A Secret of Witchcraft

"If you have it, return it immediately to Calder," the President demanded.

"I can't." I told the truth. I would NEVER part with it.

"We can't have this sort of thing here. We are a community of artists. This is a sacred creative space. This won't do." The President's neck turned a darker brown headed toward red.

"I suggest you talk to Ms. Cleft." I turned, and I left. I no longer felt welcome at the college. I had begun mulling my feelings about the way Ms. Cleft used the totem. I mean, I didn't consent, but she couldn't have know what would happen. I was upset with her regardless.

Things just got worse. I walked home to find an Ambulance and police cars at the end of my block. Someone had beat George, and he looked a mess. They cut his scalp somehow - maybe a broken bottle. His hair was matted with blood and it ran all down his face. The EMTs were just loading him up when I arrived. I said I was his friend and asked where they were taking him.

I don't even remember the walk up my stairs. I spent a long time in a hot bath despairing that witchcraft had failed me. I decided to just run away on Sunday. I knew there was a bus on Sunday afternoons because I rode it home after my first visit to Columbus. Plus, I wouldn't get my pay check until Friday afternoon. The college always paid a week behind. I decided to suck it up and forfeit pay for the week I just completed. I really wanted my $600 for the two weeks before that though.

On Thursday, I showed up at Calder's studio for my "lunch break" right before he left for class. "Can I have some of your art supplies?" I asked.

"Sure. Take whatever you need. The college will provide more to me."

While he was gone, I collected two large sketch pads, chalks, and pastels and stacked the small pile on Calder's desk. At that moment, his laptop's screen saver switched on. It was a photo of me laying on his floor with my back against his window and my legs slightly spread. My eyes were closed. Back light from the window produced a silhouette of my torso. My translucent camisole left little to imagination, and my nipples stood out as visible bumps. I thought about his laptop coincidentally becoming broken beyond repair, but the fact that he used me for is screen saver was flattering. I imagined he masturbated to that image. I decided to let him keep it.

Calder wouldn't be back for another hour. I set out to give my craft another try. I took off all my clothes and leaned back standing against Calder's massive window. My butt pressed flat on the glass for anyone who looked up to see. I used the slow burn masturbation style that starts as very gentle teasing around my vulva. Right before I came, I bent at the waist with my fingers holding my labia apart in a very lewd version of mooning the pedestrians. The extra thrill that someone might be looking kicked off a cascade of energy and a spell.

My spell encouraged the universe to distract Dr. Henri, Ms. Cleft, and anyone else who might think of pursuing me. Then, I dressed in a languid stupor. Right before I left, I took my first drawings, the one of the street, and the one of Dr. Henri. Then I went down to Ms. Clefts empty classroom and took my expressionist rendering of "David With Broken Penis". I couldn't find my self-portrait. I signed, titled, and dated the drawings I had. I used Ms. Cleft's prized fountain pen off her desk. I left the "realistic" drawings behind.

That evening, I took all of my loot home. Then I walked 20 blocks carrying my David drawing to the Ohio State Medical Center to visit George. The problem was, I didn't know his last name or whatever name he gave them. I stood in the entry foyer of the hospital with a blank look and a blank mind. Dragging my feet around mostly empty corridors, I popped into a ladies room.

I may not have mentioned it before, but I came to the conclusion that even though the phallic totem provided a novel masturbation sensation, I prefer my lady parts. Maybe I just know them better. I wondered if lady parts feel better than man parts, and I should pity men for their diminished sensuality. I also wondered if maybe spells cast using the wooden dick don't work.

Without much enthusiasm, I rubbed out a quickie. It took ridiculously long for a "quickie" - like maybe an hour. I had to reach way back into my library of fantasies. I used the one where I dance in front of a crowd while someone slowly strips me. I pretend I'm oblivious as long as possible. Then I act embarrassed. Then I embrace the energy of hundreds of people horny for my sex. I masturbate like a wanton witch for the crowd. (I know I'm a bit kinky and weird.)

There wasn't much power behind the spell, but it was enough for me to coincidentally try the fifth floor and then spot his room at the end of the corridor. He looked better, I suppose. His head was shaved, and he had about a hundred stitches in his scalp that I could see.

"You look better." I smiled to him.

"You sure are nice to see." He smiled back.

"We chatted about what happened." He didn't recognize his attackers.

"Are you sure it wasn't the same two boys you rescued me from?"

He just didn't know. After telling how much I missed having him right below me, I gave him my signed David. I kissed a relatively unbruised part of his cheek, and wished him well. Then I left his room with a tear in my eye.

I collected my pay check on Friday. Then I left before the end of my shift without telling anybody. I bounced around my little apartment with nervous energy. Then I slept for 14 hours straight. I washed the totem again even though it didn't need it. It just feels so peculiar in my loins when I do that. I mean, it wouldn't get me to orgasm, but it made great foreplay.

I wondered again how the magic with the totem might work. Maybe my subconscious cast a spell while I rode it. If so, that wouldn't be like any other spell I cast. I mean, my spells have to produce explainable results. I couldn't think of any explanation for what I felt with my ghost penis. Maybe a spell made me as delusional as people likely think when they read this story. I concluded that the totem must have some magic of its own somehow.

I rode to my home town on the bus with almost all my worldly possessions in the luggage compartment. My penis made the journey clutched to my breasts under a sweatshirt in a protective embrace.

I surprised my parents while they were eating a late dinner. Mom was concerned that I was home after only 6 weeks. "Did you really give it a try?" she asked critically. Dad was just happy to see me.

I invested part of my last pay check in black die. I transformed every article of clothing I owned into the cheeriest shade of deathly night. Actually, it wasn't my last pay check after all. One for my last week of work showed up in the mail a couple of weeks later. It was a pleasant surprise.

I invested the next eight months building a portfolio including some videos of me drawing. I used the library's equipment to edit the video. I researched online and in library books to find the right college for me. My most important criteria were that the campus had to be pretty, and pictures of campus life needed to show weirdos like me. Ok, nobody is like me. I looked for people who looked fun and completely alien to the people in my home town. I also didn't want it to be too far from home.

I narrowed my choices down to two, Oberlin College and Ohio University in Athens Ohio. Oberlin was smaller and freakier as far as I could tell, but it was also 120 miles further away. Ohio University was huge but was in a small town that looked a lot like my home town would look if people had any money to shop.

When I investigated OU more closely, I found out they didn't require a portfolio. I almost pulled my hair out.

Epilogue:

My parents helped me move into a dorm room in the Fall. Coincidentally, I bumped into another girl named Andrea who was in Ms. Calder's class with me. She transferred to OU the same time I arrived. She told me about the events I missed in Columbus. "The place is completely different now," she insisted.

Ms. Calder was arrested for outstanding warrants. It was something about domestic abuse and assaulting a police officer. Then the Trusties found out that Dr. Henri had forged his credentials from L'École des Arts Joailliers. I had no idea what that even was. Henri disappeared in a cloud of scandal and gossip.

A couple of years later, entirely by coincidence, I stumbled upon George's obituary online. It said he was 77 and survived by a son. I sent a condolence letter to the son and explained how George protected me and made me feel safe in an alien city. The son wrote me back. We ended up having a long phone conversation.

George was a disabled veteran. He had suffered a traumatic brain injury in some war before I was born. His trip to the hospital got him reconnected with the Veterans Administration. He had a decade or more of disability benefits backlogged because the government couldn't find him. The son told me George bought the closed upholstery shop and lived there until the end.

Get this! I don't know what George paid for the shop, but he evidently got it including its contents. After he died, the son went through the place. There were $800K worth of Persian Rugs in there. One of the lamps was a Tiffany worth another couple grand. I smiled through the phone and said how glad I was. By then, I knew what Persian Rugs and Tiffany Lamps were from my Art education.

The son offered to return my drawing of "David with Broken Penis". I asked if he wanted to keep it, and he did. He said it was on the wall over his dining table. It was a great conversation starter when people visited. His wife loved it too. I figured the drawing went to a good home.

I didn't get my coven together until several years later. Mary was welcomed back into the fold, but I wasn't above giving her a few tastes of the pain that comes from banging your dick into things. By then, I was regularly using a special man's wand that fit me much better than the totem. I still let my coven mates use the totem though. They'ed surprise me by fucking it while I was at dinner or otherwise indisposed for orgasms. I LOVED it.

I mostly reserved my man's flesh wand as a private pleasure between me and him. I formed a relationship with his wand similar to my relationship to the totem. I have to say, he was almost as fond of masturbating as me. He even achieved a faint reciprocal connection to my clitoris. I cast some epic spells while he used his wand and I played accompaniment. A clitoris and a prick stimulated at the same time are magical. Sometimes, a witch just needs to use the right tools for the job.