Tara Gregory: Long live the Queen

Continued from: The Perfect Lubricant

The last Tara Gregory story can be linked direct here: Tara Gregory: Daddy Issues

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

The morning after my first time with Daddy, I woke up in his large bed, my body aching in all the right places, in the most delicious of ways. His arms were wrapped protectively around me, holding me close to his chest. As I shifted to get comfortable, I felt his cock begin to stir against my ass, making me giggle softly. He opened his eyes and looked down at me with a sleepy smile, before leaning in to press a gentle kiss on my forehead. I snuggled closer, my heart swelling with love and contentment.

I couldn't help myself from being drawn to Daddy's triumphant, morning erection. My fingers traced the length of his impressive shaft, feeling it grow harder with every touch. In my little hands, Daddy's cock looked massive...it was, massive. 

But oh, Daddy had other plans for me this morning! His strong hands pinned my wrists above my head, as he leaned over me, his morning stubble grazing my cheek. 

And then...Daddy effortlessly flipped me over onto my tummy! That sudden jolt of dominance sent shivers down my spine. The air in the room seemed charged, as he straddled my thighs, his strong hand resting on my bare bum. Then came the smack! Not too hard, just enough to leave a burning imprint on my soft flesh. I squealed in surprise, but the sound quickly turned into a needy whimper as I arched my back, pushing myself into his waiting palm, hoping for another firm swat.

The second smack didn't come, but what I did feel was Daddy's meaty hands sliding down to cup my ass cheeks. He pulled them apart, exposing my pretty pink hole and damp pussy. Then he moved his head down, and I felt the warmth of his breath on me, before his tongue flicked out to taste me. 

I moaned into the pillow as he started licking and suckling at my asshole and pussy, his moustache was ticking my sensitive skin. It didn't take long before I was writhing underneath him, my legs trembling as an orgasm built inside me. Daddy had treated me to a lovely cummy! Almost feeling ashamed at how ferociously I had cum, I scurried back up to the safety of his chest and nuzzled my face to hide. 

Again, he wrapped me in his strong arms, his husky voice purred out a, "good girl, Tara!" 

I felt contentment and love once again.

I wondered briefly where Mommy was this early in the morning, but I quickly pushed the thought aside. She didn't come home last night. It was a huge risk to fall asleep in her bed with Daddy, in my cutest baby pink panty set, but a risk I was willing to take. 

She no doubt would have passed-out on the neighbour's couch last night, after too much wine. Reality however, kept interrupting this morning in Daddy's arms. I needed to get up and clean up and wash the sheets...the whole room smelled like sex! 

Still tangled in the bedsheets, I looked over my shoulder at Daddy, with a mix of curiosity and trepidation in my eyes. "Daddy, I whispered softly, "now that we've...we've been together like this, will everything change? The weekly spankings, my little girl clothing you make me wear..." 

I trailed off, biting my lower lip as I waited for his response. I hated the spankings in the moment, I cried every time when I had to do the walk of shame to fetch his belt. My little girl clothing was awful too, with the knee socks and the Mary Janes. It made me feel so vulnerable and humiliated...

But...I had come to love the feeling of submission, of being cared for so thoroughly. I worried about fucking Daddy last night, and now this morning's passions, and what it meant for us moving forward.

Daddy held his eyes in mine with such sincerity as he spoke. He ran a thumb across my cheek, brushing away a strand of hair. "No, princess," he cooed. "This doesn't change anything about your rules. I will expect to see you back in the family room on Sunday and every Sunday after that, with my belt in-hand, understood?"

Before I could answer, Daddy continued. 

"Our bond of discipline and care will always be there. You need boundaries and structure, and I need someone to cherish and protect, so despite your adult age, you will continue to dress as a little girl, ok?" 

Nodding, I understood. I felt a wave of relief wash over me, knowing that he would continue to guide me and keep me safe within our strict boundaries. But my heart raced with the anticipation at the thought of our connection deepening further. I nuzzled into his side, my face turning pink with arousal as I imagined all the new possibilities awaiting us. 

I reached up to give his chest a gentle pat, my voice low and filled with lust. "I want to be the best little girl for you Daddy...and I promise to do whatever you think is necessary for me to learn and grow." 

I could feel the vengeful spite building within my chest, as I puffed up, confident and dominant. I knew my role in this household had changed. I had the upper hand over my mother and I knew it. Bravely, I spoke with complete confidence when I finally said, 

"BUT, Daddy!"

"I might be your little princess but I also want to be your Queen!" 

"And regardless of what Mommy thinks...the Queen protects her King!”

Tara Gregory 💋

Continued in: Tara Gregory: Brazen

 

  

 

Tara Gregory: Daddy's New Rules

Continued from: Daddy's Girl

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

Despite the agony and humiliation coursing through my body, I found myself oddly grateful for this long overdue experience. I knew that Daddy was only doing this because he and Mom loved me, and that knowledge helped to ease some of the effects of his belt. The same belt he so recently used on my Mother's bare bottom...also, out of love and protection. 

I was jackknifed over the back of the sofa while Daddy strapped me, feet completely off the floor and dangling, I remained fully naked and vulnerable. With the kicking and flailing of my legs, I'm certain he was getting quite the view of my puffy petals and puckered little bud. It was dreadfully humiliating for me. 

Eventually, the spanking came to an end, and Daddy helped me to stand upright. I was crying openly now, apologizing for being a bad girl, my face streaked with tears and my bottom throbbing with pain. 

But there was also a sense of relief and accomplishment that came with enduring such a harsh punishment. 

Daddy pulled me into his arms and held me close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance into my ear. I clung to him gratefully, knowing that I was safe and loved in his care. 

"Tara," he began, his voice soft but serious. "I want you to know that I only did this because I love you and I want what's best for you. Do you understand?"

I nodded, my eyes still filled with tears. "Yes, Daddy. I know you are just trying to help me."

He smiled kindly at me. "That's right, sweetheart. And from now on, every Sunday afternoon, I want you to come to me in this very room for a follow-up spanking. This way, we can keep you accountable and make sure that you're staying on track." 

My heart skipped a beat at the thought of receiving another spanking, but I knew that it was necessary. If this was what it took to get my life back on track, then I was willing to do whatever it took. 

"Okay Daddy." I replied, my voice steady despite the fear that lingered in my heart. "I'll be here every Sunday afternoon, with your belt in-hand." 

Daddy smiled approvingly. "Good girl, Tara. Now, let's get you cleaned up and dressed. Daddy has some revisions that we'll be making to your wardrobe. 

I nodded gratefully, following him upstairs to the bathroom where he helped me wash away the tears and soothe my sore bottom. After a few moments, Daddy went to lay out my new clothes, leaving me to the privacy of the bathroom. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I knew that things were going to be different from now on. 

Even though the thought of future spankings filled me with dread, I also felt a strange sense of excitement and anticipation. Because deep down, I knew that this was exactly what I needed to finally turn my life around. 

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but feel a wave of shame wash over me. My bottom was bright red and covered in welts, a clear reminder of the punishment I had received. 

But as I continued to look at my reflection, something strange began to happen. Instead of feeling pure shame and humiliation, I started to feel a sense of arousal building within me. The sight of my bare bum, so vulnerable and thrashed, sent a thrill of excitement through my body. 

Without even realizing what I was doing, my hand began to move downwards, tracing along the curves of my hip and thigh until it finally reached the damp folds of my pussy. 

I bit my lip as I felt a jolt of pleasure course through me, and before I knew it, I was shamefully masturbating in front of the mirror, my fingers moving faster as I neared the edge of orgasm. 

As I came, a loud groan escaped my lips, and I collapsed against the sink, my heart racing and my cheeks burning with embarrassment. What had possessed me to do such a thing? 

But even as I chastised myself for my actions, a small part of me couldn't help but feel satisfied. 

As I hurriedly cleaned up after my secret masturbation in the bathroom, I couldn't help but worry that Daddy might smell my arousal as I entered my bedroom to dress. However, when I opened the door, I was greeted by a sight that took my breath away. 

There, laid out neatly on the bed, was an outfit unlike anything I had seen before. It was a yellow gingham dress with puffy sleeves and frilly white trim, paired with delicate knee socks and black Mary Jane heels. The sight of it made my pulse race with both excitement and trepidation. 

Just then, Daddy entered the room, his eyes fixing on me with a stern yet kind expression. "Tara," he said softly, "my rules will be followed in this household, you are to start dressing like a little girl around the house. Every day, you will wear outfits like this one." 

I gulped, my face flushing crimson as I took in the sight of the innocent-looking ensemble. But despite my initial hesitation, I found myself drawn to the idea of wearing such a sweet and girlish outfit. It was almost like stepping back in time to a simpler, more carefree era. 

Daddy must have sensed my apprehension, because he snapped his fingers at me causing me to jump, then pointed to the outfit on the bed. "Come on, sweetheart," he urged sternly. "Let's get you dressed for your new role." 

With a deep breath and a nervous smile, I took Daddy's hand and allowed him to help me into the childish outfit. As he fastened the buttons and zipped up the back, I couldn't help but feel a sense of transformation taking place. I was no longer that objectified Hooter's girl, or the drugged-out stripper of my college years - I was becoming someone new. Was it possible that I was becoming Daddy's perfect little girl? 

As I looked at myself in the mirror, dressed in my new outfit, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. On one hand, I was incredibly embarrassed by how babyish and innocent I looked. The frilly yellow gingham dress with its lace trim and child-like features made me feel like I was playing dress-up. 

But on the other hand, there was something oddly comforting about being wrapped up in such soft and vulnerable attire. It reminded me of my childhood when I used to play with dolls and pretend to be a princess. And despite the humiliation I felt, there was also a sense of excitement building within me. 

Perhaps this was what it felt like to truly be Daddy's perfect little girl - to be taken care of and protected, even if it meant sacrificing some of my independence and pride. My mother has clearly sacrificed some of her independence also, wearing vintage dresses and hosiery every day, always subject to Daddy's belt when he deems it necessary. She seems happier than I've ever seen her. Would I be able to reach this utopian state as well? 

With a deep breath, I turned away from the mirror and headed downstairs to face whatever the day had in store for me. 

Tara Gregory 💋

Continued in: Daddy Issues

 

 

The Cum Brat

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Miss Julie books the Taboo Farmhouse

Continued from: Brutalized in the Factory

and

The original farmhouse story: Taboo Farmhouse

Mrs. Julie Delmar, stricken with butterflies and involuntary spikes of arousal, didn't really know what to think, as she drove herself to the farmhouse. She arranged through The Facility to undergo an immersive, therapeutic experience that she knew without question, would involve childish discipline practices and deep age regression. 

Moments earlier, Julie kissed her husband David goodbye and told him that she was attending a country retreat for the weekend. Not quite a spa, not quite a B&B, but she was optimistic to undergo whatever tough-love this experience might provide her.  

In her mind, as she drove to the farmhouse, she was already role-playing a younger version of herself. A rude and disrespectful little shit with a chip on her shoulder, who was fast approaching her sweet-sixteen. She felt shame and guilt when she thought about this version of herself and how she could have or should have been dealt with in those days. 

Now, well into adulthood, Julie hoped to make amends with her 16-year old self and face the consequences from a different time, amidst the backdrop of the retro living space of her "Auntie" and "Uncle".

"Ohhhh Ed! Look how much our darling Julie has grown!" Lorraine cooed out, clearly already in-character as their outfits also suggested. Julie nervously ascended the creaky steps on the front porch.

"Hi Auntie," Julie bashfully mewed-out in a bit of a baby-voice. 

"Hi Unckie Ed," she continued.  

Lorraine, clad in her satin gloves, went in for the timeless cheek-pinch of Julie's face.

"Look at you, Dear! You must be all of 14 now? 15?" Lorraine continued.

"I bet your Daddy will be shooing all the boys away soon, huh kiddo?" Ed quipped, all while leering at Julie's tiny little frame.  

Julie was taken aback at just how well these two were playing into their roles. You see, when Cassandra and I first sent Julie her welcome package to attend this weekend session, it contained a questionnaire that almost acted like a choose-your-own-adventure. 

A "Mommy" and "Daddy" session with your "siblings", or an "Auntie" and "Uncle" session with your "cousins". Julie chose the latter. 

Since the experience revolves around domestic discipline, punishment, humiliation and then emotional healing, clients are asked to select how this is prompted throughout the weekend, from a list of injects such as:

• A stern phone call from a neighbourhood mother?
• Overall piss-poor attitude?
• A note sent home with you from school?
• Disrespecting your elders?
• Caught smoking behind the big willow tree out the back?
• Caught masturbating?
• Caught in Mommy or Auntie's bedroom, going through her delicates drawer?

Some clients select all of the above...which is rather intense because they usually end up spending a majority of the weekend grounded, in the corner or being switched out in the woodshed. 

Julie's selections were a bit unique in that she chose a combination of attitude adjustment injects, like being tattled-on by her cousins, teachers and neighbourhood mothers, but she also wanted to be caught masturbating in her bedroom. 

Going through Auntie's panty drawer or being caught masturbating by "Mommy" was usually what the male clients consistently selected. 

Nevertheless, the customer is always right and Julie can have any manner of experience she wishes. 

Despite "Unckie" Ed's compassionate but slightly creepy comment out on the front porch, Julie's session was off to a good start.

"Ed-honey, help Julie with her bag." Lorraine caringly spoke. 

Julie entered the house for the first time and followed behind Lorraine's heel-clicks, as she guided a tour through the home.

When the tour finished in Uncle Ed's den, Julie could feel her face flush red and her heart flutter in her chest. 

Lorraine spoke sternly to the shamed girl in the corner. 

"Claire, your cousin Julie is here. Turn and face her to say hello, then turn back around and face the wall, you still have another thirty minutes to go young lady!"

This order was met with a very rapid, "yes Ma'am," that escaped Claire's lips. Julie was slowly learning the protocols and formalities of this household. 

Julie watched on in embarrassment, as the middle-aged woman with a soccer-mom vibe, who was currently dressed like a little girl, slowly turned around. 

"Hello Julie." She whispered out, with her eyes laced with shame and beginning to fill with tears. 

As instructed, she returned to her position with her nose to the corner and her hands on the head, now softly weeping. 

Julie was invited up to see her room to settle in. Following closely behind Lorraine, Julie thought she would try her luck and ask about Claire. 

"Auntie, why is Claire in time-out?"

"Ohhh the silly girl!" Lorraine replied. 

"She was holding a thermometer near a lamp then putting it in her mouth to claim she was sick. Just to get out of going to school, can you believe that?!" 

Julie held back a giggle, thinking about how retro of a move that was! The old thermometer stunt.

Lorraine continued talking as the two of them creaked up the stairs. 

"You know we're a bit old-fashioned here Julie. Your Uncle Ed and I have to punish Claire for her dishonesty. If she's claiming to be sick, then a good ole', sudsy enema should fix her right up, after your Uncle gives her a good whuppin' of course."

As she spoke she gestured to an open door. Julie looked inside...

She didn't know what was more frightening in that moment, the clinical enema bag prominently on display in the bathroom, or the dreadful colour scheme of the era. Julie had a moment of nostalgia, remembering an avocado-coloured fridge and stove in her own childhood home. Yet her mind still hung on the word “whuppin”, that she just heard escape Lorraine’s red lips.

Julie was seen to her room and given some time alone to process all of this. The room was definitely reflective of a childhood bedroom. Brutal wallpaper and décor, the odd remanence of a children's toy and a scent of cedar trunk and moth balls. 

Lorraine had told her there is a more "suitable" outfit for her in the armoire and that she was expected to dress and come downstairs when ready, to join her other cousin, Patrick.

Now with a better understanding of the gravity of consequences in this home, Julie responded to Lorraine with a, "yes Ma'am". 

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! What have I done?!" She thought to herself, after laying eyes on her new outfit. 

"And with a male cousin in the home now too?! FUCK!"

Her butterflies were raging in her tummy as she began to slip into the pelerine knee socks. They had a vented little eyelet pattern which made her feel dainty and innocent.

Next came a Mary Jane style of heel, that wasn't quite a sandal but close enough. She did her hair in a more age regressed style with a flirty pony. 

The ensemble was clearly designed to emphasize and amplify her vulnerability and humiliation. This became more abundantly clear when Julie slipped the soft pastel dress over her head, letting her arms fall through the puffed sleeves and a gentle Peter Pan collar rested around her neckline. 

Always with a safeword in the back of her mind, Julie took a deep breath and left the bedroom. 

The floors creaked as Julie tiptoed down the hall and into this immersive world of shag carpets, wood paneling and the muffled sounds of Claire crying out from downstairs. 

"I'm sorry Daddy, I'll be a good girrrrrrrl!" As his belt snapped against her bare flesh.

Julie was terrified and shamefully aroused, all at once. 

To be continued...

Mistress Andrea

xoxo     

Continued in: Sears Wish Book