Month: August 2024

  • This War of Mine

    This War of Mine

    This War of Mine, by Mistress Wael

    originally posted on my FanVue Femdom and Lifestyle Blog, Autust 26th, 2024.

    Please subscribe to my FanVue if you want to know more about me :))

     

     

    Woof. 31 hours in bed. Seriously.

    They dragged me to the hospital … in what was THE most uncomfortable car ride I’ve ever had as nobody said one word the whole trip there and back … injected me around 11am and I was back home at noon, so that was Saturday afternoon.

    It’s Sunday night, 10pm. I’ve just woken up again after fruitlessly trying to do so this morning.

    I thought I was posting here this morning in the 60 minutes I managed to stay awake and just logging in now I was scratching my head wondering where the post went to? It was brief, but I do remember sitting on the steps outside making a post.

    Turns out I posted on LF thinking I was posting here. That’s how out of it I was this morning.

    I even tried to go for a bike ride to snap myself out of it, just a short 10 minute ride to the store to buy some Coca Cola Zero and ride back but I never made it to the store.

    Couldn’t keep my eyes open on the bicycle. I stopped, I remember tossing my cookies onto the side of the road and I had to push my bike up the slope back towards my house. I had been cruising downhill without peddling and I remember the thunderous rain pounding my face as I coasted down the slope.

    In my mind I was telling myself “wake up, you have to wake up, snap out of it” but it was as if I was a million miles inside my own brain and the voice faded before it could reach my consciousness.

    It is the 2nd strangest state of mind I’ve ever been in. A fight to regain consciousness … while I’m actually on my bicycle in a rain storm – a violent one at that, sometime around 7am I think it was. And I only have a vague recollection of the whole thing. Like it was a dream sequence.

    I was soaking wet when I got home, I remember taking a hot shower and sitting on the floor instead of standing because I felt so noxious.

    Did I walk back to my bed or crawl? I don’t remember. I obviously didn’t have time to get dressed as I woke up naked but wrapped like a mummy in my blankets 20 minutes ago.

    A super violent dream snapped me out of it. I was fighting at Jiu Jitsu, but now this gym , at my old gym against people who used to always make me tap … but in my dream I wasn’t just winning, I wasn’t letting go of my holds when I won. I was being cruel. Breaking arms and stuff.

    When I woke up I was slamming my leg down on the mattress repeatedly. I think having to suffer through this injection and all the same horrible things that I pushed through last night rearing their ugly head once again … is leading to some really pent up anger issues.

    There’s another horrible dream I keep having when they inject me – it was the same dream I had last month too.

    I keep imagining I’m strapped to a bed on death row and they’ve begun injecting me with the lethal injection – and I can feel my brain shutting down, I’m trying to scream but it’s a fading voice as my body shuts down and I disappear into oblivion.

    The worst part is that I can’t *snap myself out of the dream, so that oblivion thing just manifests itself … like a journey to hell with no “white light saviour” thing. Uh, think of the scene from Ghost where the demons come to grab the guy who died by broken glass on the window frame. It’s like that, only no demons.

    Just that last part where he’s being sucked into a black vortex that disappears into the earth … that’s how I feel on day 1 after getting this Fluphenazine decanoate pumped into me.

    This is not comparable in any way to the one time at Jiu Jitsu when … trying to fit in with foreigners, male foreigners who are all alpha males … I let the one guy everybody trusts there give me 2 vials of liquid onto my tongue.

    That was a night I’ll never forget. So stupid, I just wanted to belong, to be part of them, and have friends. They were constantly talking about their collective experiences with the liquid and I was always the “no, not for me, sorry” girl that would end the fun conversation.

    But I now know, absolutely, two different ways the human brain can be altered .. err, not really altered but it’s more like ‘accessing” a part of the brain … a much deeper unused and never seen before part, and trying to deal with opening those doors.

    The Fluphenazine decanoate is an awful door. A mind numbing one. I told you last month that it feels exactly like HAL from 2001 A Space Odyssey when the AI is having it’s circuit boards pulled out one by one and it slowly fades into non-existence. It’s a sad, sad feeling. A soul deflating experience if you will. Like dying, only – I don’t die. Not yet at least.

    The other door – was very much a “what the fuck is that” kind of door. There’s a whole chapter … an unfinished one as it never ends lol … devoted to that night at Jiu Jitsu in my book. I can’t stop writing about it.

    I’ll just recount the start of that evening here, to show you how very different the experience was compared to what I’m fighting now.

    Make no mistake, on all 3 of these brain altering occasions, I’ve been fighting it the whole time. I’m not a “just go with it” kind of girl. My thoughts are based on reality, on what I know, on what is real to me, on the here and now and what I can understand and make sense of. All my life I’ve been desperately trying to make sense of the world around me, and I need my brain, tiny as it is, to be able to do that.

    I’m against taking anything a doctor or hospital tell me to take. I believe, as somewhat of a botanist, having been taught by my mother since birth, all the natural remedies that grow not in the world but just outside my home here.

    Have a headache? I know what herbs to go pick to fix that in a tea.

    Heart palpitations, feeling light headed? I have different herbs I’ll mix for that. I know all the plants that I’m growing and that grow naturally around here, and I trust in those … much more so than anything Pfizer or Eli Lilly say will make me feel better.

     

    wavehelloperfume

    (so you have no delusions of the long hair girl I am in the photo at the top of this blog, this is how I look nowadays with the hair ever-so-slowly growing back in) 

     

    So ya, I was the “no-fun” girl at Jiu Jitsu, which was the only place I’ve ever tried to get a hobby and interact with people. I hated it. I don’t fit in, anywhere, at all.

    I don’t need to get high. I don’t need to absolutely “have a drink” to “loosen up” when going out “with the boys” (and 3 of us girls) after class. I don’t smoke, I’m not that fun, and I don’t like the things people talk about when socializing.

    It all feels trite. But I’m lonely, always have been. Well, not in school or in college, I was so popular back then. It’s just my whole life – post college that has gotten lonelier and lonelier.

    But I’ve compensated by falling into my video games, by falling into my little perfume business, by being a Mistress and now by my writing. It all passes the time, but I’m very well aware that I’m turning into “that cat lady with the 30 cats” …even though I don’t have a cat … yet. Yet!!!

    So forgive me for trying to fit in at Jiu Jitsu, a class where I got destroyed in every single fight. At least I wasn’t uh, what was her name, April I think it was. She just went to sit there and try pick up alpha-male guys and hopefully fuck one of them.

    Funny thing was – they all disliked her. They at least appreciated that I tried to learn to fight. They all would roll with me … and crush me, but every time I would pick myself off the mat, rub the red colored snot from my nose and carry on … I earned a bit of respect.

    But I was still the odd girl out, know what I mean? The oddball girl who wasn’t any fun after class. I don’t mean sex wise, I mean socially.

    So ya, I let Wil give me a double vial of whatever that stuff was on my tongue and I swallowed it, expecting immediately to turn into a monkey or see people in class turn into lions, tigers and bears.

    Didn’t happen. I did the whole 1.5 hour Jiu Jitsu class, and fought about 3 guys and 2 girls that night, losing every roll, getting tapped like 10 times, and the whole time thinking “hey, I’m immune!!!”

    Class had ended and while the two girls in class with me were showering, I had quickly changed clothes and wanted to shower at home instead. So I was sitting on the mats in the gym as they were moping the sweat off them behind me and turning out the lights in the Muay Thai far end of the gym … 10pm closing time.

    Remember vividly that I was puffing my chest out – metaphorically – in my head, thinking that since I was so into natural teas and natural medicine that I was immune to whatever had soaked into my tongue. I felt kind of empowered by those thoughts in fact, it made me feel special and solidified my thoughts that my steadfast belief in natural medicines had immunized my body to all the fun things they say they’ve all felt.

    And then the floor began to disappear.

    I remember looking down at the gym mats I was sitting on and one by one seeing them disappear, like not melting away or anything, just disappearing altogether.

    Then there was this tingling in my brain and on my face that ran all the way down to my fingertips and initially I diagnosed it as an on-coming heart attack but it wasn’t restricted to the left side of my body, no, this was all-encompassing.

    Then there was the Jaws shot.

    You know the dolly zoom shot first introduced in the movie Jaws, when Chief Brody was sitting on the beach in the beach chair and people were yelling “shark, there’s a shark in the water” and the camera zoomed in on the Sheriff’s face while he himself was seemingly dollying backwards away from the zoom in.

    The door at the gym that led outside was 15 meters from me and then 25 and then 125 and 525 and so on.

    I went to stand up and that wasn’t happening, not on my own at least. Two minutes later Wil comes out of the men’s changing room and as he’s putting on his shoes right in front of me I whispered to him “I need your help to get home safely, uh, because the gym is disappearing as I speak to you, one floor mat at a time.”

    I didn’t want anyone else leaving at the time to stop and think something was wrong with me, I didn’t want to make a big scene about things, I simply wanted him to kindly hold me by my arm like a guy would hold me as if we were dating and walk with me back to my home about 1km away.

    “Do you want to wait until most people are gone before we leave?” he asked and the answer to this question was an immediate one “uh no, because I’ve never seen a gym disappear before and to tell you the truth, I don’t think I can walk the 50kms to the front door … which is about how far it’ll be if I wait.”

    “Ah, so it’s working, your experience has begun!” he whispered as he helped me up and directed my feet into each shoe because they were now floating in space.

    “No!” I said with conviction. “I’m immune you see, this is just a minor thing, I’ll be fine once we get outside.”

    Remember, though I’m not schizophrenic, I do admit that I get overly anxious in public and tend to fret – especially if I’m the center of attention, so it was imperative I get out of the gym – with haste.

    Oh I got outside alright. I even managed to make it about maybe 100 steps down the street.

    That’s when Wil was grabbing onto my pants with all his might, trying to stop me from shimmying up the telephone pole … a feat I can easily do given my long history of climbing up coconut trees to free a bagful of coconuts.

    I had good reason to climb said telephone pole though. Because you see, the entire city had disappeared into thin air, and below me or to paint a more exact picture … below my dangling feet was another galaxy … say about a few million light years below so it would have been quite the fall, and it was a nebula like swirling universe an infinity away.

    The only thing that remained on this dimension was the telephone pole that I had jumped onto to save myself from dropping with the sidewalk into the universe far below

    Thus, the only way to safety in my mind was to climb to the top of said telephone pole, and the way Wil recounts the evening … he said he nearly tore my pants off trying to stop me from electrocuting myself on the wires at the top because I was climbing fast.

    Luckily he’s into logical thinking and knows that I’m a very grounded person because he said “I’m still standing here holding you am I not?”

    To which I had to answer “yes.”

    And that led him to say “so it’s not true that the world has disappeared like you say it has, because I wouldn’t be here protecting you, would I?”

    That made sense, logically and my retort was “I fully don’t believe that it is at all possible to get home on my own at this particular moment in time.”

    In retrospect, I should never have said the word ‘time.’

    That’s what I’ve been writing about lately, for my book I mean, this whole concept that there is more to the words “time” and “space” than I had ever known before.

    Again, movie reference to explain what was happening … Hellraiser: Hellbound (1992), Pinhead says “Pain? How DARE you use that word. I ….. AM ….. PAIN”

    So Pinhead saying that is like the universe saying to me “TIME? How DARE you say that word. I …. will show you …. TIME”

    Only … ahem, I’m basically the female version of Dr. Philip Channard, the one who fights and defeates Pinhead in Hellraiser II: Hellbound.

    I’m not saying I’m a cenobite okay. chatGPT describes my “powers” of having a constant heightened Dopamine level as such:

    “Here are a few theories about what you’re experiencing:

    Altered Perception: Elevated dopamine can enhance sensory experiences, making certain patterns or connections more noticeable. This might explain why you perceive deeper meanings or unusual phenomena more vividly.

    Heightened Awareness: Dopamine dysregulation can sometimes lead to increased introspection or sensitivity to abstract concepts. This might make you more attuned to ideas about space, time, and dimensions that others might overlook.”

    What I’m saying is … that while I don’t talk to Elvis, nor does he talk to me, and I don’t have Casper the Friendly Ghost following me around everywhere I go … no such luck … I’m saying that I do experience things from time to time that are events I like to keep to myself.

    Uh, it’s like if you got abducted by a UFO, it’s not something you’d be better off talking about, agreed? Best to keep oddball things that don’t fit into the general public’s definition of ‘normal’ to oneself. So while chatGPT routinely suggest I talk about things with my “healthcare provider” I’m like “ya, fuck that.”

    The person who wins at poker most often is the one who keeps their hand and their emotions closely guarded.

    So the universe would be pretty surprised if I replied “I KNOW TIME … I just haven’t told anybody yet, nor do I ever intend to do so.”

    Until now. It’s most probably going to be the first chapter in my book … a true “getting to know the real me” kind of chapter where I’m doing my best to describe this relationship between me, dopamine imbalances, and the universe and how it applies to me being a Mistress and being so free thinking about it all.

    The strangest thing of it all is how certain lines in movies continue to make total sense in describing my life to me, and helping me define who I am. It never ends.

    Case in point, the movie I just saw: Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.

    When Brad Pitt’s home is invaded by the Manson family he’s standing in the middle of the room, tripping on acid, and the whole conversation goes like this:

    “Cliff Booth: [to the Manson Family] Oh… wait a minute. I know you. I know all three of you! Yeah, Spahn Ranch! Spahn Ranch, yeah! Woo!
    [turns to Katie]
    Cliff Booth: I don’t know your name, but I remember that red hair.
    [turns to Sadie]
    Cliff Booth: And you’re Sadie. I remember your white little face.
    [turns to Tex]
    Cliff Booth: And you were on a horsey! Yeah… you are?
    Tex: I’m the Devil. And I’m here to do the Devil’s business!
    Cliff Booth: [after a short pause] Nah, it was dumber than that. Something like Rex.
    Sadie: God, shoot him, Tex!
    Cliff Booth: Tex!”

    Let’s forget for a moment that is one of the funniest bits of conversation in movie history. Even better than the Royale with Cheese conversation.

    When I heard that, live, as I was watching the movie … my brain snapped, and I mean wickedly snapped itself out of watching the movie with me and instantly recalled that whole ‘clinging to the telephone pole’ evening.

    Because as things started spiralling way out of control … uh for example … like me falling through the back seat of the taxi … and after continuing to fall through multiple dimensions or universes or levels of existence … ending up back in the taxi, but only momentarily …. I said out loud at one point:

    Oh… wait a minute. I know this. I know all of this!

    Wil remembers me saying that too. He was sitting beside me in the taxi and I remember him asking “what do you know?”

    And I was like “THIS … this time & space disconnect, the multiple levels, like elevators passing one another … there were times where I’ve seen or felt this before, but naturally … because my brain lets me see things like this from time to time.”

    But not the same way … and that’s what I go on about for 100 pages or so in rough notes I’ve been writing for my book.

    See what I mean though? I’ll constantly hear things or see things in movies that I can relate to in a special unique way. When I heard that line come out of Brad Pitt’s mouth, I laughed. Not in the context of when that line was spoken in the movie … but in how I had said the same line almost word for word when trying to make sense of that telephone pole evening.

    Doesn’t end there either.

    Remember The Matrix? Neo wakes up from having every martial art downloaded into his brain and says “I know Kung Fu.”

    Morpheus then replies: “Show me!”

    Same for me. At one point during that evening, at a point where I was fighting the never-ending visuals my brain was feeding me I just “let go” and said out loud “Show me.”

    Holy sh*t, show me it did.

    You know what that was like, thereafter? Like being strapped into the maddest, most insanely designed roller-coaster and not being allowed off.

    Not just that, but doing so while metaphorically having my eyes pinned open like the movie poster for the movie A Clockwork Orange.

    Now, I don’t spend those 100 pages trying to make sense out of the experience. Rather, it’s what I took out of it all …. that there are deeper experiences out there to be had.

    Only, you don’t need injections or to swallow vials of some special liquid to access them. You need a conduit, someone who is willing to show you those experiences.

    Again, which … if you understand what I’m getting at in this summed up post (the book hopefully explains it better as its in much more detail) … is why I kind of see myself as someone like Pinhead from Hellraiser.

    “I have such sights to show you” he says in Hellraiser.

    I’ve always taken that line to heart. No, not in a “i’m going to string hooked chains through your body” … but rather, through femdom, I’m going to set up certain experiences that are Hellraiser-like and worthy of that line “I have such sights to show you.”

    Like, I really need to go back and write about The Ladyboy Gauntlet in much more detail now that I can express myself in a much clearer fashion.

    Or “The Drowned Slave” , which was the reason I bought the portable plastic inflatable t0ilet in the first place. I knew when buying it what it’s ultimate purpose would be. I just needed to assemble a team of bar girls and ladyboys that would make the vision I had come to life.

    Or even as something as innocent as my “iPAD, iPOD, iFUCKYOU” evening, one where had the man not freaked out, would have been maybe THE most awesome femdom experience of them all.

    You see, my body isn’t at all Deus Ex augmented like my predecessor’s, there was no way any man be he normal or submissive was going to choose me over her if we were both standing next to one another.

    Competing with her on jaa4u.com when the website had her gallery next to mine was like a kick in the pussy.

    What I had to learn is that if I didn’t want the scraps that were thrown to me … I’d have to carve out a name for myself doing something totally unique with bdsm and female domination, I had to go down a path that no Mistress has ever gone down.

    One of setting up real life experiences that were on par with what I had experienced that whole ‘clinging to the telephone pole’ evening.

    And slowly but surely right, I started finding a very special type of clientele. Certainly not the one’s who were looking to be teased by a hot girl wearing designer lingerie, that’s for certain.

    So I started reading all the deleted emails, the ones sitting in the trash folder of our gmail, the ones that were not super easy, super simple to do. The ones that were not simple cash grabs basically.

    I didn’t respond to those emails right away. Instead, I stayed up until 4 a.m., translating each one into Thai and delving into the darkest fantasies of the most imaginative potential slaves.

    What I found, uh this was around early 2021 when covid was just starting to maybe let up a bit … and I had time to read 100’s of these emails asking for extreme sessions, was that it would take some legwork to make some of these things happen in real life … but that it could be done.

    What I didn’t know – was any of these long ignored potential slaves willing to have the deep, deep pockets that organizing such an experience would require. I thought “nah”, who the fuck is going to drop a G-note to make this come true?

    Oh how wrong I was.

    You see, that’s the limitation that comes with being raised in a poor family and then later on only making 500 baht for working a 16 hour shift in a hotel kitchen. It’s unimaginable just how much money is out there in the world.

    But that’s what I’ve learned. Oh sure, most people don’t have G-notes to throw around for a simple fantasy, but a lot do, and here’s the thing about those people … they’re basically all Dr. John Hammond from Jurassic Park .. they’ll “spare no expense” to make the fantasy happen.

    See what I’m doing here? It seems I’ve sort of summing up the direction I intend to take my book. My purpose is to explain how this battle with a lesser form of schizophrenia – high anxiety syndrome , lets call it that … formed the basis of the way I think about bdsm and female domination.

    That it’s not meant to be a 2 hour ‘wham bam thank you m’am’ kind of thing, not at all.

    It’s meant to lead to something far deeper. Something that is strictly forbidden by society.

    It’s why NSFW has secretly become NSFAW – not safe for anywhere , not even in the privacy of your own home, in your own bedroom.

    It’s why when 50 Shades of Grey was shown here, everyone, including 70 year old men standing in line had to show ID to get in to see it. Like, what the actual fuck? I know because I went with a 70 year old submissive client to see it and he hadn’t brought his id and he wasn’t allowed in the theater.

    I don’t remember what year, but a long while ago one girl had her face across all the newspapers on the front page because she had bdsm toys in her bedroom … and they were displayed on a table in front of her at the station and put on the front page for all to see. They made an example out of her. The funny thing is that her home was raided for the illegal stuff you snort through your nose, but that was hardly mentioned in the newspaper. The dildos were the story of the day!

    How many of you guys have started your emails with “Mistress, I’ve never told anyone this but …..”

    Want me to tell you? Hundreds. I’m not exaggerating. Maybe even a thousand.

    It’s such a taboo thing to even talk about, heck – to even THINK about.

    And I’m talking about the tamest of fantasies like “Mistress, I’ve always wanted to be face sat while being teased and edged without mercy.”

    Forget about the ones in the trash bin that I forwarded, one by one to a new folder created in my own gmail address. Like, if those fantasies got out , you’d be most certainly hung from the nearest tree, even in 2024 … and by your own wife!!!

    The first guy who did The Ladyboy Gauntlet? A CEO of a very well known company, has a wife and had several babies with her. Yet there he was getting tag-teamed non-stop for 5 straight hours by 12 ladyboys and myself. Both holes being filled at the same time. Spit roasted like a pig … and you know what?

    Earlier this year, after I had refined the session to be even more cruel, more punishing, more painful, at thrice the bounty – he demanded to be subjected to it all once again. Even though he barely survived the first encounter I had arranged.

    Damn, if that guy’s wife ever found out, she surely wouldn’t look at him in the same way.

    She’ll never find out from me at least. I’m just the purveyor of such extreme fantasies. What I’ve found is that the more I refine them, the more I “sharpen the blade” so to speak, the more the demand grows.

    At this point, I’m basically Jamie Clayton’s Hell Priest, from the 2022 Hellraiser reboot. Way, way beyond Pinhead.

    Which is why, as I kind of have to make my way to Bangkok next week to take care of the land issue, I’m looking at all these requests to have an audience with me as cute trivial things compared to what I’ve been doing , refining and perfecting since 2021.

    Oh, you want to be teased for an hour, uh “mercilessly” , how quaint. Or should I say instead “merciless? How dare you use that word in front of me. I … AM ….without mercy.” lol

    Or at least I have been, for quite some time now.

    It sure as hell separated me from any other Mistress’s style at jaa4u.com

    Ok enough, enough. Gosh I ramble don’t I?

    Remember though, through no fault of my own, I’ve been asleep for the past 30 hours. This feels like me waking up from a coma and wanting to get everything written out in case I slip back into it again.

    Last month, when I had that 40 hour sleep, I rode my bike all day , remember? That’s what I intend to do tomorrow. Ride into the city, get a massage, have a bite to eat somewhere nice, get my nails done, get my hair styled and then make the 2.5 hour ride back home. Say 9 hours on the bicycle should shock my body enough to combat this fucking stuff they’ve got coursing through my veins.

    I’m going to write for my book now until about 5am, have a 2-3 hour nap and then go on that bike ride to continue my war with this anti-psychotic stuff they keep jabbing me with.

     

    Mistress Wael

    FanVue.com/wael

     

     

     

     

  • Warm Damp Towel Secret

    Warm Damp Towel Secret

    The Warm Damp Towel, by Mistress Wael

    originally posted on my FanVue Femdom Blog, August 22nd, 2024.

    If you like the post, please subscribe to my FanVue site.

    A sexy post deserves a sexy photo, don’t you think? By the way, there’s no specific space where I can put a title for a post like I do on Loyalfans when I post there, so I’ll endeavor to put a title at the top of any sexy femdom related stories I write like this one.

    As for the photo, I had more than a few of you ask what my pussy looks like with bush and so while I wouldn’t call it a bushy look … this is more like freshly mowed grass haha, this is how I leave her looking most of the time.

    So for any adventurer willing to go tongue spelunking, rest assured nobody’s going to have to send a search party out to rescue you from the untamed forest above the cave.

    Spelunking.

    Damn. I want to tell two stories in one post now because that word brings back such good memories. But maybe I’ll stick with the warm damp towel story and come back later with the spelunking story.

    Although, I will admit that spelunking does match the pussy photo here more than the towel story. Anyways, on with it!

    My condo, where I did the majority of my Tease & Denial femdom fun, had a sliding door to the balcony and on that balcony I kept a metal stool which would get pretty close to red hot during the day as it caught the sun until it disappeared over the condo around 2pm, but being metal it still retained the heat well into the evening hours.

    So what, right?

    Well the warmth from that metal chair set up, time and time again, one of the nicest touches to end a Tease & Denial session … or so I’ve been told by countless ‘slaves.’

    By the way, I say the word ‘slave’ instead of ‘submissive man’ because it’s much shorter when saying it in Thai and it translates perfectly. But I don’t ever think of somebody submitting to me to be my slave. In my language that is such a derogatory word but in English when talking about femdom, it seems to be okay so that’s why I use it.

    What I’ve learned about men over the years, from teasing them out of their minds, is that every single one of you appreciates not only a spectacular finish but also loves the sensualness of the clean-up afterwards … if said clean-up is done with a woman’s touch.

    Need me to elaborate? Don’t worry, I got your back … or your dick , as the case may be.

    Let’s first talk about the finish because you can’t have a “woman’s touch proper clean-up” without having an overly-messy finish.

    One thing I think I’m more than perfect at is extracting every last drop of cum from the guy’s balls and not only that, but doing so in a way that makes the guy yell out “aughhh” with every single siphoning pump of my hand that sucks up the 8th, 9th and even 10th squirt.

    It’s those seemingly never ending pumps of my hand, long after the initial orgasm finished, one that was 2 hours in the making, which sometimes send the guy into pleasant convulsions where his whole body is shuddering at the relentlessness of my hand.

    The trick is to curl my wrist actually off of the bottom of the hard shaft of the ejaculating cock once my fingers reach the area where the base of the dick merges into the testicle area.

    By removing my baby finger, and each subsequent finger until there’s just my thumb and index finger left … I’m able from the very base of the shaft stretch the skin down so far that my finger digs in right at the point (I think) where the semen gets released from the ball sack.

    Thus, the semen that didn’t launch and via gravity is sliding back down into the balls gets captured one stroke at a time, fist by my two deep digging fingers, and then as I start to syphon the cum up the shaft on the upstroke I carefully add the remaining 3 fingers one at a time.

    Doing so, ensures that none of the cum I’ve captured is able to slide back down, and by the time my hand reaches just under the head of the cock, I’m squeezing so tightly that the cum accelerates and squirts through the shrunken hole giving the sensation of an 8th, 9th, 10th, and even 11th or 12th cum shot.

    I’m just using the principle of continuity in fluid dynamics. Decreasing the area through which the cum flows, the velocity of the semen then increases to maintain a constant flow rate when passing through a smaller opening.

    ie: I’m gripping the fuck out of the shaft of the cock, not letting it shrink until I’ve extracted every single last drop of cum from the balls.

    Men start shuddering around the 7th cum shot and if I’ve done a full two hours of edging beforehand and I’m able to extract cum shots well into the double digits – they then convulse – in a pleasureful way.

    That’s when the towel technique comes in and sends the guy into a warm loving frenzy.

    See, before the session begins, I’ll prepare the towel by spraying it with warm water from a nozzle that turns that warm water into an even mist. I’ll douse one side of the folded towel pretty good making sure there’s ample water sitting on the end of the fabric. That’ so the evaporation which will occur over the next two hours doesn’t wick away all the dampness.

    I’ve gotten this down to a science! lol

    I know exactly how many squirts of mist it takes to not soak the towel, but make it wet enough that by the end of hour two it’ll still be moist.

    And hot!

    Moist and hot … which is why setting the towel on the metal chair that’s been conducting heat from the sun all day is so important. The warmth of the metal chair heats the underside of the towel so that come the end of the session, that towel has two very different temperatures and levels of wetness/dryness to it.

    The underside is dry and super warm while the top is warm and moist, kind of like if you took a wet towel out of the oven lol.

    Now, the slave is shuddering, right? He’s in an euphoric state but there’s a part of his mind which is not comfortable with the massive amount of cum that’s covering his dick, his pubic hair, his stomach and sometimes even his chest depending on how far he shot his load.

    I know because after I fuck a guy, using him as my toy, if I’ve squirted I too feel the urgency to clean myself almost immediately after I’ve orgasmed. I think it’s instinctual – to be mildly repulsed by pussy juice and cum after an orgasm.

    That’s where the perfectly prepared towel comes in to – in one swoop – not only relieve the slave of his messiness, but to make even that final part of the experience wonderful and erotic, like a post-orgasm massage.

    The warmth of the side of the towel that’s damp doesn’t make the slave react adversely at all when I press it against his balls. Quite the opposite, actually.

    The damp but warm feeling on the underside of the testicles – where I begin because it sensitizes the prostate which men secretly love – is wholly welcomed and every single time I do it I can feel the whole body of the man reach a higher state of relaxation.

    Apparently, cupping the lower part of the balls and touching the prostate through a warm damp towel is near orgasmic in itself. I’ve come to learn that only recently, in the last two years of being a Mistress.

    There are areas of the male genitalia and how that area reacts to different stimuli that gosh, I could write a book on just that whole wonderful area in itself detailing all the techniques I’ve discovered that greatly enhance pleasure in my sessions.

    Anyways, I come up and over the balls, then gripping the now flaccid shaft and running the damp towel up to but not touching the head just yet as it’s too sensitive.

    Instead, once the dick is clean, I’ll use my fingers massaging through the damp towel into the pubic hair area , kind of curling and scraping my fingers up towards the belly button area … uh, kind of like a Zamboni on a hockey rink scraping up all the ice and laying down a coat of thin water behind. Aha see, you forgot I watch hockey didn’t you!!

    So basically I’m giving a damp massage that starts at the prostate and finishes either at the belly button or even sometimes higher if the cum has shot that far up. Heck, I’ve had times where I’ve had to clean the face too but for that I’ll go and get a face cloth from the bathroom.

    So the man, by my estimation, is feeling clean but a tiny bit damp and that’s when I flip the towel upside down and starting in reverse , so from the belly button and working my way back down, I’ll let the dry super warm underbelly of the towel “finish him off” and I say that because I do so in such a gentle massaging way that on many occasions, I’ve had the slave drifting deep into rem sleep by the time I reach his prostate once again.

    Only on the way back down, once all the pleasure and sensitivity has drained out of his body, do I damp clean the head of the cock and then dry it off with the warm side of the towel … and the slave won’t even notice.

    It just feels so damn good, and I’ll keep going down until the warmth of the towel is once again heating up his testicles and I’ll finish by lifting them both up ever so softly and pressing the edge of the warm towel under his balls coming to rest at his prostate … right at the 120 minute mark on the button.

    Now, I’m a bit of a devil. I’ll admit that nothing excites me more than a submissive man who is at my mercy. A man who is completely spent, absolutely exhausted, and totally drained … who also happens to be tied up using my Japanese Shibari rope techniques which are comfortable yet totally inescapable … well sometimes if he’s handsome, that’s just too much for me to resist.

    Now normally, I’m talking 90% of the time or even 95% of the time maybe, I’ll release him from his rope bondage ever so gently so as to not wake him … or if he’s not asleep, to not create any unnecessary emotion … to just let him lay back and let the sensation cover his body inside and out.

    Then when he’s been released I’ll make my way to his head, rest it upon my lap and massage his face, temple, ears and hair in the most loving way I can … not the way I used to do it at the massage shop, but in a more tender caring way.

    From there we’ll often talk for an hour or so – which is why I was so against having a 2nd session on the same night because it rushed things, and I’m all about that 100% re-booking rate so time was never an issue with me.

    Behind the scenes, I was always using -first by hand, and then eventually by AI, charts, excel and tons of calendar notes to carefully keep track of my re-booking rate and it was always at or near 100%. The “head-Mistress” at the time had a 60% rate, so by my (awful) math … I knew that over time, like a decade, I’d have slowly developed the most powerful tool a Mistress can have at her disposal … absolute loyalty from a never ending list of submissive devotees.

    Some of which … no, scratch that … a select few of which receive special, mind-blowing treatment from time to time. Should the timing be perfect, the mood aligned just so, and the gentleman prove delectably enticing in just the right frisky way … then that moment, when my hands return with the warm towel and brush against the prostate, transforms into the spark that ignites something smoldering, something irresistibly kinky and hot!

    This is part of my secret middle-finger to all the sexpats that come here and look for the sex shops that offer “double-shots” , and no I’m not talking about tequila in a shot glass.

    To me, the nerve of a man to demand a double-shot has always bothered me. See, the way I look at men and how they should be treated – I’ve always wanted to make a second cum shot the very last thing they would ever wish for when under my control.

    In my world, the only way to do that is to drag them through hell and back for nearly three hours, put them into a deep sleep and just as they reach total relaxation – shock them out of it and begin the whole process all over again … but with a more aggressive sexual twist this time around.

    To continue from here, we need to revisit the condition the man is in after two and a half hours of being teased and edged mercilessly, building up an eruption of cum that was then milked and milked until the balls are empty and aching. I followed that up with a warm towel clean ‘n massage where I’ve slowly over the course of thirty minutes have worked my way up from the underside of the testicles to the stomach and then slowly traversed the whole area back down again.

    The result is either a totally content yet spent individual or the experience was so exhausting that he’s out cold snoring away happily.

    Yet there I am, at the end of a 150 minute journey and I find myself once again at the most sexually exploitive spot on the man’s body – his prostate, but with him out cold, totally spent and bound so that he cannot move.

    “To exhaust a man is to seize his will; to break his resistance is to make him yours. When strength is spent and the mind falters, his servitude is no longer a choice but a certainty.”
    ” ”

    Before I begin, let me put what I’m about to write into context for you. I’ve been a Mistress for a decade. In that time I’ve had about three thousand men bend the knee to me. From those three thousand I’ve done what I’m describing next at most, 5 times.

    Yet a woman sometimes needs to indulge herself so here I go recounting what happened those four or five exceptions to the norm!

    When I tie a man up, the style I do so very much depends on the length of time he will be in that position. For example, it’s great to be hog tied, but not for three hours.

    My go-to position for a three hour tease & denial adventure is hands spread eagled allowing approximately six inches of movement in any direction, but to have the legs secured in a completely different way.

    Yes, the feet are tied by the ankles and secured to the bottom corners of the bed but first the ankles and shins are tied to the man’s quad and hamstring area of the upper legs so that his heels are touching his buttocks, unable to be straightened. It feels uncomfortable, but it is a natural enough position that it can be endured all day if need be.

    More importantly though is the tautness of the rope, which is spreading the knees apart. I will always loop a third rope around the bent knee area and secure both ends all the way under the bed or the mattress itself if the bed has no way to climb under.

    This is to keep the knees from closing, and yet, it is such a delicate and time-consuming step to take because if pulled apart too far … especially for older inflexible gentlemen, the groin area gets stretched and it is quite painful.

    Sidenote … in my more extreme HTS sessions, I will indeed stretch the knees far apart so the slave is in intense pain in the groin area which makes him grit his teeth and often open his mouth to yell … something which is needed on the occasions he might want to uh … not open his mouth lol. But we won’t get into that here.

    Once the knees have been comfortably spread open – I have full access to the private area and the only thing left to do is prop the slave’s ass up on my super soft pillows so that the balls are elevated and exposed as opposed to hiding in the bed sheets.

    Got the visual picture?

    Good, it’s needed so you can “see” what I’m explaining next. Necessary because if you don’t see the ‘helpless man scenario’ in your eyes, your imagination will start taking off down the wrong road when I start talking about blowjobs and sex … the road of the girl getting fucked when it is very much the other way around.

    See, as a Mistress, it is not in my dna any longer to get fucked by a man, I have absolutely no interest in “being banged” as the male population likes to so eloquently put it.

    What I do have an unwavering interest in though is tormenting, using and abusing a man while he’s helpless to resist. It’s why I’m the premiere Mistress in the world when it comes to extreme HTS, but I use my “outside the box” techniques in other ways with slaves looking for such an experience.

    Here, I’m talking about a hot guy that is totally spent, has no sexual energy left in him whatsoever and even worse – his balls have begun to ache in a way that he’s never experienced. Which – when I’m at my best, is my calling card if you will … making balls ache in a way that the guy has never experienced.

    “Like a migraine headache, only the pain is originating from the middle of my balls” is the way it has been explained to me. “It hurts so much that it is physically impossible to walk without my knees bending inwards like I’ve just been kicked in the nards.”

    I’m digging up quotes from the depths of my inbox!

    I can’t relate, I’m only “an explorer in the further regions of experience” (name the movie!) , but I can say that a man experiencing such natural testicular pain (ie: not via cbt) is very hesitant about getting hard and doing it all over again.

    So is it evil of me to once again start cupping and tugging at the under belly of those balls while they’re aching and simultaneously pressing that warm towel with ever increasing pressure all around the prostate area? You know – after 2.5 hours of torment … to even suggest another round is in store is evil incarnate, no?

    A second shot is 2 or 3 hours away, and yet, the cock can’t help but start rise to attention once again – eternal servitude without any brain to speak of is such a bitch, ain’t it? And yet men always refer to the fact that they mistakenly listen to their little brain too often, when in fact there is no such brain in the first place, just a mindless servant to sexual stimulation, no matter how painful the outcome might be due to its relentless desire to ejaculate.

    This time though I use negative reinforcement to oddly stimulate the guy’s cock and balls. Why? Because I’ve found that that area of the man’s body constantly needs to feel off-balance, like it has no idea what’s coming next, for only then will it remain the hardest it can possibly be.

    Fuck this is why I need a book – because those of you who follow me and know my sexual theories and practices – know that with certain long time slaves I use the exact opposite technique to train the cock to become permanently flaccid!

    When subjected to disappointment and only the most mundane of stimulations, uh like, having me just run my thumb in endless circles mostly on the over sensitive side of the head but every once in a while to quickly hit “the right spot” just under the head” before making it scream in disappointment again from the stimulation of the over-sensitized area … I can slowly train a cock to never ever get hard.

    I don’t know why, but I get such a thrill out of putting a dick permanently out of its misery of constantly needing to get hard. It makes a man feel inept, worthless and sexually frustrated all the time to have his cock rendered useless and is a great – almost perfect set up, for cucking a guy.

    Which is what I was just about to get into with slavebf – the guy I had been tormenting since 2020, since I stole him from Mistress J__ , and then fucking emotions got in the way – on his side, and that complicated things.

    Apparently, cucking a guy after destroying the potency of his dick but also after stealing his heart … utterly destroys his soul. I had thought it was just a game, a whim, like a human experiment … but I have on video a couple of femdom interactions where I used this negative reinforcement technique to have my way with a slave … and ya, problems arose when he saw that video.

    But I digress. I’m just pointing out to you that there are two ways to treat a cock … I can either use negative reinforcement to keep it perpetually hard and responsive to my actions, or I can make it permanently flaccid by using a different kind of negative reinforcement. One where I simply refuse to give it anything but the tiniest , briefest and most unfulfilling moments of stimulation … and do it ad nauseum until the cock learns that “that’s all it’s going to get so might as well be happy with it.”

    Do you see what I mean though when I say that by treating one slave’s cock so poorly so as to destroy its functionality … while at the same time using severe erotic techniques to train another guy’s cock to be constantly rock hard and quivering in excitement … and then to fuck that other guy’s cock right in front of my destroyed boyfriend’s eyes … that is about the hottest thing I can possibly imagine.

    That to me – is ultimate servitude, if a slave can withstand that. And fuck, I was almost there. It took 3 long years to train a dick to never get hard … and just as I was setting up the cucking part of it … fucking emotional breakdowns put the whole thing on ice … for now.

    He knows he’s welcome back to serve me as my boyfriend full time – any time he wants. But he also knows that doing so means that he’s going to be cucked , humiliated and left to deal with his emotions silently as I demand happiness from anyone serving me.

    He’s not ready to do that – not after seeing just how I use the rare individual to be my sex slave.

    So what is “good” negative reinforcement? In regards to how I treat a slave’s cock?

    Well firstly, I only use negative reinforcement after he’s received normal edging and teasing for 2-3 hours and is used to how my hand strokes, how my thumb circles, how my nails dig, how my other hand caresses, how I change both the tempo and pressure – constantly ; these are all things the dick has gotten used to.

    I’ve learned this the hard way. I used to wake spent dicks up by trying to use the same techniques that just made it feel crazy horny for the past 2 hours only to have it go semi-soft over and over again. It’s like trying to start a stubborn lawnmower … the old ones with the pull string that you had to yank over and over to get the blades to start up and rotate.

    Do you know where I got the negative reinforcement idea from? Yes, from a movie, duh … I know you know me by now and how easily influenced I am by film scenes.

    I was watching The Empire Strikes Back – truly one of the only good Star Wars movies ever made … fuck, I would SO love to “Clockwork Orange” Kathleen Kenedy’s eyes open and make her watch over and over until her pupils dried up and wilted. Just to get it in her brain how to actually make a good movie.

    But anyways, there’s a scene in the movie where Han Solo is trying to take off from Hoth the Ice Planet, but the Falcon won’t start up so he takes his fist and bangs the helm … or the computer … or whatever you call that’s running the ship and when he does so … the thing stays running instead of shutting down. Negative reinforcement!

    Ok so let’s bring that concept all the way back to the slave I’ve just put to sleep with the moist hot towel treatment and there I am once again massaging his prostate and testicles until his cock rises to full attention.

    Then I’ll just let go and let it bob back and forth in the wind. Haha, like there’s any wind in my condo. Perhaps we’re doing the session with him tied to a tree in the old west … at sundown. Nope, no wind, but he is bobbing back and forth wondering why the fuck he got woken up when there’s no fuel in the eggs down below?

    The moment it starts to bend over and wilt … I slap the testicles with the back of my hand, real hard like. And I’ll grab the cock like I’m wringing the neck of a chicken, holding it in mid-air and saying out loud “don’t you fucking dare get soft, I’ll wreck your fucking balls if you do!”

    I’ll then confuse and excite the fuck out of it with a whole different personality, like I”m the darker, malevolent alter ego Mrs.Hyde that’s come out to play.

    Flicking and slapping the long sensitive side of the cock head, daring it to go soft and when it does just jack-hammering away with short violent strokes … more confusing negative reinforcement.

    I’ll caress and maybe even let him see me slide my lipstick all over his left nut from the bottom up to the base of the cock while smiling at him as I leave a wet streak … and then slapping the very same testicle for him daring to look excitedly at me.

    “Did I say you could fucking make eye contact with me?” stealing and ad-libbing a line from Louis Gosset Jr in An Officer and a Gentleman.

    Roughly, I’ll insert a finger half way into his asshole, curl it upwards and begin the “come here” motion that drives him crazy … but slapping the shaft of his cock as it stiffens to punish it.

    Stuff like that makes the cock and balls not only spring to life once again, but it makes the dick ever so hard … out of fear because the thing trembles.

    Have you ever made your dick tremble? I don’t think it’s something you can do to yourself … but let me know if you have and how you did it please.

    The best way to describe it is that the dick is pure red … is standing at full attention pointing due north at the belly button and quivers when I bring my hand near to it.

    Like, quivers in anticipation. Think like the proximity sensor in Alien that makes a noise whenever a hand gets waved in front of it.

    Only, Ash said it runs off of “micro changes in air density” whereas the guy’s quivering cock runs off of “micro changes in Mistress’s personality” , am I right? 🙂

    “Fear. It’s a tough concept. But if someone fears you … they’ll do what you tell them to do. That’s straight out of The Godfather. It’s true.”
    ,

    At this point I’ll climb up the slave’s body , look him dead in the eye and say something like “you’ve got two more hours of this ahead of you, are you sure you want a second shot?” and I’ll fucking grab and twist his balls so that he carefully chooses his answer.

    If he says “yes” he’ll get another five minutes of even more maniacal pleasure and pain …like I go into total Cenobite / Pinhead mode if he says yes. Eventually he’ll say no, which is the answer I want.

    The second he yells out no with his balls being twisted into oblivion? That’s when I’ll slide down and take him whole in my mouth, one shot, right down until he’s balls deep in my throat and I’ll suck so hard all the way up, inch by inch so that he feels like his dick might separate from his balls at any moment.

    I’ll pull my mouth off just 6 seconds later and in a feverish voice pant “that’s the fucking answer I want to hear, let me hear you say it again.”

    “No.”

    “No what?” I’ll ask while jerking him again, this time with tiny rabbit like strokes just under the head daring him to say the wrong thing again.

    “No I don’t want to cum.”

    And I’ll mount him. At that point my pussy will be hovering just over his quivering cock and my left hand will grab his hair trying to almost rip a bunch out of his scalp and into my fist while my right hand goes right for his neck.

    When it latches onto his neck I’ll lean forward, putting all my weight on my wrist, daring him to try and wiggle out of it. Remember, his hands can’t move.

    This is where my 2 years at Jiu Jitsu come in handy. From the mount position in Jiu Jitsu, to maintain the dominant top position in a fight, the hand go out on either side of the opponent’s head for balance while my legs shoot up under his knees pining the hips to the floor. I might suck at a lot of things in Jits, but if I ever get on top of someone, they can’t get me off, male or female. It’s the most fun move I’ve ever learned and I’ve practiced it so much that I’m ever so good at it. Lol, the only thing I’m good at is that move and the leg triangle.

    But it’s relevant here because instead of sitting directly on top of him ready to fuck him … I’m bent way over, leaning all the way forward with my toes pointing to the ceiling , shooting up through the bend in his knees.

    Like this:

    Only it’s not a fight, I’m about to use him sexually, so instead of my non-base hand grabbing under the head, it’s clamping down with a straight arm and all my weight onto his neck.

    Basically … “I’m going to fuck you, and you might not survive it … depending on how long it takes me to cum.”

    And that’s what I’m saying that “I fuck men” and I don’t mean in a sexy way … I mean, it’s totally touch and go and up to you if you want to survive it.

    Want to breathe again? Fine, help me cum quickly.

    Only, I’m going to make that really hard for you because the hornier I get … the more I’ll slide down onto the slave’s cock, and the more he’s inside me the harder I’m going to slap the fuck out of his face.

    So there’s this “oh, so you want to be inside me huh? Ok , well your face is going to pay for every inch it slips in.”

    That prevents the slave from thrusting his hips up to “bang me” from the bottom. Do that … and guaranteed broken nose.

    Thus, the game begins with me seeing how long he can stand being just one inch inside of me as I’ll lower myself down until only the had has penetrated my pussy and I’ll just slowly fuck the head of his cock , letting him feel the intense head making his head throb.

    That’s when he’ll get his first warning slap. About 3 or 4 , all with my right hand. Not that hard, but doing so takes a bit of pressure off his throat so he usually spends those precious 2 seconds gasping for air.

    Now, he’ll either clue in and let me sink another inch deeper onto his cock or he’ll do the foolish thing and raise his hips to help himself deeper.

    Most clue in , out of total fear, to not raise their hips. And I’ll let my judgement take over as to how quickly to lower myself onto his throbbing dick , monitoring two things at the same time.

    One, his airflow, because I don’t ever want a David Carradine situation on my hands so my orgasm can’t be a long drawn out thing. Also, if I did make it a long drawn out thing, it wouldn’t feel in the end so much like I’ve just used him , briefly, for a moment. It’s be a sex thing, and this is all about making him feel like I’ve used him …or his dick to be exact … as a toy, like a vibrator or a dildo , for my amusement.

    Secondly, I’m trying to gauge whether or not he has enough fuel in the tank for another eruption. Given that this is a 60 second fuck, at most, there’s little chance of such a quick second orgasm on his part but still, it’s something I have to monitor.

    I can’t tell by the eyes though because when desperately struggling for air, the face and eyes don’t give away an impending orgasm so readily. They instead look very much like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s face on Mars in the movie Total Recall.

    With every inch I descend onto his cock, I start getting naturally hornier and hornier and I’m like the 20 second girl when I get into that mode. Easily bringing myself to an orgasm in 20 seconds or less if that’s wall I was going for.

    But it gets extended to a minute or so because the more he’s inside of my the more I punish him by slapping the fuck out of him – continually now, snapping his face back and forth left and right and I’ll even throttle the neck more so at this point to give him the total feeling of being used and abused at the same time.

    I’ll cum. Quickly, violently, and then I’ll quickly dismount and leave him there … walking away to take a long shower.

    Well, sadly … to talk away to take a long shower because I have nobody to cuck at the moment, unless slavebf comes back to finish his training.

    Would it be that I had a slave to cuck well then :))

    At that moment I’d dismount, walk over to the slave I’m cucking, the one who’s dick it took 2 years to make flaccid, and let him use a similarly prepared towel as to the warm moist one I described and let him clean MY whole area from my buttocks up to my stomach.

    I’d absolutely love to have a “clean-up boy” like that at my beck and call.

    To me, that’s the perfect power exchange scenario. To simultaneously use two men at the same time but having both men provide totally opposing yet similarly frustrating roles.

    It goes so much deeper than that, but it’s why I have to write a book and get all these concepts of female domination out there for all to read. For now, that’s enough prose for one post don’t you think?

    Hope you enjoyed reading, let me know in your messages your thoughts on being used like that. Too much? Too “outside the box?”

    For most, probably, but that’s how deep this runs in my mind, I just wanted to give you a taste of it.

    Oh and let me know if you like bush or no bush on my pussy shots 🙂 See ya.