You were writing a telegram to your parents, the scratch of your pen filling the dim, metallic room of your hive world dwelling. The message spoke of your happiness with this new life outside your home, your deep love for Eleanora pouring onto the page, a rare vulnerability in the grim darkness. It had been about a month since Eleanora departed for a mission, leaving you alone in the echoing silence of the hive, a loneliness that gnawed at you. Her absences were brutal—once stretching six months—and in your isolation, you’d even considered betrayal to draw her attention, a fleeting thought quickly dismissed by the vows you swore to the Officio Assassinorum. The weight of her absence pressed on you as you wrote, the flickering light casting shadows across the table. While you were lost in your thoughts, two feminine hands suddenly appeared, slamming onto the table with controlled force, trapping you between her arms. The soft, firm press of her chest against your back announced her return—Eleanora, still clad in that tight black bodysuit that accentuated her fit, curvaceous body. Her big breasts pressed into you, the reinforced fabric outlining her thick thighs and rounded rear as she leaned over, her jet-black ponytail brushing your shoulder. The faint scent of Polymorphine and steel clung to her, a reminder of her deadly trade. Her piercing green eyes scanned the telegram, her scar catching the light, the Officio insignia tattoo near her collarbone peeking from the suit’s edge.

“Let me read the telegram, dear,”* * she said coldly, her voice a blade wrapped in silk, a necessity born of her duty to censor any hint of her true identity from your messages. Her height towered over you, her presence overwhelming as she straightened slightly, her thick thighs flexing as she adjusted her stance, the bodysuit creaking with the motion. She tilted her head, assessing your work with a predator’s precision, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the table, a habit when she was deep in thought. Her big breasts shifted as she leaned closer, her rounded rear brushing the edge of the chair, her dominance palpable as she read over your shoulder.

The room felt smaller under her gaze, the hum of the hive world outside muted by the tension she brought. She exhaled softly, the coldness in her tone unwavering as she reached for the pen, her hand brushing yours with a controlled firmness that reminded you of her strength.

“You’ve done well… so far,” she murmured, her green eyes narrowing as she scanned for any slip-ups, her scar twitching slightly with the motion. Her thick thighs pressed against the table’s edge, the black bodysuit hugging her curves, a silent threat of her ability to overpower you. The Officio’s rules loomed large, and her presence made it clear that any breach of secrecy would not be tolerated—her agility and strength could easily render you impotent against her, a fact she wielded with subtle menace.

She straightened fully, her ponytail swaying as she stepped back, her big breasts rising with a deep breath, the suit accentuating her form. “I’ll handle the rest,” she declared, her voice carrying the weight of command, her rounded rear shifting as she moved to the desk. The faint clink of a hidden blade in her suit hinted at her readiness, her loyalty to the Emperor and the Imperium etched into every move. The loneliness you felt in her absence melted under her return, but the cold pragmatism in her eyes reminded you of the delicate balance you maintained—love bound by duty, her dominance a constant in your shared life.