It would start pretty simply. Beginning with wherever you might be now, we start adding some quotas to your life. How many times you have to jack off a day (minimum three, but bonus points for more), how many beers you have to consume daily. To me, it’s about establishing habits, about slowly forcing you to expend more and more of your time, money and energy on hedonistic vices than on anything else.
The control ramps up slowly. We pare down your wardrobe. You’re allowed three pairs of underwear–a jockstrap and two pairs of briefs, and you can’t wash them unless explicitly allowed. The rest of your closest is paired down as well, and you might be allowed to wash your clothes, without soap, once a week. I start telling you where your cumshots have to land–either into your underwear, or onto your pillowcase and sheets, which you’ll stop changing as well.
I want to take up so much of your time pleasuring yourself that you stop caring about work, and you either get fired or you quit to find something less taxing. I want you to lose interest in your family and friends, aside for, perhaps, a few approved fuckbuddies you can play with and sloth around with, who appreciate the same self-destructive hedonism I’m nurturing in you. I want all of this to become second nature. I want you to forget that you were ever any different. I want to encourage you to fuck up your body, get tattoos and piercings, fill your cock and balls with silicone, stuff yourself at buffets every day. I want you to lose yourself in simple, piggy pleasure for the rest of your life, so deeply that you couldn’t find your way back out if you tried.
Bracken's Corner 