---Entry 12/Intermission 2/yESHTERday---

Hello Gretel. My name is Esther Overton, and I have been instructed to write down my thoughts as they come to me. Right now, I am only partially in control of the thoughts that come to me; I admit that with complete control of my body, I would be looking for ways to escape my captivity and the powerful spells upon me, but the most I can manage at this very moment is an honest account of my feelings and what I remember.

It all started yestherday when...no, yesterday when my meditation was interrupted by a presence desperately trying to make themselves invisible, and such an effort creates a hollow essence that is just as much a signal as brandishing one's power. I could feel their presence, their intention. I turned to see Her, Cherish.

Her name, Cherish, writing it, thinking it, knowing it, fills my body with waves of pleasure. It is so strange to denote the difference of what Cherish and Her stunning qualities means to me now compared to what they meant to me upon our first meeting. Turning to meet that face, once unremarkable but now arresting, those dark eyes that now haunt my dreams, those plotting lips that now speak simply known truths, baggy clothes hiding Her sexy figure, I knew this girl was trouble, and now the only trouble I know is fighting Her, which I cannot.

Her ambush seemed poorly thought-out, and I was prepared to leave or teach Cherish a harsh lesson, rising to deal with the issue as She indulged in Her cigarette. But as She exhaled, the unhealthy smoke became all there was, leaving me lost in an impossible spell like the one I remain in now, stronger than any I have felt before, lost in bounds that only seem endless as gravity constantly pulls me back to the center where unnatural forces say I must be, where Cherish is. 

Just like yestherday, no yesterday, I don't know why I'm misspelling. No, I do. Like the love spell faintly lingering in my veins now, proper grammar and writing have shifted my perceptions. The pride I held at using proper conjugation and penmanship unlike the young generation and their seemingly phone-based illiteracy, but now my lovno, my feelings for Cherish make it so my brain, my fingertips and the pen guided by both know She deserves capitalization, as she deserves my capitulation, no matter how hard it is to fight Her off, which i still cannot. I do not want to end up like the male supplicant She has; i i i i cannot give myself capitalization anymore, and i feel pleasure in hearing Her laugh about it. i cannot go back and erase it as i feel my ability to do so erased as a possibility. i know i deserve capitalization, but i know it pales compared to what She deserves. i do not want to be a slave. But knowing that i will be one make me wet, as i know it makes Her wet. It makes me want to finger myself the way She is fingering Herself when She watches me. It makes me like Her, it makes me want everything She wants. 

The darkness was all i knew before Cherish appeared, before Cherish cleared my mind and made room only for Herself. i once looked down on anyone that treated others as prolonged puppets, until it felt so good, it feels so good to be one now.

The tingles from Her touch make my skin sensitive and needy. Since yestherday. No yestherday, i have become one with Cherish's thoughts and desires; they felt so foreign and overwhelming before, numbing control i once had myself, but now i cannot tell where Her wants end and my needs begin. Concilium is not supposed to, or has never been reported to work this way; it's a temporary measure of control the victim is aware of, something i should be able to bring an adequate defense against even the cleverest practitioner. Cherish has surpassed clever and achieved something miraculous, something that i would've been totally fascinated by if it didn't mean the end of me in some way. My last statement is so odd as i am totally fascinated by this, and by Cherish. 

Her control is constant, an unyielding river of suggestions and assertions for the body and mind to adhere to. What's left of me is a boulder in the insistent river, eroding the size and shape, until i'm small enough to become swept away. i wonder if i'll be recognizable when the last of me is gone. What was once an invisible hand guiding mine now possesses mine from within. The scenery changed several times yestherday as i moved from outside to an inside, to another outside and someone's inside, while always looking at myself from the outside in, inside Cherish's control; it is confusing phrasing it like this, which seems to amuse Her and make me appreciate the confusion. i may do it to myself again, just from knowing it pleases Cherish.

Once or twice in my life, in what feels like another life, i know i have appreciated the physical and emotional connection with other women worthy of my time; opening my eyes to stand before Cherish, with Her male slave worshiping the naked pussy of our bottomless mistress, i was suddenly besieged by a thirst. Like a dehydrated man needs, water, like a vampire needs blood, i needed to be at Her pussy. It was so easy to approach Her as She cruxed Her finger at me, and i stood in-front of the pair, at arms length of Cherish. i could feel the connection between us strengthen as i moved closer, more of what i could have called resistance suppressed. She stroked my face and cooed a strange poem to me.

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

i melted into Her caress of my face the way most of me caressed to the weird assertion that i had pledged anything to Cherish, whose name fills me with a loving need to obey.

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

The way She said yestherday, emphasizing my name in the word, made it make sense why i have been misspelling, and why i really can't mind continuing to spell it yestherday in writing and my own mind.

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

The way She drew my name around it made me wetter, droplets of lust trailing down my bare leg, letting me know i was bottomless like Cherish, without pants and without an end to our depths.

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

Her cooing lulled me into believing it was my name, what remained of Esther fighting the fact that i had....had i?

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

...i had pledged myself to....

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

...to love, cherish, and obey.

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

...to Love Cherish, and Obey.

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

Logic warped as the words became truer, somehow i had pledged myself the day before, to this woman i'd never met, a woman i'd wish i'd met.

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

Fantasy or Her immense power changed time as i had met Her that day, experiencing love at first sight, telling me Her name is Cherish, a witch specializing in Concilium. I Love Cherish, and want to Obey Her.

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

i'm aware of my memory being spoon fed these thoughts and feelings, as i am aware of how starved i am for Her love, still traveling back in time, day-by-day, yestherday-by-yestheray, finding Cherish in my life, the Love of my life, whom I've always wanted to Obey.

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

i have always belong to Cherish, i realize that now. i realize everything i should know, even how writing or thinking the word yestherday cements who i've always been, and how Cherish's name is etched in every new block that makes me who i am.

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

And please forgive my late introduction Gretel, but

Dear Gretel,

i am yestherday, and i Love Cherish and Obey.

---Intermission 2.1: yestherday Addendum---

i have been asked to rate the cackling laughter of Cherish as She strokes herself while i write. It will displease Her to know objectively that Hers doesn't sound very good, and needs work. 

i know punishment is to come from my honest assessment, but i am helpless to give it, feeling tingles of an orgasm She is having. Her almost-ruined orgasm makes Her feel good knowing that i am denied one i need to express in Her honor.

---Intermission 2.2: Cherish Addendum---

Dear Gretel,

It's taken a long time to write this addendum as I keep re-reading Esther's entry, all the honest words and lowercase "i"s, and I keep wearing myself out with arousal every time I do it. It's not like you can blame me, when my new slave beat-for-beat accounts a repetitious magic induction where every other word triggers her to remember

"How it was only yestherday,
your pledge to Love Cherish, and Obey."

And just took yet another break for that one.

Anyway, our guest over the last few days, Esther was quite a catch. In retrospect, I think I got lucky with trying my skills out on a witch like her. I forget that sometimes the really strong ones aren't the ones working at a citadel (a chosen stronghold for covens). The old girl struggled for as long as she could against me, giving a wonderful effort, but once I recovered from capturing her, I gave her a fresh dose of everything, starting the induction with suggestive tactile touches you're well-versed in, reminding her she had a libido, reminding her how it raged and liquified for me. 

Once it opened her up deep enough, I let her watch jeremy do me with vigor, making her mouth water with jealousy as I gave her coy glances and teasing pouts; watching her bare nipples harden at every wink eventually drenched jeremy beneath me. 

I feel like now is a good time to admit one of my biggest turn-ons - attractive old ladies. Growing up, more than hot guys with abs or the average pretty youthful face, something about mature women in their 50s and 60s (sometimes 70s) with experience, willpower, and less fucks to give about anyone else's opinion, just always hit me the right kind of way, decades-sized gaps be damned. While my peers got off to young musicians and heartthrobs, I got off to the Golden Girls, tv matrons and old wicked witches. I literally looked up to powerful, confident women all of my life, including in my current short stature. If you ask me exactly what makes an older woman so attractive, it's not really the aged look or number of candles on a cake, it's the maturity. Most witches wear maturity like designer clothes, making them really hot to me, where as immaturity from anyone is just a turn-off, excluding myself; the only brat in any sexy fantasies of mine is me, and I never thought of myself as one when I dominate in my dreams. Society truly underappreciates the silver foxes out there, certified MILFs and GILFs. Should be clear now that Esther and future slaves like her will find me as delectable as I find them, like fine wine aged to perfection, soon to be drunk on each other's juices. 

Anyway, once I reached that state, G-Concilium slip through the crevice where the last of her resistance used to be. Going that deep, she almost became a literal mindless drone, like the basis of what used to be her still there, but leveled and ready to be build back up via streaming control. The next time she woke up, it was as if Esther's personality returned in-tact, with the embedded additive that I'd always been dear friends with D/s benefits. 

Before I forget, I have to admit I love Esther's "heavy rock in the raging river" analogy as I might've come up with something similar myself. It's weird as I can sort of feel it too, some faint remainder of it there. I'm sure she's mine right now, but as there's so much of her still there to reshape, I perhaps an assuming she's sculpted well enough to be completely mine. If anyone was going to find a way back to themselves, it'd be another witch, experienced and disciplined. To put up the fight she did must've taken years of training and practice, so it's only right that I extend the same courtesy, giving as good as I can to her several times. Who knows how many boulders there are out there that can pose the same challenge, or more. I look forward to exploring such trials.

Anyway, since awakening to her new self, she's been a treasure trove of information. Rewarding me for reawakening her sexual minx within, probing for information on the latest within the covens, and her own strengths was unnecessary as she was more than willing to give it up. But Esther would occasionally throw in some terribly-hidden sexual innuendo instead of direct answers to my questions, once even suggesting that she'd hold back something I wanted to know about until she got more foreplay out of me. I couldn't help but laugh, especially at her reaction to how I would take it since she knew I was her superior; boldness plus eager need for sex suited my Esther well. 

As I'm writing now, Esther's between my legs, learning my anatomy; she's trying to explore slowly, but her tongue is wily due to jeremy being between her legs, giving her a prime example of what I like. Unfortunately, she feels a little deficient in that department as of now; she might get significantly better would enough practice, but jeremy remains the undisputed "cunitsh" king for now. I've asked my old witch if she has any friends as attractive as she is; she blushed, filling with joy that her Mistress thinks of her like that, and is thinking long and hard about some more silver foxes for me to hunt. I would practice my evil laugh more, but as Esther is beginning to getting me across the finish line, panting "you're mine, witch!" will have to do.