killed in the arena.

She brought my face in, up to her wolf slit, until my lips and nose were wet. Inhaling, I smelled the potent scent of her womanhood, and saw it glisten with wetness. I pulled away a little, just to feel the pressure of her paw as she forced me back against her. I had no choice.

“Wolf-Queen say, Lick,” she commanded again. “You have no choice, Roman Slave.”

I pressed my tongue into her slit, tasting the potent fluid and the softness of her pussy. I kissed her as I would kiss her face, tenderly, and in response she growled. Like a beast-woman, she pressed herself against my lips.

“Mmmmm…good…” she growled. I heard her take in an aggressive breath. “Slave. Good slave.”

She knew that I liked to be called her slave, that I liked to be used in this way. And she liked to use me as rough as she could, after she had killed. I could taste her sweat on her skin, and the potent juices of her pussy. Her vagina was shaved clean, and I licked her smooth lips. I felt her thighs squeeze against my ears, heard the blood flowing in them.

I licked at Vulflinde’s vagina, feeling it quiver, pulse, and quake at my tongue’s movements. Vulflinde, growling, suddenly released my head. With her paw she tapped my forehead.

“Lay flat,” she commanded.

I fell back onto the furs, looking up at the cracked stone ceiling. Vulflinde quickly filled my view, and I stared up at her massive thighs, her full breasts, and her clenched, sharp fangs. She looked so mighty and powerful, and she put her hands on her hips.

“Now, I fuck your face, Roman Slave. You keep tongue out and don’t struggle. You let me fuck out all my energy on you. Understand?”

“Yes,” I intoned, staring eagerly at the hole that would soon fuck my face.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Domina!” I cried.

She settled in onto my mouth, lowering her moist slit. As tasty and dominating as she was before, now she brought the whole weight of her body down upon me, and I was totally at her mercy as she slid along my face, her powerful thigh and groin muscles squeezing and pulsing, enveloping and fucking my poor tongue until I moaned. I breathed in, and her scent became the air that filled my lungs. Her sex became my breath, my heart beating from her scent.

I could see nothing, and I was covered, as she fucked me. Her hands found my wrists, and she pressed me down into the furs, fucking my mouth, using me for her pleasure.

And she was getting pleasure. The thrill of giving her good feelings, of knowing that her cries were from my tongue, made my loins swell. She went at me harder, sliding her pussy on my face with a loud squishing sound. It was almost scary, but I loved it, and I moaned.

My moan was what sent her over. She cried out, almost in pain, before she began to utter many, many cries, her pussy gyrating against my lips, her vaginal walls quivering.

She came, letting out a powerful, loud howl as her cunt juices gushed into my mouth and down my throat. She rubbed herself furiously with her paw as she climaxed, her vaginal walls contracting on my tongue and drawing all the saliva from it. I felt my stiff penis quake, and it even discharged a little from sheer ecstasy.

It wouldn’t do for me to not be properly pleasured, and so she straddled my face again, this time facing toward my swollen cock. I felt the warmth and wetness on my shaft as she took me into her mouth, before her pussy lowered again on my face. She always got more orgasms than I did, and I loved that. I loved being used. Even now, though she wanted to pleasure me, it was her hunger for my moans and screams, for my cum, that she was truly after.

When it came to it, though I gave her more orgasms, I was at her mercy when it came to pleasure. Her merest lick upon my manhood could upend my entire world, and now she happily mashed her pussy into my face again as she sucked me down to my shaft. We both climaxed again, and I squirted into her mouth with a loud cry, which she eagerly swallowed.

Vulflinde piled off me, shuddering. Sweat and fluid exchange had made us both thirsty, and so she poured us both water from a clay pitcher. Then, she clutching me in her arms, she licked my face and kissed my lips, my ferocious wolf now a gentle, adoring puppy who wanted nothing more than to cuddle affectionately with her man.

We lay there together for hours, until the sun reached its zenith. Vulflinde’s mighty head rested over my heart, using me as a pillow, her muscled arm outstretched across me, pinning me in place. Her hot breath hit my neck in a rhythm, and on her face was a happy, contented smile. Whatever happened, I would treasure this moment, and I shut my eyes.

“God,” I whispered. “I thank you for all that you have given to me.”

“Oh sure, give him all the credit,” A familiar and yet wholly unwanted voice said. “At least you didn’t thank him for the room, or the couch you both aren’t using.”

Shooting up and turning with a start, I saw the rotund form of Terentius in our doorway. Our slave-owner was in his priestly vestments, and a swarthy man in a fine tunic stood next to him. I let out a small startled yelp.

“Terentius!” I exclaimed.

Feeling my sudden movement and hearing my alarm, my sleeping wolfgirl opened her eyes and jumped up. Seeing the two unwelcome men, she shrieked.

“Assassins!” She cried, rising up in anger. She grasped up a dagger from the table, and though naked, she stood ready to fight.

“Easy, Vulflinde,” Terentius said in an even tone, holding up his hands. “it is I, your Master.”

“Terentius, why did you not knock?” I shouted.

“You have a relaxed attitude with your slaves, Terentius,” the swarthy man said.

“I have a relaxed attitude with Vulflinde and her husband,” he replied. “Oh, put that knife down, Vulflinde. I wouldn’t have disturbed you, but I have a request from the Palace.”

“Pallas? That him?” My fiery wolf-wife asked incredulously, misinterpreting the word. She looked at the swarthy man. “You go now, Pallas. Not interested in you, or your bearded Greek penis.”

“I am not here for any sexual dalliance, I assure you. I am Marcus, the actor,” the swarthy man said. He bowed to Vulflinde and myself, more a gesture of self-satisfaction than greeting.

I recognized the name, and remembered what I had heard of it. I touched my she-wolf’s back gently, as a signal to cool her anger. Her nostrils flared, and she huffed, but she stopped speaking.

I cleared my throat. “What can we do for you, Marcus?” I asked.

“This is Remus, Marcus,” Terentius said. “He is a learned man. Quite reasonable, aside from mad bouts of unsightly Christianity. He does sums for my books, and does them quite well.”

“A pleasure to meet you both,” the actor said in a sickly sweet tone. “I have been sent by the Empress Whoratia. The Empress is turning forty on the calends, an event to be marked by games and fights.”

“Yes, I am to fight The Hydra of Falstaff,” Vulflinde said.

“A masterful display, I’m sure. At any rate, tonight she is having an early birthday party for a few of her old friends, this year’s retiring Vestal Virgins. She is an admirer of yours, Vulflinde, and has been since you began your fights. She would like you to attend, and put on an exhibition of your…skills.”

Vulflinde narrowed her eyes. “I do not eat woman pie.”

Marcus laughed. “The Empress has heard you have a lover. She is interested in a gladiatorial battle between you two, a kind of sexual contest, where the winner shall deflower the loser.”

“In public?” Vulflinde asked with some alarm.

“Before the Empress, and the Vestals,” Marcus answered.

Vulflinde fretted, whimpering a little.

“Come now, Vulflinde. You have killed people in public. Is sex really any worse?” Terentius asked.

“Sex is for Remus, and me. Not for Roman harlot or her fancy friends in vests…”

“Easy…” Terentius said through clenched teeth, casting a sideways glance at the stone-faced Marcus. “Don’t insult the Empress, or you’ll get my nuts crushed in a vice. Remus, please talk to your she-wolf, will you? Explain a
That a refusal could get us a killed.”

I inhaled. I had to consider this carefully. I thought about Vulflinde’s quickening. It was one thing to risk my life defiantly, but Vulflinde’s? And our child’s? I couldn’t, not unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Vulflinde…” I said quietly. I reached up and took her paw in my hand.

She looked about indecisively. “Not want Empress to touch you,” she said.

“Rest assured, your Remus is not her type,” Marcus said. “She only sleeps with men who are wealthy, famous, or related to her.”

She looked unsoothed. “You think we should do it?” She asked me.

“We must,” I said, with a sigh. I rubbed her arm, and when she looked in my eyes and saw how calm I was, she smiled.

“Splendid!” Marcus replied. He clapped his hands together, making a sharp sound. “We’ll depart at once.”

“And I suppose I must stay away?” Terentius asked dryly.

“It is for the Empress and her Vestal friends, only. Men are not allowed, save for young Remus here, myself, and her Eunuchs.” Marcus replied.

“Fair enough, so long as my property is returned in good order, or I am compensated.”

“Of course,” Marcus said with a bow.

“I’d rather not have an extended audience with Her Excellency, anyways. Have them home tomorrow, then. I need Remus to go over my books,” Terentius said.

“I’ll be sure to send what’s left of him on,” Marcus said with a laugh.

We dressed, and departed with the actor and his waiting guards. We walked through the streets of the city as the sun set, passing through the slums and toward the Palatine Hill upon which the Imperial Palace dominated the landscape. We were permitted, at least, to walk without chains or stocks, and I allowed myself a moment to enjoy this rare walk in the greatest city in the world. Perhaps I should hate Rome for what it had done to me, but I couldn’t. It was a part of me. It was me.

Vulflinde drew quite the crowd as we walked along the thoroughfares and crossed towards the Palatine. She was a natural performer, walking with that stoic barbarian nature that was irresistible to fans of the arena. Marcus walked in front of us, waving at the crowd with a wide smile, eager to perform. I clenched my teeth as I recalled the stories that I had heard of him.

“Marcus…” I murmured to myself as we began crossing a bridge. This meant that the crowd could not follow us, and waited behind and before us. “It’s always an actor…”

Vulflinde turned to me. “What, husband?” She asked quietly.

“Nothing,” I whispered. “Just was commenting on our guide, the actor.”

“What wrong with actor? He seem nice.”

“Seem is the correct word; actors are false,” I said. “They carry themselves as superior to Kings and Queens, and craft lies as easily as they breathe. They are practiced deceivers.”

“Worse things than deceivers,” Vulflinde said with a shrug. “Could be killer, like me.”

“That…that isn’t your fault,” I protested. “Even so, you are honest. Honorable. Marcus…Marcus lies. Cheats. Jesus came to testify to Truth. We must, also. A Christian must not lie.”

“Karistan God hate actors?” She asked.

“Well…there is more to it than that,” I whispered.

I looked back and forth around, to make sure we were not heard. Vulflinde, seeing that I was about to impart a secret, widened her eyes and did the same. Her tail went straight, and motionless.

“Marcus doesn’t just act. He procures ‘acts’ for the Empress,” I whispered. “They say that he is her procurer of lovers. And that he does the job himself, when he can find no one to her satisfaction.”

“But Empress is married to Emperor, correct?” Vulflinde asked, totally not understanding the implication.

“Yes, she is,” I said. “But she sleeps with other men…”

Vulflinde recoiled. She covered her open mouth with one of her paws and her ears went flat. “No!” She exclaimed.

“Shhhh!” I admonished. “Be quiet, uxor cara, lest we be heard.” I pointed to Marcus. “They say that he brings her the men, as he brings us.”

Vulflinde walked on in stunned silence for a moment, then giggled.

“Big, bad leader of Romans is cuckold!” She said with a titter.

“Yes, and I would avoid saying that,” I admonished. “Unless you want to be shot with a ballista.”

“Almost worth it,” she said. “Nice to know that bastard being punished for burning farm and killing Uncle.”

I reached over and took her paw, squeezing it gently. Though her eyes were sad, she smiled a little.

We arrived at the Palace, a building to rival the Coliseum in size. It was a massive complex with fine marble columns and a red, pointed roof. Guards in purple cloaks stood outside. The Praetorian elite, the Emperor’s personal guard (and likely future assassins) stood watchfully.

Vulflinde growled at them. They had been the ones to capture her and burn her village, and while she had acclimated to some of Rome, I guessed she would never acclimate to them. For their part, the guards were unintimidated. I prayed that we would pass without someone’s head being crushed in a paw, and God answered my prayers.

Marcus took us into the slave quarters, into a holding room which was furnished with simple wooden tables and benches.

“I take my leave of you,” Marcus said. “Food shall be brought, and then you will be kitted for battle.”

We were given food and drink, vinegar water with lamb, herbs, and anchovies. The slaves here ate better than the common Roman citizen, I realized.

Vulflinde consumed a shank of mutton, eating it bone and all with loud crunches. When it was all gone, my she-wolf dabbed at her mouth with a cloth in most ladylike fashion.

“I was thinking: we should probably choreograph the fight out,” I said.

Vulflinde frowned at me. “What?”

“You know, plan out the fight. Like I think maybe if I kind of swing high…”

“Wait, you mean practice deception?”

“Well not deception,” I said. “Just act.”

Vulflinde frowned. “But you said acting was wrong. Not Karistan. Lead to adultery.”

“No, no, I was saying that Marcus was deceitful,” I said. “That actors are.”

“But this contest. You want…” her eyes widened in shock. “You want to cheat?!”

“No, it’s just a show. There isn’t actually a fight.”

“They want us to fight,” Vulflinde said.

“They want us to pretend to fight,” I replied. “They want to watch us have sex.”

“Right, I know. After fight,” Vulflinde said. “We fight, but not to kill. Stronger of us take the other, then we have sex in front of weird women. But we must fight first.”

“Well I think that isn’t necessary. I’m thinking we just hit each other’s shields a few times…”

“But that is lying…” Vulflinde cried, confused. Her nostrils flared. “You trying to TRICK me into throwing fight!”

“What?” I asked.

“I know you, you sneaky Roman. You smarter than me, and want to trick me so you can pull my ears while you take me from behind!”

“Is…is that something you want?”

“Hah! You never pull MY ears, Roman! I will take you!”

“Well, undoubtedly you’ll win,” I said. “Unless you trip on something. I like it like that. But we still can plan…”

“You think I need cheat to win, then?” She pressed, her voice raised louder. “I don’t need cheat!”

“That’s not what I’m saying…” I protested.

She leaned in close, and put a paw into my chest. Her nose was inches from mine. “I going to get you.”

I swallowed a loud gulp of air. “U-uxor cara…” I began.

The door whined open. Two serving women stood in the doorway. “Vulflinde, please follow us,” they said.

“Save pleas for when you pinned, Karistan,” she growled. But as if to calm me – or let me know how much trouble I was in – she licked the side of my face with her long, smooth tongue, and her eyes gleamed with mischief.

“See you on the sand, Karistan,” she said with a smirk.

She walked off after the serving women, her tail wagging as her tight rump wiggled back in forth in a dance. So much for having steady legs tomorrow, I mused.

The door shut, but I was not alone for long. The door opened, and Marcus entered, along with several eunuchs carrying kit for battle. My tunic was removed. I was given a mail shirt over my naked chest, which chafed terribly, and a rather tight loin cloth, which chafed even worse. The eunuchs tied a large, wet object around my chainmail coat, like a cool gourd dipped in something sticky.

“A…bladder?” I asked, aware by its was filled with something. It smeared red liquid against my the metal links of my mail and my bare chest beneath.

“Of a calf,” Marcus said. “Full of pig’s blood. The first to spill the bladder will be the victor, and entitled to the spoils.”

The actor handed gave me a buckler and a short sword, and led me upstairs and into a darkened room.

“Wait here,” he commanded. “

I thought the fight might begin right away, but it didn’t. From the room, I began to strategize. I felt the sword in my hands. The edges were dulled, save for the very tip, which retained some sharpness.

I had played at fighting with other boys often enough to have the rudiments of holding them, but I was painfully aware of my lack of good training or real experience. I was, after all, a scholar and a farmer. I did have a fair experience with Vulflinde by this point, but that only meant that I knew just how easily she could manhandle me (manhandle being the most accurate term to describe it.)

But this was just cutting a simple bladder on Vulflinde’s stomach. I reasoned that if I could get in close to her, all I needed to do was make even the tiniest cut. I could trick her for that. I knew her well, after all. In a real fight, I would be doomed, but in the cutting of a bag…well, I could cut a calf bladder.

I smiled to myself. That wolf ear comment…there was something to that, I thought. I wondered what it would be like, to take my she-wolf from behind, and thrust into her while I held her ears, in front of a crowd of female onlookers. I felt myself harden a little at the thought.

But I felt a little bad about it. I was sure Vulflinde would enjoy the sex (we had done similar to it before), but imagine if her wispy, scholarly husband managed to best her in a fight, even one as simple as nicking a bag of blood. She would be humiliated in front of the Empress. She would be mocked and ridiculed by the gladiators, and it would affect her. She’d never say that it did, but she was proud, and strong.

I could never, ever hurt her like that. If I had to, I would throw the fight, I told myself. I said an earnest prayer to God, praying that whatever happened, Vulflinde would be okay.

“Marcus, have them brought in,” I heard a woman’s voice call out.

The room was bathed in light, and I was beckoned into the dining room, which glimmered despite the setting of the sun. There were three couches upon which women sat, with tables of savory foods in the center. The whole room was decorated with scenes of Jove’s many lovers. Each couch, also, had a carved likeness of one of Jove’s lovers at its head, like women hanging from the rostrum of a ship. Slaves, servants, and guards lined the walls.

The Empress was a tiny thing, with an almost boyish form, who had a slightly long nose and dark eyes. She had a charming smile, and could be said to have a certain beauty, but there was something profoundly off in her eyes.

A lifetime of debauchery and hedonism had made them tired, and by their dull look it was clear she was left incapable of feeling anything else. It was well known that she cuckolded the Emperor, which given his penchant for having people shot with scorpions at close range, was either incredibly reckless or incredibly stupid. In any case, her scandalous behavior was known to all except her husband. She sat alone with a couch all to herself. The head post was a carving not one of Jove’s lovers, but of Thetis, the mother of Achilles. I understood the meaning – the one woman whom Jove could not have, or it would lead to his downfall. The Empress was intimating in her way that she was greater than her Lord.

At the other couches, laying with a practiced elegance, were the Vestals. Though middle-aged, their lives of (purported) purity had left them with smooth skin and pretty faces. Even if they had not necessarily honored their vows (and I’m reasonably sure that they were not, given they were friends with the Empress), a lifetime of tending a sacred flame had left them with ample time to keep fit and clean, and soon they would retire into a society that was eager to sample their ‘virginity.’

My She-wolf emerged from the other side of the room. She had been dressed in a chainmail bra and skirt, designed as much to show her form as to offer any protection. She smiled at me with her sharp teeth, and mouthed a kiss at me. My heart nearly stopped. Every so often, I would get a true glimpse of the beast woman who was my wife, and I would reel from it.

She bore a longsword which gleamed in the light, doubtless dulled as my sword was, and a round, wooden shield which covered her frame. She was far better armed than I was, I noted wryly. Her green eyes sparkled in the dark. Her muscles, gleaming in the light of the braziers, rippled and moved with power, and the small traces of sweat made my mouth water.

I realized in that moment just how stupid my earlier musings of easy victory had been. I remembered her effortlessly holding me down to tickle me, or the time she held me upside-down by the ankle to suck my penis to a massive, ball-emptying orgasm. She could stop me from cutting the bladder tied around my own waste, let alone the one around hers.

The eyes of the Empress lit up as she saw us enter, and I believed I could see what it was in her nature that had charmed a Roman aristocrat like the Emperor. There was an impish curiosity there, a remnant of a clever girl before years of pampering and lust had corrupted her.

“Ah, the wolf-woman herself!” Whoratia exclaimed as she looked to my wife. The Empress picked up a fig from banquet of food on the table and put it in her small mouth. “I have so wanted to meet you, ever since I saw you fight Borous. Though I take credit for that kill – he died on me the night before.”

The Vestals all tittered at the Empress’ morbid joke.

“Borous was good fighter,” Vulflinde said grimly, ignoring the Empress’ open statement of infidelity. “It shame he died, but cut in shin was too deep. Turned green.”

Whoratia yawned at my penitent she-wolf. She looked over at me, and her eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t look too exciting,” she said dryly. “I would hope you’d have someone more…exotic. Perhaps a tall, foreign boy. I have some, if you’d like to sample?”

“Not interested,” Vulflinde said quietly. It was a tone that I recognized, one when she was very close to smashing something. “Remus is best boy in Rome.”

“Yes…a boy,” the Empress echoed with disdain, oblivious to her danger. “Well, it should still be fascinating to watch. I will derive some pleasure from watching a Roman man get beaten and fucked. Very well, Marcus, let’s have the fight!”

At Marcus’ direction, the slaves and servants along the walls darted in to begin the conversion of the dining room into an impromptu arena. The tables of food were lifted and removed, then the servants lifted the couches -with the Vestals and Empress still on them- and moved them back, creating a space of quite considerable area with couches on three of its sides.

Marcus motioned to us, and we moved to two opposite corners of the formed rectangle. It was an arena, though not of sand. The floor was ornate and patterned, with a mural of Europa being carried across the sea on the back of Jove.

My Vulflinde stared at me with a seriousness that made my knees quake. Her green eyes were like something that would be staring out from a bush in the darkness, filling me with a primal fear. And yet, they were so pure and oval, that as frightening as her gaze was, it was captivating, too. And there remained that gleam, a gleam that made my manhood stiff with eager anticipation of defeat…

“Bring wine!” the Empress called out. As she did so, she held out her cup, and a servant raced over to fill it.

My eyes were on the servant filling the Empress’ cup. I watched as the clay jar tilted, poured red liquid into the golden chalice. I licked my lips, wishing for a taste of it. By Vulflinde’s lolling tongue and panting, I could tell that she was thirsty, too. The other Vestals were treated to the same libation with delight.

The ladies laughed and cheered, already beginning to make their favorite known. Wine had flowed freely in the night, and the normally reserved sisters, in the presence of the unreserved Empress, began to let out some playful japes.

“Bring him down, Vulflinde!” One called out.

“Show Roman men some humility, for once!” Said another.

“Make this Christian a little less smug!”

“Marcus, announce our gladiators!” The Empress commanded, sipping her dark red wine.

Marcus entered into the center of the European arena. “Greetings, distinguished ladies. Tonight, we give you a very different Damnatio ad Bestias. To mark the succor of the twins Romulus and Remus by their surrogate mother, we shall have a Roman man fight against a great she-wolf, the first to spill the bladder of blood, shall be the victor…”

“And take her spoils!” One of the Vestals called out laughingly.

“First, the condemned…” Marcus began. “He has refused to offer incense to the Emperor, and instead seeks to pray to the God of the Christians who burned Rome. He was sentenced to the arena, and our great, merciful Emperor has given him this beautiful death, a thrall to a barbarian hound-woman. Who better to face the she-wolf in her lair, beneath a full moon, than Remus Antonius?”

There were several ‘mock’ boos. I locked eyes with the Empress, who stared at me with a mixture of mild annoyance that I was not taller or more interesting.

“And now, from the fierce, untamed savage lands beyond Germania, comes one of the most ferocious beast women of the Coliseum. A true veteran of the arena, I present: Vulflinde!”

My Wolfgirl was cheered by the Vestals. She clanged her sword against her shield loudly, raised her blade, then let out a fulminating howl which made a servant along the walls drop a tray.

“The fight shall be until the first bag is split. Then the winner shall sample the loser,” Marcus said.

“Alright, boys out!” The Empress shouted, clapping her hands and motioning with her thumbs to the door behind her.

“Certainly the guards should stay…” Marcus posited.

The Empress laughed. “I shall have my female guards attend us,” She said. “But there shall be no problem, correct?”

I nodded, looking at Vulflinde. “We will be good,” I said.

Vulflinde nodded.

The Empress motioned to Marcus. “Go. It’ll be just us women,” she looked at me haughtily. “And the boy.”

Marcus, the guards, and the male slaves filed out and into the hallway beyond. The Empress’ female guards entered, carrying spears.

Vulflinde pointed her blade at me, her eyes gleaming now with light from the braziers, her lips curled into a smile which revealed her long fangs. My heart raced, and I felt my knees knock. She was goddamn terrifying. And beautiful.

She walked toward me, stalking me like a wolf stalks a bleating sheep. We turned to the Empress and saluted, putting our shields against our chests and our swords over them.

“Ave, Imperatrix: Morituri te salutant!!” Vulflinde and I said in unison.

The Empress looked at me, and smiled. “Let’s hope you last longer than Borous did.”

The Vestals laughed at this double-entendre, and the combat began.

The fact that I had shorter weapons – and a smaller shield – put me at a grave disadvantage already. She already had a so much greater reach, that I could have a spear, and still be at a disadvantage. If I were going to attempt to strike at my she-wolf, I would need to dart in. But she was both stronger and quicker, with better reflexes and stamina, and would surely be able to easily deflect and riposte me.

I was totally in her element, but I resolved to do my best. I darted in, swinging for the bladder with an extended cut with the tip. Despite the mail shirt behind the bladder, I still did not swing hard, for I did not want to risk hurt to Vulflinde or her womb.

She sidestepped my clumsy attack deftly, and instead of slicing my bag open – which she could have done – she gripped me by my chain shirt, lifted me off the ground, and planted a powerful, heart-stopping kiss upon my lips.

Her tongue pressed into my mouth, and plunged against my own, taking over my mouth and so utterly dominating me that I couldn’t think straight. Her lips pressed to mine, so soft yet strong. I was only vaguely aware of feminine laughter in the background, and of my loincloth standing straight out.

As I was seeing stars, she broke our kiss, and tossed me back. I managed to land upon my feet, still reeling from the intense lip lock that she had given me. She was on top of me swiftly, and with a mock snarl she lunged at the bladder around my waist. I only barely blocked the strike with my shield, but my arm felt sore from the strength of her strike. Seeing no opening to counter, I retreated.

“Bah! Shameful!” One of the Vestals called out playfully.

“Get back in there, for the honor of Rome!” Another called out.

Vulflinde smiled wickedly, and I felt a shiver go through my body. This kind of talk always made her aggressive. Anytime I was cast as a Roman, Vulflinde thought it was her duty to conquer me. She redoubled her efforts and lunged at me, putting me to flight with genuine fear that when she caught me, in her exuberance she might break all my bones.

I did not ever turn my back to her, ever, but I was giving ground very freely, much to the derision of the inebriated Vestals and Empress. I had watched Vulflinde long enough to know her strategy. Wolves in the wild would exhaust their enemies and pounce upon them, and she-wolves were no different. Vulflinde was toying with me, but then that was the point. When I would finally tire, she would go in for the kill. And she would be merciless. My penis, ever the fan of being roughly used, was rock hard, eager for the coming defeat even as my mind was somewhat worried that Vulflinde would be TOO excited.

Despite the fact that she was pulling her punches, her sword swings were making my arms sore. My God, was she strong. She was almost as good at fighting as she was at lovemaking, I thought.

I did my best, and lasted longer than I think anyone would have thought, but the end was inevitable. Slowly but surely I began to tire, and the playful japes of the Vestals continued. They were frequently tinged with contempt for me – my posture, my form, my face. It was somewhat unpleasant, but I gave it little thought. My she-wolf grinned at me the whole time. She tended to tune out crowds, owing to her difficulty in understanding Latin even when it was spoken directly to her. Besides, she developed a very single-minded nature when she was hungry…or aroused.

Her favorite pastime was to fuck me into exhaustion, and I was already close to collapse. Sweat was stinging my eyes, and my she-wolf was growing swifter and fiercer, detecting my weakness. My penis was stiff, aching for surrender, eager to be pressed into service.

Finally, I could retreat no more. I prepared to make a final lunge to knick her bag. I did so, and I almost caught her off guard, but she was so quick she leapt aside, and her shield took the tip of my sword. She countered against me swiftly, judging that the time was right. I raised my weapons in defense, but she grabbed my weapon by the blade and tugged it from my hand. She tossed it across the room, and it skittered into the wall next to one of the shocked guards.

I felt a suddenly lightness at my stomach, and realized the bladder was gone. Vulflinde had tugged it free, and was holding it in one of her paws.

“Hey!” I yelled. Instinctively I reached up to grab at my calf bladder, but Vulflinde raised her hand up out of reach, and dangled it over my head. I was forced to leap up at it like a little boy with a mischievous older girl as a tormentor. She grinned down playfully at me, as I tried to jump uselessly and grab at my bladder.

The Vestals and the Empress howled with laughter at the sight.

“What a specimen this wolf woman is,” the Empress said. “A shame this boy is such a disgrace.”

“Well, he’s not a Roman, truly,” a Vestal said. “He’s a Christian. They tried to burn down the city.”

“Indeed. Even so, one would hope a man of Rome, even a Christian, would make a better showing.”

I lowered my hands, and sighed. Vulflinde’s smile faded. All at once, she looked about, and heard the mocking words of the Vestals.

“Quite honestly we should thumbs-down this fool…”

“Get her another one, maybe a nubile young Greek, one who won’t run…”

“I’d much rather see this continue with that nice Parthian,” a dark-haired Vestal said.

“Yes, yes! Fetch the Parthian…” another added giddily.

Vulflinde looked into the faces of the Vestals and the Empress, and how they were curled in mockery. What was for her a bit of playful fun was for them tainted with maliciousness towards her dear Husband.

She growled, then swung her sword at the statue of Jove’s consort, Leto, near the dark-haired Vestal. Despite its dulled edge, her longsword sailed through the ash wood as if it was air, and cut the head and right shoulder off, revealing the bright wood underneath.

The Vestals gasped, and recoiled. The guards along the walls gripped their spears, but they were frozen in fear. It suddenly donned on them that Vulflinde could easily slaughter everyone in the room.

“Husband do well for little man. He tend lambs and learn to read and write, not train to fight. You judge him too harsh,” Vulflinde said to the stunned Vestals and Empress. “Send in your Parthian, and I promise I eat his bones, and drink his blood!”

Vulflinde bit the top of the bladder open with her fangs, then upended the content into her gullet. Blood flowed down her mouth and neck.

Panting and exhausted, I looked at the stunned faces of the Vestals and the Empress This kind of display, as you might have guessed, could go very badly, but in fact, the Vestals and Empress seemed…changed. Vulflinde’s display of ferocious love seemed to kindle something in them, and they regarded me less with mockery, than with admiration. The Empress’ eyes, once so disdainful to me, now softened.

My she-wolf’s raw display of savagery had showed them that I was actually quite tough, and brave. Not only to be willing to cross blades with such a savage barbarian woman, but to bed her every night.

“I, uh…wow!” The Empress exclaimed with wild applause. “You are even more impressively savage that I imagined, wolf woman!”

The other Vestals joined, and even spoke a few kind words about me. The display softened my she-wolf, and as she looked over at her exhausted, vulnerable husband, her arousal overpowered her angry.

“You see nothing, yet,” Vulflinde growled, staring down at me with a smile.

“He does have a certain upright charm,” one of the Vestals said of me.

“Indeed. He is quite brave. And gentle. Did you see how hesitant he was to strike her?”

“A very sweet man, indeed,” the Empress said.

Vulflinde heard this last, and smiled. She knew, too. She leaned over and kissed me on the lips, tenderly, before she let out a savage growl of raw lupine female lust.

The bladder of blood emptied, my defeat was now foregone. With eager yips, like a wolf cub, Vulflinde ripped my shield from my arm (literally, as she tore the handles off the shield and tossed it aside. The Vestals cheered, aware we were entering the final act.

Vulflinde brought me to the ground with a leaping grasp, and the heat and sweat from her body filled my nostrils and lungs, overpowering me with their raw sexual energy. I reeled.

Vulflinde placed her paw on my sweaty chest, and rested it there. I realized she was feeling for my heartbeat. My chest thundered with each beat, vibrating her smooth paw pads. She smiled at me wickedly, then leaned down and licked my face, starting at my neck and ending at my forehead. The Vestals laughed with delight.

My manhood was hard, but I was so sweaty and tired that I could only groan weakly. My she-wolf seemed stronger than ever, and she tore open my mail shirt, exposing my body to the cool air and her rapacious eyes. There was something in them, in those green stars, that I hadn’t seen since that first night together in our cell. A thrill of conquest, an eagerness to consume me, had overtaken her

She caught me in her arms, and with her paw she first pulled off the bladder around her waist and tossed it away. She then tugged at her own chainmail, ripping it as if it was made of straw. Her dark gray breasts dangled freely, and she took my face and plunged it to her bosom. My lips pressed against her erect nipple, and the sweat on her tits entered into my mouth. I whimpered, and moaned, as despite my exhaustion my penis swelled to greater hardness.

The Vestals laughed, and applauded. “Romulus gets his dinner, at last!” They howled with delight.

And so I did. I licked and kissed the soft wolf boobs, and Vulflinde’s powerful arms wrapped around me, pulling me in close and shielding me from the eyes of the onlookers. She stared down at me with a big smile, nuzzling me with her cute, very human nose.

My penis swelled, and her paw worked its way to my simple loincloth. She savored the thin piece of leather which protected my turgid manhood from her molesting paws, and finally I felt the open air against my penis, briefly, before her big fingers closed around it and squeezed.

The release of pleasure, the soothing of my aching member, was transcendent. I moaned into her chest, and began to greedily lick and nibble at her soft, soft breasts. She smiled at me, and cooed, and I feared I might erupt into her paws right there and then.

But Vulflinde knew my body well, and she felt my quaking. She released me, and I throbbed into the air with agonized moans into her breasts. She straddled me, and positioned her powerful legs over me.

She slammed me down into the cold marble, still pushing her breasts into my face. As she forced my cockhead into her waiting womanhood, her breasts remained pressed against my mouth, her hard abs pushed into my stomach.

Within her vaginal walls, surrounded and squeezed relentlessly, my penis entered into a state of bliss. Vulflinde growled. She pushed her cleavage into my face, as she thrust her powerful hips down onto me. I could feel the muscles straining, feel her abs contract against my stomach. My heart thundered.

Vulflinde rose up and down, up and down, on my shaft. She was forceful, and merciless, in her quest to both give pleasure and take it from me. My eyes bulged, and cries left my body involuntarily. My wild screams were absorbed into her soft breasts and the hard muscles behind them. Just barely I could hear the Vestals…were they moaning?

I could not exactly tell, but it almost sounded as if watching my wolf-wife conquer me had driven these inebriated pagan nuns to pleasure themselves. The room became alive with moaning that was neither mine nor my wife’s. Vulflinde growled and snarled above it all, and let out little coos of pleasure. With each of her sweet cries, her pussy would gush her potent juices all over me, and I would feel as if I was going to burst.

Her vaginal walls milked my cock, expertly squeezing me. I was her territory, after all, and my penis gave itself to her almost independent of my will. But I poured all of my joy and good feeling into her heavenly breasts, kissing them and licking them, to her giggling pleasure. Her arms held me down, and she slid on my shaft faster and more ferociously. I was slick with her juices.

Exhausted, and yet drunk with lust, I hung on to consciousness solely because of the intense pleasure that I was being given to me. I could feel my she-wolf’s contracting muscles as they pulled on the seed in my loins, working to turn me into a living earthquake, and to make my manhood a fulminating volcano.

My body was hers, and I was an utter slave to the pleasure she gave me. Despite this, Vulflinde was going to climax first, for she was using me to get her pleasure. To be used this way, now, after my utter defeat, to have my face buried in her tits, to know there was no escape, was making me shudder with ecstasy. She gained pleasure in taking, and I in giving, and we both loved it.

Her cries began first, but as her vagina tightened on my shaft and cockhead, I felt my body surrender to the might and power of my savage she-wolf. I cried out – still into her chest- as her pussy slid up and down my cock, then made a final thrust to touch my balls.

Her howls of pleasure filled the room, joined by a chorus of the watching women, now fully aroused and engorged by watching this vulgar act of utter sexual congress and love. At the sounds of my wolf’s orgasm, I cried out, and erupted. At the moment of my climax, everything went white. The pleasure was so great, the rumbling in my ears so complete, that I think I saw the Gates of Heaven itself. Raw, total ecstasy exited my body with each shot of my sperm that entered into my wife’s lupine vagina. She milked me clear through, until my body was numb and tingling, and her own titanic orgasm subsided with bulging muscles.

We finished, staring at each other with wide eyes. We both laughed. I panted weakly as my she-wolf stared down at me full of adoration and reverence. We kissed. There was only the two of us and our love for each other, and the sweat from our bodies. It was as our panting subsided that I noticed a strange sound, like steam rising from a pot, all around us. As I strained to look at the noise, I realized that it was hissing.

Vulflinde heard it too, and her head shot up, just as did mine. Looking around at the Vestals, it became clear that they were not hissing as some kind of comment on our performance. Their tongues had become forked, and where before they had the legs and lower halves of women, now they had scaled tails, coiling and extending over the couches. Their teeth were fangs, their eyes slit irises. They had de-aged, and looked like women in the prime of their youth, maidens of twenty, with gorgeous features and snake tails.

“What the-” I began.

“Oh!” Vulflinde said, covering her mouth. “We must have given off a Madchenwunder…”

“Mad-chen-wun-der?” I asked, repeating the word slowly.

“Yes,” Vulflinde said with her eyes wide. “Big, big flash of light! You must have seen!”

“Well…I thought that was my soul almost entering paradise,” I said.

Vulflinde blushed. “Oh, well, it was, kind of. When Beast girl and Human boy have sex, a really really good sex, sometimes big flash bring lot of…of…” she struggled for a word. “Power? Power that make Human girls into Beast girls.”

I rose up, looking about with wide eyes. It wasn’t just the Vestals. Behind them, the female guards had turned into lizard women, their bodies covered with flames. They stood confused, blinking, trying to determine why they were on fire, and why it didn’t hurt. It was then that I heard a sound, like hooves clopping. Swallowing, I looked to the Empress.

Whoratia was now half a horse, with two long, swirling horns coming from the top of her head. She was sitting on the couch, her horse lower half curled up alongside her top. She was just there, blinking, in shock. They all seemed to be taking it very well, but then it was an awful lot to deal with.

“Huh…” the Empress said, looking at her horse parts. “I, ah, I seem to have changed…”

“I feel a little ssssstrange,” one of the Vestals said. She held up the tip of her tail to her face, and brushed the scales against his cheek.

“Yessssss…” another agreed. “We should have the boyssss come back.”

“Yessss…” the Vestals all said in unison. “Bring the boysssss.”

“That niceee Parthian…”

“Cool it, girls. We need to figure this out. Marcus!” Whoratia called. “Marcus, come here.”

Marcus and the male slaves and guards entered. The actor’s eyes widened, and shock was the major reaction. Everyone stared at each other for a moment in stunned silence.

“Oh shit,” Marcus said. “I think I’m in trouble.”

“I think…” the Empress began, as her tail fluttered and slapped her side lazily. “I think I want a carrot.”

“What am I going to do?” Marcus asked, absently grabbing a carrot from one of the food tables along the wall and handing it to the Empress “I am going to catch hell for this!”

“Why would you?” I asked. “Nobody foresaw this happening.”

He paused. “That’s…that’s a good point,” he said.

“Still,” The Empress said, crunching away on her carrot. “This might be hard to explain.”

“What’s wrong with the truth?” I asked.

“With other people, that isn’t a bad idea,” The Empress replied. “But my husband is kind of…erratic, and my enemies at court would try to use this against me.” She shifted. “The fact I seem to have become a…um…TWO horned horse will undoubtedly cause some to question the fidelity of my marriage.”

“You are taking this rather well, all things considered,” I said.

She shifted her shoulders with a frown. “I feel pretty good,” she admitted. “I feel kinda bad about all the sleeping around I did, but I really want to go see my husband. And, um, take all these flaming women with me. I wonder where the Emperor is right now. Of course, I dare not go to him without assurances that he won’t launch me out of a catapult.”

“Does he hate beastwomen?”

“N-no? I’m not sure. We’ve never really talked. He had his siege weapons and I had my lovers, you see,” Whoratia said.

“If I may advise, I’d bring Terentius in on this,” I said.

“The priest? What for?” The Empress asked.

“He’s pretty good at thinking on his feet,” I said.

A servant was dispatched, and after three quarters of an hour, the disheveled Terentius arrived, his priestly garment haphazardly tossed on.

“Your servant said it was urgent, Marcus. I hope that nothing happened to my wolf, or it will cost-” He took one look around the room, at the snake women, lizard women, and horsewoman. “…oh.”

“Apparently beast women can give off some kind of magic that turns normal women into monsters,” I said.

“Oh yes, of course. A mana surge,” Terentius said.

“You know about this?”

“Every slave-owner does. Getting a crop of monster women is a bonanza in the markets. If everyone’s climaxing it can cause all the women to leech the mana, and they change into the beast of their soul. It is very rare, though. I never heard of one changing over a dozen women at once.”

“Guess it was a big one,” I said. Vulflinde blushed.

“That must have been a hell of a scene,” Terentius said, elbowing Marcus.

“Well sadly, I was outside,” he said with disappointment. “So now what?”

“There’s nothing to it, now. These things happen. Can’t reverse it.”

“I, ah, need something to tell the Emperor,” The Empress said. “About my…condition. I need the Emperor to believe it is a good thing, a positive light. There is money involved if you help me, and a vice to the groin if you don’t.”

Terentius ignored the threat completely, but the former interested him. “It is appropriate that you summoned me. What’s something that the Emperor wants, but the Senate is fighting him on?” Terentius asked.

“Well, there’s his harbor in Ostia,” The Empress answered. “They don’t want to pay for it, and he needs funds.”

“Very good. Call around the servants,” he said.

The servants funneled near to him. They were still in shock, but seeing the priest standing in the center, looking very officious, they settled in for an explanation.

“By Jupiter and Mars, you must all swear not to reveal what I am about to say,” the fat Jovian priest said. He looked at Vulflinde and myself, and winked. I, a devout Christian who rejected all gods except Christ as false, probably had more faith in the Roman gods than Terentius did.

Terentius puffed out his portly chest. “Clearly this is an omen,” he said. “A Roman man breeds with a Wolf, and from it come a score of temple serpents, and the Empress becomes a…2-horned unicorn…” he cleared his throat. “This is a message from Apollo, and it means, quite clearly, that we must have a new harbor built in Ostia.”

One guy – there’s always one guy – opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, but Terentius shot him a glare with a raised eyebrow that let him know that if he asked the question, he would be made to feel immensely stupid. He shut his mouth and retreated. The other servants looked on, confused, unsure why this would be an omen for that, but a priest of Jove had just said it, so it had to be true.

The staff were dismissed, and the Empress, who had never seemed truly worried, seemed positively bubbly. “Well I must say, this has been a fine evening.”

Whoratia reached out her hand to Vulflinde, who took it quizzically. “I am most pleased you have come – in all senses. You have a friend in the Imperial palace, you, and your sweet young husband.”

Marcus was sent to escort the snake women – Terentius said they were called Shiro Hebi – back to the Atrium Vestae, at the bottom of the Palatine. I wished him luck, aware that one or two had resolved to nab the cute actor for themselves.

Whoratia looked to the fire lizards – which Terentius called Salamanders. “Come girls,” she said. “We are going to see the Emperor. Leave your underwear here – you won’t need it. Farewell, all – I’m going to go surprise the Emperor. If I had to guess, he is in his workshop, working on his crazy siege engines…”

Whoratia stood, and filed out with the grace and dignity of an imperial ‘two-horned unicorn’ (Terentius didn’t need to tell us what a two-horned horse woman was. Everybody knew that). The Salamanders dutifully took off their underwear and left it where they stood, then filed out behind her. With the Empress gone, Vulflinde and I dressed, and we walked back to Terentius’ estate.

As we walked onward, Terentius grinned, and rested his hand on his fat stomach. “The Empress has taken me into her favor,” he said, putting his other arm around me. “That will mean considerable opportunity for me to…expand my operations. I understand that you suggested me. I shall not forget that, Remus.”

I was tempted to ask the priest for our freedom, but instincts told me to wait. “I may hold you to that someday, Terentius,” I said.

“Indeed. Until then, take your wife to your room, and rest. We must go over the books tomorrow, you and I. And She fights in a week, against the Hydra-demon of Falstaff.”

We walked the rest of the way home. I was quite tired, but the excitement of the Madchenwunder had given me energy. We arrived back at Terentius’ manor as the sun rose. We bid goodnight to the Priest of Jove, then I followed behind Vulflinde into our room, staring at her shapely hips and strong thighs as we entered. I was so, so lucky.

She stripped herself down, removing all her clothes, then began to forcefully remove mine. I yawned tiredly.

“I confused,” Vulflinde said as she undid my tunic. “I thought deceit was un-Karistan.”

“It is,” I replied. Her hands took away my clothes, and my erect, spent penis was in the air.

Vulflinde’s eyes lit up to see it, and her paw reached out and began to stroke me, drawing a gasp from my lips. “So why suggest Terentius to make up a big lie about omen?”

I thought for a moment, which was difficult because of the feel of my she-wolf’s paw pads. “I guess because I felt maybe it would save the Empress’ life.”

“Does she deserve saving? I mean, she friendly to me, but…too bad Emperor get slutty wife to give him Salamanders. Hopefully they burn his cock off.”

I laughed. “I understand your feelings, my love, but I think that in the Empress, we now have someone powerful who is indebted to us.” I said. I reached out, and rubbed her belly. “Someone who might be able to help us, very soon. And we will need help.”

Vulflinde smiled, and kissed me. “I have very smart husband,” she said happily. “He have a good God, who watches over us. Can not forgive Emperor, but…can use Empress’ help to save little one.”

I closed my eyes and savored the feel of Vulflinde’s paws on my shaft. “I agree. God has been very good to us. We owe him very much…”

My she-wolf squeezed my manhood, making my knees go weak with pleasure, then seized me in her arms, and pulled me in to her breasts. She carried me to our furs, and ravaged me, before we both drifted off into blissful sleep. My last thoughts were a murmured prayer, with a smile. Despite the many problems still facing us, we had truly been blessed so far. And I had faith in the future.

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