Trials (Entry 07 - 10)

---Entry 7/Trial 5/Handful of Sandstorm---

Dear Gretel,

I'm writing this on the last day of our beach outing, toward the last few hours before we're bound to return home, or we might. jeremy might be calling in to take a personal day or two depending on my mood, which is high now. That's rare for me as I'm pretty strict about my streams of income being as unaffected as possible.

As I'm writing this, it's just occurred to me that this is the most time I've spent in years behaving like most of my peers, or even my mother or Aunt Maggie. Looking up at the sky where the great beyond might be, I have this image of either or both of them with smug smiles, approving of this gift that's made me focused on honing my inherited skills, meditation, motivating me like nothing else has besides my love of Concilium. I smile back, complimenting them on how they snuck it into a hedonistic witch's favorite daily activity, knowing affecting my sex would make in unavoidable to address.

The last planned variable I've tested here an earth creation spell, willfully replicating a natural element outside of fire, water, ice, or air. Most witches don't mess around with it, preferring the balance. I never messed around with it as it was the spell that gave me the most trouble from adolescence on, and one of the most pointless ones I thought. I took a mound of sand in my hand, feeling jeremy necking me and teasing my lady mound. What he was doing felt sublime as usual, but it was always considered foreplay to me, giving me an introductory orgasm before the main, multiple show. I kept things just at foreplay, letting my id build slowly.

A half a day's worth of meditation on this trip made me focus on that stimulation, zeroing in on the path to the headspace. My eyes stayed closed until I felt and I'd grasped enough of it willfully. I opened my eyes blew a concentrated breath at that mound through pursed lips. Very little of it disappeared from my hand; it was replicating itself into a literal dust storm out of my hands. Tons of sand was blown out to sea, a cloud's worth blown right back at us from the surf's wind. We were doused in the gritty texture, but too aroused to stop. I estimate that I kept that single breath up for thirty seconds, dropping the original handfuls of sand before I inhaled a deep breath full of it.

jeremy and I tipped over as we lost our balance, covered up to our shins in newly-created sand. I fucked him roughly in elation; I've never seen another witch create that kind of sandstorm from a handful, or someone's skill improve from "can barely do it" to "1upping your peers" in just a couple of days. It took him a while to clean out my cunt with everything in there, our juices mixed in with sand. I don't think I'll be kissing my fuck-toy for about a week, or after I make him wash his mouth out with the soap covering my pussy lips.

---Entry 8/Trial 6/jeremy's Phantoms---

Hello Gretel. My name is jeremy. i am a faithful servant to my Cherish as you are, and have been made to record my thoughts in one of Her trials. It is an honor and a privilege to have this opportunity to be allowed to write in my Ruler's journal, and each word i write is everything i can remember, and every word reminds me of and increases my devotion to the one i Cherish more than anyone, more than myself. i Love Cherish, and Obey.

As of this entry, a week has passed since Her beach trials, and She has continued her experiments. It was in the middle of the night when i found myself forcefully assaulted by two people. my utter helpless state instilled in me by Cherish left my objections weak against them. They weren't at first, as i always have enough strength to protect my Goddess, but i sensed She wasn't there. i was the only one assaulted and felt She was elsewhere and safe. Having been assaulted before by others at Goddess's behest, i thought this was a similar circumstance. i was only aware of the pitch black of the bedroom, the fresh taste of Cherish's juices on my lips, making me lick my lips at the oddest of times, and especially the strength my assailants had, how i might have had trouble fighting them against in service of Cherish.

At the time, i had little to identify my captors with. What i knew for sure is they were as naked as i was. Their soft skin and long hair against my skin made me think they were female. The thought of other witches Cherish knew, friend or foe, came to mind, and it perplexed me less as to why they were so hard to fight. Some spell or incantation leaving them to overpower me was not so far-fetched; all the magic i've seen done and had cast upon me, i can only conclude magic as limitless. Limitless power was a secondary worry compared to their intentions. Arms and legs were firmly pinned down under legs sitting on me and hands gripping my wrists. Some kind of cloth was wrapped over my mouth to keep me from yelling out. The only sound besides my stifled struggling was the a chorus of low, female laughter; women who knew they'd secured their prey. i felt the tassels of a leather crop against my skin. i couldn't stop myself from shuddering the tips of them teased each rock hard nipple and the length of the penis my Goddess owns.

Somewhere in-between the sensitive areas, i was struck harshly with the crop. my yelp of pain was met with an even harder strike, urging me to be as silent as possible as i took punishment. Why i was being punished was a mystery. It made sense if it had to do with my wretched past life of disrespecting women, but i was never told by them why i was being treated with such scorn. It wasn't all scorn as while one continued to strike me, the other treated me with gentle care, caressing and fondling me. The mixture was beyond comprehension. I gentle hand caressed my face while another slapped it hard into the gentler one. The only uniformity was pleasure and pain, but sometimes there was disorientating rhythm, while the gentle hand painfully squeezed my penis as the crop took to teasing me again.

i was reduced to tears, bruises, and indecisive internal pleas of whether i wanted it to stop or not. Most of what i wanted was to know about Cherish, that She was safe or perhaps participating. That wish was granted as my eyes adjusted past tears to notice it was no longer pitch black, and a faint light source was coming from another room. Leaning my head forward, i saw Goddess in a chair, hands outstretched to me, and my assailants being invisible, maybe even non-existent until Cherish stretched out Her hands and made magic happen. i would've gladly been muscle for Her if needed, but it seems She no longer needed that. They way She sat in the living room loveseat, legs clenched together, it looked like She was trying to keep orgasmic pleasure locked into Her body. i deduced afterwards, now, that She was testing how long her boost in power would last post-climax.

Not long after i saw Her, the restricting bodies around me faded into nothing, i could move freely on the bed, and saw Goddess harumph at first, then angrily slam Her hand on the stand nearby, for losing the boost after coming completely off Her high. She stretched her hands out to me, to resume the spell at normal strength, which usually felt like ghostly hands grasping at me, as gently or usually as roughly as Cherish liked. i barely felt hands on me at all, like a ghost of a ghostly touch. Never before had Goddesses magical touch against me been this weak; being so intimate with Her craft, i don't think She could produce power so weak even if She tried. She saw all this register on my face as i barely reacted to whatever She wanted to do to me. Her eyes flared as She found the drawback to this sexual power boost still in effect. There was even depletion of normal strength when the boost died down.

i could tell She would be up all night as She slammed the bedroom door on me, pacing and planning while leaving me to suffer the absence of Goddess's presence.

---Trial 6.1: Cherish addendum---

Dear Gretel,

I concur with the feelings and findings my slave had on the phantom trial. I felt the weakness most likely around the same time he did. Like a tap running dry, my magic went from a stream to a steady drip from my finger tips. I probably couldn't hurt a fly after that. Of course, feelings of anger and rage ensued, and unfortunately none of those brought the boost back. I guess it's the g-spot or nothing.

I'd tested dozens of telekinetic spells all night until I became too drowsy to try anymore. Every spell was an immensely weak version of what I could do as a teenager - not good. When I woke up late the next afternoon, things returned to normal. I waited a day to retry the same scenario, and it worked out exactly the same. The power post-orgasm doesn't last more than a half-hour, and it takes literally hours and rest before anything comes back. After every trial, I'd never thought to see if there'd be any side-effects. But that's one of the purposes of these trials, so I don't royally fuck up later.

Between you and me, this fear of higher stakes now is higher than ever; the further I pursue it, and the more powerful I get, the farther I fall once it's gone, to where I could lose my power for days, or weeks at a time, or worse when losing it for seconds is enough of a worse-case scenario. I wouldn't have thought this possible until yesterday, but it's a growing fear now. Fortunately, I'm way too stubborn and excited with all this to turn tail and not explore this further. With what I want, it's worth the risk.

---Trial 6.2: Cherish addendum---

Dear Gretel,

A small aside, but soon after this last trial, jeremy made what sounded like snide comment at the time. And to answer a question that would be on someone's mind, yes, my totally brainwashed slave has the ability to make snide comments, be bratty, to maintain independent thought. Most of the time he's sweetly submissive, totally in love with me and willing to do whatever I want because he thinks he wants this, but he's encouraged to have independent moments for no other reason besides knowing it gets him into trouble.

His snide comment was to the tune of how weird my writing style is ("stream-of-consciousness writing" he called it), speaking about things I wouldn't need to jot down like details of spells, that I love my own thoughts enough to want to hear or write them down as often as possible. He chuckled as he said it. He cowered after I made him repeat it after hearing my tone of voice. And he yelped after I made him repeat it again, interrupting him with a phantom slap to his ass. The sound of his surprise made me grin, as more hands forced him to bend over and take more hard spanks to his reddening cheeks, both sets in-fact (ass and face). We both love when his mouth gets him into trouble, but he did make an interesting point: why am I putting such detail into all this?

Re-reading some of my stuff, it feels like I'm writing to explain to someone that really knows nothing about the things I'm too well-versed in, like capturing moment-to-moment experiences not just for recording experiments, but posterity to the tune of memoirs as well. Assuming you do end up being my memoir, Gretel, that might mean I expect more than myself to read this, and that what I do is important enough to warrant it. I kind of don't want to jinx anything with where the end of the line for that train of thought ends up...but such a thought affirms the fact that I can't turn back. Even if it becomes the safer move to turn back, I don't think I can; I'll be on this train till the end of the line, no matter where it goes.

---Entry 9/Trial 7/Midnight Cravings---

Dear Gretel,

Just fyi, I entitled this one as 'midnight cravings' because it sounded better than '2:20 am cravings,' but that's the exact time I started my next trial, last night and a week after jeremy's entry. I've still been stewing about the vexing drawback, one that could leave me compromised in the worst of ways if I'm not careful. Before this trial, I spend most of my time meditating, letting my energies revive naturally, and putting off any play time to mentally prepare myself for more trials.

jeremy misses playtime, but is filled to the brim with happiness knowing that he is more integral to my life than ever before. It's annoying yet amusing how smart he is as a submissive. He's very intuitive about changes and circumstances surrounding me and us. I never have to say a word, and rarely have to explain my feelings. As he continues to use that intelligence to further my happiness, I allow him his own, knowing he can be humbled at any time I see fit.

I could feel his elation as his tongue almost forked deep inside me. The sneaky snake was under me did me from the passenger seat while I sat pretending to look at a map, as if lost. The roadmap against the window masked my face showing I was drowning in near-orgasms from any passerbys on the road, and especially to the diner I was parked across the road from. This was to be my first official testing of G-magic Concilium on multiple subjects, also testing any limitations of distance. Despite the map blocking What my eyes couldn't see, my energy would know where to go. There were only four occupants inside - a waitress, cook, trucker, and drifter. Entering that subspace, the energy gathered inside the car, shot through the glass like a bullet, and split into multiple beams again. I got a sense of them all once their minds were pierced. The control still paled compared to hitting one person, but it was still above normal Concilium, and it hurt less to control and stream to a group, probably because I was prepared for this compared to the beach-goers. One-by-one, I began to mess with each diner-goer.

The waitress was listening to her favorite country song on the radio, quietly singing it to herself while she checked on her customers. Walking along with a pot of hot, black coffee, she suddenly felt the need to dance her way to the customers in every step. Her volume picked up enthusiastically as well, as if she were trying to outdo the voice on the radio. She was succeeding in her mind, according to mine. The trucker she served I sensed would've laughed at her, but knowing the song as well as she did, he created a duet, even got up a started dancing a tango with her. Neither knew the tango, and neither did I, but they tried based on my streaming instructions. It got harder once with the other two, but I kept it together. The cook came out to see what all the commotion was, only to walk right up to the sleepy drifter, appropriately drifting off on the counter. Drifter woke up to the loud cook to argue back about not having the money to pay, though he did, about the food which he said sucked, though he loved.

I kept the dancers and arguers and two different sides of the bar. At the risk of over-extending myself yet again, I let a light astral awareness float in the establishment to closely observe, while jeremy did something a little bold that I hadn't told him to. Reaching under the hem of my shirt, his fingers felt my braless chest. I barely noticed exactly what he was doing, probably something like pawing a whole breast and twisting a nipple between the knuckles of his fingers. Whatever he was doing, he helped launch my extension right into the diner. I was maintaining my toughest spell yet, and aware of being in two places at once.

Inside the diner felt like being on the moon, much weaker gravity as I gently leaped from one couple to the next, whispering further encouragements while still streaming new thoughts. Tangoers happily danced on the glass of the fallen coffee pot; they assumed the crackling of glass under their feet was part of the next shit country song playing on the radio. It was nothing to turn that passion for dancing into a romp in one of the booths. The trucker pulled out the spare condom he was saving for his girlfriend that his wife didn't know about, happy to use it for the homely older woman in tacky platinum hair above him. The two arguers turned into amateur wrestlers on the floor, completely forgetting whatever they were fighting about and simply acting on the uncontrollable urge to wrestle the one another into submission. Both had military experience, so they ended up in some kind of stalemate. The phantom of me floated toward this scuffle, and gripped the heads of the fighters. The real and phantom in me smiled evilly as I sensed deeper in each their latent homophobia, yet pushed their heads together while turning their gendered desires against themselves. I didn't care whether they hated themselves or it, they had to, which really got my juices flowing. Sometimes being a lefty-progressive bitch is just as fun as being an apolitical one.

At some point, a patrol car came by, probably to get some coffee to go. He stayed a bit longer than expected. As soon as he entered the diner, he was greeted by astral me instead of the wild sight I created. He saw me, yet didn't, made to focus and had obedience forced into his consciousness until he could say and think only his first Chinese word - "Cui mian". Fingers not really there circled his temples as the practiced hypnotist I am would do. Operating on limited commands as opposed to streaming ones, he took steps away from the diner, and instead came to my car, retrieving my smartphone while I was still kept occupied. He re-entered the diner and set it between everyone. I had them all freeze, mid-coital, mid-struggle, mid-mindless and repeat something predictable in a loop for 15 minutes straight.

"Love Cherish, and Obey."

Assuming this somehow falls into the wrong hands, for the grammar nazis who might read this and think there's a comma missing, that it should be "Love, Cherish, and Obey," that first comma got burned away, and it should make you scalding hot to recognize that distinction, to be told to go where your emotions have already taken you upon the sight, sound, or knowledge of me.

It was meant to be a souvenir for later, but right now it's pure...something, what hearing that in a phantom version of myself did to me. Thanks to G-magic, my detachment took a stool at the bar and started fingering myself like I never thought I could as five total strangers sang my praises. Before unconsciousness overtook me eventually, the last thing I remembered was waking everyone and commanding forgetfulness and a disregard for anything that seemed strange. The cook went back in the kitchen, the waitress got a mop and a broom and cursed herself for clumsily dropping the pot, and the two customers paid her bills and left.

For the sake of comparison, normal Concilium might've been limited to affecting two, maybe three of them at that distance for short moments. I would've had to take the map down to see where or how I was leading them. G-magic got five for upwards of 20 minutes, under multiple, simultaneous spells, which I've never managed, and maybe heard more experienced witches pull-off. And the exhaustion was way smaller than last time so who knows how long I could've gone (jeremy's still going to have to drive us back and carry me inside, but still). Overall, way better than expected for a next-level test. Even an oldie-but-goodie spell I got tired of made a comeback.

One last thing worth noting while I'm still conscious - the hardest orgasm yet hit me around the time I had most errant thought I could remember producing, how I wished I told the cop to record video of everyone instead of just audio. Checking the recorded trophy on my phone, imagine my surprise when I'd found video of two pairs people gripping themselves, and the cop recording turning the phone to show himself. They all had that mind-blowing, mind-blown-to-smithereens look, some whispering, some moaning "Love Cherish, and Obey." The lull my powers go through after [phenomenon I need a catchy name for] got another boost when I lost myself in putting that video on a loop over and over and over again. I'd hypnotized myself and felt how much power I had after finally coming to, my fingers deep in my panties.