~AUTUMN~ Atticus. Atticus. Atticus. I'm doing it. I'm repeating the spell. And somehow, it's working. Somehow Atticus wants me. I can tell by the way he moves that this isn't him. He isn't doing it out of his free will. And for some reason, I'm not stopping it. How did you even stop a spell that you weren't even sure how you started to begin with? Mr. Samuel never explained how to stop it. How could a teacher give a spell and not tell his students how to end it? The worst part was that I didn't want this to end. I wanted him to keep touching me. He was ripping my clothes in half. And I didn't mind one bit. I didn't want him to stop. I cry out when his hand grips my p***y through my pants. He's rubbing me, easing the ache but making it worse simultaneously. How was that possible