Jon and Lydia slept the most of the rest of the next day, both actively and not so. They didn't have anything to do for that day of rest, and no one came and bothered them. Jon Started a stew in the morning with the Arch-Mages personal cook fire, magically induced with crushed soul gems, and left simmer all day as they added and took from it when not taking each other. There were no other concerns and obligations that couldn't wait until they had recovered from the trials of the College.
They wold take leave of each other, every so often, so they could comb though the personal Library of the Arch-Mage. While Aren favored destruction magics, he was indeed a master in all schools, going by the notations. It was as if he was an Arch-Mage or something, Jon thought. They rounded out their magical education on his tomes, and they would give each other magical love taps to test some of the theories. They would practice more thoroughly on the road, when they weren't reinforcing other theories in private quarters.
Just as they were finishing up supper, and ready to gallop again, there was a knock on the door. Jon kept his cool. That was going to happen eventually. They both began walking over the desk, seeing no reason to hide their Divine forms. Jon said, "Enter."
To Sindgrom's credit, he took it in stride. About the only thing he hadn't yet seen was his Lady's trimmed hedges, and thankfully his Thane was sitting. His pride may not have survived him standing, going by word.
He was carrying two silk wrapped parcels in his hand. He said, "Hail, Thane, Lady. I have a delivery from the Master-Wizard. I've also done as you asked. Your Party is in the Training Hall. The Tutor asked, and I quote, if you could both come as you are right now. She was instant I ask."
Jon and Lydia snickered while Sindgrom placed the parcels on the desk. Jon said, "I think we will come clothed. Thank you Sindgrom, we will be down in about ten or fifteen minutes. You may join the small gathering. You were at the Battle of Winterhold after all, stood bravely next to us, and that makes you Tolfdir's-Party as much as anyone."
Sindgrom said, "Aye, Thane. Thank you. I will leave you both to get ready."
To Jon's credit, he had the courtesy to let the door close before standing. Lydia snickered while leading him to the bath for a quick wash of the sweat and sex on them, after they put a final bit of it on of course. They came out clean and dry from the magically enhanced washroom. It had everything Jon wanted in one, even by the standards back home. A real shower even, with hot water on demand from enchantment. Jon thought if the people of this land actually had some peace to develop, they really were on the verge of a modern industrial society, powered by magic instead of fossil fuel.
All they needed was math, Jon also thought. They had basic arithmetic, and geometry, but they had no calculus, which is what they really needed to begin to understand the world around them.
Frankly, they never needed that level of understanding, because they had magic to substitute many things they would need that understanding at all for. Why develop equations to describe force, and subsequently work for complex processes and assemblies, when you could just use telekinesis to move something. Chemistry and Physics for refrigeration when a frost enchantment on a crate does the same thing. Why have need to understand the laws when you could just bend them to your literal will anyway. Either learn the spells yourself, or hire a wizard. The magika is the force doing the work, and simple trial and error is all you need to figure it out.
If they had elementary mechanics though, that would completely revolutionize how they could apply that force and work, using magika. Jon took as an axiom at this point that magic still followed the fundamental laws of the cosmos. If he took the time, he could probably derive a mathematical understanding of it. For all he knew, the same field equations still applied, and this was just an electromagnetic force like any other.
For now he fill a notebook with basic caucus derivations, and a Concerned Citizen would send it back to the College, and maybe another copy to the temple of Julianos as well. Who would he credit thought? Newton for the methodology, Leibniz for the notation, obviously. So both really. Leibniz would get his day if they need more math. Jon would only give them the basics, and see where they took it themselves. He and his shield had the time to observe, he reckoned. If they didn't die to all of the Divine mammoth shit flying at them.
They both entered the hall, him in his new travel oriented Arch-Mage robes and her in College expert robes. It was to the happy cheers of Tolfdir, J'zargo, and Sindgrom, but to the boo's of the Tutor who wanted a show, and to join in the show. Could she, Jon wondered? Lydia smelled his thoughts, and gave him a suspicious eye. Jon at least looked bashful, to her smirk. Maybe, they both thought.
Jon cast the Attendant, now with spell instead of staff. Jon said, "Attendant, if you do not punish that whore ghost for her lust, you will have failed me."
The Tutor cackled, not hesitating to pull her blade, "Oh it's on now, Arch-Mage. I saw that question in your eye. You cant hide them as well from me, whelp."
The Attendant began a purposeful walk towards her, "Is is indeed. This will not be a draw. I am unbound now. You can't wait me out his time."
She began her swing, "You're right, it wont be a draw this time. Have at thee, cur!"
The Party began taking bets on the fight while Jon handed bottles of mead from his pack. He also spiked them with a drop of hooch each, and topped his and Lydia's bottles off with the stuff. Jon bet on his Attendant, obviously, but everyone else bet on the Tutor. The Attendant had strength and reach, but she had speed and flexibility.
Jon said, "J'zargo, I see you met Sindgrom."
"Yes, J'zargo has, my friend. We have already agreed to travel to Whiterun together."
Jon said, "Good, that's what I was going to suggest. I should have asked, Sindgrom, and give me an honest answer. Is pulling you away from Winterhold immediately like this a problem?"
Sindgrom said, "No Thane, honestly. This is my home, but I still always wanted to see more. I had a little coin saved up for a pilgrimage actually. Was going to take some leave before the Battle happened, and now I'm your Housecarl. Have you went? You must have being the Dragonborn."
Jon nodded, "Aye. They taught me the rest of Unrelenting Force. Now I have to go to Ustengrav to collect a horn. I plan on stopping in Whiterun on the return to the Masters, you could probably come with. They actually don't mind visitors at all, in fact I think they like them. They just have a mystic about them that keeps people from actually entering the keep, even if they make it all the way."
Sindgrom nodded, "Aye, Thane. To meet the Graybeards, with the Dragonborn no less? It would be an honor. Thank you."
Jon smiled, and Tolfdir said, "So how did you get there initially? Coming from another world, how did you know to go there?"
Jon said, "Farengar. He said if I used the Thu'um, they would call. If I didn't want all of Skyrim to hear then I had to go first. My destination was always the College. I didn't know about the Dragonborn stuff, and my plan was to learn magic to use against the Dragons, because that was all I thought I could do. Getting to Bleak-Falls, and slaying my first dragon was it's own Chain Of Events, as they say. Started a fucking war, it did."
Tolfdir said, "I should have known he would send you there. Of course he did. I'm so happy you're going to work with him, J'zargo. He's not a destruction man, more enchantment, but you two will get along well I'm sure."
"J'zargo is as well. He has heard much about Farengar. J'zargo will do his best, he promises."
Jon said, "I know pal. Don't sweat it, you'll do fine. If people give you shit, even guard, for being Khajiit, make sure you remind them who the second in charge of Tolfdir's-Party is."
Tolfdir's scoffed, his friend still continuing the charade. The rest of the Party had a good laugh as they continued small revelry, the Tutor and Attendant dueling it out. It was a close fight.
After a near couple hours of it, the Tutor said in between her final parries and swings, "Time's up big boy. I'm about to dispel unpunished, which means you failed, and I win. You were perfectly right. It wasn't a draw, and I didn't have have to wait you out. Your master does not look pleased."
She popped out of existence, "FUS RO DAH"
The Attendant dropped to his knees in Pleasure as the shout turned him into a fine mist of red and black, a smile on his face. Jon begrudgingly handed over his coin for the bet.
Jon said, "Alright, it was nice to get together one last time, like this. J'zargo, Sindgrom, I plan on stopping by the Shrine of Azura, before cutting across the mountains again. So we will leave with you. Tolfdir, keep being the greatest Divines-blessed professor ever. Hail Tolfdir's-Party!"
"Hail Tolfdir's-Party!"
The Party laughed said their goodbyes before three exited the hall, and Jon locked it behind them. He turned around while beginning to undo his robes, and Lydia was already in her glory, and she was summoning the Tutor. Jon walked over, and they both stood over her, with cold eyes, hungry smiles. She felt a pang of fear for the first time since she died, and it was delectable, simply marvelous.
They were both rock solid in every way they could be, and she was now their personal toy for pleasure. She cursed herself once for missing out, but now she didn't, because now it was the only thing that would let her survive what's coming. Hopefully him in her, and she on her.
Lydia spat out. "On your knees, whore! Pleasure him, now!"
The Lady of the College gave an order, and she complied. Jon said, "You won, but at what cost, whore? We will take from you what we want, and then leave you as we found you. An undead whore. To be used and thrown away."
The mouth of a ghost was cold, as is their death, but the ectoplasm of it was an acceptable facsimile of the living. It felt like none before, and it worked itself heavily around the head of his staff, and under his foreskin in a pleasurable way, a hand barely fitting around his mighty steed pumping all the while. Jon was used to the cold on every part of him that this point, so her snug fitting mouth would still bring him to blessing, eventually.
Lady Lydia was not pleased with what she saw, and rammed the Tutors throat onto the rest of his shaft. The Tutor's robes were already gone, dispelled away, exposing her former petite Dunmer form. The enchanted ring on Lydia's hand allowed her to grab a fistful of ghostly hair and instruct the Tutor on the proper way for whores. She made her point by never allowing the ghost to control her own motions now that she failed right of the bat. Lydia kissed her sword deeply, using her off hand to pleasure herself near roughly, all while using the head of the Tutor as her personal toy to entice Jon to his own pleasure, before she took what she wanted herself.
The dead, ghosts included, still had physiological triggers, involuntary responses, psychological needs if they're still all there. Every once in a while the Tutor would gag from the punishment for failing her Lady, Jon's rod deep in her mouth, nearly to her gullet. When she did a pang of pleasure would rip though Jon as the formless ectoplasm twisted and constricted around his head and shaft. Eventually she was given back her agency when she gagged intentionally to continue the pleasure of the Arch-Mage, her hands on his hips to help the motion. But only somewhat.
While the hand was off of her hair, Lydia's manicured hedges were on the back of her head, now behind her fully instead of off to the side. She was still kissing and pleasuring herself, and Jon still thumbing and pinching her nipples, but her hips took to rhythmic motion to continue abusing the ghostly mouth of the Tutor against the mighty steed of her sword. Jon's hands found their way to her firm hips and added to the motion, while the Tutors fell back to the side and jerked from the force of her involuntary motions.
Jon began grunting at the force of it now, not wanting the new sensation to stop. But I had too eventually. We wanted other parts of the Tutor, and then he wanted Lydia to clean the filth from him with her own warmth. A blessing came from him after a final hard trust and twist of ectoplasm, and it mixed with the essence of the woman lost in new kinds of pleasure not had since dying, not since years before dying since she was advanced in age when she underwent the ritual to become what she was. Pain was pleasure now, but so was pleasure still. The blessing of the Divine shot though her, and brought her to near orgasm, another new feeling as a ghost.
She was pulled with an open and dripping mouth off the Divine rod, and Lydia spit in it. She said, "Now your mouth is mine, whore. Jon, I believe she want's her hips tested by your strength. I know I will when we're done with this thing."
"Please, Lady. I'm your little whore and nothing else. Let me pleasure you both. Bless me, bless me more please."
Lydia yelled with a slap, "Quiet! The whore does not speak!"
She shut her mouth immediately and was dragged by the hair to a chair along the wall of the room, which Lydia sat down in leads spread wide. Jon followed them and got on his knees while his Lady rubbed the Tutors face up and down her warmth, a tongue forming and reforming in and around her entrance and trim folds. When the Lady felt like her button wasn't being pressed enough, the Tutors full face would be shoved into it, to remind the Whore of Winterhold where to lick and work
Jon liked how things were going. Their love was slow at first, and he liked slow, loved it even, but fast was fun too with someone he trusted. Fast with someone he didn't was only his need, at their request. She wanted him, not the strength of ten men with the steed to mach. That fact was established.
Then bit by bit, she asked for a little more. A little faster, harder, a new position. Always softly, because she could tell he wanted to love her, not just pleasure himself on her, and felt he was doing what she wanted, not what he wanted as well. She wanted to try new things with her sword, and she wanted him to ask of her as she asked of him. Then he finally asked to try the new place, tenderly introducing blessings there.
Augment bodily fluids were strange, and that applied to strange fluids especially, given that they could even bring the dead to climax. He didn't like pulling out, the Skyrim chill nearly ruining his orgasm in the time it takes to go from unfertilized warmth to mouth. He wanted to put his own warmth in his love, and then keep going without the weather getting in the way. She liked the new place, and she liked experimenting with her trusted sword. He liked experimenting with his shield, trying things impossible in his time and place. Like the taking of a ghost with his Lady.
His head poked into the Tutor's ghostly folds gently at first, getting a feel for it. They were a little looser than his Lady's her Labia actually poking out and hanging some, but that corresponded to little it terms of the pleasure he could take from a given warmth. It did correspond to the pleasure he could give a ghost as he took his. She might be a whore, their personal toy, but the Tutor needed to have her attention too. Things were skewed as a ghost.
Jon took one of her hanging folds in is thumb and finger. He pinched and pulled, using it to start his own forward motion into her gut, shoving all of his inches deep and hard into her. There was no cervix to hit against, simply more churning goo to work itself against him. The strength of his hips matched and exceed hers. She let out a deep moan, her back arching at both pain and pleasure. Her mouth left her Lady, and she paid for that mistake.
Lydia ripped her head up, giving the Tutor a hard slap against her face, "Did I tell you to stop, whore? Jon, be a dear and make her pay for that."
Jon smiled wickedly as he began to slowly pump back and forth. When you have the power of Magnus, you can do magic differently than most. One such effect is pumping your own power though an enchantment. Another is casting by intent alone, with no time to charge like a normal wizard. Another is casting spells using any part of you body.
Small bit of lighting traced though his fingers and into the Tutors folds he was still pinching. She moaned again and was slapped again. Jon insulted her this time, "What a loose whore that I can even do this. You see what a tight womanhood looks like? A real live one, Whore. Tighter, now!"
The Tutor breathed hard as she flexed her ghostly gut, and ectoplasm constricting and twisting around him. It caused his own grunts of pleasure, near pain. The only problem was the cold of it. He spanked her hard and said, "That's better, whore. The problem is your Lady can do almost the same thing with her own control, and she's actually warm. Inferior whore is all you are. Let me warm you up."
He cast a very, very, weak Flame spell around his rod, and the ectoplasm began to warm from its chill. The Tutor was crying in pleasure from it, and her form constricted and twisted harder around him as he started pumping again.
A slap, "I told you to continue, whore! Useless, you are!"
The tutor was a bit of a brat, apparently, "I'm a useless little whore, Lady."
Another slap, "Do not speak! Jon!"
Jon gave another hard spank and picked up his pace. The sparks were still arcing though her labia, his electrified fingers still playing with her folds stretched around his steed, and Jon decided to add a little more. He was heaving his hardness though the soft insides of the Tutor, her moaning and getting slapped for it, Jon going faster gain, truing the flames up ever so slightly to more moans and slaps. Jon gave a final spank, and his hand took to more Sparks. He began to run the low powered spell up and down her spine, never stopping his assault on the now warm womanhood he was abusing.
"Time out!" The Tutor cried.
Lydia's hands left immediately, and so did Jon's. Unfortunately he was already committed. The surprise shout lost him his already weakening control. His flames stopped, but he grunted and twitched as his blessing shot into her chest cavity once again. When he was done he immediately pulled out, before she fell huddled to the side. She was heaving breath on instinct, and her form was twitching in orgasm.
Lydia said, "Are you alright?"
Jon said, "I'm sorry, I couldn't stop that one. Talk to us, dear."
She started sobbing, "I'm fine, better than fine. Thank you. It's been so long. So long. Thank you."
And she dispelled away.
Lydia hesitantly said, "That kind of kills the mood. Not her fault though."
Jon agreed, "Of course not. She's looking to feel anything. Any emotion or sensation at all. She chose this for her reasons, but she literally did not stop living, despite the moniker. Then two doms that understand what she's about walk into her hall? Ones that already talked to her? Formed a real connection? The first one in how many fucking years? I used to think conjuration as slavery. Its patently not, because they want to be summoned more than almost anything. But now I just think its fucking abuse that no one actually talks to them, or even ties to understand them."
Lydia said, "They're still people, in the end. This wont stand."
Jon shook his head, "No, it wont. There will be a plaque here. A general order for all College personnel and students. They are to properly greet the Tutor every time she is summoned. So fucking says the Living Tenth Divine, patron of summons."
A crack of lighting took to the distance, unheard by even the lovers. The Divines were pleased with that they saw.
Jon and Lydia saw no need to hide their Divine forms. They simply grabbed their robes up, and took to the stairs after unlocking the door. It was late, and none saw them save one.
Urag was coming down the stairs to his quarters, while the lovers went up. They gave him a smile as they stepped aside. The rage drained from his eyes entirely when he saw the bits of ectoplasm still hanging from their forms. He rumbled a chuckle, fighting with all his might a laugh, as he quickly got down the stairs passed them and out of their way. He would never speak of what he saw, but the memory of it would keep him in good humor for years.
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Unbeknownst to any expect the Divines and one man, the strike of lighting off to the distance flapped a butterfly's wings. That butterfly was spotted by a hunting Raven on the prowl near the western watchtower of Whiterun. The Raven swooped down and took the prey, finding it a good meal. He was in good heath now, and knew he would find a coin or two on the way back, left there clumsily by Man. He would certainly boast of this take to the others, but he would boast of it now as well. He cawed with all his might.
A simple blacksmith, who's bread and butter are shoes for the Jarl's steeds, looked up at the cawing Raven. His long braided handlebars wissed in the wind. He had seen many a Raven before. He even called a couple his friends, but there was something about this one. He closed his eyes, a single tear in one, and nodded slowly. This Raven was an Omen. A clear one, very clear. He was blessed by a warm graze on his mind.
A Man had taken to godhood, near about this moment, truly taken to it. The Man he saw die to the dragon, the Man he was going to cry for before he stole the dragon's power and cheered instead, the Man he saw blessed by Akatosh for his bravery, his sacrifice, his refusal to submit lest he be dead.
The blacksmith saw, he remembered, and now he knew. The Omen wasn't a Command, however. It was a General Order, to respect the humble summon. A humble plague, the god would want, from a humble blacksmith, Akatosh knew. He smiled as he began to work, the tear falling in his forge, pulling the fire higher and hotter. He started with the name of the Man. Jon, of house Noonien-Signh, Thane of Whiterun, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, Thane of Winterhold.
He thought about putting Dragonborn at the end, then thought if he were what the Man was, he would perhaps want a bit of privacy about that. He left it off, as he began the General Order that would be shipped to the College. The Thalmor are going to get what's coming to them, he knew as the mourned the loss of a friend.