Trials (Entry 01 - 03)

---Entry 1/Introduction---

Dear Diary slash Scientific Journal,

My name is Cherish, and I am your hypnotic Mistress. Now I know what you're thinking, because I'm writing your thoughts down for you. You are the next in a long line of diaries I've kept over the years, and they have been very well preserved and constantly useful for analysis and allowing your Mistress to reminisce, and ramble on about my thoughts on paper which I love to do. And for your purpose, you especially might be part of an important chapter in my life, so consider yourself lucky.

To explain a bit about your Mistress, I am a witch with a healthy control of most of the earthly elements around me. It's not exactly an original ability as there are many witches in the world. Some women are born into this kind of life, and some are born to find it, like my mother and especially me, both Chinese immigrants yearning to find better lives in America. In a different life, I sometimes think I might've been content as an average-looking, bratty-as-fuck, too-smart-for-my-own-good valley girl. But the rest of the time, which is most of the time, I know myself well enough to know that something would've been missing. Thankfully, it really wasn't long before we found witchcraft, almost fresh off the boat. My mother managed to find steady work, and I was just a little tyke picking up English super-quick, when some rowdy INS agents tracked us down.

One of the notable ladies in the neighborhood, Aunt Maggie I called her, helped people like us adjust, and just happened to be a witch who was very good at keeping us safe from deportation and other local threats. The night the INS agents found us was the first time I'd seen a real spell cast. Man-handling my mother and me, ready to drag us out in chains, Aunt Maggie stood in their way like a damn superheroine, calmly speaking purposefully to some blustering assholes with authority, showing them who the real authority was. Suddenly we were uncuffed and the men walked away like zombies, and we were never bothered again. Captivity literally switched from Ma and me, to the cops, right back to impressionable me. Aunt Maggie probably saw it in my eyes how hooked I was as a six year old, and that no amount of warnings or deterrence could keep me from learning what she knew.

Before Aunt Maggie died, she'd helped Ma and by a looser extension me, become part of her coven, making up of some of the most powerful witches on the west coast, if not the world. But unlike Aunt Maggie, the other witches in the coven were less charitable to us, accepting our presence up to a point; lucky we were gifted in the arts, less we would've been easily forgotten and discarded. You'd never think a socially-outcast group like witches could be so ready to cast aside some of their own, but here we are. Their regard for my mother as she got sick very much put me off their idea of a "sisterhood," so early into my adult years, I rejected everything about them but the practice of magic itself. I certainly don't live like most of them; they prefer a life of balance and harmony on the outskirts of society, deep in rural areas where you'd find only farmers, Amish, or those who just hate cities. It's all well-and-good, if your into that sort of thing.

Me though, I'm much more hedonistic, and prefer to live my life exactly with that principle in-mind, entrenched in modern civilization. Whatever I want, when and however I want it, I'm bound to get my way. I think I would be this way even without magic powers, but I love the fortuitousness of this attitude and the powers that compliment it. And apparently, I'm not the only one to have ventured into modern civilization, as the moniker of our powers "The Seven Wonders of Witchcraft," ended up on a TV show called American Horror Story. It seemed to really get the covens in a fit at first, but I think they, like me, found our powers displayed on the show as amusing moreso, in its over-exaggeration, and underestimation as well. The coven elders were still very upset with any part of their ways being in any way exposed to the outside world; I think they actually fear the return of the days of being burned at the stake, as if we were as powerless and subjugatable as our ancestral mothers.

In those "Seven Wonders," I've always been prone to Concilium, known to the layman as mind-control. From the time I first used it under Aunt Maggie's tutelage, no other element felt as good bending to my command more than the mind. Not earth, fire, or water ever had its arrogant or disbelieving expression change instantly toward timid obedience, or showed signs of elation in obeying me if I wished it to be so. It's my most practiced skill, and those around me eventually see my way of things whether they like it or not, usually those non-versed in magic. Of course it helps that I've done quite a bit of psychology study as a hobby to see if there was a way to give myself an edge; Ma always said to get an education, so she could hardly complain about what I studied. Certain vocal patterns and visualization techniques can make a surprising bit of difference, as well as being able to trance people without Concilium at all.

Ma nor Aunt Maggie would never have approved of it before they died, and probably doesn't approve of it from the great beyond somewhere. But they were always interested in my happiness and living up to my potential, more than the simple "wanting a better life for the immigrant child" way. Making them proud through honing my own abilities was the easiest path to take, so take it I did. One thing I never told them or anyone that I wanted the most in this world, was the world itself. Not the kind where everyone knows and bows to me, as nice as that would be, but the kind where I would whisper something into the night, and the next day all nations would mobilize to do my bidding, believing it was their initiative all along. It's a nice thought, but of course I don't have nearly enough power to accomplish that.

Or so I thought.

I've stumbled upon something crazy and inconceivable, and sexy. It, whatever it is, came to me by pure happenstance, but it's fortunately easy to replicate. I'm going to treat this as science experiment and keep a record of what this is and how it progresses. If something substantial comes of this, this can be for feeding my egotistical vanity AND posterity.

And you, Diary, whom I've decided to dub thee as "Gretel," will record all the information I impart to you and remain a loyal resource to me. You'll follow wherever these breadcrumbs might lead us, gingerly of course. You WILL obey, Gretel(lol).

---Entry 2/Trial 0/Enter jeremy---

Dear Gretel,

I hope you like long entries because I never tire of retelling this origin story.

The crazy revelation I'd stumbled upon days earlier was thanks to my life-bound slave jeremy, a 6'1 slightly muscular, handsome, beautifully-conditioned stud who loves his barely 5'7, slightly curvy, tomboyishly-gorgeous, mind-fucking tamer. In a previous life, he was a successful businessman and wife-beater, a pro at both. Well, he's still the former, but the latter is dead and buried like disco (or should be if it's not). I happened to be dining in the same upscale restaurant, in a booth next to them, and overheard a threat he'd given his wife that sounded rather brutal. Me not one willing to sit on the sidelines for long, introduced myself seconds later. Despite his quiet, practiced belligerence or her subdued, weathered terror, both bore the same look of confusion as the short, Asian, gothy-domme, defying the establishment dress code in blue jeans and a black leather jacket, casually sat herself at their table.

"And what do you want, you little bitch," was the handsome man's initial greeting meant to scare me away with an angry scowl; the words made the corners of my lips mirror his angry scowl before curling into a sinister, ironic smile, as my eyes narrowed and forced my Concilium into him.

His eyes widened and his mouth opened in struck panic as I took hold, rooting his stiff, struggling body in place, pushing through all the negative, hurtful comments I sensed he wanted to make. My "slanted eyes" became the most gorgeous dark-brown color he suddenly felt unworthy of gazing into, even though he tried looking away. His cheeks flushed involuntarily, marveling at how my unkempt raven tresses that night framed a slightly pudgy face (his thoughts, not mine) that he fell in-love with at first, extended sight. My tan skin he would've made terrible cracks about paled in comparison to his fairly-pale wife. It lasted slow minutes, relishing how every facial muscle of his grew softer, more innocent, weak lips quivering in that sexy supplicant way. Magically-invading his will was especially fun as I felt most of what made him such a nauseatingly-arrogant male a fairly-deep façade; my power unearthed layers and hit buried treasure, what felt like a tight cork hiding, containing something much deeper beneath. My eyes widened, corkscrewing my power, popping it open to make him gasp out loud, before his body relaxed and his world went away except for Cherish.

"And what do you want, my little bitch," I finally verbally responded in a bedroom voice. I bit my lip watching my seductive words demolish his handsome face, leaving a puddle of fear, awe, and arousal somehow still upright in his chair.

"T....t..t-to b-be yours, your..."

He tried so hard not to say it, to assert himself one last time, but just the raise of an expectant eyebrow ended that.

"...your little bitch," he moaned, confidence withering away in a sexy cower.

"And what does my little bitch do?"

Implanted words he didn't know would become so deeply important to him left his lips as if he'd discovered the meaning of his new life:

"Love Cherish, and Obey."

The trophy wife's gasp reminded me she was still there; deep in shock from the miracle I'd accomplished, I didn't need Concilium or any long induction with her, she was obviously on the edge of suggestibility. I moved my seat to sit right next to hers.

"You're in my power now," I spoke insistently to her in a gentle whisper. "Feel it wrap around you like a warm blanket, controlling you, protecting you. It feels wonderful, and you'll do anything to keep it there. You'll do anything I say to remain safe, safely resting in my power. As long as you are here, no harm will come to you..."

Unable to tell the difference between magic mind control and a simple, direct induction, she just looked at me blankly in silent acceptance. Nodding along with me, she emulated even my body language, sighing deeply as my warm hand covered hers, making her feel safer than she'd been in years. The tear that rolled down her cheek tugged at my typically unmoved heartstrings.

I worked on her a little longer while my little bitch paid the check and retrieved the car, and I ended up going home with both of them. His earlier threat was carried out, but jeremy's wife was the giver and jeremy the receiver. After that painfully-enjoyable endeavor, his Ex would receive enough of the money he'd saved for financial security, and the start of a confidence boost from me to empower her and keep her from ever becoming a victim again. She occasionally returns when she wants some self-affirmation through beating; I love those visits as I get to bring out the amnesia-bound "alpha" that forgets he's been dominated by women, spirit broken thoroughly before my stud gets saddled.

After the first few sessions of brainwashing and establishing control over both, she was comfortable enough give back as good as she'd received for years of abuse. While he received punishment from his wife (involving paddles and makeshift dildos, among other fun toys), I ordered him to pleasure me, and slowly discovered what a keeper he would be. As it turns out, his tongue might as well have been destined for worshiping the female form and anatomy. Even before I began training him in properly physically revering me, I flooded his mind with submissive thoughts and let him act on them of his own accord. I never knew what I'd uncorked was uncaging the true submissive hidden behind the purged, confused public abuser and overcompensating "alpha" that reasoned dominating was affirming his fragile sense of self. It wasn't just the enthusiasm, mind you (or mind me), he had a deep penchant for how to please, as if he was some kind of...linguistic savant on the verge of speaking fluent "cuntish."

His initial "introductory speech" between my legs spoke volumes about his raw potential, experimental, but with room for vast improvement. I asked him about it eventually after several orgasms. There was no past training or much practice, just instinctual awareness of how to properly regard a delicious pussy. Unlike past, clumsy lovers, he just knew things most men don't without instruction. He knew about pussy inner lips. He knew to take broad licks before penetrating ones. He knew to keep stimulation varied between his nose, fingers, and different licks. He knew not to blow air onto me down there. He knew to have a wet finger when touching a clit, and that you work your way up to a hard clit instead of roughly starting there. He knew to fucking pay attention, to take cues from me in how he was doing.

In all of his licking variations, he even had his own signature lick, and I literally mean tracing his tongue over my sensitive parts like he was signing his name. He even treats a gentle flick against my engorged clit like dotting an "i," knowing that can finish me off. No kidding whatsoever Gretel, he left his mark on me like my penmanship leaves marks on you. jeremy knows how I twitch and convulse at that, like he's signing away his will in an effort to please me.

When I finally let him up to answer, the answer for his intrinsic knowledge was literally on the tip of his tongue, like he was close to verbalizing a reason why, but it just never formed into words. I remember smirking, giving him a playful slap as opposed to a hard one, sensing sincerity, and the possibility that we were somehow fated in that cheesy, fatalist kind of way; and who was I to complain about destiny placing a soon-to-be-perfected pussy slave on my path and between my legs. Some of the now-standard ways of pleasing me came completely from him, especially with that magic tongue of his; left to his own devices, he researched new techniques, while psyching himself up to pay pristine attention to what I responded to the most when trying new things. His adorable ass and boot licking, and his penchant for ramping my clit into high gear at high speed, the same way I ramped his mind and libido up under my will until submissively babbled and spoke in tongues (I've got puns for days, deal with it)...any thoughts I had about leaving him a mere slave and punching bag for his ex went out the door with my shrieks and shrills.

It took his EX more encouragement than expected to get into the spirit of abusive retribution, specifically sexually, like I had to get past her prudish ways. jeremy though, he seemed more than ready submit to my brand of deviance, like I wouldn't have even needed magic with him. I'm almost convinced part of his abusiveness may have been due to her not willing to take his reigns and make him go down on her; a twisted conclusion I admit, and irrelevant since my magic doesn't let him enjoy anything more than my deviant treatment of his mind, body, and soul. Such a delicious memory, always worth putting down on a new piece of paper, especially now that the witch now has a Hansel in jeremy and a Gretel in you.

Anyway, the well-programmed slave that he is, got me into a bit of a frenzy with his need to get me off one recent night. I indulged and let myself go to the efforts of that tongue and cock that I own. I was in-between orgasms when I telekinetically-summoned a book to come to my hand. jeremy's signature made my eyes roll back for a second, and I'd reached a kind of weird subspace. It only lasted seconds as far as I knew, cause the book came to my hand causing great pain. When I summon anything, it had always gradually come to me, the same with other witches, like the speed of a house cat in no hurry to make its way to you. This time it was like a pro-baseball pitcher threw the hardbound cover straight into my hand. jeremy asked if I was alright, and I merely replied "Shut up and lick."

---Entry 3/Trial 1/The Revelation---

(Technically, the introductions to me and jeremy came are really more like entry 3 and 4, but it's better to give fuller context before the special find).

Dear Gretel,

I'm calling this trial #1 because it was officially when I pinpointed this special find. An hour after it first happened, given time to let the pain of the book pass, I'd went about trying to retrace my steps. My hypothesis and hope going into this was first and foremost that what happened could be explained. The telekinesis spell was such a common thing, and so easy to learn I could've mastered it in my sleep. But I'd never felt or witnessed anything like what I somehow did.

I looked up every spell I could find that had to do with summoning an object, to no avail. I stood in the exact same place as before, placing the book back where it was, and varied my attempts at forcing it at the speed it came before. Nothing. I cast an extra-awareness spell to make sure that a trick wasn't being played on me somehow. Nothing again. jeremy whined off in a corner as he was still thirsty for my juices. I approached him at first to smack him for interrupting me, and to vent some frustration. But then I remembered he was very close by when it happened.

My tactic of dealing with jeremy changed. He cringed a little, seeing my approach as malicious. He wasn't expecting a tender caress across his face, or down his neck and chest, reaching all the way back to grab his ass and squeeze his left cheek the way he loves while whispering to him. He loves it because there's a tattoo on that cheek of a Hanzi (The Chinese word for Chinese characters), 催眠的 "cui mian de," meaning "hypnotized." It's something I reserve for long-term or permanent slaves, or the tattoo artist couple I know that don't know they're under my spell, who tattooed one another with "cui mian de" (pronounced "tsway me-an duh") and ready to do pro-bono for me whenever. They especially loved tattooing 催眠師 "cui mian shi" (tsway me-an sure) on the back of my left hand, meaning "hypnotist". All three bend the knee quickly to be able to kiss that. Squeezing jeremy's cheek, or saying any variation of 催眠 "cui mian" (meaning "hypnosis") to him instantly takes him into a deep trance, so I hit him with a double whammy, probing for what he remembers about that pivotal moment.

It seemed innocuous to him that he recalled the same information as me more or less. Unhelpful as that was, I woke him, bearing a sweet smile he beamed at. It made it all the sweeter for me, seeing the look on his face morph as I roughly gripped his collar and dragged him back to the middle of the room for his insolence. He was still scared of me, but the sight of my naked pussy was too inviting to him. Risking pain for pleasure, he went at me again, the same way he did before, but hungrier. Remembering how it happened before, I just let go to what he was doing to me. I reached my hand out for the book again, but my hand remembered the pain from before and recoiled. I decided to take a safer detour in the experiment and conjure a levitation spell instead.

Thighs squeezed his head in response to his skilled tongue while he wrapped his arms around my legs, as an expected light and airy feel came over me. I was so lost in bliss that it hadn't occurred to me that I might leave jeremy on the ground when I floated above. But I was lost enough that it barely registered in my head that my face hit the high ceiling in my apartment when I looked up. Even more surprising was that I was supporting jeremy's weight as it happened. I wish I'd gotten this on video to see him still trapped between me, legs dangling off the ground, as I'd floated higher than I'd ever bothered trying, without even trying. It would've been dangerous, but funny to see his body get hung like an execution with his neck wrapped up in my legs, but his instincts were smart enough to hold himself up with hands on my thighs.