Spellbroken (personal narrative)

Photo by Halanna Halila on Unsplash

Trent was a charmer. He was handsome, and what he lacked in intellect, he made up for in physical beauty.

I wasn’t discerning at fifteen, and mostly just followed my sexual instincts. I wasn’t disappointed.

Our make-out sessions were savage, long, and intense. I quickly realized how queer he was and delighted in his femininity, painting his nails and applying eye makeup to him whenever he would let me, which was often.

After a few weeks of progressively riskier and more involved make-out sessions, we mutually decided to have sex for the first time. Trent wanted my first time to be on Beltane, in something us witches call the Great Rite. In it, he wanted me to dedicate myself to Inanna, his patron goddess.

I didn’t research Inanna at all, or deeply think about what I was agreeing to. I was just horny and very ready to ride that mystical teenage dick. So, I said yes, sure, whatever.

My parents had just divorced, and my mom and I had just moved into a tiny apartment, away from the old two-story house that I grew up…