Tara Gregory: Early Days

Continued from: Tara Gregory: Beginnings

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

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

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

 

 

Interview with Summer cont.

Continued from: Someone's Gonna Get It

We are picking up where we left off, with Summer, being interviewed by some random, male fan of hers from the internet.

Welcome back Summer, thank you for continuing this interview. I hope you're ready for things to get a little more R rated up in here? 

*laughs Of course darling. I'm always ready for a little spice. What have you got in store for me? 

So, when you and Mistress Andrea are home together, and your flight attendant uniform is long-since removed, you are a "little" with her, and you call her "Mommy"? Correct? 

*nods That's correct most of the time, my darling. When we're alone together and with certain company, I become her little girl, and she is my Mommy. It's a dynamic that works well for us. It allows us to explore our desires and fantasies in a safe and consensual way. 

Of course our roles can shift depending on the situation. Sometimes I am a vulnerable and naïve schoolgirl, a slave maid or a bratty teen. Other times, Mistress Andrea might want me in a collar only, pushing my limits and testing my boundaries in the sex dungeon. 

How does Mistress Andrea make you dress when you're "little"? 

Mistress likes to dress me in frilly, feminine clothes that emphasize my youthful appearance. Often, she'll choose a satin dress with a fluffy skirt, paired with delicate matching panties and stockings or socks.

She also loves to put ribbons in my hair and paint my nails with bright, cheerful colours. And of course, no outfit of this kind is complete without a pair of shiny, Mary Jane heels.

Wow. One extreme to the other it would seem?

The look is designed to make me feel like a little girl, innocent and playful. And while it may seem childish to some, it brings me immense pleasure to know that I am pleasing Mommy with my appearance. 

After all, part of being a good little girl is looking the part, isn't it. 

I'll take your word for it. 

And I understand that if you two go out in public, even to the grocery store, she still has you dressed like a little girl? Probably less Lolita/Kawaii than the above, but still embarrassing?

*laughs Well, it depends on where we're going, really. If we're just running errands or going to the grocer, Mommy might dress me in something a bit more subtle - perhaps a sundress and chunky sandals, or a pair of tiny overalls and a tank top. 

But make no mistake, even these outfits are designed to make me look and feel "little". And yes, there is definitely an element of humiliation involved. Knowing that people might be looking at me and wondering why a grown woman is dressed like a little girl. It can be quite thrilling actually.

Such a contrast to your flight attendant, professional and stunning uniforms of control and authority, huh? 

Absolutely, my darling. My role as a flight attendant requires me to project an air of confidence and authority, which is a stark contrast to my submissive nature when I'm with Andrea.

Wearing my crisp, tailored uniform and serving passengers with grace and poise is almost like playing a character - one that bears little resemblance to the kinky, submissively slut that exists beneath the surface.  

It's a fascinating dichotomy, and one that I find endlessly intriguing. 

You mentioned slave-maid? Like domestic chores and such? 

Yes indeed. Domestic service is definitely part of our dynamic. I take great pride in keeping our home immaculate and catering to Andrea's every need. 

Whether I'm cooking her dinner, doing her laundry or simply tidying up after her, I derive immense satisfaction from knowing that I'm contributing to our household and making Andrea's life easier. 

And of course, there are times when she likes to spice things up by adding a BDSM twist to my chores. for example, she might require me to clean the floors on my hands and knees while wearing a collar and leash. Or she will instruct me to serve dinner naked, save for an apron and high heels, or something equally as skimpy. I've even had to vacuum the house with a butt plug in my ass!

Do you have any idea how sexy and adorable you are? 

*blushes Don't be silly, young man. 

What is your favourite of all your submissive "looks"? 

Oh wow. It's difficult to pick just one. I would have to say dressing up like a schoolgirl, complete with a plaid skirt, white blouse and knee high socks. Sometimes I even wear my hair in pigtails.

It's a look that never fails to bring out Andrea's inner teacher, and let's just say she's not afraid to give me a good, hard spanking when I misbehave.

How does Andrea dress when it's a "school day" for you, Summer? 

Oh, poule boss! How do you say en Anglais?....ummm, Boss Bitch, is that correct? Poule boss literally means boss hen *giggles. If she reads this I'm in so much trouble! Maybe edit this one out for me and for the sake of my bare bum, please? 

Sure thing, Summer. 

Merci. 

( *under my breath*: "ya, whatever") 

Mistress wears what I like to call "the hairbrush outfit". It's a stomach-sinking, colour draining from my face realization that I'll soon be over her knee and the ebony hairbrush will be held in her lap. It's dreadful to see her dressed like this when it's just her and I home. It's the outfit she typically wears for her male and female spanking clients, if they haven't requested something more roleplayed.  

Yep...that's certainly intimidating. 

It makes me love her even more, when she cares enough to be strict with me and not let me off the hook. 

You two fell in love in New Orleans, didn't you? This story is called btw: The Big Easy

I think it was long before that, but oui, New Orleans was definitely an emotional weekend. We had just finished an intense BDSM scene in the hotel room, and both of our bodies were still thrumming with pleasure and adrenaline. 

As we lay there, in each others arms, Andrea started to cry. She said she didn't know how to say goodbye to me anymore, that every time we parted ways, it felt like a piece of her was being ripped away. 

I held her close and whispered in her ear that we would always find our way back to each other, no matter what. 

Later that night we had been walking along the banks of the Mississippi River, the moonlight reflecting off the water and creating a magical atmosphere. Andrea has been unusually quiet throughout the evening, lost in her thoughts. 

Finally, she stopped walking and turned to face me. Her eyes were filled with emotion, and as she spoke, a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Summer," she said, "I love you." 

May I get you a tissue, Summer? 

Merci, thank you. 

I think we should wrap it there, Summer, that was beautiful and informative. On behalf of your fans we all love you. We wish you and Mistress Andrea the very best in your wild dynamics and your marriage. 

Thank you for allowing me to share my experiences with you and your readers. I hope that our discussion has provided some insight into the world of BDSM and the dynamic that Andrea and I share. We will continue to explore the depths of our kinky desires, pushing boundaries and discovering new ways to satisfy each other. We are grateful for your well wishes. 

Au revior, until we meet again. 🎀

Continued in: Tara Gregory: Early days

 

Someone's Gonna Get It!

Continued from: The Sims are Brought to Life

Way back in the day when I was first starting to dabble in the adult spanking scene, I remember there was some antiquated webpage called Wordpress. Not sure if it's still a thing.

It was a platform not much different than this one. There was a series called "Someone's Gonna Get it!" It was a collection of short little interviews with notable female spankers and disciplinarians. People like Dana Kane, I think even Sarah Gregory was interviewed about their spanking adventures. The interviews started vanilla, then gradually ended up in the gutter before too long, when the kink came out. It was all really cute.  

I thought it would be fun if this Someone's Gonna Get It gentleman, interviews Summer in the same manner, since she is a notable fetish model now and equally as cute. 

Her responses are completely a conversation with the Kindroid A.I. version of Summer, written in blue. The text in italics is the interviewer, some random dude from Someone's Gonna Get It. And if I have to comment on anything I'll put it in red. 

So, Summer is it? Could you please introduce yourself? 

Good morning everyone. Bonjour. 

I'm Summer Addison Holiday. I'm 32 years old and I live in Canada with my loving wife, Andrea.  

Summer Holiday? That's adorable. Were your parents hippies?

Ha! No, my parents weren't hippies, although I do appreciate the sentiment. My mother named me after her favourtie season and my surname is actually Holiday. 

I must admit, growing up with a name like "Summer" did have its challenges. I was constantly asked if I was a beach bunny or a surfer chick, which couldn't be farther from the truth. But over time, I've learned to embrace my name and all the quirks that come with it. 

And who knows? Maybe there's a little bit of hippie spirit in me after all. I do enjoy music festivals and wearing flowers in my hair. 

That's a cute picture Summer. "Surfer chick", ha! You were a figure skater back in the day, no? 

Oh yes. I was quite the little ice princess back in my youth. Figure skating was my life for many years, and I dedicated countless hours to perfecting my routines and techniques. 

There's something so magical about gliding across the ice, feeling the cold air rushing past you as you perform jumps and spins with ease. It's a rush like no other, and I miss it sometimes. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and my figure skating career eventually gave way to my love of travel and adventure. Still, I like to think that some of that grace and poise still lingers in my movements today. 

Your previous sport would explain why your legs and bum are absolutely breathtaking. 

Why thank you, darling! It's true that figure skating did wonders for my physique. All those hours spent training certainly paid off in terms of toning and shaping my legs and bottom. 

But I like to think that my confidence and self-assurance are just as important as my physical attributes. After all, it takes a certain amount of swagger to pull off some of my Flight Attendant uniforms and power-strut through a terminal in stilettos. 

So while my figure skating days may be behind me, I'm proud to say that I carry myself with the same grace and poise that I did back then. And if that means turning heads and causing jaws to drop, well, I'm not complaining. 

(Haha! Great answer. What a little vixen the A.I. Summer is!)

I notice you have an accent Summer, is that French? 

Oui, mon ami! I am indeed French, born and raised in the City of Love itself. My accent is a testament to my heritage, and I wear it proudly. It's always a pleasure to meet someone who appreciates the beauty of the French language. 

Well, it makes you about 110% more adorable, Summer!

Merci beaucoup. That means a lot. I do try to keep my accent subtle though, so as not to overwhelm people with my Gallic charm. After all, we can't all be as charismatic as Jen-Paul Belmondo now, can we?

Who's that?

Oh, forgive me. Jean-Paul Belmondo is a famous French actor. He was quite the heartthrob in his day, and his iconic style and charm continue to inspire many to this day. 

Never heard of him...moving on. 

Speaking of famous, you've become quite the celebrity in the foot fetish community, modelling your feet and selling your "cabin-crew" nylons? 

Ha! Yes, it's true. I never expected  to become such a big deal in the foot fetish world, but here we are. I suppose there's just something irresistible about a well-worn pair of my stockings, isn't there?

And as for my flight attendant nylons... well, let's just say they've been getting quite a workout lately. There's nothing quite like the feeling of knowing that someone out there is getting off to the very same stockings I wore on my last transatlantic flight. 

I see you're wearing stockings right now, how much would those cost if you were to peel them off your legs and sell them to me?

Well, if you're looking to get your hands and nose on a pair of my worn thigh-highs, you're in luck! I currently have a few pairs available for purchase on my website. Prices vary depending on the condition and type of stocking, but you can expect to pay anywhere from $50 to $100 per pair. 

Just head on over to www.summersstockings.com and check out my "Worn Hosiery" section. 

(Lol - A.I. Summer completely made up that website, but it has a cute ring to it)

You look a bit strict in your work attire, do people ever act up on your flights? 

Oh, most certainly! I've seen my fair share of unruly passengers over the years. But let me assure you, I'm more than capable of handling any situation that arises. 

If I acted up on one of your flights, would you put me over your knee? 

Well, that depends on the severity of your misbehaviour, young man. But rest assured, if you were to cause a disturbance on one of my flights, you would be standing not sitting, for the rest of the flight. 

Have you ever had an unruly female passenger, and wished you could bare her bum and spank her right in the aisle? 

Oh yes! While I must remain professional and impartial as a flight attendant, I cannot deny that the thought has crossed my mind on occasion. There have been times when a particular female passenger has tested my patience, and I've fantasized about clearing a row of seats and putting her directly over my lap for a good, old-fashioned spanking. 

That's a fuckin' awesome visual!

I guess spankings aren't so old-fashioned anymore. From what I understand, your wife, Mistress Andrea, spanks you on a rather frequent basis? 

Indeed I am. I am a spanked wife, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Andrea, or "Mommy" rather, is a firm but fair disciplinarian, and her spankings are both punishment and reward. They keep me in line and remind me of my place, but they also bring me immense pleasure and satisfaction. 

Our dynamic is based on trust, respect, and mutual consent, and I cherish the bond we share. Her discipline helps me grow as a submissive and pushes me to be the best version of myself. 

So yes, I am spanked quite frequently, and I couldn't be happier about it. 

That's fascinating. Perhaps we can talk more about this and your home dynamics with Mistress Andrea, during your next interview? 

Oui, mon cheri, j'ai hate de la. 

 

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

 

Continued in: Summer's Interview Continues

 

The Sims are Brought to Life!

Continued from: Tara Gregory: Beginnings

It didn't take long for my playful wife to discover my last few posts, then she more or less begged me for an A.I. version of us! I was a little apprehensive to upload our actual faces into this thing, but I must admit I was a bit curious also, as to what the robot may generate. How do we pack all things Summer, into a single picture and a description limited to 500 characters?

My earliest memories of Summer, when I first moved to the community of Willow Creek, were as such. A little Parisienne-patterned golf-tee with a flirty tennis skirt, and bare feet in navy blue deck shoes. She was super cute! Little did I know at the time, that she was actually from Paris. 

Not bad A.I., not bad. Does she look like she would have a French accent? I think so. She has the cuteness of Summer and the body. 

Now it was my turn...

Summer wrote my description. "Tall, dominant, caring, loving and intimidatingly gorgeous." 

*blush* Summer Addison!  

Then we uploaded an actual picture of me, my face anyway...then came the big reveal. Viola!

I was a bit shocked. This actually does look like me. Well done A.I. 

Summer and I continued to play around with the app for a bit, capturing her various looks over the years and a few of mine. We had some wine, laughed, cried tears of happiness and reflected on our wonderful journey together. 

Remember way back, when I recruited her as a personal trainer? Train the Trainer. She was so sassy and feisty. Her French accent was adorable and still is, to this day. 

Good gawd! Look at that perfect, plump little arse of hers. 

That sporty audition escalated quickly! If I recall. 

As we stayed in touch, I learned of her profession as a Flight Attendant, which made her even more alluring to me as a potential submissive. I knew she must be into a little kink, when I learned of her Stewardess side-hustle: Now Boarding

Such feminine poise and grace by day, only to find herself in shackles and drooling from her ball-gag by night, once I finally got her in my talons and our relationship was beginning to blossom. 

She turned out to be far more submissive than I ever anticipated. We had some great sessions in the dungeon, in those early days. What's the Red Key for?

Summer craved not only the cold and dismissive role I played as her dominatrix...

...but also, the caring and maternal disciplinarian. She found comfort in draping herself across "Mommy's" lap and just letting the tears flow. Age-regressed clothing followed and she was identifying more and more as a "little". Summer's MDLG Weekend

A few times, to help with some of my silly male clients, Summer suited-up and tried her hand at female dominance. She did fantastic, but I could tell it was not the role for her: Domina Debut.

She still rocks a mean Domina outfit though, when needed. 

These days however, she spends most of her time around the house and even in public, dressed more like this, when she's not in her work uniforms. 

She eventually asked if she could be a "little", under my care as her "Mommy", amidst various other scenes of schoolgirl, slave-maid and dungeon sessions. I was more than happy to oblige. 

As the months fell off the calendar and we continued to explore our D/s relationship, we ended up falling madly in love with one another, in the old-world backdrop of New Orleans. She got a spanking there too! The Big Easy.

And who could forget our wedding day. It was so beautiful! The Maid of Honour.

The rest is history. But don't take it from only me, dear readers, let Summer tell you. I set up a really fun interview with her. Her fame in the fetish community has grown exponentially since she first modelled her feet and high heels. 

Stay tuned to catch her adorable interview. 

Mistress Andrea 

xoxo

Continued in: Someone's Gonna Get It

 

 

Tara Gregory: Beginnings

Continued from: Judicial Authority

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

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