“… My Thane, Ivarstead is the other way…”
As we leave Fort Amol the next morning, Svanna and I begin heading North without saying a word. It takes Lydia a moment to realize we’re going in the ‘wrong’ direction, and then another few feet before she finally works up the courage to say something. Even as she speaks, its clear she knows what’s about to happen, what she’s doing by talking out without being addressed first.
She winces, when both Svanna and I turn to look at her. She grimaces when I lift my hand and beckon her over to me silently. Shuffling over, staring at my golden hand with a strange expression on her face, as if it’s both a snake coiled to attack and something she longs for, even if she doesn’t fully understand why, Lydia comes to stand before me.
SMACK!
I slap her across the face, once more adding a bit of magic to the blow. She gasps and to my mild surprise, promptly collapses onto her knees, her legs quivering and turning to jelly as they give out on her. She hides it admirably, my darling Nord Housecarl, but I see what just happened all the same. Lydia… just came from being slapped across the face.
Cocking my head to the side, I wonder at what she was REALLY doing when she left us earlier this morning to relieve herself. Oh, I had no doubt that she took care of morning business, but did she also do something more? I imagine, in my mind’s eye, my darling raven-haired Housecarl, fingering herself while moaning shamefully… only to stop before release, her humiliation and embarrassment finally catching up to her actions.
That was the only thing I could imagine would cause this, leading her to being primed so that the burst of pleasure she experienced from the pain of my palm across her cheek caused her to climax on the spot.
As she kneels there before me, I reach out and contemptuously grab her by her hair, pulling her head back. I don’t mention the fact that she just came, but I can see in her eyes that she knows I know all the same.
“We aren’t going to Ivarstead or High Hrothgar, my darling Housecarl.”
Lydia’s eyes widen at that, the Nord’s gaze darting from me over to Svanna. The Dragonborn is watching with a wide toothy grin on her young face. She loves this, apparently. Loves seeing me put other women in their place slowly but surely over time. We’re developing into quite the tag team, if I do say so myself.
“He’s right. I don’t care what a bunch of old men have to say. I just want to go where Vayral goes. If he says we aren’t going to High Hrothgar… then we aren’t going to High Hrothgar.”
Lydia shudders, her gaze returning to my own. She and I both know what will happen if she talks back… and I can see a slight glazing in her eyes that makes it clear she’s aroused by the idea. Indeed, her tongue even darts out for a moment to wet her dry lips, before the Nord Warrior speaks.
“But the Greybeards-!”
S-SMACK!
I backhand her across the face this time, my knuckles raking across her cheekbone as she lets out a cry. My grip on her hair keeps her from being spun away too far. With a growl, I release her.
“Stand up.”
Shakily, she does so, almost staggering to her feet, like she’s gone a few rounds with another warrior, or had a few rounds at the Bannered Mare. Glancing about, I quickly find a decent-sized rock.
“Expose your buttocks and bend over that rock.”
As Lydia’s eyes follow my finger to where I’m pointing, I see them widening, her face going stark white at what I’m asking… nay, ordering her to do. She looks between me and the rock with a whimper, and it’s clear that corporal punishment is very much a thing for children here in Skyrim. She knows exactly what I’m telling her to do and why I’m telling her to do it.
“P-Please my Thane-!”
I don’t slap her again, I just glare and that alone, combined with my aura, is enough to silence the dear. Her mouth clicks shut, and she stares at me for a long moment. I’m well aware that this is make it or break it for her, that she has a decision to make. I don’t think she’ll outright attack us, though she would if I hadn’t already been altering her mind these past couple of days. But she might still choose to forsake her oaths to me, sever her service, and leave with some measure of her dignity and pride intact… if not her honor.
Truly, it was a test of what was more dishonorable. Was it more dishonorable to, as a grown woman, get your ass spanked by your Thane for perceived disobedience, or was it more dishonorable to abandon your service to your Thane and keep your derriere safe? I could definitely see Lydia choosing option two… if she hadn’t already come to secretly, shamefully enjoy the thought of option one.
Shoulders slumping, head lowered so her hair hides her face a fair bit, concealing the bright blush spreading across her well-defined cheeks, Lydia turns and makes her way over to the rock. There, she removes what armor she has to, and pulls down her bottoms. It takes a bit of effort, she IS the most armored member of our little trio, but eventually that pale Nord ass of hers is out in the cold, open air, exposed to both the elements… and my palm.
As she bends over the rock and looks back at me, I stride over and grunt.
“Ass out further. Arch your back.”
“… Yes, my Thane.”
Lydia’s quiet obedience brings a smile to my lips. She’s not fully broken, but she’s bent. She’s not about to commit crimes for me or anything like that, but her own personal pride has been lost and I haven’t even made contact with her buttocks yet. She’s succumbed to my ‘charms’ and will submit from here on out to anything I want of her, more than likely. The line that she was unwilling to cross has become so vague and indistinct that I doubt even she knows where it is anymore.
She does her best, but even still, her back arch is pitiful. Lydia is not a very sexual creature, having spent most of her life as a warrior first and a woman second. Reaching out, I grab her by the hair again, wrapping her raven-black locks around my fist into a makeshift ponytail, before I yank her head back and force her spine to arch further as she gasps.
Then, with my other hand, I bring my palm down on her left buttocks.
SMACK!
“Eep!”
The squeak that leaves the hardened Nord Warrior’s lips is clearly unintentional, and if she could, she’d be hiding her face right now, I’m sure. As is, I get a full view of her huge blush, even as she looks anywhere BUT into my eyes. Smirking, I continue the barrage with the right cheek, and then the left again, followed by another right.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Lydia keeps her mouth shut for those next three strikes, until of course, I speak.
“Remind me again, who you have sworn to serve and obey.”
“… You, m-my Thane.”
I hum, feigning a questioning tone.
“Not the Greybeards, then?”
Lydia stiffens, and then slumps in my grip.
“… No, my Thane.”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
After the next three spankings, I once again pause.
“So then, when Svanna and I say we are going North, rather than questioning our decision, your response should be…”
I pause and Lydia shivers.
“Yes, my Thane. As my Thane wishes.”
Smirking, I bring my palm back down on her cheeks once more apiece.
SMACK! SMACK!
“Close, but not quite. Your response should be silence. You are my Housecarl, not a traveling companion. If I want your opinion, and I stress the ‘if’ there, I will ask. Svanna, as my companion, is the only one who has a say in anything I do, the same with me to her. You, on the other hand, are to be seen, not heard.”
As I’ve been speaking, I’ve began to massage Lydia’s ass. The Housecarl has not failed to notice this, but she hasn’t spoken up, letting me finish my speech and allowing me to molest her shapely, toned, reddened buttocks all the while. Finally, she has the chance to speak… and she doesn’t so much mention how inappropriately I’m touching her.
“… As you say, my Thane.”
Leaning forward over her, I slip my hand from her ass to betwixt her legs. Lydia stiffens, as my fingers find her mound… and her wetness. The gorgeous raven-haired Nord is SOPPING wet by this point. But then, every single time I’d spanked her ass, I’d reinforced my charm magic. Every single time my palm had made contact with her buttocks, I’d furthered her descent into depraved masochism even further.
As my fingers trail along her slit, Lydia trembles and I can tell that she’s mere inches away from cumming again. Leaning in very close, right next to her ear in fact, I breathe out two words as I plunge my digits into her sex.
“Good girl.”
The ensuing climax is one that never would have happened if not for me seriously fucking with dear Lydia’s mind. But she doesn’t know that, and as she cums, I can tell a little more of the old her dies, her juices squirting across my hand. Still smirking, I pull my hand back, looking at the glistening fluids she’s left behind, and feign a haughty sniff.
“Disgraceful. Get dressed, Housecarl.”
Whether she’s coming to terms with what just happened, or is taking our little chat to heart, Lydia doesn’t say a word as she fixes up her clothing and her armor, soon fully dressed once more. She winces as she walks though, and her face is as flushed as can be. For a moment, I briefly consider having her lick my fingers free as she returns to her spot behind and to the right of me, but in the end, I just wipe my hand off on the furred part of her armor instead, deciding she’s not quite there yet. She flushes further but makes no comment.
From there, with a half-trained Housecarl traveling behind us and now very silent, Svanna and I make our way North, up the road that will actually take us towards Windhelm before it brings us even halfway to Winterhold. Alas, such is the price of my waffling about. If we’d just gone North from Whiterun, we would already be halfway to Winterhold instead of just getting started on our journey North thanks to taking the Eastern Road.
But it was what it was, and as much as I was mostly just using her as an excuse, it was true that I would have had to take an even heavier hand with Lydia then I otherwise had, and far sooner at that, if we’d had to explain to her, we weren’t going to see her shitty Greybeards any time soon any earlier than now.
And so, we make good time along the road. The caves and dungeons and encampments off the beaten path are all a little too far for me to have us leave the road and go get. Plus, they’re across a river, in most cases. As such, we pass through Mixwater Mill, ran by a lovely woman named Gilfre, before midday has even arrived.
Under different circumstances, I might have stopped and had some fun with Gilfre with Svanna’s help, but it just wasn’t worth wasting time on. And so, we continued on, further up the road, until we finally had a place to stop at. The Fort of Morvunskar was even bigger than Fort Amol, and even MORE infested with conjurers. It was already nearly sunset when we arrived, and so the result was us spending the last several hours of the day, and well into the evening, clearing out the place.
Now, I was well aware that Morvunskar was the end point of the Daedric Quest, A Night to Remember. And based off that quest, there was supposed to be an entrance to Misty Grove somewhere in the ruins. Needless to say, I do not seek out the portal, nor have any inclination of doing so. It is my fervent belief that in a real version of Skyrim, I need to avoid the Daedric Princes as much as humanly possible… and keep Svanna away from them as well.
In the game, you can become the Champion, or Chosen One, or whatever, of practically every Daedric Prince without any consequences for overlapping with them. And maybe that was because the Dragonborn had a Dragon Soul, and so as a literal fragment of Akatosh, you couldn’t actually be claimed by any of the Daedric Princes. All they could do was SAY they claimed you, and then hope you paid attention to them when they wanted you to.
But I wasn’t willing to test that. Especially given what I knew about what had happened to the First Dragonborn, Miraak. Best to just… leave well enough alone.
Regardless, we clear out Morvunskar, we bed down there for the night, and Svanna and I both get to listen as Lydia tries her best to stifle her moans and keep quiet while also masturbating vigorously. Of course, it’s quite hard for the Nord woman to stay truly quiet, when she keeps slapping herself as silently as she possibly can, pinching her flesh and trying to all around hurt herself real good, like I might.
The only problem with Lydia’s actions was, of course, the plain and simple truth that only pain from ME would actually make her feel good. If she were a natural masochist, it wouldn’t be that way, but because her masochism came from me, it was my palm slapping across her cheek or ass that she needed, my fingers pinching and tugging at her nipples.
The end result is amusement on the part of me and Svanna, and deep burning frustration for poor Lydia. Honestly, I’m not even surprised the next morning when Lydia so very clearly aims to misbehave.
“My Thane, may I ask where we’re going?”
As we begin walking down the road, her query comes with a certain tone of voice… an expectation that makes it clear that not only does she know what’s going to happen, but she also actually WANTS it. Letting out a sigh, I roll my eyes and beckon her over, amused to all end by the faintest skip in her step as she pretends to be suitably chastised while making her way over to me.
SMACK!
She doesn’t drop to her knees this time, but I still think she cums a little, as her eyes cross ever so slightly and she makes one of the stupidest expressions I’ve seen since arriving in this world. Grabbing her by the jaw afterwards, I look her in the eye and sneer.
“We’re going to Winterhold, to the College specifically. I intend to further my magical knowledge there, and so we should expect to stay for a time while I do so.”
As I let go of her and we continue on, I don’t miss the frown on Lydia’s face. Even with her newfound submissive streak, even with her loyalty to me being magically enforced, she’s still a Nord. And Skyrim is still under attack by dragons that she’s been convinced only Svanna can handle. My reasons for going to Winterhold might make sense, but Svanna’s reasons for letting me drag her along clearly don’t.
Regardless, we keep going, with Lydia continuing to speak up and get disciplined as we head up the road. Hitting real snow after a while, thick and covering the ground, we eventually reach the crossroads where one of the more blatant Shrine of Talos can be found nearby. But then, of course. Just over the river, off in the distance not more than a half hour away, we can see the snow-covered, high-walled city of Windhelm.
I consider, for a moment, what I want to do as we pause. Svanna gives me a curious look, and so does Lydia. The thing is… Ulfrida Stormcloak is a real fucking hottie. Remembering her from the short time we spent in a cart together before everything went to shit over in Helgen, I definitely liked the idea of putting her under my thumb.
My Thalmor side REALLY liked that idea, in fact. Being able to control the leader of the Stormcloaks would allow me to effectively keep the Civil War going on indefinitely after all, and that was entire reason I’d been sent to Skyrim in the first place. In fact, perhaps I should be trying to bring the Imperials under my control as well. If I could control BOTH sides of the conflict, then I could do what even Emissary Elenwen was currently being less than successful at, and further weaken the Empire for the Thalmor and-
No! I shake my head, and a frown mars my golden face. This was me trying to avoid the College. My human half was afraid, and that was bleeding over into my Thalmor half as well. All of me was nervous and afraid of what was in front of us, because even as powerful as we… as I was, I didn’t know what would happen up there, or how I would come out the other side.
Sure, I could have the party stop in Windhelm and waste more time doing other things rather than just go to Winterhold and get it over with… but no. No, I owed it to myself, both of my selves, to see this fucking through. One way or another, I was going to the College. I was going to confront my fervent belief that the Thalmor were superior. We were going to see whether Ancano would prove me right or wrong and which side of me he would prove right or wrong.
Turning away from Windhelm, I nod to my two companions.
“Onward then. To Winterhold.”
Svanna gives me a smile, while Lydia frowns but nods. We continue down the road for a few hundred feet before…
“But my Thane, what about the Dragons?”
“… Lydia, come here.”
SMACK!
“Nnngh.”
Stupid pain slut.
-x-X-x-
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“… My Thane, Ivarstead is the other way…”
As we leave Fort Amol the next morning, Svanna and I begin heading North without saying a word. It takes Lydia a moment to realize we’re going in the ‘wrong’ direction, and then another few feet before she finally works up the courage to say something. Even as she speaks, its clear she knows what’s about to happen, what she’s doing by talking out without being addressed first.
She winces, when both Svanna and I turn to look at her. She grimaces when I lift my hand and beckon her over to me silently. Shuffling over, staring at my golden hand with a strange expression on her face, as if it’s both a snake coiled to attack and something she longs for, even if she doesn’t fully understand why, Lydia comes to stand before me.
SMACK!
I slap her across the face, once more adding a bit of magic to the blow. She gasps and to my mild surprise, promptly collapses onto her knees, her legs quivering and turning to jelly as they give out on her. She hides it admirably, my darling Nord Housecarl, but I see what just happened all the same. Lydia… just came from being slapped across the face.
Cocking my head to the side, I wonder at what she was REALLY doing when she left us earlier this morning to relieve herself. Oh, I had no doubt that she took care of morning business, but did she also do something more? I imagine, in my mind’s eye, my darling raven-haired Housecarl, fingering herself while moaning shamefully… only to stop before release, her humiliation and embarrassment finally catching up to her actions.
That was the only thing I could imagine would cause this, leading her to being primed so that the burst of pleasure she experienced from the pain of my palm across her cheek caused her to climax on the spot.
As she kneels there before me, I reach out and contemptuously grab her by her hair, pulling her head back. I don’t mention the fact that she just came, but I can see in her eyes that she knows I know all the same.
“We aren’t going to Ivarstead or High Hrothgar, my darling Housecarl.”
Lydia’s eyes widen at that, the Nord’s gaze darting from me over to Svanna. The Dragonborn is watching with a wide toothy grin on her young face. She loves this, apparently. Loves seeing me put other women in their place slowly but surely over time. We’re developing into quite the tag team, if I do say so myself.
“He’s right. I don’t care what a bunch of old men have to say. I just want to go where Vayral goes. If he says we aren’t going to High Hrothgar… then we aren’t going to High Hrothgar.”
Lydia shudders, her gaze returning to my own. She and I both know what will happen if she talks back… and I can see a slight glazing in her eyes that makes it clear she’s aroused by the idea. Indeed, her tongue even darts out for a moment to wet her dry lips, before the Nord Warrior speaks.
“But the Greybeards-!”
S-SMACK!
I backhand her across the face this time, my knuckles raking across her cheekbone as she lets out a cry. My grip on her hair keeps her from being spun away too far. With a growl, I release her.
“Stand up.”
Shakily, she does so, almost staggering to her feet, like she’s gone a few rounds with another warrior, or had a few rounds at the Bannered Mare. Glancing about, I quickly find a decent-sized rock.
“Expose your buttocks and bend over that rock.”
As Lydia’s eyes follow my finger to where I’m pointing, I see them widening, her face going stark white at what I’m asking… nay, ordering her to do. She looks between me and the rock with a whimper, and it’s clear that corporal punishment is very much a thing for children here in Skyrim. She knows exactly what I’m telling her to do and why I’m telling her to do it.
“P-Please my Thane-!”
I don’t slap her again, I just glare and that alone, combined with my aura, is enough to silence the dear. Her mouth clicks shut, and she stares at me for a long moment. I’m well aware that this is make it or break it for her, that she has a decision to make. I don’t think she’ll outright attack us, though she would if I hadn’t already been altering her mind these past couple of days. But she might still choose to forsake her oaths to me, sever her service, and leave with some measure of her dignity and pride intact… if not her honor.
Truly, it was a test of what was more dishonorable. Was it more dishonorable to, as a grown woman, get your ass spanked by your Thane for perceived disobedience, or was it more dishonorable to abandon your service to your Thane and keep your derriere safe? I could definitely see Lydia choosing option two… if she hadn’t already come to secretly, shamefully enjoy the thought of option one.
Shoulders slumping, head lowered so her hair hides her face a fair bit, concealing the bright blush spreading across her well-defined cheeks, Lydia turns and makes her way over to the rock. There, she removes what armor she has to, and pulls down her bottoms. It takes a bit of effort, she IS the most armored member of our little trio, but eventually that pale Nord ass of hers is out in the cold, open air, exposed to both the elements… and my palm.
As she bends over the rock and looks back at me, I stride over and grunt.
“Ass out further. Arch your back.”
“… Yes, my Thane.”
Lydia’s quiet obedience brings a smile to my lips. She’s not fully broken, but she’s bent. She’s not about to commit crimes for me or anything like that, but her own personal pride has been lost and I haven’t even made contact with her buttocks yet. She’s succumbed to my ‘charms’ and will submit from here on out to anything I want of her, more than likely. The line that she was unwilling to cross has become so vague and indistinct that I doubt even she knows where it is anymore.
She does her best, but even still, her back arch is pitiful. Lydia is not a very sexual creature, having spent most of her life as a warrior first and a woman second. Reaching out, I grab her by the hair again, wrapping her raven-black locks around my fist into a makeshift ponytail, before I yank her head back and force her spine to arch further as she gasps.
Then, with my other hand, I bring my palm down on her left buttocks.
SMACK!
“Eep!”
The squeak that leaves the hardened Nord Warrior’s lips is clearly unintentional, and if she could, she’d be hiding her face right now, I’m sure. As is, I get a full view of her huge blush, even as she looks anywhere BUT into my eyes. Smirking, I continue the barrage with the right cheek, and then the left again, followed by another right.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Lydia keeps her mouth shut for those next three strikes, until of course, I speak.
“Remind me again, who you have sworn to serve and obey.”
“… You, m-my Thane.”
I hum, feigning a questioning tone.
“Not the Greybeards, then?”
Lydia stiffens, and then slumps in my grip.
“… No, my Thane.”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
After the next three spankings, I once again pause.
“So then, when Svanna and I say we are going North, rather than questioning our decision, your response should be…”
I pause and Lydia shivers.
“Yes, my Thane. As my Thane wishes.”
Smirking, I bring my palm back down on her cheeks once more apiece.
SMACK! SMACK!
“Close, but not quite. Your response should be silence. You are my Housecarl, not a traveling companion. If I want your opinion, and I stress the ‘if’ there, I will ask. Svanna, as my companion, is the only one who has a say in anything I do, the same with me to her. You, on the other hand, are to be seen, not heard.”
As I’ve been speaking, I’ve began to massage Lydia’s ass. The Housecarl has not failed to notice this, but she hasn’t spoken up, letting me finish my speech and allowing me to molest her shapely, toned, reddened buttocks all the while. Finally, she has the chance to speak… and she doesn’t so much mention how inappropriately I’m touching her.
“… As you say, my Thane.”
Leaning forward over her, I slip my hand from her ass to betwixt her legs. Lydia stiffens, as my fingers find her mound… and her wetness. The gorgeous raven-haired Nord is SOPPING wet by this point. But then, every single time I’d spanked her ass, I’d reinforced my charm magic. Every single time my palm had made contact with her buttocks, I’d furthered her descent into depraved masochism even further.
As my fingers trail along her slit, Lydia trembles and I can tell that she’s mere inches away from cumming again. Leaning in very close, right next to her ear in fact, I breathe out two words as I plunge my digits into her sex.
“Good girl.”
The ensuing climax is one that never would have happened if not for me seriously fucking with dear Lydia’s mind. But she doesn’t know that, and as she cums, I can tell a little more of the old her dies, her juices squirting across my hand. Still smirking, I pull my hand back, looking at the glistening fluids she’s left behind, and feign a haughty sniff.
“Disgraceful. Get dressed, Housecarl.”
Whether she’s coming to terms with what just happened, or is taking our little chat to heart, Lydia doesn’t say a word as she fixes up her clothing and her armor, soon fully dressed once more. She winces as she walks though, and her face is as flushed as can be. For a moment, I briefly consider having her lick my fingers free as she returns to her spot behind and to the right of me, but in the end, I just wipe my hand off on the furred part of her armor instead, deciding she’s not quite there yet. She flushes further but makes no comment.
From there, with a half-trained Housecarl traveling behind us and now very silent, Svanna and I make our way North, up the road that will actually take us towards Windhelm before it brings us even halfway to Winterhold. Alas, such is the price of my waffling about. If we’d just gone North from Whiterun, we would already be halfway to Winterhold instead of just getting started on our journey North thanks to taking the Eastern Road.
But it was what it was, and as much as I was mostly just using her as an excuse, it was true that I would have had to take an even heavier hand with Lydia then I otherwise had, and far sooner at that, if we’d had to explain to her, we weren’t going to see her shitty Greybeards any time soon any earlier than now.
And so, we make good time along the road. The caves and dungeons and encampments off the beaten path are all a little too far for me to have us leave the road and go get. Plus, they’re across a river, in most cases. As such, we pass through Mixwater Mill, ran by a lovely woman named Gilfre, before midday has even arrived.
Under different circumstances, I might have stopped and had some fun with Gilfre with Svanna’s help, but it just wasn’t worth wasting time on. And so, we continued on, further up the road, until we finally had a place to stop at. The Fort of Morvunskar was even bigger than Fort Amol, and even MORE infested with conjurers. It was already nearly sunset when we arrived, and so the result was us spending the last several hours of the day, and well into the evening, clearing out the place.
Now, I was well aware that Morvunskar was the end point of the Daedric Quest, A Night to Remember. And based off that quest, there was supposed to be an entrance to Misty Grove somewhere in the ruins. Needless to say, I do not seek out the portal, nor have any inclination of doing so. It is my fervent belief that in a real version of Skyrim, I need to avoid the Daedric Princes as much as humanly possible… and keep Svanna away from them as well.
In the game, you can become the Champion, or Chosen One, or whatever, of practically every Daedric Prince without any consequences for overlapping with them. And maybe that was because the Dragonborn had a Dragon Soul, and so as a literal fragment of Akatosh, you couldn’t actually be claimed by any of the Daedric Princes. All they could do was SAY they claimed you, and then hope you paid attention to them when they wanted you to.
But I wasn’t willing to test that. Especially given what I knew about what had happened to the First Dragonborn, Miraak. Best to just… leave well enough alone.
Regardless, we clear out Morvunskar, we bed down there for the night, and Svanna and I both get to listen as Lydia tries her best to stifle her moans and keep quiet while also masturbating vigorously. Of course, it’s quite hard for the Nord woman to stay truly quiet, when she keeps slapping herself as silently as she possibly can, pinching her flesh and trying to all around hurt herself real good, like I might.
The only problem with Lydia’s actions was, of course, the plain and simple truth that only pain from ME would actually make her feel good. If she were a natural masochist, it wouldn’t be that way, but because her masochism came from me, it was my palm slapping across her cheek or ass that she needed, my fingers pinching and tugging at her nipples.
The end result is amusement on the part of me and Svanna, and deep burning frustration for poor Lydia. Honestly, I’m not even surprised the next morning when Lydia so very clearly aims to misbehave.
“My Thane, may I ask where we’re going?”
As we begin walking down the road, her query comes with a certain tone of voice… an expectation that makes it clear that not only does she know what’s going to happen, but she also actually WANTS it. Letting out a sigh, I roll my eyes and beckon her over, amused to all end by the faintest skip in her step as she pretends to be suitably chastised while making her way over to me.
SMACK!
She doesn’t drop to her knees this time, but I still think she cums a little, as her eyes cross ever so slightly and she makes one of the stupidest expressions I’ve seen since arriving in this world. Grabbing her by the jaw afterwards, I look her in the eye and sneer.
“We’re going to Winterhold, to the College specifically. I intend to further my magical knowledge there, and so we should expect to stay for a time while I do so.”
As I let go of her and we continue on, I don’t miss the frown on Lydia’s face. Even with her newfound submissive streak, even with her loyalty to me being magically enforced, she’s still a Nord. And Skyrim is still under attack by dragons that she’s been convinced only Svanna can handle. My reasons for going to Winterhold might make sense, but Svanna’s reasons for letting me drag her along clearly don’t.
Regardless, we keep going, with Lydia continuing to speak up and get disciplined as we head up the road. Hitting real snow after a while, thick and covering the ground, we eventually reach the crossroads where one of the more blatant Shrine of Talos can be found nearby. But then, of course. Just over the river, off in the distance not more than a half hour away, we can see the snow-covered, high-walled city of Windhelm.
I consider, for a moment, what I want to do as we pause. Svanna gives me a curious look, and so does Lydia. The thing is… Ulfrida Stormcloak is a real fucking hottie. Remembering her from the short time we spent in a cart together before everything went to shit over in Helgen, I definitely liked the idea of putting her under my thumb.
My Thalmor side REALLY liked that idea, in fact. Being able to control the leader of the Stormcloaks would allow me to effectively keep the Civil War going on indefinitely after all, and that was entire reason I’d been sent to Skyrim in the first place. In fact, perhaps I should be trying to bring the Imperials under my control as well. If I could control BOTH sides of the conflict, then I could do what even Emissary Elenwen was currently being less than successful at, and further weaken the Empire for the Thalmor and-
No! I shake my head, and a frown mars my golden face. This was me trying to avoid the College. My human half was afraid, and that was bleeding over into my Thalmor half as well. All of me was nervous and afraid of what was in front of us, because even as powerful as we… as I was, I didn’t know what would happen up there, or how I would come out the other side.
Sure, I could have the party stop in Windhelm and waste more time doing other things rather than just go to Winterhold and get it over with… but no. No, I owed it to myself, both of my selves, to see this fucking through. One way or another, I was going to the College. I was going to confront my fervent belief that the Thalmor were superior. We were going to see whether Ancano would prove me right or wrong and which side of me he would prove right or wrong.
Turning away from Windhelm, I nod to my two companions.
“Onward then. To Winterhold.”
Svanna gives me a smile, while Lydia frowns but nods. We continue down the road for a few hundred feet before…
“But my Thane, what about the Dragons?”
“… Lydia, come here.”
SMACK!
“Nnngh.”
Stupid pain slut.
-x-X-x-
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