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Showing content with the highest reputation on 10/22/2025 in Blog Entries
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We talk a lot about degradation. About being used. Dehumanised. Treated like an object. And it sounds brutal, filthy, even disturbing from the outside.But sometimes, being “just a hole” isn’t about being nothing. It’s about finally being enough — exactly as you are. Because in a world where we’re constantly expected to be more — more capable, more composed, more wanted, more worthy — there’s something intoxicating about being reduced to one thing:Use. No pressure to perform. No need to impress. Just skin, heat, wetness — and the raw satisfaction of knowing you’re being used because it feels good for him. It’s not about hating yourself. It’s about being so safe in your submission that you can disappear into it.To be used not in spite of who you are — but because giving him that pleasure makes you feel whole.Because when your body becomes his release… when you’re filled, fucked, dripping, ruined —you’re not worthless. You’re wanted. Intensely. Selfishly. Completely. I want your hand around my throat, your cock buried deep, and your voice in my ear growling that I’m just a hole for you to fuck. Because when you do, I stop thinking. Stop performing. And start feeling everything — raw and real and filthy. If you’ve ever felt this too.. like being used is the only time you stop overthinking — I want to hear it.1 point
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t’s not about hating myself. It’s not because I have “daddy issues.” And it’s definitely not because I’m broken. I crave being degraded because in that moment—when I’m on my knees, mouth full, body aching—I feel more than I do anywhere else.More wanted. More filthy. More honest.There’s no pretending when I’m being used like a cocksleeve, called a whore, spat on, pinned down, and told I’m nothing but a hole. That’s not shame. That’s freedom. Freedom to be fucked without limits. Freedom to stop performing “pretty.” Freedom to be the dirty, needy little thing I actually am inside. When he laughs at how I am just a little “pussy", I get from the word slut, my hole clenches. When he spits on me and calls it “affection” I melt. When I’m told I’m only good for being bred and ruined, my whole body lights the fuck up. Degradation doesn’t humiliate me—it releases me. It strips away the surface-level niceties and gives me permission to belong to the desire. To him.I don’t want to be worshipped .I want to be wrecked. Feral. Fucked. Forgotten until I’m needed again. And if he makes me cry in the process? Even better. I’ll thank him with my mouth full.1 point