You know how, when watching TV growing up, the network would join a movie that was “already in progress” because the news or a sports game ran late?
That is exactly what is happening here.
After I shot the incredible Breeding / Ass Fucking video I showed you yesterday on my FanVue Femdom blog, I had three full hours of footage of me teasing this manPet’s cock—slowly, meticulously, endlessly. I decided to share just the last six minutes of his agony with you here on FanVue. But knowing he had been lying there, edged for three straight hours, explains why his hips nearly hit the ceiling a few times. He was at the absolute limit of how much teasing without release he could take.
Notice, too, that his cock is still rock hard after all that time.
The Science of the Tease
I became something of a “penis master” from years of marathon Tease & Denial sessions. I was obsessed with testing the very limits of a man’s tolerance for frustration and excitement. It isn’t something that looks good on a resume, but it probably would be Ph.D. thesis-worthy given all the data I collected.
The Key Discovery: If the touch changes every minute at most, I can keep it hard perpetually. With a penis, familiarity of touch is a death sentence for hardness.
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A little more pressure higher up.
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Faster pumping every now and then.
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Back to one finger circling under the head.
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Bending it, twisting it, slapping it.
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Pumping it again, then letting it sway in the air.
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Right back to that single-finger edging.
The moment the cock thinks, “Enough, I’m going limp anyway”? That is when the second hand comes in, fondling the balls while I grip the shaft super firmly—wrapping my baby finger tight around the base so it doesn’t explode the instant testicular contact hits.
Because testicular fondling, done just right, is like adding nitroglycerin to a bartender shaking a martini.
The “Do Not Push” Button
Have you ever played World of Warcraft? I haven’t, but my youngest daughter did. There was this boss fight against Mimiron—a robot in a circular room with an enormous red button on the wall that said “Do Not Push.” Pushing it activated Hard Mode.
A man’s balls are that big red “Do Not Push” button.
There are two of them, side by side, to be caressed, fondled, and tugged at only in emergency cases—when the cock has had enough teasing, has leaked enough pre-cum to fill a coffee cup with translucent sticky goo, and now wants to go soft and sleep.
Handling the testicles “just so” at “just the right moment” keeps the cock my hard, desperate prisoner. I have had wonderful afternoons and evenings exploring the very limits of a man’s sanity, going as far as six hours of endless teasing.
The Terminator Mode
One session that drove the original Mistress Jaa to hate constant cock-teasing was a nightmare three-day trip in Hanoi, Vietnam. A slave paid her handsomely to “vacation” with him, but once she arrived, he used the money as guilt leverage to keep her in the hotel room teasing his cock nonstop, stopping only to sleep.
She recounted that story many times as a warning. I always thought: “Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t have slept. I would have driven him mad—literally insane—with an opportunity like that.”
I would have shown no mercy. That is how differently my brain is wired. Put me in a room in total Mistress mode—where the Wael inside me is so suppressed my subconscious doesn’t even get heard—and time ceases to exist.
I don’t just get off on breaking men. I fantasize about it. Always have. Psychotic, split personality—call it what you want. If someone like that slave challenged me, I would unmake him. I wouldn’t let him sleep. There is no need for sleep in that mode.
I have proven it.
The only way I afforded my second year of cooking college was winning the end-of-first-year dance competition. The last man standing won free tuition. No rule said it had to be a couple. I was a loner, always have been. I decided I was going to win, and I did. 38 hours straight, dancing alone.
The Treadmill War
At the iPremium condo in Bangkok where I lived for over a decade as a Mistress, my split personality became such a massive force that if I didn’t have a session to feed my Mistress self, I would go nuts with anxiety or depression. I couldn’t function in the evenings if I was just Wael.
The only cure for that rage was physical exhaustion. I would jog on the treadmill from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM, wearying myself until my brain calmed down out of plain physical fatigue.
One evening, this Barbie-doll Thai girl grabs the treadmill beside mine and begins jogging at 7:00 PM sharp—a full hour after I had started. 8:00 PM rolls around, and she doesn’t stop running. So neither did I.
The clock strikes 9:00 PM. Everyone has left except for her and I, still jogging almost in step. Finally, 15 minutes before the gym closed at 10:00 PM, I could see she was struggling. Sweat was pouring down her face; she kept using the brown towel hanging off her handrail with increasing frequency.
I didn’t touch my towel once. I never even glanced at her. She quit 10 minutes before the gym closed. I continued on. The security guard came to kick me out 20 minutes later.
I was in Terminator mode. Think Terminator 2, the liquid metal cop that ran at full speed endlessly. I didn’t feel pain, remorse, or fear. Like the Terminator, I absolutely would not stop until either that girl or I were found dead on that treadmill.
Read the story on my Substack blog
“I Must Break You”
I can slip into a mode where nothing can stop me. Yes, I pay the price afterward—sore muscles or a hand that cramps uncontrollably after a marathon T&D session. But in the moment? I feel nothing but the objective.
Had I been the one summoned to Vietnam to test that slave’s endurance, I would have broken him. I would have brought him to tears. And I wouldn’t have done so with spite or hate. I would have done it with no emotion whatsoever.
Think of Rocky IV, when Ivan Drago meets Rocky in the ring. Drago bends in and says: “I must break you.”
Not “I will break you,” which implies emotion or intent. “I must break you” implies that he is machine-like, and this is simply what his brain has been programmed to do.
That is Mistress-mode schizophrenia. I will break you or die trying.
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You want 72-hour Tease & Denial? Let’s go.
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You want to survive 30 days of HTS at my home? Let’s go.
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You want me to arrange 100 ladyboys to break your will? There is no “going out of my way” when I am Mistress Wael.
My mind accepts the task like Drago accepts his opponent. I must break you.
Only, in the end, it was Mistress Wael who broke me.
Understand?
W.Beneath
ps: On the 24th I hired a website designer knowledgeable in woo-commerce to finish designing beneathherwords.com
My new website, with its online store where you can purchase my books (finally eh?) will be live on New Year’s Day or on the 2nd of January.
So for those of you who have been dying to read Under Her – you have but 7 days left to wait.