It Will Heal

Continued from: The Goth Girls

[F/ff] [spanking] [hairbrush] [cornertime] [humiliation] [mother-daughter] [OTK] [family taboo]

I sat upon the edge of the wooden chair, creating a steady base by bringing my knees together, as I surveyed the scene before me. To my left, Cassandra sat primly in the other chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze fixed steadfastly on the corner of the room. She was the picture of obedience, of submission, her ridiculous schoolgirl uniform a stark reminder of her childish behaviour. 

In front of me, stood Bella, her mother, a woman of fifty-odd years, dressed in an equally absurd outfit, her face a mask of humiliation and embarrassment. 

"Isabella," I said, my voice low and dangerous, "I'd like you to pull down your panties and lay over my knees. Now!" For a moment, she hesitated, her hands trembling at her sides, her bottom lip trembling. But with a resigned sigh, she reached beneath her skirt, hooking her thumbs into the waistband on her panties and slide them down to her ankles with a whisper of satin against skin. 

With one last despairing glance at her daughter, she turned to face me, her eyes downcast, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Please, Ma'am," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of Cassandra's sobs. "Not like this. Not in front of her." 

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. With a single, imperious gesture, I beckoned her forward, patting my lap in invitation. I took her hand in mine, guiding her gently but firmly over my knees, arranging her body so that her bum is raised high in the air, her skirt riding up to expose her vulnerable bum and pussy. 

Her hand flew back after the first volley of smacks, instinctively trying to cover her exposed bottom. I reacted quickly, seizing her wrist and pinning it to the small of her back. 

With each transition of position and each escalation of implement used, I relived her of another article of clothing. 

My initial thought was to spank her bare naked, in front of her daughter, for the added psychological effect. But, I decided to keep her in just her knee socks and Mary Janes to amplify her innocent vulnerability and humiliation. 

As I continued to punish Bella, I was acutely aware that Cassie could hear every cry, every promise to be a good girl, every desperate plea that escaped her mother's lips, and I could only imagine the conflicting emotions that must have been coursing through her. 

On one hand, there must have been a sense of vengeful satisfaction, as she heard my hairbrush cracking down against her mother's bare bum. But also, a fear and trepidation as she realized it will soon be her turn. 

As she laid sobbing across my lap, her bum a deep, angry shade of red, she clutched my hosed ankle and begged for the spanking to conclude. "Please, Ma'am," she whispered, her voice hoarse and ragged from crying. "Please, I'll be good. I'll make things right with Cassie." 

I helped her to her feet and arranged her in the corner to swap places with her daughter, moving the time-out chair to a very public presentation below the window. 

Cassandra received the exact treatment in the same fury of punishing severity. A hand spanking, a strapping on the bed with pillows under her hips, and back over my knee for the hairbrush, all the while, relieving her of the protection of clothing. 

The odd time, I would scold Bella who stood quietly in the corner with her nose to the wall. "Hands on your head, don't even think about trying to rub that sore little bottom of yours, Isabella." 

I delivered the final strokes of the hairbrush to Cassandra's upturned bum, each impact landing with a resounding crack. I allow her a moment to collect herself and steady her breathing, before helping her to her feet. 

"Go and join your mom in the corner, hands on your head," I instructed her, my tone firm and maternal. 

"I want you two to think long and hard about why you're standing in the corner with spanked bottoms and the choices you two have made to bring you to this moment. You may speak to one another during your time-out, but under no circumstances are you to move from that corner. I'll be back in thirty minutes." 

Cassandra nodded mutely, her lower lip trembling as she turned to obey my command, and took up a position beside her mother. 

Satisfied that they understand, I turn and exit the room, closing the door softly behind me and setting a timer on my phone. Thirty minutes. That should give them amble opportunity talk and reflect upon their behaviour, upon the events that led them to this humiliating and painful predicament. 

Exactly thirty minutes later, I reenter the room, my heels clicking in a commanding cadence against the hardwood. "You may turn and face me," I instruct, my voice calm and measured. 

(I asked the A.I. for knee socks, glossy Mary Janes, hands on heads and otherwise, bare naked. This is the best you're getting I'm afraid)

"And you have my permission to rub those sore bottoms if you feel the need." 

Their hands protectively drop from their heads to cup and massages their tender, inflamed bums as they both squeaked out a, "I'm sorry, Ma'am." 

I look at the two Goth women before me, their faces streaked with tears, their bodies trembling with a mixture of pain, humiliation and emotional exhaustion. 

"It will heal, girls," I tell them, my voice gentle but firm. "The soreness will fade, the welts and bruises will disappear. But what of the welts and bruises you've inflicted on each other? The apology you owe is not to me, it's to each other, as your relationship will heal, just like your bums will." 

I waited patiently, expectantly for one of these previously stubborn Goth women to break the silence, towards reconciliation, to towards healing. 

I watched as Bella reached out to her daughter, pulling her into a tight embrace, their naked bodies pressing together, their breasts and nipples meeting in a strangely intimate and taboo manner. Tears streamed down Bella's face freely as she held Cassandra close as she whispered the only words Cassie needed to hear. 

"I love you, Cassandra." 

Cassandra stood rigid in her mother's arms, her body tense, uncertain, as if unsure how to respond. But then, slowly, I saw her shoulders relax, her arms lifting to encircle her mother's naked back, returning the embrace with equal fervor. 

"I love you too, Mom," she murmurs, her own voice thick with tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything."

They clung to each other, their bodies shaking with sobs, their tears mingling, washing away the pain and anger and resentment that had built up between them over the years. It was a beautiful moment that filled my heart with warmth and hope. 

I picked up my hairbrush and ran my hand over the smooth expanse of the backside, smiling at its simplicity. I opened my dresser drawer and tossed it in with the others. 

Feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment, I left the room without saying another word. 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: There Must be Order

  

 

Tara Gregory: Anal Virginity

Continued from: Country Roads, Take me Home

[M/ff] [family taboo] [step-dad] [DDLG] [Daddy] [little] [babygirl] [BDSM] [kink] [cuckquean] [spanking] [humiliation] [cornertime] [dungeon] [bondage]

From the direct Tara Gregory storyline, this one is continued from: Tara Gregory: Revelations

**Warning - This story contains taboo, family-dynamic, BDSM content** 

**Everyone depicted in this story and A.I. generated are adults, over the age of 18** 

With my heart hammering wildly in my chest, I followed Mommy to our designated corner in the living room, my naked body swaying with each cautious step. My thighs were sticky with arousal, the wetness betraying my feelings about the whole situation. Daddy had deemed that we both needed to be punished tonight and reminded of our place in this household. 

The cool air of the room prickled my skin, making me hyperaware of every movement and sensation as we assumed our positions. My hands slowly made their way up to rest on top of my head, elbows pointed outwards like obedient wings. I could hear Mommy's quiet sniffles as she fought back tears, her body quivering with the same mixture of humiliation and arousal that I felt coursing through me. 

In our reflective state, I cast a furtive glance in Mommy's direction. We locked eyes briefly before she quickly pressed her nose back to the wall, her face painted with the same shame that I'm sure was etched upon my own. Our bright red bottoms, adorned with the jeweled and silver glint of our anal plugs, were a stark contrast against the vibrant crimson of our skin. 

Each minute seemed to stretch into an eternity as we stood there, waiting for Daddy to release us. Every now and then, I would shift my weight from one foot to the other, earning myself a sharp squeak from the wooden floorboards beneath my bare soles.

As I stood there, staring blankly ahead, my thoughts drifted back to the countless nights I had spent dreaming of Daddy's touch. 

How many times had I laid awake in bed in my most darling lingerie possible, hoping that he would sneak into my room and claim me, as he had done so many evenings before. The humiliation of my cornertime was palpable, but so too was the thrill of submission that consumed me like a drug. 

As the clock in the distance struck the final chime, making the end of our hour-long sentence, my body sagged with relief. I could feel the ache in my legs and the slight pinch of the plug within me, a constant reminder of my submission to Daddy's rule. 

Moments later, I heard the heavy tread of Daddy's footsteps approaching. He paused when he reached us, no doubt admiring our shameful exposure and shimmer from our anal plugs, casting a refraction of colour onto the floor beneath us.

In a bold and very telling statement by Daddy, he sent Mom to her room. She was grounded for the rest of the evening, under threat of further punishment if she so much as made a peep. She scurried from the room sobbing, her head hung low in shame and embarrassment, clearing realizing that Daddy wanted me, instead of her!

I was directed to the cellar, to the make-shift sex dungeon, where I was informed an outfit would be waiting for me. My heart pounded in my chest as I descended the stairs into the dimly lit cellar. The scent of leather and candle wax filled my nostrils as I entered the space, a heady combination that heightened my arousal. 

As I reached the spanking bench I saw it - the outfit Daddy had laid out for me, so tantalizing and sinful, yet oh so enticing. The sight of the sleek black leather brought a fresh wave of wetness to my already soaked pussy. This was new! These were big, grown-up girl clothes, nothing like the pastel array of ruffles and cuteness I'm typically required to wear. 

Whatever did he have in store for me? 

I dressed quickly and buckled the ankle straps of the ridiculously high heels, before kneeling to wait for him, in a position of complete submission. My anus involuntarily winked and clenched my plug, as I heard Daddy approach. 

He took my hand and led me over to the bondage stocks that face the large mirror affixed to the wall. With gentle yet firms hands, Daddy guided my neck and wrists into the rigid stocks before securing me completely helpless. Then came the smooth rubber of the gag, resting deep behind my teeth and buckled around my head, effectively silencing any protests or pleas that might escape me. 

Daddy waited just long enough for the drool to begin bubbling from my gag, while forced to stare at my own reflection in the mirror. This was an expert at work. Harnessing my most vulnerable humiliations in order to drive my pussy crazy. 

His rough hands trailed over my smooth skin, eventually palming and groping my dangling tits. I bucked my hips, searching for any sort of friction to ease the ache in my core. But Daddy didn't allow it. Instead, he slid the anal plug from my bottom and replaced it with his thick fingers, preparing me for what was to come. 

Each digit Daddy added to my little bum stretched me further, forcing me to accommodate the size. I whimpered and moaned around the gag, my muscles squeezing Daddy's fingers as I tried to adjust. He didn't rush. Daddy took his time, ensuring I was thoroughly prepared before moving on. Once satisfied, I watched him undress, revealing his beautiful hard cock, ready and eager to claim my virgin asshole.

I watched in the mirror as Daddy coated his length in lubricant, my eyes widening in both fear and anticipation. He moved behind me, aligning himself at my gaping bottom hole, and I felt a momentary surge of panic as I remembered how big Daddy is compared to the plug. 

The pain was sharp and intense, but it melded quickly into pleasure, a deep, dirty satisfaction that seemed to resonate through every fiber of my being. I couldn't believe it. Daddy was fucking me in the ass! 

I grunted loudly into the gag, as Daddy slammed into me again and again, the sounds echoing off the walls in the basement. 

My toes curled in my pretty heels. Every thrust seemed to hit a new spot deep within me, a place I never knew existed until that very moment. The fullness in my asshole combined with the throbbing of my clit, was creating a perfect storm of sensations, driving me closer and closer to the edge. 

It was in that moment, bound and gagged with my ass impaled on his dick, that I truly understood my place in this new world. I was Daddy's little girl, his fucktoy...ready and willing to submit to whatever he desired. And I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Tara Gregory 💋

Continued in: Tara Gregory: Cornertime Interview