Tia's Bucket List Ch. 09

---The Breastie and the dog---

Hello everyone, it's Tia! Your ravishing reporter bringing you the news faster than fast fashion. So, you know something's up when you have to wait for the next info drop. And you're right about that! But you know how it is: sometimes good things take time and I promise it was worth the wait. I got the fiercest facts for you, and they hit close to home because they're about my private life. Let's just say there was trouble in paradise. Bet!

As you may remember, I ran into a bunch of my dad's former colleagues at the GonzoGym. For a long time, they had worked together at the local machine factory and watched me grow up. So, it was a total shock to meet them while working as the promo puppet. But only at first! I quickly recovered and struck a deal with the men, so everything was fine.

But then Barry turned out to be a snitch who told my dad about my extracurricular activities. And that hit home like a bomb! You know how much stress I have with my parents and how often we quarrel about stupid stuff. Actually, our arguments always revolve around the same topic. I'm no longer the good girl they used to know. I've evolved and they don't agree with my recent life-choices. The whole fashionista thing is a far cry from their idea of the solid respectable life they envisioned for me. Definitely so!

To understand our constant clashes, you need to know that my parents have a very puritanical worldview. For them, life is all about hard work, discipline, and order. Pleasure comes last... if at all! My priorities, on the other hand, are the other way around. As a millennial, I'm interested in things like work-life-balance. It's not my goal to get rich while working myself to death. In the end, you die of a heart attack before you get the chance to reap the fruits of your labor. That's not going to happen to me! I want to enjoy my life and I want to do it now! YOLO!

Unfortunately, my parents show zero understanding for my lifestyle. Not in any way whatsoever! And recently, things have only gotten worse. No wonder! Over the course of the internship, my focus on pleasure and personal growth has steadily increased. After all, my job at Vonderstone has shown me that you get nothing for your hard work as long as nepotism matters most. So, I've decided to put fun first and live my life to the fullest. Period!

However, our clash was inevitable and Barry's betrayal only accelerated things. Hearing the news, my parents blew a fuse. I had never seen them so angry. Believe me when I say a telling off is nothing in comparison. And yet, it seemed to me that they were more concerned about the family's reputation than they were worried about me. These hypocrites! And you know how much I like hypocrites.... not!

But there was a surprising development in the whole affair! Ray, the biker bloke, tried to intervene. Once again, he proved to be a good guy! Several times, he put in a good word for me but to no avail. My parents had made up their minds and decided that I was too much of a bad influence on my sister. I could hardly believe my ears when they told me. That was total nonsense! Tamara -- or Tammy as everybody calls her -- is only two years younger than me, so she's over 18 and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Besides, she's anything but innocent. If my dad only knew what his little angel was up to in high school, he'd blush with shame! She's so much more of a wildchild than I ever was. But they're blind in that eye. All they see is the good little daughter and the bad big sister. Safe!

Anyway, our argument escalated and ended with my parents kicking me out of the house. You heard that right, folks! They actually took my stuff and threw it out the door. No kidding! I can't even put into words how embarrassing that was because the whole neighborhood witnessed it, including Ray and Holly's mom. But even more outrageous was the fact that my parents didn't even try to get my side of the story. They simply blamed me for everything, not listening to a word I had to say! And that's why I wasn't really sad about everything that was going down. After all, I had lived apart from my parents before. Sharing a dorm room with Holly had been awesome! So, you see, folks, I had done it before, I could do it again. No problem!

That was all well and good... except for one thing! Where was I supposed to live? My salary at Vonderstone was anything but princely. In fact, it was just enough for food and clothes. Even if I cut my budget for shoes, I still had my student debt, so I couldn't afford my own place. After all, the financial aspect was the reason why the whole thing had started in the first place! I had only been living with my parents because I couldn't afford an internship in a fashion metropolis. What a vicious cycle!

Stupidly, Holly couldn't help me either. She had her own problems with her mother and there was no spare room at their house in the first place. So, my options were limited. I had to swallow my pride and ask Matt. Every fiber in my body resisted begging a nepo baby to give me shelter, but I had no other choice. Period!

Remember the classy condo, folks? I called it 'alumni apartment' for a reason because Matt shared it with his two top bros. And yet, there was still enough room for one more person. So, the next step was logical! I moved in there! After all, I was already a certified bro bunny, so it was a natural fit. Consequently, the alumni received a personal house pussy, handpicked and gift-wrapped. And they quickly made me realize what that was supposed to mean.

Needless to say, I didn't have much stuff, just a few suitcases, so it wasn't a big move. Nevertheless, the top bros shamelessly exploited the situation. Even before I arrived, they were already boasting that they had given the guest room a special makeover, just for me. And I had no idea whether they were teasing me or whether they were actually serious. Weird flex, but OK!

Despite this big announcement, I was still shocked when the day arrived. Entering the condo, I saw the changes with my own two eyes, which wasn't hard because they stood out for miles. The guys had cleared out the shelves in the guest room and instead had placed a row of dildos on the top shelf. Lined up by size, the toys ranged from cute little butt plugs to monster dongs. That in itself was outrageous! What was really scandalous, however, was the fact that the shelf had no doors. Consequently, the toys were on open display. Anyone entering the room could see them. The cheek on these guys!

But that wasn't all! Far from it! The alumni had also prepared the rest of the apartment. As a result, we have fixed house rules now. To make it official, the top bros printed them out and hung them on a pinboard right next to the front door, so every visitor can see them. Jesus Christ! This was blatant as fuck! But the fratsters argued that it was important to display the rules to make sure they were followed by everyone, especially the house pussy. Even if the reasoning was valid, it was super mean because the rules only apply to me. But then again, everybody knows how forgetful bimbos are, especially when they're horny and needy. So, the guys are right, it's a valuable reminder! So nice of them... not!

Anyway, I know you want to hear the rules, so here we go:

1) Clothing in the condo: No bra or panties; all skirts mid-thigh or shorter (preferably pube tubes); always stilettos with a heel of at least 5" (only boots, sandals, or pumps); always one pink item at minimum

Holy smokes! What a selection! To be honest, I can live with the first three points. That's pretty much standard for me by now. The last point, however, hits me hard. You know how much I detest pink, especially as a clothing color! That's why I had a heated discussion with the bros. But to no avail! They were adamant. If I'm going to live in the alumni apartment, I'm going to do it pretty in pink. Damnit!

2) Beauty tricks: Always makeup and contour; always fake eyelashes and mani-pedi; always full-body waxing (except the head)

All right! That should be no problem. I already wear makeup on the daily. So, smoky eyeshadow, doll eyelash extensions, and extensive contouring sound like an awesome addition. As you see, I'm low-key excited to put it into practice, especially now that I don't have to worry about my parents' approval. Waxing is a given that needs no mentioning. In fact, I've been toying with the idea of permanent laser hair removal for a while now. I couldn't afford it so far, but I can see it in my near future. All in all, it sounds like a super sexy style that's going to make me look hot as hell. Safe!

3) Lifestyle: Exercising at least three times a week; cleaning the condo and doing every resident's laundry; edging once before work and once after work; orgasms only once a week and only on permission

Holy moly! Reading the points made me gulp. Turns out, there was a real benefit to living at home as my mom handled all the cleaning and laundry chores. Let me tell you, folks, housework is my hobby...not! On the contrary, there's hardly anything that annoys me more! As a creative person, I tend to be the messy type. But the guys don't care. As the house pussy, I'm responsible for cleaning the apartment and doing the boys' dirty laundry. What a shabby trick! I hate it already. Bet!

Working out, on the other hand, is nothing new to me. Neither is edging before work. Repeating it after work and doing it without cumming, however, will be difficult. To make it even harder, the guys added another dirty trick. Every day, I have to use a dildo from the top shelf when playing with myself! And that's not all! Each dildo has a number. I have to roll a virtual dice to determine which dildo I use, so the selection is totally randomized. That's unbelievable! But even harder to believe is the rule that I can only cum once a week! I almost cried when I read that! It's so unfair! Even if I could pull it off, which is totally unrealistic, it would be a raw deal! During the week, I'll be the bubbliest bimbo ever and totally live up to my moniker as 'the hugger'. I can already hear Holly calling me 'the huggy bae' or even worse the customers calling me a huggy hussy. Fuck me sideways!

But whatever! The things we do for a roof over the head, right? At the end of the day, it's complaining on a high level. The condo is already paid off, although I'm pretty sure Mr. von Stein bought it for his son, so he's the one who actually owns it. Howsoever, the rent is very low, even if you factor in the money I must spend on liqueur and beef, so the boys can have their alumni-only 'booze-n-bimbo' parties. In return, I'm the star of the show! So, I'm actually looking forward to the first event. Being the center of the kegger, presenting hot outfits, and being admired by randy men... sounds like my kind of fun!

---House pussy evaluates her bucket list---

As you see, folks, there was a lot of drama with my parents. And yet, family business wasn't the only thing that kept me busy. Instead, I had every reason to celebrate! Ladies and gentlemen, my bucket list is complete. The project has been brought to conclusion! And it's been a rousing success! I've worked through all the kinks and can now present the ultimate results.

Before we come to the final score, however, let me give you a quick reminder: the kinks on the list were (1) objectification, (2) taming, (3) discipline, (4) exhibitionism, and (5) taboo. After extensive analysis, I can say that it's not a single kink that is solely responsible for my sexual arousal. As assumed, it's an interplay of several factors. My experiments have shown that I can exclude taming and discipline. In my Yamos study, I was disciplined for being a lazy millennial that got the fratboys banned from Vonderstone, but it didn't increase my horniness. I'm neither a masochist nor a conservo, so I don't need pain as punishment to learn my lesson. Boundaries, humiliation, and behavior modification are way better teachers. In my gym study, I analyzed how I react to training as a form of brat-taming. And I can conclude that it has no effect on my arousal. I'm no bitchy brat who likes to push people's buttons by talking back, disobeying orders, or defying rules. That's Holly for you! And it's the reason why I don't need a brat tamer. That's Mr. von Stein for you!

So, what's the key to success aka mind-blowing orgasms then? My alumni study showed that I'm totally into objectification. When I'm getting used like a toy and treated like a doll, it cranks up my horniness to level infinity. My carwash study proved that exhibitionism is another strong factor. Public exposure revs my engine. And when you add public disgrace to the mix, it leaves my pussy throbbing like crazy. Finally, my booze-n-bitches study has shown that breaking taboos is a total exciter for me. I'm not proud of it, but that includes some freaky stuff like anal and piss. I'm new to butt stuff and still ambivalent about it. But I must admit that I don't know anything more intense. It hits different. Definitely so! Even though it takes a little while to get used to the stuffing and stretching, it ends up a million times stronger than normal sex. Weird, but true! And the same goes for piss! It's disgusting and has a vile taste to it, but the humiliation makes me cum harder than anything else. Period!

To sum it all up, I'm a cutie by nature, aka a giggly girl and bubbly buzzerfly. I'm driven by the need for validation. I pout and whine, I tease and taunt, I do it all to get acknowledged and praised. A Dom can make me work hard for his approval, but he needs to give me credit in the end. Then I relinquish control, so the Dom can take me and own my holes. At the same time, I' have a submissive streak, deriving satisfaction from pleasing and serving men. This makes me a service-oriented sub aka a people pleaser and brazen bimbo.

Long story short, I'm a princess on the outside and a subbie on the inside. Fuck the pampered, posh princess out of me. Degrade its haughty highness to a trashy tramp but tell me that I'm a superb subslut when you're done with me. That's the freak I am and that's what I'm proud of! End of story!

---Housebroken hussy meets the guests---

Alright, folks! Nuff with the theorizing. Time for action! That's what you want to read from your friendly billboard barbie, right? Then I got great news for you! Next week, Holly returns to the Vonderstore and I'm really excited to be working with my bestie again. It's going to be a blast! And I'm low-key proud that I've contributed to it with my promo campaign as billboard barbie. Facts!

Before Holly's big return, however, there's another important event. The 'steaks-n-blowjob day' is upon us. Since I'm staying at the alumni apartment, it's a given that I'm organizing a special evening for the top bros. After all, this is my chance to express my gratitude for giving me shelter. And I'm going to make sure it's fire! Dare I say it will be epic!

Of course, the guys had a ton of suggestions, but I want to do my own thing. Otherwise, what would be the surprise, right? Truth be told, I'm already super excited. The sheer thought of serving a group of men for an entire evening while reading their every wish from their eyes makes me tingly. This is my chance to prove that I can do more than look pretty! I can also cook and serve! And the fratsters deserve an awesome meal followed by better sex. Definitely so!

Unfortunately, an unexpected obstacle got in my way. I'm not proud of it, but the constant edging has robbed me of my creativity and made me permanently fuzzy, so I can hardly concentrate on one thing at a time. That makes it real hard to plan anything. And it led to me running out of time. Damnit!

But luckily, I have a friend to help me out. Nope, not Holly! But her 'trés chick tales'! Sounds confusing? I can understand that but let me clear it up. In one of bestie's blog posts, she talked about the 'steaks-n-blowjob' day and a follower responded with a series of sick fantasies. The ideas sounded fantastic and way better than anything I had cooked up. So, I'm adopting them. Simple as that!

As you see, I had solved the first problem, and I did it with ease. All that remained was the question of preparation. And for that, I threw myself into expenses. Not only did I spend big on exquisite food, but I also bought an expensive new gala outfit. After all, I know how much the Yamos bros value my appearance. I couldn't let them down, so I had to look stunning for them. And that struck a chord with me. Of course, duh!

But then I got bad news! Matt informed me that he had to stand in for his brother. Remember, Morris? He's the creative director of the Vonderstone brand. In his leadership role, he was supposed to attend a fashion show over the weekend to meet vendors and make new contacts. Sadly, he's ill, so Matt has to fill in as part of the Vonderfamily. This means he can't be at the 'steaks-and-blowjob' party tomorrow. What a bummer!

As you can imagine, I was desperate! The news hit me out of nowhere and completely threw my plans out the window. I was totally lost because I had no idea what I was going to do. But luckily, Matt had a solution ready. Since I had already gone to so much trouble, he decided that I should host the dinner for his top bros anyway. After all, they deserved my gratitude just as much as he did. And yet, he wasn't a pure Samaritan. He wanted to get something out of it, too. So, he organized an impromptu barbecue with the neighbors, which was to take place the day before the s&b party. So, it's double duty for the bubbly cutie. What a surprise... not!

But here's the kicker! I don't have to prepare anything because it's only a small get-together. Due to the short notice, however, it won't be the same like the big dinner I had planned. Instead, it'll be less smutty and more innocuous, like a 'steak-without-blowjob' party. Not what I had planned but better than nothing. Swear to god!

Despite the last-minute rescue, the sudden change of plans brought with it a whole new set of problems. First of all, I needed a new outfit! And that was anything but easy. I had planned a racy but elegant red cocktail dress for my dinner party, so I had to find a different style and color. After all, I couldn't wear the same thing twice. That's an absolute no-go! Both for a fashionista and a premium house pussy. Facts!

As you see, folks, this stuff was complex! On the one hand, I had to look presentable and make Matty proud. On the other hand, our neighbors were present, so I had to strike a fine balance! Sexy but not salacious! Attractive but not arrogant! Successful but not showy. Definitely complicated!

So, what did I do? I thought long and hard about my outfit, or at least as much as my dazed state allowed. In the end, I still hadn't made a decision when my Friday shift was over. Since the kiki was in the evening, I decided to go on a shopping spree right after work and buy whatever felt right. This was all about the vibe and my mood told me to play it safe. So, I dressed like a CEO aka a strong, confident woman. In my fashion-and-styling class, I had learned that four factors are crucial to cultivating a touch of sophistication and expressing your power: (1) wear structured pieces, (2) incorporate color, (3) elevate your shoe game, (4) pay attention to accessories. And that's exactly what I did. Safe!

In the end, I bought a white blouse with a knee-high leather skirt in tyrian purple. For shoes, I acquired matching knee-high boots in the same purple shade. Since the color stands for power and prestige, it's a check for the first three factors. At the same time, I adhered to the house rules by letting off the bra and thong, wearing only seamless black stockings with a lace top band underneath. Believe me, the outfit exuded power and class, but it also looked sexy as sin! What a win-win situation!