---Entry 11/Trial 8/Witch Hunt---
Dear Gretel,
There's a small spice shop just outside of east LA. Women will often frequent between there and a bar a few blocks down the same road. The women and establishments may all seem inconspicuous to the untrained eye, but I can't say those who see these women often could be called street smart in any sense if they can't tell that the women are agents/scouts and the places are outposts. They're not as blatant as Jehovah's Witnesses to me, but they're not much better. Fortunately they don't act like them or any other outreaching organized religion. I think it's very smart of them to have someone keeping their ear to the ground with non-coven affairs, and someone to contact young girls who find themselves confused and scared after connecting to magic, but again their fear of being caught seems so ridiculous to me.
One of these women, I observe during my window shopping over the course of a few days, was named Esther. The shops I entered across the street were very accommodating to me for my stakeout. Silver and blonde hair, slightly-aged face, an athletic body, and a fairly strong essence, showing her natural age with grace; overall, a high-grade MILF to my eye. She kept a good jogging regimen along the street with the two shops, which I think was both for exercise and as a ruse. Esther blends in better than most, but I still wasn't fooled. jeremy helped track her movements all the way out of the city; a nice little meadowy setting where she meditated everyday.
After four days, I followed her with jeremy out to the spot. We parked a short distance away from her. I kept myself quiet as jeremy blew me in the back seat. It was my hope that we would be mistaken for just a couple looking for some roadside frisky, and it worked. Really, I was accessing my subspace to increase a dampening spell on myself. Witches, especially witches on the fringe between covens and society, all develop their extra sensory abilities so they can pick out magic signatures from a distance. The older beauty didn't seem to notice me from across the street, but I didn't want to take chances for how close I was going to get.
15 minutes after we arrived, I'd finally emerged from the car, dressed in some jogging sweats, the backseat workout convincingly giving me a light sheen of sweat. I stood next to a tall tree she could easily use for shade earlier in the day. I could tell from her posture how comfortable she was there, how this was her spot. Lighting a cigarette got the old lady's attention, probably due to the funny contradiction of a smoker/runner in LA; she had to know I was there, but she only opened her eyes at the sound of the lighter opening. She turned her head to see a horribly-disguised woman (in retrospect) admiring the nearby view. I gave her a gentle smile with obvious hints of satisfaction and interest.
"You want something..." Esther made a declaration rather than asking me a question; much more intuitive than I thought.
"Just taking in the scenery," I told her, taking a drag on my cigarette, not letting my ruse lapse.
"No, you want something else. Something, with me."
Between the lull I knew was coming, and her figuring me out sooner than I would've liked, I quietly sprung into action, taking a long drag on my cigarette, and depositing it in her direction. There was a lot more to deposit thanks to G-magic, and she was quickly covered in a thick, hazy cloud, thicker than a few dozen lapsing nicotine addicts greedily getting a fix. She panicked only a little as she stood up, one hand covering her face and the other extended to cast a protective spell. She was having trouble with both, so I helped her out.
"Skybound sun, but clouds resting on land,
Let clarity fill the air, allow the wind to disband."
With one handwave, a strong gust of wind like the one I used at the beach washed all the smoke away, and took a bit of wind out of Esther's sails for thinking straight. Unlike the college kids from the beach, she was still standing, still trying to put up resistance despite the obvious blow she'd taken. Stumbling with wobbly legs, still coughing up smoke from her healthy lungs, she tried gaining balance. With thoughts in enough disarray, I could scan her mind much easier, and saw she was about to attempt some sort of transport spell to whisk herself away. She couldn't manage the words or the strength as invisible phantoms covered her mouth and firmly restrained her to the grass. She coughed from small amounts of cigarette smoke still trapped, muffling in shock, obviously having never been exposed to a spell as strong as mine.
Esther looked up to see me kneeling down at her, caressing her face gently like a matron her age would do to someone my age.
"Brittle, failed affections,
the heart twice bitten.
gaze upon your final love,
your soul ultimately smitten."
She saw my lips form the love spell that mapped out an emotional history of loving and losing, and finally finding the woman she was meant for. My nostrils flared at the facial play that ended with clear amour. I could feel the lull coming (it was easier to identify this time), so I used what was left of my powers into G-Concilium, lazering her brain directly from my fingertips touching her forehead, imbuing the constant stream of my thoughts into hers. I could feel her shock of my mental intrusion shaking weakened foundations, yet there was some fight my magic couldn't immediately snuff out. A trained brain like hers saved what little sense of self was left, hiding it while most motor functions thankfully came quickly under my command. Despite the serene headspace I was in, I could feel the pressure in trying to keep her under control, straining harder than any trial before this one; I maybe should've tried letting go to the feeling and let domineering instinct take over, but there was a degree of nervous excitement that kept me pushing against her faltering pushback.
The phantoms disappeared as my beauty and beguiling smile held her in place, breathing out the remaining smoke and inhaling the faint musk from the stain in my sweats. Thoughts about the danger I posed to her slowly shifted; it read like a jumbled misunderstanding, and with each breath, the need to trust me took root, letting natural lust and other pliable reactions follow, fighting the screaming warning from within. I paved over that warning with smooth stroking, like the strokes I gave her softened face and that blonde-silver mane.
I quickly asked about her plans for the rest of the day and through the week, to see if there was anywhere she was supposed to be, or anyone who'd miss her at home. Other than goldfish, no one would know she would be missing. Before the lull started affecting performance, I wordlessly commanded her to sleep, making sure she remained receptive to any verbal instructions, even from jeremy if necessary.
jeremy carried me to the car while Esther followed in-tow, and we drove to the sleeping witch's car, who followed us home. On the short drive to her car, Esther reclined in the passenger seat as I continued to sleepily stroke her hair, affectionately-binding her more to me with that gesture. All the way home, I suggested the warmth in her cheeks was from me still stroking her. Though normal trance suggestion, I asked her to follow us into the apartment. Despite the embers of resistance I still felt, she fortunately complied; a lot less strange-looking than being carried in. Once inside, jermey held her as I used fractionation on her for a while, taking her as deep as any normal hypnotist could under the circumstances.
Unfortunately this trial wasn't nearly as clean as others; corralling a witch for testing was challenging enough, let alone the effort it might take to test, but progress will soon be made. As I whispered to her to sleep and dream of Cherish before the lull forced me to nap, I knew we'd be both dreaming of the hot interactions to come.
---Entry 12/Intermission 2/yESHTERday---
Hello Gretel. My name is Esther Overton, and I have been instructed to write down my thoughts as they come to me. Right now, I am only partially in control of the thoughts that come to me; I admit that with complete control of my body, I would be looking for ways to escape my captivity and the powerful spells upon me, but the most I can manage at this very moment is an honest account of my feelings and what I remember.
It all started yestherday when...no, yesterday when my meditation was interrupted by a presence desperately trying to make themselves invisible, and such an effort creates a hollow essence that is just as much a signal as brandishing one's power. I could feel their presence, their intention. I turned to see Her, Cherish.
Her name, Cherish, writing it, thinking it, knowing it, fills my body with waves of pleasure. It is so strange to denote the difference of what Cherish and Her stunning qualities means to me now compared to what they meant to me upon our first meeting. Turning to meet that face, once unremarkable but now arresting, those dark eyes that now haunt my dreams, those plotting lips that now speak simply known truths, baggy clothes hiding Her sexy figure, I knew this girl was trouble, and now the only trouble I know is fighting Her, which I cannot.
Her ambush seemed poorly thought-out, and I was prepared to leave or teach Cherish a harsh lesson, rising to deal with the issue as She indulged in Her cigarette. But as She exhaled, the unhealthy smoke became all there was, leaving me lost in an impossible spell like the one I remain in now, stronger than any I have felt before, lost in bounds that only seem endless as gravity constantly pulls me back to the center where unnatural forces say I must be, where Cherish is.
Just like yestherday, no yesterday, I don't know why I'm misspelling. No, I do. Like the love spell faintly lingering in my veins now, proper grammar and writing have shifted my perceptions. The pride I held at using proper conjugation and penmanship unlike the young generation and their seemingly phone-based illiteracy, but now my lovno, my feelings for Cherish make it so my brain, my fingertips and the pen guided by both know She deserves capitalization, as she deserves my capitulation, no matter how hard it is to fight Her off, which i still cannot. I do not want to end up like the male supplicant She has; i i i i cannot give myself capitalization anymore, and i feel pleasure in hearing Her laugh about it. i cannot go back and erase it as i feel my ability to do so erased as a possibility. i know i deserve capitalization, but i know it pales compared to what She deserves. i do not want to be a slave. But knowing that i will be one make me wet, as i know it makes Her wet. It makes me want to finger myself the way She is fingering Herself when She watches me. It makes me like Her, it makes me want everything She wants.
The darkness was all i knew before Cherish appeared, before Cherish cleared my mind and made room only for Herself. i once looked down on anyone that treated others as prolonged puppets, until it felt so good, it feels so good to be one now.
The tingles from Her touch make my skin sensitive and needy. Since yestherday. No yestherday, i have become one with Cherish's thoughts and desires; they felt so foreign and overwhelming before, numbing control i once had myself, but now i cannot tell where Her wants end and my needs begin. Concilium is not supposed to, or has never been reported to work this way; it's a temporary measure of control the victim is aware of, something i should be able to bring an adequate defense against even the cleverest practitioner. Cherish has surpassed clever and achieved something miraculous, something that i would've been totally fascinated by if it didn't mean the end of me in some way. My last statement is so odd as i am totally fascinated by this, and by Cherish.
Her control is constant, an unyielding river of suggestions and assertions for the body and mind to adhere to. What's left of me is a boulder in the insistent river, eroding the size and shape, until i'm small enough to become swept away. i wonder if i'll be recognizable when the last of me is gone. What was once an invisible hand guiding mine now possesses mine from within. The scenery changed several times yestherday as i moved from outside to an inside, to another outside and someone's inside, while always looking at myself from the outside in, inside Cherish's control; it is confusing phrasing it like this, which seems to amuse Her and make me appreciate the confusion. i may do it to myself again, just from knowing it pleases Cherish.
Once or twice in my life, in what feels like another life, i know i have appreciated the physical and emotional connection with other women worthy of my time; opening my eyes to stand before Cherish, with Her male slave worshiping
the naked pussy of our bottomless mistress, i was suddenly besieged by a thirst. Like a dehydrated man needs, water, like a vampire needs blood, i needed to be at Her pussy. It was so easy to approach Her as She cruxed Her finger at me, and i stood in-front of the pair, at arms length of Cherish. i could feel the connection between us strengthen as i moved closer, more of what i could have called resistance suppressed. She stroked my face and cooed a strange poem to me.
"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."
i melted into Her caress of my face the way most of me caressed to the weird assertion that i had pledged anything to Cherish, whose name fills me with a loving need to obey.
"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."
The way She said yestherday, emphasizing my name in the word, made it make sense why i have been misspelling, and why i really can't mind continuing to spell it yestherday in writing and my own mind.
"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."
The way She drew my name around it made me wetter, droplets of lust trailing down my bare leg, letting me know i was bottomless like Cherish, without pants and without an end to our depths.
