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TampaCajun23

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  1. TampaCajun23

    Breed Me

    By TampaCajun23,


    Who I Am
    Feeling straight up primal. It’s like an itch that I can not scratch. I need to be smothered in lust and filled with your babies, covered with your scent, hot cum, and then repeat. Fuck me like you love me so much you have to tie me up and keep me all to yourself and proceed to rape me holes over and over again. My body is what you neeeded so I let you feed off it.. you use my body, I am your toy, and you like to play rough. is it wrong that I’ve never felt so understood and overwhelmed with pleasure as I have with your perfect cock stuffed inside of me as tears roll off my face, you’re trying to break my body but you know I love the pain and you always kiss my broken pieces back together …you feed a certain piece of me that I didn’t know could be fed….Continue to rape me… I have got to carry your seed.
    You took me and told me to submit without saying a word, your touch makes me melt and beg for more, my body tell s me that I can relax now. Something is so warm about your hand around my throat. A weight is offf my shoulders, under your submission is what became my home. I am your property now and I love to please my owner.
  2. TampaCajun23
    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.
  3. TampaCajun23
    So tonight I go ton Sniffies determined to get laid. It had been a few months and being in a new town I had no regular buddies to call upon. I ended up driving out into the country to a guys house. He wouldn’t allow me in his house. He told me whores don’t deserve the comforts. He took me to a shed out back and had me undress. He ordered me on my knees and I worshiped his cock with my mouth. When he had enough of that he threw me down on the floor of the shed, fuuled me with poppers, spit in my hole and shoved his cock in me. For over an hour he fucked me, degraded me, spit on me, slapped me around, and treated me like I have longed to be treated. I was just an object to him. A fuck toy with two holes for his pleasure and nothing more. He breed me and had me clean his cock off so I could taste our sex. After I got hard again he pinned me down and punished me with each moan. I tried to obey but he set off the pleasure in me . Right before he came a second time he pulled out and painted my face with his wonderful seed. As I was cleaning his cum off my face and feeding it to myself, he yanked me up, told me to grab my clothes, and hauled to the the street naked and used. He had his way and I served my purpose. I have never felt so a peace with who I was as I stood there naked in the night, still oozing off cum, roughed up, and happy. For once again, I knew this was what I was meant to be.
     
  4. TampaCajun23
    You really wanna hear it? Like all of it?
    Fine. But don’t fucking look at me like I’m crazy when I’m done. Don’t give me that pity face, or worse, that fake shock like you’re not just as rotten inside.
    Here’s the truth... I don’t believe in anything. Not God. There's no “meaning.” Forget that bullshit about everyone being special. People are just meat. Soft, needy, pathetic little animals pretending they’re better than the hunger in their gut.
    And me? I’m not pretending anymore.
    I’ve stripped all the layers off, burned every excuse down to nothing, and what’s left is this: I’m here to be used. That’s it. I’m not meant to be someone’s love story. I was never here to be protected. My purpose is to be owned, wrecked, filled, and left dripping with whatever someone felt like dumping into me.
    And honestly? That feels more honest than any fairytale crap.
    I mean, think about it. What else is there? Everyone wants to take. To control something, fuck something, ruin something. They lie about it, they dress it up with romance or morality, but deep down? They’re all just waiting for something soft enough to destroy without consequence.
    That’s why I’m perfect. Because I want to be that soft thing. I want to be the one they don’t hold back on. Who can take it all.
    You know what actually gets me off? The idea that I’m not even a person to them. That I’m just a hole. A toy. Something they can spit on, piss in, dump their filth into, and not feel bad about because I asked for it. I fantasize about being a permanent fixture... kept somewhere dark and stinking, chained up, plugged and leaking, waiting for whoever feels like using me next.
    Yeah. That’s my happy place.
    And it’s not just sex. It’s the philosophy of it. It’s knowing I’m stripping myself of all that fake dignity people cling to. Like, what’s the point of dignity? You die. You rot anyway. So why not rot right now? Why not give up the fight and just become what you really are?
    Just a body. A fuckable, ruinable body.
    I want it to go so far I stop being me. I don’t even want a name. Just call me “it,” or “the hole.” Don’t ask how I feel. Stop treating me like I matter. Just use me like the thing you put your hunger into and then wipe yourself off with when you’re done. That’s all I’ve ever been good for anyway.
    Sometimes I imagine it as a religion. Like I’m the altar, and the worship is just… desecrating me. Filling every hole. Covering me in spit and piss and cum until I don’t even look human anymore. That would be the purest kind of faith, wouldn’t it? No lies, no masks. Just raw hunger meeting raw surrender.
    I’d let them do anything. Things you’d probably throw up even thinking about. Things I can’t even say out loud without feeling my hole clench. Choke on whatever they shoved in my mouth.
    Because the truth is… I don’t want to belong to myself. I don’t want to be clean. Don’t want to be “safe” or “loved.” I want to be ruined.
    And I mean ruined. Like, permanently. Stretched, broken, too used up for anything but more use. I want to be the one they all talk about afterward, laughing about how far they could take it. The one no one remembers as a person - just as “that thing we used.”
    You get it? It’s not just a kink. It’s a way of seeing the world.
    There’s no heaven. No higher purpose. No soul floating around inside us. There’s only skin, holes, sweat, filth, and the urge to take. So why not embrace it? Why not be honest and say, Yeah, I’m the one you take from. The one you dump into... ruin. And I want you to keep going until there’s literally nothing left.
    That’s all I want. To be the final, filthy proof that meaning doesn’t exist. That we’re all just meat. And that some meat is better when it’s willing.
    So yeah. That’s my fucked up little philosophy. Don’t try to save me. Or tell me I “deserve better.” This is better. It's the only thing that makes sense to me. Now look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t take it too.
     
  5. TampaCajun23
    Use me more than once a day. Please, I fucking need it.
    Throw me around when you’re stressed or just for fun. Jerk off inside me
    Degrade me and praise me
    Tease me. [banned word] on me. Play fucked up games with me. Order me around. Turn my brain off and let me fulfill all your wicked fantasies
    Actually scare me a little. Take it from me. Chase me (bonus points for dragging me through the woods). CNC my ass
    Say the nasty, fucked up things you think. Degrade me, humiliate me
    Please let me suck on your balls.  Make me beg for more while you’re in my mouth
    Use all my little holes. DP me with toys and objects you have lying around
    Show me off when your friends are over. Use me to make porn you’ll rewatch
    Flog me! Light punching, slapping, and kicking please. Spank me, Spit in my mouth, Choke me. Fuck me uppp, Daddy
    Fist me as hard as you can and watch how tight I still am for you afterwards
    Occasional substance play (please get me all fucked upp and sillyy)
    Blindfolds. Ballgags. Rope. Wax.
    Spread my ass while you fuck my man pussy. Sit almost on top of me in doggy
    Bend me over your lap. Put me on my knees. Free use me
    Fuck me outside, in the grass and the wild
    Drag me around in a leash and collar and tell me you own me. Make me crawl.
    Push my limits. Possess me
     
  6. TampaCajun23
    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.

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