Trials Entry 14 15

---Entry 14/Trial 10/Speaking out of Turnabout---

Dear Gretel,

Sheesh, witches can be real grumps sometimes. You just have some young, eager witches out there doing a little experimentation, looking to better themselves and further the art, and the old guard gets their titties in a twist in a hurry about it. A spanking and a warning hardly seems fair for taking over one of the old guard and making her a simpering sex slave for a few days. Can I blame them for their reaction? Not really. Do I think they made the right call? Biasly, hell no. If another witch is better at bewitching, she's just better, and to the victor go the spoils. I beat Esther. But then again, Connie did beat me.

Which leads me to what happened once that interloping scent took me down at the spice shop. Even I can admit I really underestimated how potent that stuff must be in concentrated doses. What I learned later is that Connie tricked me a bit, making me believe that she'd spread it all over the shop, which explains why me and Esther got got; I assumed Connie had immunized herself somehow, but really she just took strong concentrations of the stuff telekinetically kept it wafting around both our heads; I have to give her credit for that tactic.

Once I came back to myself, seated before Connie in the back office of the shop, while Esther rested on the couch nearby. Only some of the prohibere remained in my system, accompanied by some other potions leading to stronger compulsions. I couldn't get up or move out of the chair, but I wanted to interact with Connie, my nerves were so interested in engaging with the raven-haired captor that wasn't me for once, so ready to tell her truths to whatever she asked.

"Awake already, I see," she greeted me, staring harshly down at me, arms crossed, body exhibiting quiet anger, and something else.

"Yes," I found myself wanting to say, and saying before any competing thoughts could take place.

"According to Esty, your name is Cherish Kwan. Is that your real name?"

"Yes."

"Huh," she replied in a huff, as if my name struck her as gaudy or overblown. I would've fought against the subduing fog I was kept in to respond, but it was enough of a struggle to stay myself.

"Lifelong?" Connie asked how long I've been a witch. I sensed she would've just easily assumed I wasn't were it not for her friend's disposition.

"Yes." Whatever the concoction was that kept me rooted, everything else was maintaining except for the truth serum feeling - every answer I gave made me want to say more.

"And you want to tell me everything, don't you?" Connie reached to feel my pulse at my wrist and throat, her fingers confirming what my lips spoke.

"I want to tell you everything, Connie."

"Esty told you my name?"

"Yes, she told me your name. And Esmeraude's."

She looked over to Esther before looking back at me, utterly surprised at how much had already been disclosed.

"Esmeraude will be joining us soon, but why don't you start to tell me how you got my friend over there."

"I..." my first bout of hesitation, feeling a little of myself push through.

"Tell me what you want to tell me, Cherish. Answer my question," she said firmly, pushing on the need still in me.

"I took your friend with G-Concilium."

"What is...G-Concilium?" she couldn't help but laugh at the phrase, about what I expected of another witch discovering my secret weapon. I smiled too as I gave my explanation, watching hers fade in utter disbelief. She checked my pulse again to see if conditions had changed; they didn't. Connie slowly resigned herself to the fact that I was speaking a truth that somehow wasn't fiction.

"You were planning to use this on me?"

"Yes Connie."

"How is it supposed to work? How did it work on Esty?"

A small smile of pride slipped over my lips as I explained the details.

"G-Concilium works along the same principle as normal Concilium, extending your own essence into a subject, pressing your will softly, undetectably, against someone that calmly, quietly are barely aware that they're acting on your orders, and believe all is well as you smile at them, having assumed control. A witch using Concilium is hard to resist...but a witch using G-Concilium, simply cannot be resisted."

Fear and curiosity made Connie a captive audience, ready to learn about what sounded like a revolution in spellcasting to a veteran who thought she'd seen it all.

"I certainly didn't expect to ever learn about this anomaly, a once-in-a-lifetime discovery. I discovered it during sex, and when I found out what it was, the world shifted. Deep, deep breaths, made me realize I wasn't dreaming, no matter how dreamy the sensation left me, and my subjects. Gravity set upon me as I had to sit down, wrap my mind around how the impossible became possible, how the pleasure of passion and the imagination of magic fused, leaving me stuck on one thought, thinking only about this..."

I watched her find a seat at the mention of gravity, find regulated breaths at the suggestion of deep ones, I could only imagine the malleable condition of her mind as my lowered intonation and purposeful cadence wrapped around her preoccupation of the notion of G-Concilium. And even as I relayed everything including my own feelings about the discovery, with her truth spell still intact, she was more than inclined to trust me, I was merely inclined to make that trust flourish.

"It's a helpless thought to think, the kind that makes all others vanish. The pleasure of passion and imagination of magic, two energies flowing independently like acquaintances, sharing words and thoughts and energies until they merge, and the energies become dear, dear friends. And when elements shared become one, so do the energies become soulmates, sharing the same heart, thinking the same thoughts, and those energies become like a ball in your hands..."

My hands found the energy to rise, to cradle the sightless between them that Connie focused on. As my nearly-inert hands expanded, the merged energy she saw probably grew from the size of a pebble, to a small rock, to a baseball, to a crystal ball floating powerfully in my hands.

"Feeling the energies of magic and passion, mind and sex, Concilium and cunnilingus, it's so intoxicating in my hands, waves of its energy emit outwards, drawing others closer to it, pulled by magnetic forces of attraction that tease and tempt learning and loins."

That's what I love about the average witch; they're always expecting certain powers to come about in whatever words spoken in obvious verbalized spells, they keep forgetting that words are already inherently powerful, and the mind is already its own talisman. Well, my mind is more wand-like, pointedly casting spells. Theirs is more talisman, thinking of their minds as insulated and shielded from any threat. Maybe true to everything else, but hilariously-ineffective from me - there is no warding off an insistent, hypnotic witch.

To be honest though, the informative induction got me so hot, staining the seat I was stuck in for my own designs, for all I knew, there really was a ball of Concilium energy in-between my extended palms. The energy circulated, and shifted into my left hand; it was either the real energy, or just the nerves in my fingers looking forward to what came next.

"And that ball eventually changed shape to a think beam of energy, a laser pointing itself forward, seeking out a vulnerable head to penetrate," I leaned forward and pressed my index finger to her forehead, watching her eyes roll back to stare up at it. My finger stayed there, pretending, willing, hoping energies were really flowing there.

"And no mind, no talisman, fortitude or shielding is strong enough to be unpierced, deeply penetrated by the lasered energy carrying my will, my control, all of my commands that shoot down from your brain, like a shiver of pleasure down your spine, and back up to your brain, bringing all of you into deep cooperation. Feeling my power, nothing of you can remember what it was like to not be in my control, like the pleasured body doesn't want to remember what it was like to live without its blissful reason to live."

I slowly stood up, finger still pressed against her, and stared her down, taking the position the triumphant witch once took with me.

Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that part Gretel, I won that little exchange. Connie's ego got the spanking, her body never got the warning to heed the magic of mere words and perhaps tactile Concilium, and her nipples got a twist between my fingertips in a hurry, with what strength I could manage. Her knees bent just as adorably as her mind did with some help.

"Turnabout is fair play,

as this decided victor decrees.

Let the outcomes of truths in all things,

leaving your lips with you on bended knees."

Certainly a much weaker, less specific magic compared to what was leaving my system, but a nice additive to the foundation I already built. And probably necessary given Connie's earlier words.

"Tell me Connie, is Emseraude due here soon?"

"...." I saw her lips quivering, wanting to say something her bashed will still questioned.

"C'mon sweetie, you know you want to answer my question."

"She's...coming very soon."

"Is she coming alone?"

"I don't...think so."

"Who, and what is she bringing?"

A brief explanation detailed that Esmeraude was the most cautious of the three, readily coming prepared for whatever. Connie knew little about what was likely on its way, but enough general information led me to prepare for the next bout.

---Entry 15/Trial 11/Magical Melee---

Dear Gretel,

Pop quiz, what does a Concilium witch plus one 90% enslaved elder witch plus a 40% enslaved elder witch plus a 0% enslaved elder witch plus one 0% enslaved "troubleshooter," or literal witch doctor equal?

A goddamn mess is what it all adds up to.

Of all the things to go wrong today, the one thing I know I didn't need was an impromptu trial for taking down unknown odds. It was a very opportune time to really field test G-Concilium, but completely out of necessity. Just like with Connie, pulling it off would be high-risk; having the element of surprise on my side was good, but I didn't know against what. Fleeing with my two new slaves could've been an option, but for all I knew, Connie could've relayed information about who I was from my purse while I was out; how infuriating it would've been to be caught at home, thinking I was safe.

Retreating as an option closed off, I had to sink or swim immediately after beating a hard challenge of treading unfriendly waters, and make sure everyone else sank. My body wasn't 100% ready with slowly warding off the remaining Prohibere, and the new tactile version of G-Concilium taking a bit out of me. With what was coming next through the shop's door, I really had to think outside the box, pretending I was still trapped in one.

When Esmeraude did arrive, not long after I assumed enough control of Connie, she definitely came prepared. Sitting in the same interrogation chair in the back of the spice shop, pretending to look out of it, vision through slit eyes caught sight of the third old hottie. With natural dark red hair and a pretty face with cute freckles strewn about it, I nearly swooned at my next hopeful conquest; a silvery-blonde, brunette, and redhead collection of dolls gave me sexy shivers I had to subdue while paying attention to her aggressive assets more than her attractive ones. A few tomes cradled in her arms, some necklaces ready to utilize for different uses like warding spells and scrying. The biggest tool she brought was a greyed warlock troubleshooter (my shorthand for an assisting mage used to boost incantations or powers, a fresh set of eyes for solving complex magics, etc.) named Lawrence. Everything about him screamed experienced, formidable to other witches unlike most warlocks, and likely to make the execution of my plan even more challenging.

The way Esmeraude, Lawrence, and a compromised Connie spoke, interest was high concerning me, and what I'd done to My Esther. Connie explained the situation in an almost controlled monotone, with just the right amount of emotion to not seem strange, but to also set a rhythmic cadence to get things started. Just like I instructed her to, the tone was measured, drawing their subconsciouses in to being ready to absorb information from whoever spoke like that, from Connie, myself, or anyone; she even answered questions that way. Lawrence's questions held a tone of slight disbelief, but was clearly interested in looking how to rectify the situation. Esmeraude's was pure concern though, obviously worried, but strangely, in a way that almost signaled capitulation, or understanding the capitulation. Through peripheral vision of a slit open eye, Esmeraude in particular held her gaze in my direction much longer; I expected her to look longer upon and show immediate concern for Esther, but the redhead's sights almost completely rested on me. I didn't dare adjust myself to see what expressions crossed her face, but her body language said enough, so much so that the others noticed. A hand on Esmeraude's shoulder from Lawrence woke her from her reverie, trying to bring her to an immediate course of action to take. Without speaking, Esmeraude simply turned to tend to her friend, surprising Lawrence who sighed and made his way to my "unconscious" form.

I saw Esmeraude leaning over Esther, pressing her hands to her face to banishing magic over her. Internal grinning satiated me while the barely attractive older man blocked my view with his focused face. He looked down to my wrists to see opulent-red bracelets around my wrists, artifacts meant for interrogation and extracting truth from an unguarded mind; one was enough even for the average witch, but two was considered overkill, or necessary if a witch somehow acceded her standing. Thankfully the knockoffs looked close enough to the real thing, and the troubleshooter fearlessly began.

"What is your name?" Lawrence began with preliminary questions.

"Ch...erish," I mumbled quietly in Connie's even tone.

"What is your length of blessing?" Translation: the other way to ask how long have you been a witch, since most are born into witchcraft. I started after birth, but I give my natural age anyway.

"twenty...nine," I utter, convinced I was born to do this.

"Is your purpose here malevolent or benevolent?"

"...benevolent," I gave a small pause in my answer. It was such a strange question to me, even for a subdued mind. I could've said "malevolent" and adhere to his expectations, but I found it more fun to give his mind something to think about in why I would say I'm bringing positivity to their doorstep, considering everything he'd been told about me. But of course they look at it from the wrong mindset; as Esther and Connie knew, as Esmeraude and perhaps Lawrence would know, the kind of magic I bring is nothing but positivity. Sometimes force is required to pierce the social barrier keeping primal, magical hedonism in-check, before it can be let out and freely blossom.

Though I couldn't see it, I could clearly imagine what was happening behind Lawrence's back. Esmeraude pointedly whispering chants to ward my spell out of Esther who'd only be turned on by it. The hands holding a lolling face grasping the spell-caster's hands, whispering back her own words, turning magical commands into soft questions, confusing Esmeraude.

"I command thy spelled mind freed." Esmeraude started strong.

"Freed from commands, from thy spell?" Light arousal was evident in Esther's almost monotone cadence.

"Banish corrupting thoughts from her."

"Banish...thoughts? Corrupting...her?"

"Mind unshackled, at one with her true self."

"Mind...at one Her truth? Un....shackled self?"

A standard three-stanza chant meant to remove all the brainwashing I've done, very ill-equipped to the task, but easy to twist the words with contradictions and interpretations if you know what's coming.

"I command free-no I c-ccommand thy spelled mind spel-freed."

"Command, free to command. A freely-spelled mind."

"B-b-anish corrupting minds, no, thoughts from her."

"Corruption in freedom, her thoughts banished."

"....m-mind unshackled, freed-at one with her thoughts, no, her true self."

"Thoughts thinking freedom enspelled. Shackle your mind to the truth."

Esmeraude's words grew less sure as My Esther's grew with enough surety for the both of them, literally feeding her controlled emotions tactilely into the redhead, bringing both minds into My line of thinking. Nothing sounded alarming as they both whispered words to one another

Connie stood nearby, and between both Esmeraude and Lawrence, looking to see which would fall first in my trap, ready to assist and finish either off from behind. In the race to have Connie at my side first, I also let Lawrence touch me, his hands on the pulse points of my wrists and throat to medically test my truthfulness. It was a sound practice that most using magic to extract truth don't use, but I banked on him being thorough, and it worked.

"Check my pulse if you don't believe me," was what my answer of bringing "benevolence" really meant. It was going to be one answer or another that led him to it, but I'm glad of all answers I could've aroused suspicion in, I'm glad I chose that one. Obediently on his way, I started to focus my mind on what was happening throughout the room, letting my arousal organically build and tactically-activating G-Concilium.

"'Benevolent' how?" Lawrence asked, reeling from my answer, assuming the sensations he was feeling stemmed from that and not the lightly-radiating energy flowing onto his fingertips. I couldn't try the ball of energy like I did with Connie, but improvisation carried me through, and I was more than happy to feed him continuous lower levels, masking the sensation by keeping him reeling from absurd answers.

"Benevolent because no one runs from pleasure," I let my voice get slightly husky with an unbidden answer and a pulse that told him I was still being truthful. "I do not bring pain here, only pleasure, the kind that has you forgetting all about pain, the pains of the day, of yesterday, of the past, of the future. All I bring is pleasure, and the absence of all else. All I bring is what you're drawn to, and your legs won't let you run away from." Soon my tone was focused, and my cadence matched the whispers across the backroom, trapping the least effected in a soft, tantalizing crossfire. Lawrence's 'reeling' expression barely changed, eyes wide but the surrounding muscles eased and smoothed, and even his jaw started to involuntarily part, possibly interested in my words, but certainly accepting of their meaning. Dripping wet between my legs and power increasing between my words, I continued.

"It is pleasurable enough to allow legs to remain where they are, so they shall. Pleasurable to allow muscles to stay comfortably still, so they shall. Pleasurable to allow the bringer of pleasure to bring you a pleasurable truth, so she shall..."

I let my ruse lapse by giving him a wide smile, letting my eyes be lively and compelling before I heard a muffled noise from nearby. Shifting slightly, I caught a glimpse of Esther reaching up from the couch to kiss Esmeraude. I figured all was going exactly to plan, until the redhead pulled herself away so fast, she backed into Connie, and more dominos fell after that as Connie knocked Lawrence and me out of our seats.

My head hit something reasonably hard as I shook it, managing pain and trying to assess the room; Esmeraude and Lawrence were shaking themselves awake while Connie looked out of it in an bruised way more than a fun one. Realizing everything was being undone, I angrily fought through the pain to throw a restrictive spell to Lawrence still on the ground and move to retake Connie as quickly as possible. Lawrence struggled on the ground while I struggled to touch my finger to Connie's forehead to re-establish the trance; Esmeraude's outstretched hand kept my muscles locked in place, my head barely able to look up to see the redhead trying to keep composure. Instead of following the spell up with something else to further neutralize me, she just looked at me with that same concerned look, swearing there was a hint of fear there. It became more than a hint as she looked at my hand, or the tattoo on the back of my hand; the sight of it made her gasp, and somehow falter with keeping me rooted in place.