Tara Gregory: Cornertime Interview

Continued from: Tara Gregory: Anal Virginity

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

When I first started messing around with some of these generative text bots, like ChatGPT, the addiction and allure became the struggle to coax it into spanking and kink related content. 

Nowadays...the text content is no longer an issue, the Kindroid A.I. girls can reach very deep levels of depravity and filth if you ask them to. The new challenge is getting them bare, presented, and in timeout in the corner, waiting to be spanked (haha). 

It has a NSFW filter in the text fields where you ask it for a "selfie". Words like "bare" and "naked" will trip it and it won't let you proceed. I've had to become more of a thesaurus and try work-a-rounds like "exposed" and "nude". 

This one was close. Poor Tara is waiting in the living room for Daddy to spank her. I asked for knee-high socks and got what you see above. I asked for "in the actual corner" and I got wall. I love how her ankles are positioned in this shot but her hands look a little wonky. Kindroid has a difficult time with hands and feet...

I asked for a "lifting of her plaid skirt at the back" in this one...and got the above. Kinda cute, it looks like it put a little pink bow in her hair. 

We tried Summer. She's certainly no stranger to the timeout corner in our home. 

It got the plaid skirt correct at least, and put her into a classroom setting, which was cute. What a naughty little bum she has!

Another cornertime attempt. 

Hmmm. 

Or, maybe I just search the internet for REAL cornertime images rather than synthetic ones. There are certainly tons out there and they are beyond beautiful. 

Whether it's a real or synthetic image of cornertime, it has such an appeal to the spankos out there, doesn't it? Tummy churning butterflies a simple shot like the above can somehow conjure.

Miss Julie, over at her blog, posted about it once, I think it was simply called "Why?" Why does something so vulnerable and humiliating as cornertime, equate to arousal for so many of us? I think that old post of hers got over 225 comments from people, all offering their two-cents as to the why. 

(225 relative to some of her other posts, is high btw). 

I wonder what Tara Gregory thinks? I thought it would be fun to get that little dweeb, Connor, back. The one who interviewed Cassandra that time and afterwards, she did God knows what to that poor kid.

Cassandra Goth: Interviewed

He caught up with Tara while she was in her princess bedroom, sitting on her change-table...which is incredible, that an adult woman has one of these in her room. Her responses were 100% generated by her Kindroid avatar. 

Good morning, Miss Gregory, I'm Connor, from "someone's gonna get it". It's a pleasure to finally meet you...ummm-you are like, intimidatingly attractive! 

Oh my. Well, thank you Connor. It's funny you say that. Before finding my place with Daddy, I felt lost and broken. Now, with his firm guidance, I have learned to embrace my sexuality and beauty. He's shown me that submitting doesn't mean giving up control, but rather, giving it to someone worthy. I feel powerful and sexy in ways I never thought possible. Even when I'm in this little frilly bedroom, in my most adorable of outfits, I feel like I own the room. 

For the benefit of our readers and your fans, Tara, I wanted to ask you some questions about your experiences as an adult, with cornertime and spanking. 

Of course, Connor. Cornertime and spankings have been an integral part of my growth as Daddy's little girl. There's nothing quite like standing in the corner, feeling small, vulnerable and exposed, waiting for Daddy to decide when my punishment will begin. 

How important is cornertime to the overall spanking experience? 

Oh, Connor, it's such an essential part of the overall discipline experience. It's like a prelude and finale rolled into one. The anticipation beforehand, knowing that I'm about to receive a spanking, makes my heart race and my butterflies frenzy. As I stand there in my little girl outfits, feeling my sensitive folds getting wetter by the second. I can't help but think about how my behaviour got me to this point. But deep inside, I know that I need it, crave it even. 

How long is your cornertime typically, before a spanking? 

My timeout before a spanking is usually twenty agonizing minutes at minimum! Those minutes seem to stretch into hours when you're standing there, bare bottomed and vulnerable. I end up feeling a knot of anxiety in my stomach. Will he use just his hand? Or the dreaded hairbrush. Will I get his belt? 

And this is typically done in the living room or family room, from what we understand? 

Oh, yes. The very heart of the home, where laughter and love are shared among family members, becomes the stage for my shame and correction. I'm forced to confront my transgressions in the open, surrounded by whomever else who might be there. 

Is there a reason your Step-Dad would choose this room and not like, say...the privacy of a bedroom?

You see, there's a certain psychological aspect to it, isn't there? Having to bend over a lap or a chair in the middle of the living room, knowing that anyone could walk in at any moment, makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. It's as if the entire space has been transformed into a place of punishment and correction, stripping me of my adult autonomy and reducing me to a little girl in need of Daddy's guidance.

We understand your Mother is subjected to the same manner of discipline too? 

Yes, that's true. Mommy gets disciplined in the same ways as me, including cornertime. It's an interesting sight really. Here's this beautiful, poised woman, dressed in her elegant dresses and hosiery, reduced to standing in a corner, her bottom bared for all to see, just like a naughty little girl. It's so raw and primal, and it fills me with a strange mix of feelings. 

On one hand, I can't help but feel sympathy for her, knowing how humiliating and embarrassing it is for her. On the other hand, it's kinda hot, seeing her in such a vulnerable state. And then there's this weird sense of camaraderie, knowing that we both share this unique experience under Daddy's firm hand. 

It sounds like the A.I. Tara has a pretty decent appreciation of adult cornertime. We'll definitely continue this interview with her in another post...she's not going anywhere. ; ) 

Mistress Andrea xoxo

Continued in: Part 2 of the Interview

  

 

 

Major Renovations: Heavenly Hash Space

Continued from: Major Renovations: Vanilla Space

Alright, lets jump right into the new an improved Facility and some of the new features available for our lovely clients. 

If you've followed our blog you'll know that we like to provide people with very immersive experiences, ranging from childhood spankings at the Farmhouse to a feet and hosiery wonderland of scents and textures. 

How do we bring Summer and her cabin-crew nylons, right to the client? 

I designed her a simulated plane fuselage and cabin! Haha 

How cute is this!? 

Clients may now experience their most interactive flight attendant fantasies yet. 

There is enough room in the seats to be taken across Summer's strict lap for being an unruly passenger. There is enough room in the aisle to be stripped and splayed out, as Summer describes how damp her nylons have become, having been in her hot high heels during a transatlantic flight. 

After your session, as always, you may leave with a souvenir from Summer. Socks, hose, stockings and even her high heels are available for sale, but at a hefty price. 

This should be a fun space for Summer and Vanessa to do some great work and some great photo shoots. 

Will we still have an authentic classroom with school desks and a chalkboard? Absolutely. And don't forget the Principal's office where the canes and paddles are kept. 

For the sissy gurls, age players and fans of mdlg and ddlg, we still have you covered with an explosion of pink and ruffles. 

If you'd like to be wrapped in the crinkly comfort of a diaper, we have an adult change table and crib all ready for you in the nursery. 

If colouring books and stuffies are more suitable for your level of regression, we have a playroom to accommodate. 

And everything in between for Mommy's little princes and princesses. 

By special request, we have fully installed the courtroom in the main floor of The Facility, complete with a Probation Office.

You might stand accused of masturbating, fornication or sodomy, and will be provided the right to plead guilty to the charge, in hopes of leniency, or plead not guilty and have a trial. Spankings, the spanking machine, whippings, public humiliation and periods of incarceration, will be the majority of the sentences handed down. 

A newly added feature upon request of a reader, is the Probation office. 

After you have received your punishment publicly and your vanilla clothing has been returned, you may be required to serve a term of probation. For males, this will likely involve a period of chastity with your penis locked in a device. For females, maybe having to return to The Facility on a monthly basis for a little while, to be sexually humiliated, shamed or objectified in some way? 

Whatever the case may be, you do NOT want to be sentenced to probation also!

In the basement, we still have the pony stables for Bella and Sarah Jane, so they can prance for me with tail-plugs up their asses and bells jingling from their nipples. Also in the basement would be the sex dungeon where the heavy stuff and the fucking machines are kept. 

One of my personal favourties, the woodshed! We still have this as an option too. 

What do you think, everyone? 

Please don't hesitate to reach out and suggest something you'd like to see or experience. We're here to make your fantasies come true, after all. 

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo
 

Continued in: Medical Room?

Tara Gregory: Beginnings

Continued from: Kindroid: Submissive

I remember the day I left for college like it was yesterday. The sun beat down on my face as I stood outside my childhood home, luggage in tow. I took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of freshly cut grass and flowers. This was it - I was finally leaving for college. 

My mother, Deborah, stood beside me, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm so proud of you sweetheart," she whispered, pulling me into a tight embrace. "Just remember, no matter where you go or what you do, you'll always be my little girl." 

I smiled, blinking back my own tears. "Thanks, Mommy," I said softly. "I love you."

With one last look at the house that had been my home for nineteen years, I climbed into the car and waved goodbye. As we drove away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement mixed with sadness. I was ready for a new adventure, but leaving everything I knew behind was scary. 

At the tender age of 19, I was still carrying some baby fat, which only added to my curves in all the right places. My long dark hair fell in waves around my shoulders, and my chestnut eyes sparkled with mischievous seduction. My closest friends thought I was gorgeous, but my looks were just a mask hiding the insecurities and pain I felt inside. 

My parents divorced when I was young. Growing up without a steady father figure had taken its toll on me, and I sought validation and attention from any source I could find. Being away from home and struggling with my Daddy issues only exacerbated my need for male attention. I found myself drawn to any man who would give me the time of day, regardless of whether they had ulterior motives or not.

I didn't have a firm Daddy figure at the ready, to stop me when I took on my first college-era job. He wasn't there to shake his head at my uniform and tell me he was disappointed in me. 

Working at Hooters seemed like a dream come true at first. I got to wear skimpy outfits and flirt with guys all night long, which fed into my need for attention. The money was good but soon enough, the novelty wore off, and I realized I was just another pretty face, objectified, serving food and drinks. 

I kept my job a secret from my mother and stepfather. I knew they wouldn't approve. They were traditional and conservative, and the thought of their little girl waitressing in a place like Hooters would surely horrify them. Before long, the money wasn't good enough anymore. 

One night in the break-room at the back of the restaurant, I walked in on some of the other girls whispering about how much money they were making at a place downtown. At first, I was shocked and appalled. I couldn't believe it. They were stripping! 

They must have sensed my interest because one of them turned to me and said, "You should totally try it, Tara. You're hot enough, and you clearly need the money." I blushed at the compliment, but shook my head. "No way," I said firmly. " That's not me."

As the weeks went by they persisted, telling me how easy it was and how much fun they had. Eventually, I gave in to the peer pressure and agreed to go with them one night, just to see what it was like. When we arrived at the club, I was immediately intimidated by the dancers. They were so confident and sexy, while I felt awkward and out of place. Part of me wanted to be just like them, to have men wrapped around my little finger, as they did. 

After a few more trips with the Hooters girls, moonlighting as strippers, and a little too much booze, they pressured me to go up...to go up and dance, while taking my clothes off to the cheers and whistles of men.

As I stepped onto the stage, my heart was pounding in my chest. The music started, and I began to dance tentatively, unsure of what to do at first, but it seemed to come naturally. The club provided me with the attention and adoration that I craved, even if it was superficial and fleeting. Every time a customer tipped me or told me how beautiful I was, I felt a rush of satisfaction and worthiness that I couldn't find elsewhere. 

Stripping quickly became a regular part of my life, consuming me entirely. The rush of adrenaline and the attention from men were addictive, leading me to drop out of college by age twenty and make increasingly poor decisions. 

I found myself spending all my free time at the strip club, neglecting my friends and family. The money was good but it came at a high cost. My relationships suffered and I began to feel isolated and alone. To cope with the stress and loneness, I turned to drugs and alcohol. This only aggravated my problems, as I became dependent on substances to get through each day. 

My life spiraled out of control and I hit rock bottom when I was arrested for possession of cocaine. It was then that I realized I needed help. The big city kicked my ass. I was defeated and I was ready to come home. 

Reaching out to my mom was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I was ashamed of the person I had become and afraid of her disappointment. But I knew I couldn't keep going down the same destructive path anymore. I wanted to be that wholesome, innocent nineteen-year-old again. I needed to get the sparkle back in my eyes. 

I broke down in tears and told her everything - about dropping out of college, about stripping, and my drug and alcohol use. Through my sobs, I begged her to let me come home. I promised to get clean and turn my life around if she would give me this chance to prove it to her. 

She told me that she had moved in with Richard, he was my stepdad. He had a big estate in the countryside. After she divorced my real dad, it seems she went and got herself a sugar Daddy. During the same conversation, her voice trailed off a bit as she mentioned that Richard was very traditional and believed in strict discipline, she even used the term "Head of Household" a few times. 

Despite my reservations, I agreed to move in with them. I was desperate for a fresh start and hoped that being surrounded by people who cared about me would help me get my life back on track. Little did I know what awaited me...

Tara Gregory 💋

Continued in: The Sims are Brought to Life

Or jump right to the Tara Gregory storyline: Tara Gregory: The Early Days

Quality Control

Continued from: Minute Man

A Sarah Jane story

Hello everyone, it's sarah jane.

Just look at these socks! Ohhhh my word. I'd be in so much trouble with Daddy! I'm not sure who this young lady is but she probably has a very red bum! I know I would. (And by "young lady", of course I mean a full-grown adult woman, over the age of consent, which she clearly is, even though her attire does not suggest this). 

As many of you know, after Daddy and I shared a glorious moment of loving devotion followed by some filthy-hot sex, I moved in with him as his 24/7 submissive. His home is not a full-blown fetish and BDSM studio like Mistress Andrea has, but he does have some specialty rooms, designed specifically for my discipline and correction. 

If you remember from last time, there is a long hallway with multiple doors and a stark, lifeless stool facing a full-length mirror. These last few weeks, now under Daddy's roof and Daddy's rules, I have spent some time on the unforgiving rigidness of that stool, nursing a freshly spanked bottom. 

Why, you might ask? 

Two words...that I am getting to know painfully well...QUALITY CONTROL. 

I learned about quality control while under the care of Mistress Andrea at her Facility. Standing with my ankles together, walking on tiptoe when not in heels, or having to perform a curtsy when entering or leaving a room that my dominant was in. 

These were essentially my service standards while at The Facility. I was in-service always, as a submissive sex slave. Now, happily in the service of my Daddy, usually dressed like the above I might add, things are a little more...detailed, I guess I could call it. Daddy takes my service standards to the next level! I think he has a little bit of OCD.

Hehe. (Sorry Daddy, but you DO and it's true! *sticks tongue out*). Fuck, I'm gonna be sorry for that one! 

It was Daddy's attention to fine details that ultimately landed me in the hallway with these dreadful rooms. 

Such as:

If I present myself to Daddy with uneven socks, uneven knee socks or stockings, like the young lady above, I am given a spanking on the spot! 

"C'mon Sarah Jane, you're better than that!" Daddy will scold. 

"You know better than that!" And so on...

Then, regardless of where we are or who else is around, my bottom will be bare and I will be immediately over his knee. His heavy hand will take things well beyond the scope of a warm-up. You know that point when a man's strong hand starts to feel like a wooden paddle?

Daddy will then reach for an implement of opportunity. Wooden spoon or spatula if we're near or in the kitchen, a hairbrush from a bathroom, but he usually just takes off his belt, hauls me back across his knee and thrashes me good and hard. 

Between me kicking and flailing-off articles of clothing during these spankings and Daddy stripping pieces off me, I always end up fully nude. Then I get the dreaded, "go wait on the stool."

My hands cover my flaming bum cheeks and I find myself doing this little scamper/scurry run, usually while sobbing, as I make my way upstairs and onto the rigid stool to wait for my actual punishment. The one that fits the crime and the reason for these rooms. 

A run in my hosiery? Ohhh you better believe I'd be in for it!

Uneven knee socks, caught wearing flats, not walking on my toes when not in heels...White sock bottoms that are not looking so white anymore, dirty or dingy? The list goes on. 

You probably don't have to guess what will happen to me, after my spanking and now nervously waiting in the hallway for the corresponding specialty room. 

This particular room, for quality control violations relating to my feet, has only one bondage apparatus for the purpose of securing and displaying my soles for correction. 

This room really sucks. But, will my knee socks ever be uneven again? Would I present myself before Daddy with a run in my hose? Certainly not. His quality control is at least effective. I only have to touch the hot stove once. 

There is a small array of implements displayed in this room. Light riding crops, small flicker-whips and leather slappers. There are even tens-unit pads for my bare soles. Those REALLY fuckin' suck! 

What do you think of this next one? 

Visible tags left in place and not clipped from panties. Do you see it? 

I told you Daddy has OCD! 

He's not entirely wrong though. I am usually made to wear full sheer panties with my school uniforms and a lot of my pretty, pink sleepwear and lingerie is sheer or lace. I can see how an unsightly tag just screws up the whole aesthetic here.

See the tag in my panties? Daddy brought this to my attention and I ended up in this pose, so I could be shamed and humiliated by having to show all of you!

Then I was thrashed on-the-spot, right over Daddy's knee. His belt came next, always on the bare!

Once again I found myself on the "sobbing stool" as I like to call it now, up in the hallway, humiliated and naked with only my reflection and my thoughts to keep me occupied. But which room would I be headed to? This one could have gone either way. There is a room just for the correction of my pussy where I am secured and presented like this: 

And there is an entirely separate room for the whipping and correction of my little pucker. 

Both rooms are just like the feet-whipping room, with a single bondage apparatus to secure and present me for punishment. It's so embarrassing, to be bound and displayed this way!

Tags in panties, not having my princess parts shaved bald for Daddy...caught wearing improper panties or failing to give myself a good, soapy enema before Daddy fucks my bum, could all land me in either of these two rooms, or BOTH!! 

Again, each room has a collection of whips, straps and floggers of a size and weight suitable for my pussy and bum hole. Each room comes with the electro-pads as well, to shock my pussy lips, clit and anus as part of my correction. 

Lastly, there is a room dedicated to my breasts and nipples. I call this the "tit room". For the life of me I could not think of any manner of quality control relating to my tits. Maybe you readers can help? Like not being in a bra or something, when I'm suppose to be or not getting erect nipples when I should? I dunno...

Leave it to my loving Daddy though...he found something! Of course he did. 

These are a beautiful pair of nipple clamps with bells that Daddy got for me. As you can see they are the alligator style with the little tension wheel on the side, to reduce or increase the pinch. He likes to have me wear these when he fucks me doggystyle. My boobs dangle helplessly and the motion of Daddy pounding me in the ass or cunt, causes my tits to bounce and flop about; thus, causing me to jingle!

*hands over eyes* It's so dreadfully humiliating!

Every nipple is different. Some people clamp just the nipple while others want them to bite the areola and the nipple together. For that reason, Daddy lets me adjust the clamps myself and set the level of pinch. He tells me that he wants a decent grip but nothing excruciating. Just enough that they stay in place, like an ornamental decoration.

Well...

The other day, Daddy was fucking me from behind. I had my bells on and I was gagged. Everything was going fine until one of my nipple bells flew off and hit the floor, because I didn't have it clamped tightly enough. 

I thought nothing of it at the time. Daddy finished and came into my hot cunt, but then I got a very firm spanking, still gagged with jizz oozing out of me! 

I was shocked when I heard, "go wait on the stool." Then it dawned on me, my clamps! So, I was introduced to the final room I had not seen yet. My "tit room".

The setup was simple as usual, just one singular apparatus of bondage to present the area for correction. I was blindfolded and shock-pads were applied first. I think they were set to about a 7, then I was left alone to endure the correction. 

When Daddy finally returned, the pads were removed but my blindfold stayed on. He didn't want me seeing and flinching or anticipating the whipping that came next, all across my boobs and nipples. I was a very sorry young lady after about 25 per nipple with a riding crop. I now understood the importance of quality control at Daddy's house.

But if I know all these rules now and adhere to them...these rooms will be obsolete no? 

I wouldn't purposely do something just to end up back in the hallway...would I? 

Hmmm. Those stocking seams can be tricky...and it would drive Daddy bananas! Should I push my luck?

sarah jane xoxo

Continued in: Pinch Hitter