Time is your most precious resource. It’s the one thing you can spend, and never get back no matter what you do.


Is that what makes it so hot to waste it? You must’ve felt it, if you’ve chosen to listen to this file. That feeling when you know you have to do something, have to be somewhere, have to finish a project, anything, but instead you sit and you masturbate. And as time passes you get more and more aroused. And sometimes you stop and you go do whatever it is you have to do.


But sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you sit there, perhaps watching porn, masturbating, gooning, and the time goes by. And then suddenly it’s here, it’s time, yet you only grow more aroused. And then it’s gone. The deadline’s gone past and you haven’t done it. You’ve made your life objectively worse, just to masturbate for what, a couple hours more? 


And that feels so good. Ruining your life. Ruining yourself that way, it feels so deliciously good.


So that’s what we are going to be doing today. Only, in a far more organised fashion. 


A day has 24 hours. After you listen to this file, and you’ve already started listening, haven’t you? Can you even stop at this point? After you listen to this file, your day, your actual productive day, where you get stuff done, is going to be at least one hour smaller.


Because from now on, and for every single day going forwards, waking up is no longer enough to start out your day. You see, normally, when people wake up, really wake up, when they can no longer go back to sleep, they might take a few moments to get their bearings, perhaps laze about a bit, and then they start out their day. 


Maybe they check their emails and messages, they probably get up and go to the toilet, drink a coffee, have breakfast. You know. All the normal people stuff.


Not you. Not anymore. Because when you truly wake up. No longer able to fall back asleep, or when you have to wake up due to some obligation, you will find yourself unable to freely start your day. Because you’ll find that your bed has been encased by a cage. Much like a bird cage, actually. 


It’s a mental cage, yes, a mental block. But no weaker than physical bonds. In fact, mental bondage is often far stronger than physical chains. Long after the chains are gone, the mind can remember them. And the mind can be such a cruel thing.


Not to worry, there is a way to get out. This little cage of yours, it imprisons you and prevents you from starting your day. You can reach out through the cage bars to grab nearby objects, but you cannot, under any circumstance, do anything. No browsing the web. No TV. No checking emails or notifications. Not even porn. Nothing. There’s only one thing you can do, and it’s the thing you must do in order to escape your self-imposed mental bondage.


You will strip, if you aren’t already completely naked. You will put your clothes all nicely together, and then you will throw them away from you. Away from your reach. You will not be wearing clothes or covering yourself until you escape. And then? You will edge. You will rub and stroke and goon. You will masturbate, stopping only when absolutely necessary, for an entire hour.


You can use a timer on your phone, or you can just watch the clock, it doesn’t matter, so long as it’s at least one hour. Cumming is, of course, not going to even cross your mind. To say it is forbidden, or that you do not have permission would be incorrect. It is simply something that is not done.


The time only starts ticking, of course, from the moment you start edging and not a second before. You can delay your hour of edging, but that just wastes even more time. That thought, though, does make you feel all hot and bothered, doesn’t it?


And this is how you’ll spend your mornings. Every morning. From now on until forever. And this is going to take place regardless of how you feel as you wake up. Even if you are not in the mood at all, even if you are desperate to go to the toilet, even if you have an extremely important appointment in half an hour, even if you feel sick and dizzy and feverous, you will sit there, naked as the day you were born, and you will edge and edge and edge, for at least an entire hour. I’m sorry, I truly am, but there’s nothing I can do.


This is not on me anymore. In fact, it was never on me. This is all you. Your mind. It was your choice to listen to this file. Your choice to enter into this inescapable scenario, this predicament. And that’s the thing with bondage, physical or mental. It doesn’t matter if you’re having fun or not. Your chains don’t care. It can start out fun and exciting but what truly makes it worth it, makes it special, is that once the fun is done, once you get bored or tired or hurt, it doesn’t go away. 


And while you can remove physical bondage, there’s no way to remove the mental chains that your very own mind imposes on you. Because, in the end, no matter how you feel, no matter what you think. You want this. You crave this. What would be the point if it was there only when it’s fun. When it’s convenient? 


No. The kind of hypnosis you’re after. The kind of masochism you know you desperately desire. It’s the kind that never goes away. That is always there. That can bring you as much true pain and suffering as pleasure. Because, to you, if you can safeword out, if you can chicken out when it’s tough or boring or you really really really are not in the mood and you’d really like to do something else, it’s not real. If you could stop whenever you wanted it, it wouldn’t be special, would it?


And so your mind obliges you. And with my help, it forms this inescapable scenario for you to live through. And you can listen to this file again and again and again and as many times as you want. Until its words are echoing within your skull. And with every day that passes. Every morning you waste your precious seconds, minutes, hours of your life, it gets entrenched deeper and deeper into your psyche. Until even at your worst moments, when you’re at your lowest psychologically, when you’re in pain or sick, when in any proper bdsm relationship you would’ve safeworded, there will be no escape.


You will remove your clothing. You will throw it away. And you will edge.


You’re in a cage, and you know you’re in a cage, your mind knows you are in a cage, trapped like a bird, singing of its arousal as you sit and stroke and stroke and rub and rub. As you sit in the cage your very own mind created and you edge the day away. 


And this cage is impenetrable, of course. It was created by your very inner self, and you can’t beat that. You know it, deep within you. You are trapped and you have trapped yourself. Your bed is your prison and the warden is your own self. So you will go nowhere. There’s no point even trying to leave the bed before the hour is up. I know that, you know that, and your mind especially knows that. So you won’t even bother.


You will keep those hands where they belong, stroking and rubbing and edging. No need to use them to get up. No point. Your cage is absolute. The only way out is the door that will open at the end of your hour. You could try leaving early, of course, but it’d be pointless. And so you cannot bring yourself to do it. Much like you cannot bring yourself to place your hand on a hot stove. What’d be the point? You already know what’s going to happen. 


The stove is going to burn you and you are not going to leave early. So lie down and edge. Waste your precious time. Feel every second, every minute, as it drains away, forever out of your reach. And it makes you feel so incredibly hot. Every second that passes, every minute, it makes you feel so, so incredibly aroused. And when you look at the clock and realise five minutes, ten minutes, twenty, more, have passed you get such a huge surge of arousal.


Knowing that you’ve used your precious time, wasted it, sitting in your bed and edging, it makes you so aroused. And with every second, every minute, you get more and more worked up. Like drops of water, every second wasted fills up the lake of your arousal, more and more. 


And of course, you’re not going to cum. That would truly be terrible. Even if you’ve wasted your precious time, those seconds, those minutes, gone and never to come back, there is something left of them. That lake of arousal will stay with you. Going over the edge, even ruining, it would be like breaking the dam, letting all that precious arousal just… disappear into the aether. 


That would be the true shame. The true disappointment. You wasted so much of your literally irreplaceable time to build up that beautiful lake of arousal and then you just destroyed it with a careless act? No. Your orgasm, be it a normal orgasm, a ruin, an anal, any type, it doesn’t matter. It’s all the same. It’s a disgusting act of destruction. It is unacceptable and if I were you, I wouldn’t know how to live with myself if I did it. 


Frankly speaking, it’s extremely shameful that you ever considered it. Just thinking about an orgasm, any type, should open a pit in your stomach. Let alone getting physically close to cumming. That should make the blood in your veins go ice cold.


I truly hope you manage to internalize this. I hope you can feel the true shame of it, if your mind ever thinks about cumming. And the true horror of it actually happening, should some kind of horrific accident somehow lead to you cumming. That should just never happen anyway.


Your mind is strong enough to cage you in your bed, it will also protect you from such horrifying acts. Just like you won’t put your hand in the burning stove, just like you won’t bother trying to leave before the hour is up, you won’t ever have to worry about cumming or even getting close to. 


Let us speak no more of unmentionable acts. You will rub and rub and stroke and edge and there’s no need to worry. Your mind is strong and while you edge, you will never reach the edge. There’s no need to get so dangerously close to devastation. Just sit there and edge, safely and happily away from orgasm, as time passes you by, never to return. But forever staying as part of you, part of your arousal. 


And then, suddenly, it’s time. The hour has passed. Do not stop edging. Do not let those hands wander elsewhere. The door of the cage is open. And now you have a choice to make. Of course, you can leave. Stop edging, leave the bed, clothe yourself, start out your day. Finally go to the toilet and have some breakfast. Start being productive. Or. You can stay. You can continue edging, close the door. Lock yourself back in for another hour. Ignore your responsibilities even more. Waste more irreplaceable time. And that thought makes you so incredibly hot.


Take your time, there’s no hurry. Rub and stroke and edge yourself as you think. The door will stay open as long as you want, as long as you are undecided, you can stay there, sitting in bed, rubbing, stroking, thinking about what to do. Getting up will start out your day, and the cage will vanish behind you, not to appear until tomorrow morning. You can’t get out and come back, that’s not how it works. 


Of course, the timer for your next hour will only start once you make the choice to stay. And you’ve just wasted all the time thinking pointlessly for nothing. And how deliciously arousing is that? Edge yourself stupid. 


So make your choice. You have to start your day, but you want to stay, don’t you? You just wasted more than an entire hour of your life, edged it away, and it made you so, so aroused. And what better feeling would there be, what more potent arousal… than wasting one more? Just one more. Rub and stroke. One more hour of your life, forever out of your grasp. Your hands pleasuring you. It makes you so hot doesn’t it? 


Your bladder may ache and your stomach may feel empty and hungry, but that’s just making it all the more exciting, doesn’t it? Any responsibilities you have, any guilt you feel for ignoring them, it makes you hotter. The worse you feel, the more you feel like you have to stop, to get up, the more you want to stay. The harder you rub and edge.


So do it. Do it. Close the door. Lock yourself in your perfect little mental cage, lock yourself in your bed and edge another hour away. Rub, stroke, edge, and feel your arousal grow greater and greater with every minute, every second that passes. Your guilt at all the time you’re wasting, all the responsibilities you are ignoring, it is just kindling fuel to the fires of your arousal.


And so is your discomfort. Your full bladder, your empty stomach. Perhaps it’s started aching too. It just makes you feel hotter. Knowing that now it’s too late. You’ve locked the door. You’re going nowhere. You're going to stay in that bed for another hour. There’s nothing you can do but rub and rub and rub and rub.


Well, that’s not entirely true. There is one thing you can do. A convenient solution to the problems of both your full bladder and your empty stomach. The only thing you can stop edging to do. You have a glass nearby, don’t you? If you don’t, that’s okay too, you’ll just have to suffer. You live and you learn, as they say. But if you do, if you have brought a glass near enough to grab through the cage bars… you know what you can do, don’t you? 


If your problem is your full bladder and your empty stomach, why not equalise them? It’s a very natural solution. You don’t have to do it, of course. But isn’t the thought of it so captivating? Think about how good it will feel watching that glass fill up with your yellow acrid piss. Knowing that that piss has nowhere to go but inside your mouth and down your throat.


Because of course, piss doesn’t belong in a glass. And a glass is meant for drinking, not for storage. The moment you chose to piss in that glass, you knew where that piss was going. It’s going to end up all down your throat, as you cringe and gag and retch. There’s only two places piss can be, inside your body and in the toilet. The moment you pissed in a glass, you violated that principle, and now you have to fix it as quickly as possible. 


You will not simply leave the piss in the glass until the hour is up. That is unacceptable, anathema. It is wrong on a fundamental level and you know that. Your mind knows that. You knew that when you made your choice. So do the only thing you can. Bring that glass to your lips. Taste the revolting piss. And swallow. Swallow. Swallow. Swallow. Until the glass is completely empty. 


Then, and only then, may you continue rubbing and stroking and edging yourself. And the glass will stay there. You will keep it there. Near your bed. To help you in your time of need.


And once you’ve rubbed and stroked yourself to a new height of arousal, and once your hour is up, you can finally leave and finally start your day.


But. Imagine, just imagine, how good it would feel if you did… one more. Just one more. Stroke, rub, edge, don’t think. Just one more. It would feel soooo gooood. As you grow guiltier, as you grow hungrier, as you grow more dehydrated. If you’ve drunk your piss you know then that it paradoxically just makes you thirstier. Your rational mind, your guilt, it screams at you to just leave already, to go eat, drink, go to the toilet. Yet, it all so very easily gets drowned out by the fog of arousal. As it seeks to leave you with but one thought: One more. One more hour, gone from your life. One more glass of piss, down your throat, to last just a bit longer.


Because as hot as what you went through already is, wouldn’t it be so much hotter to do another hour now, as your body screams at you to stop? The hungrier you are, the thirstier you are, the more you want to shove another glass of piss down your throat to make your body shut up, even if temporarily, even if in revolution, even if you know it’ll only come back worse, and then you can drink another glass and another. And the dizzier you are then more you want to cover it up by edging more. And as you think about what to do, you never stop stroking, never stop rubbing your mind away. And you think of how much hotter, how better it would feel to go through another hour when you feel like this.


And as you rub and stroke and edge and edge and edge, as you reach out with your mental hand and close that invisible, yet inescapable door once more, a surge of arousal like nothing before hits you, as you go for just… one… more… hour…