Hypoxic Pre-Exhaustion Technique

Hypnotic Pre-Exhaustion is NOT a catchy-beat song from the 80’s. It is a physiological state of absolute surrender.

However, the cadence of the term is undeniably melodic, and because I believe even the most brutal neurological overrides should have a soundtrack, I’ve choreographed a little something for you. Think of this as the “dance video” that precedes the inevitable collapse of your own volition.

The lyrics of my song, in case you’re in love with my ai musical generations …

“Hypoxic… pre-exhaustion… (ba-da-da-dum, ba-da-da-dum) Hypoxic… pre-exhaustion… (ba-da-da-dum, ba-da-da-dum) You feel it comin’, can’t escape the beat Your mind is melting at my pretty feet One look, one word, and your strength is gone You’re dropping deeper… before the song is even on Hypoxic… pre-exhaustion… (ba-da-da-dum, ba-da-da-dum) Hypoxic… pre-exhaustion… (ba-da-da-dum, ba-da-da-dum) ”

About 8 songs make up an album if erring on the shorter side of the average number and once done, this’ll be my 4th femdom song – all of which are pretty damn catchy tunes I must say. Enough to go #1 and knock Beyonce off the charts? Probably not, but I’m sure I could make a few jerk off to the words of some of them.

Anyways, as you can tell, I’m not in the mood to write anything serious today. I’ll try and explain in a non-humorous way what Hypoxic Pre-Exhaustion is as I mentioned it on my Scatbook post today and got asked for further clarification. And by that I mean I had no less than 20 messages all asking me “you mean you try to suffocate your slave when you face sit him? For what purpose huh?”

To which I roll my eyes – mostly because I read Scatbook messages visualizing those rednecks from the movie Deliverance speaking to me.

I linked that scene because I’m at odds with it. See, I’m a crossbow girl myself, born and raised. Got my girl “jo’ right beside my computer desk here. See how long he had that bow notched, cocked and ready? Had to calculate trajectory, wind speed, loft and distance – that’s why. I’d just one arm it. Pew.

Ah, and since I’m offtrack right from the start talking about rednecks – may I also point out – since I’m a movie buff – that aiming for the balls rather than the heart is definitely the way to go. It’s why I much prefer this scene from Pulp Fiction.

Also, I love that scene because – to a MUCH lesser extent … I’ve done the exact thing to a slave only we were using a paintball rifle and yes indeed, the slave’s balls were our targets. We didn’t get “medieval” on his ass though, we were just playing “wheel of punishment” and he happened to spin and have it land on ‘Testicle Target Practice.’ Hmm, I should write a few blog posts about the other categories that were on that wheel. That was 12 years ago, I highly doubt any of you have been following me long enough to remember the ‘spin the wheel’ days.

Wheel of Punishment, the idea came from Wheel of Fish, this scene in particular:

Focus Wael. Get on track. I’m supposed to be talking about Hypoxic Pre-Exhaustion Techniques. My mind today is – VOOF – gone – out that way somewhere.

Slaves tend to resist my extreme methods a bit too much. That’s where the idea was born from.

Like, in the Patreon portion of this post, I’m going to be showing you a face sitting video that leads into an impromptu HTS session – and watching it reminds me so much of how much of an amateur I was when conducting my sessions back then. See, back then I was doing mouth-to-ass with a perfectly tight seal toilet feeding and there was resistance. Every time a slave got uncomfortable with the situation, he’d struggle and given how I’m mentally divergent – it’s not that I won’t tolerate slaves who put up a fight, its that I can’t tolerate such behavior without it triggering me and really pissing me off.

Piss me off in a session and you get extreme Wael, and once she’s let out of the bag, its hell on earth for me to put her back in. Live with me for a day after an annoying session and you’d very quickly see what I mean.

So I had to find a way – in order to keep my sanity on days where I was doing two or three sessions in a day – to have slaves simply be unable to put up any resistance to my techniques at all.

“Aw, you done drug him, didn’t ya, Miss?” the redneck pipes up again.

“No. Cálmate, banjo boy.”

Let’s take face sitting – as that was always a precursor to human toilet training back in the day. (I do things MUCH differently now when it comes to HTS/HTT)

Hypoxic Pre-Exhaustion is just a fancy way of saying:

“I sat on his face and didn’t let him breathe, no matter how hard he hit and scratched, stopping only to give him a single breath right before he passed out — and then starting the whole process again.”
But that’s a bit long for a blog post title, so I came up with Hypoxic Pre-Exhaustion.

You do that to a slave for an hour and I guarantee ya — he ain’t gonna resist nothin’ once I start emptyin’ my bowels into his mouth.

So sayeth the redneck Mistress 😛

Yes I said an hour. Maybe two. Depends how long I want to watch movies for because your suffering down there under my asshole … totally inconsequential to me.

Now you can actually kind of fool me into moving from the face sitting portion of the session to the feeding portion sooner rather than later IF you can pretend you have no need to touch me while panicking for air down below.

That’s my cue see, as to whether the slave is too exhausted to resist when I feed him. If he’s reached the point where he is too tired to struggle and gives up clawing at me or pounding the floor.

That’s when I pause the movie to relieve myself into his mouth. The moment the penis goes soft is the moment the brain stops lying to itself. When that sexual fog lifts, you aren’t a ‘kinky slave’ anymore – you’re just a drowning man who finally realized he’s been held under for an hour.

The high is gone, and in its place is a cold, terrifying clarity. Your body is screaming for air, but because I’ve spent the last two hours draining your battery to zero, your muscles literally can’t obey your brain’s command to fight back. You’ve reached a state of total mental surrender where your spirit just breaks. You aren’t ‘choosing’ to take it anymore; you’ve simply run out of the ‘will’ to say no. It’s the ultimate biological trap: you’re wide awake, you’re finally sober, and you’re forced to watch … powerless … as the waste you once craved becomes the only thing filling your throat.

I’m not here to break your heart, banjo boy; I’m here to break your clock. And once the battery hits zero, you’re mine.

So that’s the free portion of the blog. The HTS / Face Sitting video that follows is for my Patreon subscribers.

Or my FanVue subscribers.

That way you don’t have to subscribe to both, just one or the other is fine.

See ya on the other side, you bring your banjo, I’ll bring Jo, we’ll see if your testicles can dance.

Mistress W.