---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 facade; 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."