Tara Gregory: Interview Continued

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Tara Gregory: Revelations

Continued from: Tara Gregory: Wine Cellar

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

Over the past few weeks, I'd been practically begging for Daddy's attention whenever were alone together. It was as if the floodgates had opened, and I couldn't get enough of the exquisite pain and pleasure that only he could provide. My days were filled with dreams of the cellar, my nights with feverish fantasies of being bound and whipped at his mercy. 

I remember one evening in particular, when I decided to put on quite the show for Daddy. Donning a pale blue dress that barely covered my ass and left my tits dripping out from the top, I descended the grand staircase and pranced into the living room where he sat, engrossed in a book.

 

 

Twirling around around seductively, I made sure to flash him my little white panties and matching bra. With a wicked grin, I sauntered over to the bar cart and poured us both a glass of his favourite scotch. Placing one on the table next to him, I crawled onto his lap, careful not to spill a drop of mine. My breasts pushed against the thin fabric of my dress, straining against the constraints of my undergarments. 

I leaned in close, my hot breath tickling his ear as I whispered, "I've been a bad girl today, Daddy. I think I need another lesson downstairs." 

I could feel Daddy's cock twitch beneath me, straining against his tailored trousers. He closed his book slowly, setting it aside, and took the proffered glass from my hand. He sipped his drink thoughtfully before setting it down as well. "Is that so, princess?" His deep voice sent a wave of butterflies into my stomach. "And what exactly did you do to earn yourself another session in the cellar?"

I pouted prettily, batting my eyelashes at him. "Well, Daddy," I began, my own voice dripping with false innocence, "I may have lied to Mommy about going out with friends." I nibbled my bottom lip, watching the fire in his eyes ignite. "And...I might have spent the entire day masturbating instead, thinking about you and our last visit to the cellar."

Daddy's expression darkened, but I could see the lust swimming in his gaze. He set his glass down with a decisive thud, his grip tightening on my waist. Standing abruptly, he lifted me off his lap as if I weighed nothing and began to lead me by the hand towards the hidden entrance to the cellar.  

"Naughty girls like you," he growled, his fingers digging into my hips, "need to learn the difference between playing with themselves and asking Daddy for permission to play with themselves." He led me down the cold stone steps, my heart pounding in my chest like a wild animal's. The heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit chamber filled with tools designed to bring me to my knees. 

Once inside, Daddy instructed me to strip fully naked and put my high heels back on, which I did without protest. The cool air hit my flushed skin, sending goosebumps racing across my body. My nipples stood at attention, aching for his touch as I stepped out of the discarded fabrics, pooling at my feet. 

I was then ordered to lay atop the spanking bench, my wrists and ankles tightly secured to the leather surface. Daddy walked around me, inspecting me like his prized possession. He ran his hands over my bare ass cheeks, spreading them wide to expose my already wet pussy. "Hmm, someone seems excited for their punishment," he mused, a wicked glint in his eye. 

Then, the first blow landed, I yelped, my body jerking forward as I realized it was the heavy wooden paddle connecting with my flesh. The sting was immediate and intense, radiating outward until it consumed me whole. But amid the pain and my fear of the wooden paddle, there was something else - a delicious heat that spread through my core, making me wetter than I could shamefully imagine. Each subsequent strike drove me further into ecstasy and submission, my moans and cries filling the air around us.

I couldn't believe it when Daddy put the paddle away, undid me and handed my bra and panties to put back on. He stroked my tear-stained cheeks gently. "Now, now, little one," he murmured soothingly. "That's enough for today." My eyes snapped open, confusion and disappointment warring for dominance on my face. "But...but you said we could fuck today, Daddy. You promised!" I protested, pouting like a petulant child. 

I crossed my arms, my eyes pleading and filed with tears as I tried to convey my unspoken desperation. My entire being felt alight with need, my clit throbbing insistently as I squirmed in his grasp. "Please, Daddy," I whined, stamping my foot in frustration. "Don't tease me like this."

But Daddy simply chuckled and shook his head, leading me to the corner of the room where a tall metal cage stood. "No, princess," he corrected firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "First, you must learn patience. And perhaps some self-control." He guided me inside, binding my wrists to my ankles to ensure I could not reach or access my wet petals. 

With a wicked gleam in his eye, Daddy reached for a gag and fastened it in place, before closing the cage door and applying a padlock. I let out a muffled groan of frustration. 

My freshly paddled bottom smarted against the hard surface of the cage floor, sending sparks of pain shooting through me. He gave my chin a gentle caress before stepping back, admiring the sight. "Behave yourself little, little girl," he commanded before turning on his heels and striding out of the room, leaving me alone with my raging desires. Puzzling, as I watched him leave, was that he took the heavy wooden paddle with him. 

As the minutes dragged by, I shifted restlessly in my confinement, trying to find some semblance of comfort as my body continued to beg for release. The cage was just large enough for me to curl up into a tight ball, my legs drawn up to my stomach. Each movement sent new waves of agony coursing through my tenderized flesh, reminding me of the punishment I'd just received. 

The time passed excruciatingly slow, every second an eternity as I struggled against the bonds and the torrent of emotions cascading through me. Tears welled up in my eyes, but they weren't just from the discomfort - they were born of pure, unbridled lust and need. 

At long last, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing louder as they approached the cellar. The door swung open, revealing Daddy in all his dominance. I looked up at him through a haze of desire, my vision slightly blurry from the tears that still clung to my lashes.

Without a word, Daddy approached the cage and produced a key. He unlocked the door and helped me to my feet, my limbs trembling with anticipation and fatigue. He guided me over to strange contraption in the center of the room - a padded table with restraints attached to each corner. Gently, he laid me upon it, pulling my legs up and apart so that my ankles were buckled into stirrups.

With a satisfied smirk, he picked up an decent-sized butt plug adorned with a tiny gemstone at its base. I felt myself tense as he circled my puckered hole with lubricant, my mind racing with fear and excitement. Apart from Daddy's tongue, I'd never had anything inserted up my butt before, but the way he looked at me made me want to please him more than anything. 

Slowly, oh so slowly, he pressed the tip of the plug against me. I squealed as it breached my defenses, the foreign sensation both terrifying and exhilarating. He didn't rush, taking his time to ease it inch by inch inside me until it was fully seated. The feeling of fullness was almost too much to bear, my pussy clenching rhythmically around nothingness as it screamed for attention.

As the plug remained buried deep within my asshole, I could feel my body adjust to the intrusion. The initial discomfort faded to a low hum of pleasure, my walls stretching to accommodate the new invader. It was strange, but also somehow freeing. Daddy leaned over me, his voice a husky whisper in my ear. "You are to keep that plug in for the remainder of the day, understand?" Daddy's stern voice cut through my haze of lust. 

He then released me from the bondage contraption, leaving the plug securely lodged inside me. With a wobbly nod, I complied, carefully easing my panties back up over my paddled bottom. The fabric brushed against the glimmering jewel, sending a jolt straight to my clit. I winced, but the discomfort quickly morphed into a newfound sense of arousal. I knew I would be walking around with this constant reminder of my submission to Daddy for hours to come. 

Once upstairs, I found Mom in the kitchen. I couldn't help but notice Mommy moving with an extra careful grace, her steps calculated and controlled. I watched from afar, as she surreptitiously reached back to subtly adjust whatever was hidden beneath her elegant dress. 

She was moving and behaving like I was! My heart skipped a beat. Could it be possible that she, too, had been paddled and plugged. Our eyes met briefly, and in that moment, I saw the same fire burning deep within hers that I felt in my own soul. 

Certain that we were alone in the kitchen, I couldn't contain my curiosity any longer. "Mommy..." I called out tentatively, unsure if she would appreciate my question. "May I...may I see yours?"

She turned towards me, her eyes wide with surprise before understanding dawned across her features. A soft blush coloured her cheeks as she lowered her gaze to the floor, a look of shame and humiliation sweeping over her. "Of course, sweetie," she replied demurely, turning around to bend over the counter and lift her dress at the back. Under the thin veil of her control-top pantyhose, there it was, a jeweled anal plug, nestled snugly between two perfectly round globes of crimson, paddle-kissed flesh. 

"Why did Daddy punish you?" I asked, unable to keep the awe out of my voice. She looked up at me, a mix of pain and longing evident in her expression before she spoke. 

"I politely asked your step-father to stop fucking you..." Her tone was cold and blunt. 

My hands flew to my mouth, shocked at her words. "No, Mommy!" I protested vehemently, my voice crackling with deceit. "That isn't true! We haven't been!" I shook my head, trying to convey my innocence through my pleading eyes. 

I knew it was a futile effort - the evidence was written plainly on my face and my reaction. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I struggled to maintain eye contact with Mommy. 

Swallowing hard, I managed to choke out a question. "Did Daddy...did he agree to stop...fucking me?"

Mommy's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she might be genuinely angry with me. Instead, she stepped closer to me, her warm breath soothing in my ear as she leaned in to whisper, "I suppose that's something we'll all find out together, won't we, sweetheart?" She pulled me into a tight embrace, I felt her fingers searching over the seat of my panties for my butt plug, and she gave it a little press, causing me to jump with surprise. 

"For now," she murmured, "let's just focus on what Daddy expects of us and obeying him, you know where we have to be for the next hour, Tara...lets get these clothes off, shall we?

Tara Gregory 💋

Continued in: Country Roads, Take me Home

To follow the Tara Gregory storyline to the next tale, it can be found here: Tara Gregory: Anal Virginity

The Nurse and the Doctor

Continued from: Medical Room?

During the last post I referred to my recent client not wanting to pay for a dual-Domme session and was dealt with by me alone, as his medical fetish nurse. It turns out he must have gotten off his wallet and reconsidered, as he would now like the Doctor AND the Nurse experience, in a follow-up session.  

Yep, we can do that! But if you thought your last session was humiliating, young man...

Now, where is that lab coat of mine?

Slutty nurse Summer, check! 

Summer, however, was still at work. I would have to clear this with her first but I'm sure she'll be game. She landed in the afternoon, following a particularly long stint of a few city stops. 

I knew she would be a bit tired and stressed. This was confirmed when I went to pick her up at the airport and she immediately started calling me "Mommy". A strong indicator of the mindset and role she wants to be in and a hint to me as to what she wants. I wasn't dressed in my vintage "Mommy" attire...hopefully this will do. 

When we finally got home she immediately asked me if she could bathe and change into something from her "pink room". 

Her "pink room" is an actual bedroom designed for age regression play and mdlg play. Most of her adorable Lolita outfits and accessories are in the closet in this room. Again, I knew what she wanted and needed based on the way she was acting and how she was speaking to me. We kissed and she happily scurried away to wash the travel off herself and transform into her persona of ruffles and comfort. 

She went all out today. I could hear her clunky Mary Janes announcing her presence, as she tromped into the kitchen looking like a complete doll.

"Does that feel better, sweetheart?" I cooed to her. 

"It does, Mommy, you have no idea how much I was looking forward to this." Summer replied cheerfully, as I brushed my hands over her layers of ruffled cuteness. 

Still...this wasn't the full "fix" she was after, I knew this...

"Summer Addison," I spoke lovingly but sternly. "Do you need some time over Mommy's knee?" 

She blushed and pouted and tried her best to force tears into her big, bright eyes. 

"Y-Yes pweeaze Momma." She squeaked out with a baby lisp in her voice. 

"Alright, honey. Go get Mommy's hairbrush from the vanity and wait for me in the living room. I'd like your dress off," I firmly instructed. 

Summer dutifully obeyed. She knows how much I like walking into a scene to see everything perfectly in situ. The dreadful ebony hairbrush was resting beside the tissues, her princess dress was off, exposing her frilly pink bloomers and bra, and she had moved the ottoman into place by the large window. 

I gave her about 10 minutes to contemplate in the corner, before I entered the room and called her to my side. 

"Alright, little one. Over Mommy's knee," I cooed. 

After a nice long warm-up her knickers came down for another layer of hand-spanking, before I moved on to the brush. 

The brush definitely got the water-works started, as poor Summer gripped the ottoman while flat on her tummy. In this position, her bum is at it's most fleshy and impact-absorbing. The brush penetrated deeply! 

It reminded me of that old video of Brandi, from the infamous Real Spankings Network and Spanking Teen Brandi. She was being punished by the matriarch and was bare naked, legs spread and gripping the sheets for a bedtime dose of the BATH brush! 

You wanna see some real crying during a production-based, spanking video...go find this one. I can already see the white, ashy splotches on her bum. The poor thing...she probably felt that one for days!

A.I. Brandi?

...hmm, not bad. Cute, remorseful and properly positioned. 

Summer, on the other hand, I did not take to the point of white splotches, and she had nothing to be remorseful for. She just needed her reset button pressed, and the best place to do that is over my caring lap, on it, or both.  

Once the tears had dried and the scene was over, cradled in each other's arms, I asked her if she'd do the nurse session with me. 

We spent the next little while plotting and giggling about what we intend to do to this poor medical-fetish client. 

Summer had some shockingly devious ideas, as did I. That poor, poor man...

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: No Scrubs

  

Tara Gregory: Early Days

Continued from: Tara Gregory: Beginnings

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

I remember the early days of moving back home with Mom and her new husband, Richard. I was 20 years old at the time and still carrying some of the essence of my former self, the turbulent memories I had, and the weight of a significant chip on my shoulder. I think I was struggling with conflicting emotions. Was I disappointed in myself, for letting ME down, or was I angry at the world around me, for failing me so miserably?

I didn't quite conform to my new surroundings very eagerly. I was still that rebellious teen, ass hanging out of my shorts, bitchy High Dunks on and my tits and tummy spilling out of whatever I had up top.

Don't I look sweet and innocent? Don't be fooled, it was all a masquerade. I so desperately wanted to be someone's perfect little angel as I once was, loved and cared for, but my horns were still holding up my halo.   

Mom seemed to have found her utopia somehow, her harmonious balance, as she minced around the house like a Stepford Wife in pearls and pantyhose. This isn't the mother I remember, back when she was with my real Dad. I resented this version of her and how content she seemed, I even started calling her Deborah instead of Mom, just to be a bitch. 

I desperately wanted to know what her secret was. What I discovered however, was more than I ever could have imagined. 

After a few weeks in the new house, I could already tell something was different...about her relationship with my stepdad. The day of this revelation eventually came, when Mom tried to explain what a head-of-household (HoH) relationship meant. 

She sat me down on my bed and told me that Richard would be making all the decisions for our family, including disciplinary actions if necessary. 

I was confused and a bit defensive, not understanding why my mom wouldn't have any say in matters pertaining to me. But as I had already witnessed since coming here, she was quite happy with this arrangement. She seemed to thrive under Richard's guidance and protection.

When I asked her why she doesn't stand up for herself, she just looked at me with a soft smile. She explained that she trusted Richard implicitly. He always had her best interests at heart, and she knew that he would never do anything to harm her. Plus, she admitted there was something deeply satisfying about surrendering control to someone else, about letting go of the burdens of decision-making. 

During this same conversation, Mom carefully tiptoed around a term that I had not heard before, domestic discipline. She explained that part of being in a HoH relationship meant submitting to punishments when warranted. These punishments could range from mild lectures to more severe correction, like spanking...

The butterflies in my tummy grabbed-hold of that word and held it, as they fluttered within me. "Spanking"...I mouthed the word quietly back to her, but not framed as a question, I just wanted to hear the word spanking said aloud again. 

I was shocked by this realization. It seemed so unfair that Mom would allow herself to be treated this way. But as she continued to talk, I began to understand that these punishments weren't about abuse or domination. Instead, they were a way for Richard to help my Mother correct her behaviour and grow as a person. On one hand, the idea of surrendering control to someone like this sounded liberating. But on the other hand, the thought of my Mother being disciplined like a child was terrifying...I couldn't believe this world existed, among adults... 

It was a weekend morning, and I had just woken up to the smell of fresh coffee brewing downstairs. I dressed and made my way to the kitchen, expecting to find my mom bustling around, but instead, I heard voices coming from the living room. 

Curiosity getting the better of me, I peeked around the corner and saw my mother standing in the corner of the room, completely naked! 

She had her hands on her head, causing her back to arch and her bare bum to protrude. My heart raced as I wondered what could possibly be going on. 

Then, I heard Stepdad's deep voice behind me. "Ah, Tara, you're awake. Come join us, young lady."

Confused and slightly mortified, I hesitantly walked into the living room. That's when I saw him - Richard was sitting on the couch holding a doubled-over belt in his hand, looking at my mother with a stern expression. 

"Mom?" I managed to croak out, my eyes darting between her and Richard. 

"Tara, honey," Mom turned her head slightly to whisper from the corner, her cheeks flushed red. "I messed up, and now I have to be punished." 

I stared in disbelief. Punished? Like a child? Was this some twisted game they were playing or was this for real? 

Before I could ask any questions, Stepdad spoke up. "Tara, since you're already here, why don't you stay and observe how things are handled in my home? Maybe you'll learn something from it."

Feeling both intrigued and uncomfortable, I sat down on the loveseat across from them. Richard instructed my mother out of the corner to stand in front of him, her hands never leaving her head. 

Mom looked so vulnerable and small in this moment. Her nipples had hardened from the goosebumps on her body, and I could tell she was fighting back tears. 

Richard then instructed her to lay over his lap, exposing her bare bottom and her most intimate areas to my view. Then, without warning, he raised his hand high above his head and brought it down hard onto her fleshy bum. 

Mom let out a sharp cry, her body jolting forward for the impact. I winced in sympathy, watching as my Stepdad delivered several more strokes to her already reddening skin. Each smack echoed through the room, filling the air with the sound of his strong palm meeting her tender bottom.

She was then instructed to drape her naked body over the arm of the sofa, as Richard retrieved and doubled over his leather belt. Tears streamed down Mom's face, and I could see the shame written all over her features. Yet, despite the impending belt thrashing, she didn't try to escape or cover her bottom or protest. She took her punishment like a good, kept wife, just as Richard expected her to.

When he finally finished the strapping, Mom slowly stood up, her legs wobbling beneath her. Stepdad handed her a tissue to wipe away her tears and then pulled her into a tight embrace. 

"I love you, Deborah," he whispered softly. "But you know that doesn't excuse poor behaviour."

Mom nodded, sniffling into his shoulder. "I know, Sir, I'm sorry." 

As they held each other close, I sat there in silence, trying to process everything I had just witnessed. Domestic discipline was clearly a normal part of their relationship, but seeing it play out right in front of me was something else entirely. It was equal parts shocking, fascinating and strangely arousing.

I was suddenly stricken with a flush to my cheeks and unexpected and involuntary arousal, I didn't know what to do but stand and ask to be excused. 

"Mm----may I be excused to my room now?" 

Richard answered me, while still caressing and comforted my naked mother. "Yes, Tara, and please, from now on in this household, call me "Daddy".

That night as I lay in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about what I had witnessed. The sound of my mother's cries and the sight of her naked body so helplessly draped over Richard's lap, played over and over again in my mind. It was a strange mix of fear and excitement that coursed through my veins. 

I slipped my hand beneath the sheets, touching myself gently. 

My fingers traced over my sensitive clit, causing a shiver to run down my spine. I imagined what it would feel like to be in my mother's place, bent over this very bed with my bottom exposed to Richard's wrath. The thought sent a wave through my body.

I continued to masturbate, pushing myself deeper into my folds as I fantasized about the firm hand of Richard, landing on my bare skin. 

Each stroke of my fingers sent a jolt of electricity through me, building up until I finally reached my climax. I'm embarrassed to admit I may have moaned out, "Ohhhh, Daddy",  as I came. As I lay there, panting and satisfied, I knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in my life. Things were about to change forever. 

Tara Gregory 💋

  

 Continued in: Daddy's Girl