Tara Gregory: Brazen

Continued from: Tara Gregory: Long live the Queen

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

In the days that followed, I found myself growing bolder in expressing my affection towards Daddy. I'd steal quick pecks on his lips whenever I passed him in the hallway, sometimes lingering longer than I probably should have. Whenever we sat together in the living room watching TV or just relaxing, I'd curl up onto his lap, my bare thighs brushing against his clothed ones. I loved feeling the warmth enveloping me, his musky scent filling my nostrils as I nuzzled into his neck. 

Mommy watched all this unfold with a mixture of disgust and jealousy. At first, she tried to ignore the blossoming intimacy, focusing on her domestic duties or preparing dinners. But as the weeks passed, I noticed her glancing up more often, a spark of something unreadable in her gaze. One evening, as I sat perched on Daddy's lap, dressed in the most adorable knee socks, heels and a baby pink dress, Mommy cleared her throat awkwardly. Her eyes kept flickering from our entwined hands to my pink panties peeking under the hemline of my dress. 

My mom's discomfort was evident, but I knew better than to let it deter me. The thought of her knowing she couldn't interfere without facing a serious spanking from Daddy, made my insides tingle with excitement. I leaned further into Daddy's chest, pressing my round breasts against his solid form, feeling the heat from his body seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. 

I decided to test the waters even further. While lounging in front of the fireplace, I ever-so-slowly slid off my precious pink Mary Janes, revealing my delicate feet sheathed in those cute little ruffled socks. I could feel Daddy's eyes on me, tracking every movement, as I casually dangled my feet toward his thighs. 

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, I allowed my socked foot to brush against the bulge forming in his trousers. I feigned innocence, but the mischievous grin playing on my lips betrayed me. Gently, I began to rub circles around Daddy's cock with my little toes, savouring the way his breath hitched at my teasing touch. My other foot soon joined in, caressing and exploring his manhood through the rough material of his pants, while I kept up a steady stream of small talk with Mommy, pretending not to notice her growing jealousy.

Seizing the moment, I watched Mommy retreat from the room and up the grand staircase, her high heels clicking angrily on the marble floor as she disappeared from sight. 

I turned my full attention back to Daddy, and with a devious smile, I undid his pants and produced his raging erection. 

There it was - standing tall and proud, begging for my continued attention. My heart raced as I placed my heels on his thighs, my toes eagerly reaching for his velvety-hard cock. I wrapped them around his shaft, relishing the feeling of him sliding between my soft, warm socks. 

With deliberate strokes, I teased and pleasured him, alternating between slow and fast movements, listening intently to his gasps and groans for guidance. The warmth of the fire danced across the room as I worked my magic, our secret little world in this big house shrinking to just the two of us and the salacious sounds of his pleasure. 

I decided to take things to another level. I slipped off my thin, nylon ruffle socks, baring my warm, creamy feet for the first time during this intimate moment. Goosebumps pricked at my calves as I placed my bare soles on either side of Daddy's penis.

My toes curled around his base, feeling the veins pulse beneath my touch. I slowly dragged my soles upwards, the friction against his smooth erection caused him to groan. Reaching the tip, I lightly flicked my big toe over his sensitive head, spreading the droplets of precum that had formed. Then, with a devilish gleam in my eye, I began to slide my feet up and down his length, relishing in the feel of his hardness gliding between my youthful, buttery arches. 

Daddy's eyes were rolling back in his head which only fueled my desire to please him. The sensation of his manhood against my little soles was unlike anything I'd ever experienced, I felt in control, and I couldn't get enough of it. 

It didn't take long before I could see the signs of his impending release. Daddy's breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving with each exhale as he fought to maintain his composure. I increased the tempo of my tender soles, sliding my feet up and down his cock with purposeful abandon. 

I felt his entire body tense, his muscles coiling like springs ready to snap, and then...oopsie! Waves of hot cum shot out, painting my soles and toes in a messy white canvass. I moaned at the sight, feeling so proud to have driven him over the edge like that. 

With a satisfied smirk on my face, I stood up from the plush sofa, revealing in the masterpiece I'd created with my dainty feet. A delicious mess of cum adorned my soles and toes, evidence of Daddy's undeniable pleasure. 

I glanced over my shoulder at him, seeing him still recovering from his climax. I raised an eyebrow playfully. "Well, Daddy," I purred, "it looks like somebody made quite the mess." I wiggled my feet tauntingly, creating a mesmerizing dance of semen between my toes. 

"Who's gonna clean this up?" I asked, my voice dripping with dominance and amusement. 

Taking a deep breath, I felt my own power surging through me as I fully embraced the moment. I snapped my fingers, pointing down at my cum-covered feet with confident authority I didn't know I possessed. "Clean," I demanded, my voice strong and commanding, yet still laced with affection. My heart raced, unsure of how Daddy would react to my sudden shift in dominance. 

My stomach fluttered as I waited for his response. Would he accept my newfound dominance? Or would I end up over his knee, with his heavy belt putting me back in my place? But when he looked up at me, his eyes were filled with a mix of surprise and raw hunger. Slowly rising from the sofa, he dropped to his hands and knees before me, his tongue lashing out to taste the salty evidence of his release. 

A rush of adrenaline coursed through me as I watched him willingly submit, and I felt my own desires ignite further. I placed one hand on my hip and extended a foot, giving Daddy better access to my toes while emphasizing my control over him. I gasped as he began to suck and lick, his mouth working diligently to clean every last drop from my feet. 

After he had thoroughly cleaned my feet, I couldn't help but let a giggle escape my lips. "Good boy," I praised, my voice filled with both tenderness and newfound power. Collecting my discarded socks and heels from the floor, I smiled down at Daddy, still on his knees before me. I blew him a quick, flirty kiss before turning on my heel and skipping away toward the staircase, the sound of my giggles echoing throughout the quiet house. Clutching my ruffled socks and shoes to my chest, I ascended the steps, feeling lighter than I had in months. Our roles had shifted, and I was finally finding my place within this strange, twisted dynamic that seemed to rule our household. 

Tara Gregory 💋

Continued in: Tara Gregory: Wine Cellar

 

Tara Gregory: Daddy Issues

Continued from: Daddy's New Rules

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

Weeks had gone by under Daddy's new rules, living each day in my age regressed attire and trying my best to be a good girl. Last Sunday in the family room, Daddy wanted to "chat" about my former waitressing job at Hooters, a chat that involved his leather belt. This Sunday, I was sent to get a wooden spoon from the kitchen, as he wanted to "chat" about my time as a stripper.

My stomach churned with nervousness as I stepped into the room, my eyes fixed on the floor in front of me. 

For a little extra humiliation this week, Daddy left me in my socks and sandals, but the rest came off, almost fully naked in front of him as per our typical Sunday ritual. My cheeks flushed with shame as I obeyed his command, slowly peeling off my dress and panties. Then, I lowered myself over his lap as Daddy readied the wooden spoon. 

"Do you understand why this had to happen, Tara?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm. 

I sniffed and nodded, unable to speak through my sobs. I knew that my behaviour as a stripper had been wrong, and that Daddy was only trying to help me become a better person. I would have about thirty-five minutes to think about it too, while I faced the corner of the room in shame. 

This was just any given Sunday around here, under Daddy's roof. If it wasn't me in the corner sobbing, it would be my mother when she disobeyed or messed up. 

As the weeks continued to fall from the calendar, I found myself growing closer to Daddy than ever before. He was always there for me, offering guidance and support whenever I needed it. And while our initial relationship may have started out as one of domination and submission, it had evolved into something much deeper - a bond built on trust, respect, and love. 

One evening, as we sat together in the living room, I felt a sudden urge to climb into Daddy's lap. Without thinking twice, I scooted over to him and nestled myself against his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

"What's gotten into you today, little one?" Daddy asked, his voice filled with amusement.

"I don't know," I replied softly, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck. "I just want to be close to you, Daddy." 

He chuckled and stroked my hair gently, his fingers running though the silky strands. "That's okay, sweetheart," he murmured. "You can always come to me when you need some extra love and attention."

I felt a sudden surge of boldness coursing through my veins. I had been growing increasingly affectionate towards Daddy in recent weeks. Mom wasn't here, she went to the neighbours' for wine and cards, it was the perfect opportunity. Tonight, I wanted to take things one step further. 

Scurrying to straddle him, I pressed my lips against his, closing my eyes as I savoured the feeling of his warm mouth against mine. At first, he seemed surprised by my actions, but then he responded eagerly, his tongue slipping between my lips to explore my mouth thoroughly. 

Pulling away from his kiss, I looked up at Daddy with wide eyes, unsure of how he would react to my bold advances. But instead of scolding me, he simply smiled up at me affectionately, his eyes filled with desire. 

"You're getting to be quite the little minx, aren't you?" he teased, his voice low and husky. 

I blushed and giggled, feeling embarrassed but also excited by his words. "I guess I am, Daddy," I admitted shyly. 

With that, Daddy pulled me in for another kiss, his hands roaming all over my body possessively. I moaned softly as he nipped at my neck, his touch sending waves of pleasure gusting through me. 

I found myself feeling more alive than ever before, I had never experienced anything like this - the combination of love, lust and submission was intoxicating, and I wanted nothing more than to stay in Daddy's arms forever.

I whispered tentatively. "Daddy?" Could I please change into something a bit more comfortable? I promise it will still be 'little'." I blushed, feeling suddenly shy. 

To my surprise, he laughed heartily. "Of course it's okay, princess. Go ahead and change." 

Grinning wickedly, I hopped off his lap and hurried to my dresser, searching for a skimpy little outfit I had envisioned. Soon enough, I emerged wearing nothing but a pink pair of booty shorts and matching bra. 

Daddy's eyes widened appreciatively as I approached him, and he held out his arms invitingly. "Come here, baby girl," he purred. 

Giggling, I climbed onto his lap again, straddling him and pressing my tits against his chest. His hands roamed over my body, claiming me, stroking my thighs and cupping my breasts as I softly moaned. 

"You look good like this," he hissed, his voice thick with desire. "So beautiful and innocent, yet so dirty and depraved, aren't you?" 

I whimpered as he tweaked my nipples roughly, my hips bucking against his in search of friction. "Please Daddy!!" I begged, "I need you inside me!" I could feel his raging erection through his pants, that I was trying desperately to grind my pussy against. Daddy's cock felt huge! 

With a groan, he complied, lifting me up into his arms and carrying me upstairs to his own bedroom. I felt like a princess being swept away by her knight in shining armour. The thought of sharing his bed - the same bed where he slept with my mother every night - sent a thrill of vengeance and excitement through me.  

I rode him wildly, like a 20-year-old who used to be a stripper. My poor mother won't be able to compete with this, with my youthful tight snatch and my gorgeous, juicy body.

"Is this how Mommy does it? Do I fuck good, Daddy?" 

Daddy groaned at my words, my pace quickening as I drove into him even harder. His cock was in-fact huge! Almost painfully so, for my little, innocent pussy. 

He reached down and pinched my clit, sending me hurtling over the edge of orgasm. I screamed out "Daaaaaddddddieeee" as my body shook with pleasure and he followed soon after, his release flooding inside me.

As we lay there, panting and spent, I knew that this was only the beginning. From now on, I would belong to Daddy - body and soul. 

I found something in my Mother's closet to put on, just to add insult to her unbeknownst injury. I think they used to call these things negligees. I threw it around my shoulders like a royal cape. A sinister smile tugged at the corners of my lips. From this moment forward, there was a new fuckin' queen bee in this house! 

Tara Gregory 💋

Continued in: The OG's

To go directly to the continuation of Tara Gregory, please follow this link: Long live the Queen

 

 

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

 

 

Tara Gregory: Daddy's Girl

Continued from: Early Days

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

The following day, I woke up feeling anxious and confused. Seeing my mother get a spanking like a naughty child had shaken me to my core, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. As I made my way downstairs for breakfast, I found myself dreading the thought of interacting with my stepdad after what I had witnessed. Just the awkwardness about it was enough to make my skin crawl. 

When I entered the kitchen, Richard was already there, cooking up a storm on the stove. He greeted me warmly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened the previous day. 

"Good morning, sweetheart," he said with a smile, before turning to give me a hug. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," I replied, returning his embrace and inhaling the comforting scent of his aftershave.

I took a seat at the table after pouring some coffee. We sat in companionable silence for a few moments, both lost in our own thoughts. Eventually, Richard spoke. 

"Tara, I want to talk to you about last night," he said, fixing me with a steady gaze. "I realize what you saw may have been disturbing for you, but I assure you that everything between your mother and I couldn't be better."

I nodded, feeling a warm blush creeping up my neck as I remembered furiously masturbating in my bed last night, fantasizing about the spanking I had witnessed. I had several back-arching orgasms, imagining it was me who was getting spanked. Did I really want this? Why did I feel so strangely aroused by the commanding presence of my Stepdad?

I hesitated for a moment before speaking up, terrified if I really wanted to bring up what I was about to bring up.

"Daddy..." I began tentatively, "can I ask you something?" 

I used the term "Daddy" for the first time as he instructed me to do. It felt strange on my tongue, but oddly comforting. 

"Of course, sweetheart. What's on your mind?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the words that were about to come out of my mouth. "Last night, when you were spanking my Mom...it made me think about my own behaviour in college. How out of control I was, and how much trouble I got myself into."

Daddy's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, but he remained silent, waiting for me to continue. 

"I just...I wish someone had been there to punish me back then," I admitted, my voice wavering slightly. "Someone who could have helped me learn from my mistakes and become a better person."

A flicker of understanding passed across Daddy's face, and he gave me a sympathetic smile. "I can see why that would be difficult for you, Tara. College is time of exploration and self-discovery, but it can also lead to poor choices, guilt and regrets." 

I nodded, feeling a weight begin to lift off my shoulders. Then...with my stomach in knots, I went for it.

"Do you think...could you maybe help me with that now, Daddy?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for his response. 

"Help me learn from my past mistakes and become a better person?" 

Daddy's expression softened, he got up and walked over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders and looking me straight in the eye. 

"Of course, Tara," he said firmly. "On a hook on the back of my bedroom door you'll find my heavy leather belt, go retrieve it and meet me in the family room."

Relief flooded through me at his words, along with a sickening fear in my stomach and a pulsing in my clit. The range of sensations and emotions I was experiencing was so confusing to me. I nuzzled my body back into his warm embrace. I began to cry and sniffled out a, "yes, Daddy," while he held me in his strong arms. 

As I made my way down the hallway to Daddy's bedroom, my hands were trembling with anticipation. I couldn't believe I was about to receive my first spanking as an adult - and from my own Stepfather no less! 

Just as I was about to reach for the doorknob, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, I saw Mom walking toward me with a concerned look on her face.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" she asked softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on my cheek. "You've been crying..."

I took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to speak. "I'm fine, Mom. Daddy just asked me to go get his belt."

A hint of understanding flashed across her features, and she gave me a small smile. "Ah, I see. He's been wanting to 'speak' with you about your time away at college"

"I know Mommy. I...I need this." I squeaked out. 

"Be strong, Tara. Remember that Daddy only wants what's best for you, okay?" 

Nodding in agreement, I burst back into tears, as feelings of being a disappointment washed over me. I opened the door and stepped inside Daddy's room. I could feel my pulse racing as I exposed the back of the door, where he told me his heavy belt would be hung. 

Reaching up with my little hands, I took down the belt and held it tightly in my grasp. It felt cool and smooth against my skin, and I couldn't help but shiver at he thought of what was to come. 

With one final glance around the room, I made my way back out into the hallway and headed towards the family room where Daddy was waiting. My heart was pounding so hard that I could feel it thumping in my ears. 

Soon enough, I found myself standing before Daddy, my hands shaking as I held out the belt to him. He took it from me and set it down on the couch. Daddy's voice broke through my thoughts, startling me out of my reverie. "Tara, I need you to take off your pajamas." 

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry as I realized what was about to happen. Slowly, hesitantly, I lifted my hands to the buttons of my top, fumbling slightly as my fingers trembled with nerves. Next I slipped my bottoms off, letting them fall to the floor, leaving me clad only in my panties and bra. 

Seeing me standing there half-naked, Daddy's gaze softened. My hands instinctively went to my head, as I saw my mother do last night before she was spanked. 

My mind was racing with a million different thoughts and emotions, but one thing was certain - I needed this, no matter how painful and humiliating it would prove to be. 

Daddy's voice broke through my inner turmoil, his words gentle yet firm. "Tara, your bra and panties too, sweetheart. I want them off." 

I hesitated for a moment, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as tears streamed down my face. I unclasped my bra and let it fall, my nipples hardening instantly. Nodding my continued assent, I slowly slid my panties down my legs and stepped out of them, leaving me completely naked before my Stepfather. 

His eyes roamed over my body appreciatively, taking in every curve and dimple. Then, with a pat to his lap, he invited me to get over his knee. The contact of my bare skin against his strict lap was electrifying, yet I was too mortified to become aroused in the moment.

Daddy placed his meaty palm on the small of my back, to pin me in place as he raised his other hand high above my upturned bottom. 

"We're going to have a little chat about your time away at college, young lady," he spoke. "Just remember to breathe through it and try to stay still..." 

Tara Gregory 🍑

Continued in: Daddy's New Rules

   

 

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