This War of Mine, by Mistress Wael
originally posted on my FanVue Femdom and Lifestyle Blog, Autust 26th, 2024.
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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.
(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