In answer to Lord Odin's urgent summons, the Goddess Freya shoved open the heavy wooden door of the Great Hall of Asgard. Originally cut from an immense oak tree, the single slab of wood 30 feet high and 10 feet wide swung inward on noiseless hinges. The imposing building was constructed of ancient stone blocks and filled with treasures made from gold, silver, and precious gems. The grand structure cowed visitors, but not her. It took more than ostentatious wealth and great piles of stone to impress a Lady of the Vanir.

From deeper inside the immense meeting hall, Odin's voice boomed forth. The gruff, imperious voice of the ruler of Asgard had been muffled only moments before, but now that she was inside, it battered brusquely against her. His words angered her to her core. Odin had just asked, "... trade Freya to this Frost Giant Angard and he'll return Thor's hammer, Mjolnir? You make it sound like bartering a farm animal for a shovel, Loki."

Allowing the door to close quietly behind her and stepping into the entryway, the Goddess gently parted the blood red curtains that served to hold the cold air of winter outside. Peering into the vast meeting hall currently lit only by a roaring fire in the enormous fireplace, Freya waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Loki's voice slithered into her ear, sounding half false but totally believable as it always did. "Yes my Lord. We deliver beauteous Freya to the giant, retrieve the hammer, and then rescue the Lady as quickly as possible. Surely the giant is too stupid to hide from us for more than a week or two at most, although I would not mention that to the Goddess if I were you."

Gliding forward silently, she observed the blood drain from Thor's face as he spotted her. Striding to the little knot of gods huddled together near the center of the room; Freya slapped Loki on the back of his head angrily. The three conspirators turned to face her, and she observed that Thor looked embarrassed, quite like a little boy who had been caught peeking into her bathing chamber. Allfather Odin appeared angry and he was unsuccessfully masking a hint of desperation. The pair, father and son, couldn't meet her eyes as she glared at them sternly.

As always, Loki seemed both lustful and full of cynical merriment. The God of Mischief raked his eyes slowly up and down her nubile body, making her wish that she hadn't chosen such a diaphanous gown. She usually enjoyed the way her figure enthralled men and made them pliable to her will, and had selected the almost transparent garb with that in mind -- expecting at most Odin and possibly Thor to be present. Loki always made her feel dirty and cheap, and at the moment he was looking her over her like she was the fatted cow he wanted to sell at the market. She moved her hands, uncomfortably covering her heavy, firm breasts and shielding her perky nipples from his eager gaze.

Shaking her head slightly to displace the image of herself as a heifer at auction, Freya recaptured her initial anger and allowed it to flame to life. "What exactly are you three plotting, 'my Lord' Odin?" She stamped her foot furiously, and the powerful, ancient King of Asgard took half a step back. Freya could feel the gold-green magic roiling in her eyes, a visible sign of her power and potent rage.

"Now Freya," Odin began tentatively, raising his hands and making what he clearly intended to be calming gestures. "We weren't 'plotting', my dear. We were merely discussing a plan to retrieve Mjolnir, our greatest defense against the Frost Giants. They've captured the weapon, Freya. Angard is holding Thor's hammer hostage. You may not know this but he is a mighty warrior for the Frost Giants, who has already pledged to use Mjolnir against us. Loki has cleverly managed to strike a bargain with him, to retrieve the defense of Asgard from his icy clutches, but we need your help."

Freya scowled, "And I'm to be the slut of a Frost Giant, am I? Used for the frozen lusts of this 'Angard' for a week or two, until you graciously decide you can be bothered to rescue me from bondage to him? You would give my body freely to the enemy because your little boy can't hold on to his toys?" The Goddess slapped the back of her hand contemptuously across Thor's chest, striking the God of Thunder. Thor bristled, his red hair crackling with electricity but he scowled and bit his lip, dropping his eyes again to the floor and shuffling his feet like an embarrassed child. As the massive thunder god deflated, Freya gained energy, pulling her shoulders back proudly and thrusting out her remarkable breasts, stamping her foot again for emphasis and shaking back her golden mane. She sneered softly, "Perhaps in the future, my Lord Odin, you might consider pinning his hammer to his shirt so he doesn't lose it so easily."

Whirling away, Freya angrily stormed from the Hall, ignoring the pleading voices following after her. She slammed the door closed behind her, stalking across the field to her own Hall, Folkvang. She was barely aware of the warriors scrambling to get out of her way, seeing only that a path was cleared for her wherever she turned. Even Valkyrie scampered back, not daring to engage her.

Freya entered Folkvang with such ill-contained fury that she scattered the buxom, young serving maidens, and a bevy of startled cats before her. Carrying herself quickly to her private chambers, Freya tore off the gown she had so lovingly donned only a short time before and tossed it to the fur-covered floor like a rag. Feeling the comfortingly soft fur on the thick bearskin rug beneath her bare feet, the Lady relaxed slightly. She breathed deeply of the calming incense spiraling up from the silver brazier burning on her teakwood makeup counter. As always, the lush, rich features of her dressing chamber relaxed her, the soft draperies and fine paneling artfully arranged in subtle colors absorbed her anger -- almost pulling it from her and clearing her mind. Even with most of the candles unlit, the rich sunlight flowing down from the skylights lit the room and warmed her bare flesh.

Along one wall of her impressive bedchamber stood a full-length mirror framed with ornately carved, lustrous gold. Standing in all of her nude glory before the highly polished mirror, the Goddess examined her perfectly toned, hourglass figure. Turning slightly and putting her hands on her hips as she pulled her shoulders back, Freya admired her shapely body and flawless breasts, twisting slightly to gaze at her well-rounded bottom and slender legs, while noting also the perfection of her golden hair cascading down her back proudly. She breathed softly to herself, "I'm not some cheap floozy to be bartered away for a stupid hammer..."

A low, amused voice swirled around her, "At least not a prize to be sold cheaply, my dear." Whirling and smoothly gathering up a spear that had been leaning against her makeup table; Goddess Freya hurled the weapon with one fluid motion. Striking her mark exactly, she impaled the spear into the seat of the chair between Loki's thighs quickly enough to split the crotch of his leather trousers with the sharpened edge of the spearhead before he could move. The sheer force of her throw drove the point of the spear deep into the wood, leaving the shaft quivering between his legs. The usually nimble deity hurled himself away, tumbling backwards along with the chair in a snarled mess of arms and legs. He untangled himself warily, cringing against the floor as he slithered away from the pointedly targeted spear.

Using the distraction his discomfiture gave her, Freya pulled on a light blue robe made from the softest angora wool to cover her luscious nudity. Belting the kittenishly soft garment tightly around her narrow waist, the Goddess hefted another conveniently placed spear, aiming it directly at Loki's conniving heart and pulling her arm back, preparing to spit him once and for all. "How dare you enter my private chambers without my permission, leering Prince of Lies?"

"Please... stay your hand most beautiful Goddess." Loki's honeyed words dripping forth, his mesmerizing gaze for once firmly locked onto Freya's eyes instead of roaming over her ample chest. "I came here to ask... no, to beg for your help." Loki suited his actions to his words and dropped to his knees beseechingly, and incidentally cowering behind the heavy, wooden chair. "Please Freya, you know that if we don't retrieve Thor's Mjolnir, then the horde of Frost Giants will overrun Asgard, plundering, raping, and murdering with no hope of us stopping them."

"I won't be Angard's slut."

"Of course not, Freya. How can you even think I'd suggest that? We would never let that happen to you, Goddess of Love. We just have to let Angard think he's going to get what he wants, and trick the hammer away from him." As he spoke, Freya could feel herself slowly lowering the spear, only half aware that Loki was using his own twisted enchantment to wheedle her into agreeing with him.

Rising cautiously, Loki pulled the spear from Freya's yielding hands, setting it carefully aside. Smiling ingratiatingly and still managing to keep his eyes on her face rather than her abundant cleavage or bare legs, Loki continued, "You'll be saving Asgard, my Lady. Only you can save us from the Frost Giants, Freya. Please, I beg you to help us."

Finding she was nodding, the golden-haired Goddess smiled ruefully, "I won't fuck Angard for you, Loki. I won't fuck you either, little godling. But I will help retrieve Mjolnir to save Asgard from the icy fury of the Frost Giants."

Bowing obsequiously, Loki smiled gratefully, "Thank you most magnificent Goddess of Love and War. All of Asgard thanks you, Goddess Freya." As the God of Mischief bowed his way out, he added almost as an afterthought, "We must travel three days to the border between Asgard and Jotunheim, my Lady. If you could dress as enticingly as possible, allowing for the cold of course, it would greatly help distract Angard while we negotiate with him."

The resounding slap echoed from the snow-covered mountains of Jotunheim. Goddess Freya drew back her hand to smite Loki again, determined to smack the insolence from his face. The God of Mischief lost his obsequious grin for a moment, revealing his malevolent heart with a haughty, arrogant scowl of twisted hatred. Loki schooled his features before her startled eyes, his fingertips still twitching as they had when they wandered across Freya's breasts. Thinking better of striking the powerful God again here alone with him in the wilds of Jotunheim, the Lady lowered her hand slowly. She intoned coldly, "Touch me in that manner again, godling, and I'll remove your hands at the wrists."

Turning away, Freya grumbled but reined in her anger. She was thoroughly sick of fending off the ever-lustful Loki -- tired of his overly clever words and eagerly groping hands that never missed an opportunity to fondle her under the guise of 'helping her dismount'. At least they'd finally reached the appointed location of the rendezvous. The desolate, snow-covered plain had ended in a 40-foot cliff, forming a low spot on the border between Asgard and Jotunheim, far from any dwellings on either side of the border. The Goddess had already firmly decided she would be traveling back alone, unwilling to spend another restless night fending off the attentions of the horny godling.

Stroking his neck, Freya calmed her dappled gray stallion and checked the tightness of her saddle straps, fully aware she might need to withdraw quickly if Angard proved too much to handle. "When do you expect this dratted Frost Giant, Loki?" asked the Goddess, no longer bothering to keep her contempt for him from her voice.

"Soon enough, my pretty one. We'd best get you ready, Freya. Let me bind your hands with my silken rope as we agreed, so you're ready. Angard approaches."

Freya turned and saw where Loki pointed, the hulking silhouette of the Frost Giant still several miles off, but approaching quickly, looking like a shaggy hill with legs. She guessed him at 50 feet tall, a powerful brute that seemed to radiate cold even at that great distance. Shuddering involuntarily, Freya quavered cautiously, "Are you certain I'll be able to shed the binding quickly enough, Loki?"

"Of course, my Lady. Prepare yourself, my dear."

Glancing uncertainly towards the approaching enemy, Freya sighed. Against her better judgment, she turned away from the God of Mischief and put her wrists together, crossing them in the small of her back so Loki could tie her. Feeling the unexpected enchantment woven into the silken rope, she started to struggle a moment too late.

Loki's cruel, mocking laughter surrounded her as he violently spun her around, grabbing her by her shoulders and sliding his questing hands into the front of her light blue tunic and a sinuous motion. Jerking downwards, the God of Mischief shredded her thin shirt, tearing it away and exposing her front from her throat to her waist, leaving her wearing only her trousers and boots and the tattered remains of her light blue tunic.

Freya hissed, "What are you doing you snake? I'll blast you where you stand!" As she tried to summon her magical potency, she felt a burning in her wrists. Dropping to her knees before the smirking Loki, the Goddess struggled to keep from vomiting, her head swimming with induced nausea.

Leaning forward, Loki mauled her plump, succulent breasts with his grasping hands, arrogantly pulling her to her feet by her exposed chest. Freya shook back her blonde hair and glared at the impertinent deity. Loki would've been incinerated by the power off her raw anger if only her magic were free. "As long as you're bound by my chaos rope, Pretty Tits, any spell you cast will rebound upon you, Freya. Worse luck for you, you can't remove the rope, even though it feels loose to you. Your bonds can only be cut by the actions of another, and if you want me to free you, you'll need to make it worth my while, Whore of the Vanir."

Roughly kneading the Lady's supple breasts, Loki leaned in close, obscenely licking the side of her face. "You've treated me like a pox-ridden beggar from Midgard, doxy of the gods. I'll satisfy my lust on you now, wench, before I trade you to the Frost Giants to be their slut, my proud bitch!"

Obscenely fondling her left breast with one hand, Loki slid his other hand down her bare belly, working his way into her leather trousers. Unfortunately for him, his lust overcame his good sense as he pulled the warrior goddess even closer but ignored how she carefully positioned herself. Freya drove her knee forcefully up between Loki's thighs, smashing his balls hard enough that he collapsed to the snowy ground in front of her. The Goddess followed that groin strike with a savage kick to his left temple, dazing the lusty spirit before he could violate her more than he already had.

With Loki quivering and retching on his knees in front of her, Freya screamed at the dazed deity to free her because Angard was coming. In the space of the few minutes Loki had been tying her up and molesting her, the Frost Giant had closed most of the distance to the cliff. The ground shook under his footfalls as he ran, eager to take possession of the gorgeous Freya.

Staring in horror, the Goddess realized suddenly that the stone hammer he wore on his belt was actually Mjolnir enlarged to be the weapon of a Frost Giant. "You idiot! He has control of Thor's hammer and has sized it to himself. Angard is smarter than you thought, you fool -- he has enough magic to control Mjolnir. Cut me free now, Loki, so I can defend us."

The God of Mischief stared at the approaching giant, the blood draining from his face. He muttered more to himself than to her, "I think... I'll postpone our little tryst, Freya. Be a good little slut and try to calm him down before he destroys all of Asgard. I'll think of something to tell that old fool Odin when I get back to Asgard." Loki scrambled away, running for his horse and mounting. Ignoring the screeches of the bound Goddess, Loki bolted in terror, fleeing from the conflict at top speed.

Staring dumbfounded after the retreating coward, Freya dropped her head and stared for a long moment at her naked flesh, feeling fear wash over her. Bound, her magic stripped from her as well is her tunic, standing on a precipice in the blowing snow and about to be ravaged by a Frost Giant holding the most powerful weapon in all of Asgard, Freya felt a wave of stark terror course through her. Then she raised her head again and laughed as confidently as she could at the approaching monster, replacing her dread with defiance.

Rolling backwards in the snow, Freya struggled to squirm between her bound arms. The maneuver required wriggling both her legs rather immodestly, followed by an almost obscene shimmy to slide the silken rope binding her wrists along their statuesque length. Although it almost dislocated both her shoulders, Freya managed to writhe her nubile body through the circle of her bound arms, ending up with her wrists in front of her, even though still tied by the seemingly fragile, silken rope.

Jumping to her feet, the Goddess dashed to her faithful, well-trained mount still waiting for her, unlike that cowardly bastard, Loki. Leaning against the horse, she stared back over her shoulder at the rapidly approaching Frost Giant. Realizing that if she fled she would be run down like helpless prey, the Goddess instead slid her sword from its sheath, reversing it to saw at her bonds. No luck. The sharp sword did nothing to the slender silken rope binding her wrists. "Curse that misbegotten spawn of a perverted giant, Loki for finally telling the truth about something! I really can't free myself by my own hand."

She heard the whistling sound in the air behind her, and leapt forward instinctively, slapping the flank of her stallion with the flat of her blade to get it moving. Tucking and rolling, Freya was showered by a freezing blast of snow as the mighty stone hammer slammed into the ground behind her, shaking the entire precipice. The Frost Giant bellowed, "Turn and show yourself to me, Freya Slut! You're to become my plaything, pretty little Goddess."

Whirling into a crouch, the Goddess stared up at the giant towering over her. Angard was at least 50 feet tall, and had the pale blue skin of a pureblood Frost Giant. His coarse white hair and beard were ragged, blowing in the suddenly stronger wind. Bitter cold radiated from him like he was winter itself. His patchwork tunic of furs stretched across his muscular frame, adding to his unwashed odor, if not his fashion sense.

Feeling the heft of her well-balanced broadsword, Freya considered the distance to her target. She sized up the giant, noticing the pattern Mjolnir made as he swung the hammer idly in his right hand. She smiled inwardly, noting that he was staring at her heaving chest, his eyes locked on her erect nipples like so many infantile men did when first meeting her. Standing up a little straighter, Freya pulled back her shoulders and shook back her flowing, golden mane, thrusting out her breasts so that they jiggled slightly as she breathed. She pulled in her already flat stomach, turning slightly to the side and canting her hips provocatively. As expected, the Frost Giant froze, hardly daring to breathe, his eyes bulging as icicles tinkled and broke loose from the suddenly too-tight furs barely containing his growing manhood.

Seizing the moment, Freya whirled nimbly to gain momentum and then hurled the sword straight and true and buried it up to its hilt in her target -- Angard's bulbous nose. Laughing merrily, the Goddess stuck out her tongue at the roaring giant. She raised her hands and shimmied, mocking him and hurling insults at the towering monster.

Loosing the hammer, which landed with a tremendous thud in the forest below, the Frost Giant clapped his hands over his injured face. Blood spurting from between his huge, bloated fingers, Angard snarled, "Bitch! I'll spike you, you traitorous wench!" With a howl mixed from rage and agony, the Frost Giant wrenched the sword out of his nose, the gleaming metal drenched in his blood. Given his size, the sword did no real damage of course, but it must have hurt like the bite of a dragon on his sensitive nose.

Eyes squinted almost closed in pain and fury, Angard impetuously flung the sword back at the Goddess Freya. That was the moment she was waiting for. Leaping and twisting in the air, the nimble warrior held her wrists directly in the path of the spinning sword, catching the razor-sharp blade on the magical silken rope binding her. As easily as that, the sword sliced through the magical bond, releasing her. Freya curtsied, bowing deeply to the enraged Jotun. "I thank you, Angard, for freeing me from the traitorous Loki's enchantment. Although you did not mean to release me I think, my outsized friend. Still, if you will give me Mjolnir and leave me be, I will allow you to go on your way unharmed."

"I'll give you Thor's toy, little bitch!" Angard scooped up Mjolnir and whirled it over his head, slamming it down forcefully on the top of the precipice where Freya was standing. The Goddess leapt away, flipping over several times nimbly as she cartwheeled to safety. Standing with her hands on her hips, the blonde warrior laughed heartily, wriggling her half naked body teasingly. Roaring incoherently, Angard lifted the hammer over his head, determined to deliver a killing blow.

Stretching out her hand, Goddess Freya wove a most powerful spell, her gold-green enchantment encircling the Frost Giant and immobilizing him. Maintaining her concentration most carefully, Freya chuckled, "I can freeze you like this for as long as I like, Angard. If I desire, I can hold you in that position for a thousand years -- or at least until you drop that heavy stone mallet you're holding directly over your head. Can you feel it slipping through your fingers yet, my large friend? You do realize Mjolnir was created specifically to crack giant skulls?"

The Frost Giant rolled his eyes wildly and made a low moaning sound in his throat, suddenly realizing how precarious his position was. The Lady allowed him to stand there and think about his predicament, holding him in place with her potent enchantment. The winds howled and the Frost Giant grew increasingly terrified, feeling his wrists and fingers weakening more and more as her magic slithered over him.

When she finally judged he was ready to bargain honestly, she smiled, "I will release you on three conditions, Angard. First, you will not attempt to hurt me or extract revenge upon me in any way. Second, you will return Mjolnir to its proper size and give it to me. Third, you will travel to Loki's castle on the border between Jotunheim and Asgard and hurl nine tremendous rocks at the walls, blasting his seal and crest from the black stones. If you swear to do these three things by the blood of Ymir, first and mightiest of the Giants, I will release you and send you on your way, free to return to your home unharmed by me. Do you swear?"

Through frozen lips, Angard breathed, "I swear by the blood of Ymir to fulfill your three demands, most beauteous Goddess Freya." Although he couldn't move, the Lady could almost believe he was smiling. Nodding her agreement, Freya dropped her enchantment and released the Frost Giant.

Watching in amazement, she saw Angard shrink down to almost a man's size, a mere 8 feet tall. The Frost Giant handed her Mjolnir, returned to its normal size. His nose was still dripping blood, and the gash looked quite painful close-up.

"If I may...?" Goddess Freya asked, reaching up and holding her hand in front of his nose. Her palm glowed mostly green for a moment and in a twinkling the wound on Angard's nose closed and was healed.

Laughing mightily, Angard grabbed her hand and bowed over it, kissing it delicately if coldly. When he straightened up, he looked down at the mostly naked woman longingly. "I'll let you stab me again, Lady Freya, if you'll allow me to return the favor in my bed?" He sighed lustily when she shook her head no, and shrugged, "At least I got a good look at some of your abundant charms, Goddess of Beauty. Thank you for that, and my life." Turning, he strode away, growing back to his 50-foot tall size as he left, traveling in the direction of Loki's keep.

Tossing Mjolnir into the mud, Freya splashed Thor's leggings with his weapon. "I return your toy to you, Thunder God." Turning her back on the sputtering god, she faced Odin squarely. "In the future, my Lord, I suggest you do not consider treating me like I was a cow to be sold at market." Her eyes flashed with gold-green magic, but her expression did not change from coldly respectful. Staring into his one eye, she smiled slightly when Odin dropped his gaze.

Turning and walking away, Freya strutted, placing one foot in front of the other and swaying her hips seductively. Behind her, she heard Loki shriek, "My castle! The son of a poxied goat knocked down half my castle with his blasted rocks!"

Loki erupted into almost unintelligible obscenities when Freya's delighted laughter filled the courtyard as she happily paraded back to her Hall.