---Entry 10/Intermission 1/Trade Secret?---

Dear Gretel,

What to do about this G-Concilium is now the question. And yes, I've settled on a shorthand instead of always calling it G-magic Concilium. It still sounds like I'm describing a crazy virus, a magic infectious venereal disease but I can't help but think I should be spreading. But that's the whole point of this entry, to see if and how this should be spread like an infection that no one is has proven immune to.

Of course at this point, I've limited my test subjects to normals. I'm quite sure that everyone on the planet susceptible to me (like 99.9% of the planet) is now even more susceptible. G-Concilium has made me either too goddamned irresistible, or made them too easy, or both. But my future concern is going to be the .01%, the ones I have yet to test this on. 

Other witches. 

Even as confident as I am with my abilities, women like me are on another level of awareness and consciousness, imbued with immunities from years of practicing on each other and ourselves. Before this discovery, any witch worth her salt would have safeguards that would let her know that I'm up to something, and would have some kind of counter. I've rarely ever tried to trance another because I know it'd be an uphill battle, and more trouble than it's worth. I wish I could say another reason I don't mess with sorceress minds is that I respect them, but other than power, I just don't.

A nicer, possibly dumber witch making this kind of discovery like G-magic would go straight to the nearest coven to share the new bounty with fellow sisters. I say "dumber" because after living among normal people way longer than among covens, I'm skeptical of everyone to the point where I see only a few higher up witches allowed to even be aware of such power, let alone practice it. A nicer witch would probably be exposed to some kind of forgetful spell though; I'd expect to get nothing less than a whacking (killing). My reputation precedes me, and this is the kind of thing they'd have to pry from my cold dead hands, barring a necromancy spell out there keeps me animated enough to still give them trouble.

All this thinking with my head leaves my mind constantly turning in unsurety, but my pussy already knows my next course of action. Like men get ordered around by their balls all the time, this wet slit I'm stroking that's making me write one-handed is turning me into a big-game hunter, and I'm so well-armed now that it would be impractical to simply let G-magic get stuffed in a closet as some sort of deterrent. I don't want a full storage closet, I want a full trophy room, with head (not a typo) from any witch I can get my hands on, especially those with any silly inclination to stop me. 

But I can't let my clitty get ahead of us - more testing is required, obviously, and I need to work my way up slowly, unfortunately, no matter my level of excitement. I need to get one alone, somewhere isolated.