1 - BITTER RIVALS teaser

==><== #BITTER RIVALS a spanking text adventure by Waferborn [[Begin|CHARACTER SET UP]](set:$age=18)(set:$hair="dark-brown"){(set:$humiliation=3) (set:$bed_time = 8) (set:$mouth_washing = 0) (set:$wrote_lines = 0) (set:$corner_time = 0) (set:$punishment_log = 0) (set:$punishment = 0) (set:$early_bedtime = 0) (set:$spanked_by_rival = 0) (set:$rival= 0) (set:$rude = 0) (set:$soreness=0) (set:$implement="hand") (set:$strictness=3) (set:$punishment_board="on") (set:$took_deal=0) (set:$saturday_maintenance="normal") (set:$friday_maintenance="normal") (set:$part=1) (set:$ending=0) (set:$inventory=(a:))}

[(set:$rival_name=(prompt:"What is your name?", "ENTER NAME"))Are you a boy or a girl? [Boy]<boy| [Girl]<girl|]<gender|{ }(click:?boy)[(replace:?gender)[(set:$gender="boy"){ (set:$POSS_pronoun="his") (set:$DO_pronoun="him") (set:$pronoun="he") }(if:$part is 1)[(display:"INTRO (PART 1)")]]]{ }(click:?girl)[(replace:?gender)[(set:$gender="girl"){ (set:$POSS_pronoun="her") (set:$DO_pronoun="her") (set:$pronoun="she") }(if:$part is 1)[(display:"INTRO (PART 1)")]{ }(else-if:$part is 2)[(color:yellow)[//In Part 1, you played as (print:$rival_name) as (if:$gender is "girl")[s]he desperately tried to hide the evidence of (if:$gender is "girl")[her](else:)[his] humiliating spankings...and failed. Now, you get to see how the **other** half lives. This part of the story is from **Emily's perspective...** And her point of view is about to become very interesting!//] [[Begin|PERSPECTIVE SHIFT 1]]]{ }(else-if:$part is 3)[(color:yellow)[It's been a long night. A //very// long night, if you're (print:$rival_name). Now Deirdre is home after Emily's first night of babysitting her rival. What happens next will depend on the decisions Emily made...but there's no mistaking one thing: It will //definitely// be fun.] [[Begin|DEIRDRE]]]]]

Everybody on the Upper East Side knows that you and Emily Laurel Rachelle-Briton do //not// get along. You don't need to be a part of some privileged inner circle to know //that//. Your family and hers have been at odds since back in the 80s, when some sub-company merger had failed for reasons no one was allowed to talk about. Since then, everyone in polite Society -- that is, everone even //moderately// in-The-Know -- has been participating in a carefully chereographed dance between the families, never taking sides but also somehow never sending invitations with the same dates on them. When your father took up sailing, the docking service expanded to an entirely new bay just so your dad wouldn't have to share a port town with Sylvester Rachelle. When the Rachelles divorced, they used a different family law attorney, because the entire //firm// your parents had used was biased agaisnt them. Back in middle school, your boarding school even orchestrated for you and Emily Laurel Rachelle-Briton to have none of the same classes together. Which is why it's so unbelievable -- so //unfair// -- that your //idiot// A.P. Literature teacher has paired you and Emily for an upcoming research project on 18th Century French Literature. Even worse, you're expected to work together //in person// this weekend in preparation of your presentation on Monday. //It had to be THIS weekend...// you think bitterly. //Of fucking COURSE it had to be...// You're sitting cross-armed and cross legged in an armchair across the hall from the study, glowering at your Punishment Board and wondering what you'll have to do to get the words "30 BAREBOTTOM SPANKS BEFORE BEDTIME, MOUTH SOAPING" taken down... [[Continue|BACKGROUND (PART 1)]]

Perhaps we ought to start at the beginning. Your name is (print:$rival_name) Robinson Holloway, the youngest in your family by five-years and the only (if:$gender is "boy")[son](else:)[daughter] still living at home. You're recently (print:$age)-years-old with (print:$hair) hair and your dad's good looks. You've got your mom's striking eyebrows, fair skin, and round bottom...as well as her lower lip, which is //especially// visible when you pout (as you are now). In addition to their looks, you'll be inheriting your parents' multi-million dollar real-estate empire and one of the wealthiest names on Park Avenue (the other wealthiest name being Rachelle-Briton). It's the final quarter of High School before you're off to college, and you managed to land an internship even Emma has to be jealous of. Oh, and one more thing: your mother still spanks you. //Realy. Fucking. Often//. You've tried arguing that you're too old for it. That being taken over someone's knee and having your silk pajamas pulled clean off your behind is a punishment you've outgrown. That you're basically an //adult// now, getting ready for //college// and an internship at an international bank. You've tried pointing out that none of the //other// seniors at your well-to-do high school are punished with a wooden-hairbrush for //anything//, much less for something as inconsequential as //borrowing// the family car. You've pleaded that having your spankings tallied and advertised on a Punishment Board just down the hall from the front lobby is // humiliating// -- //What if someone came in and saw, Mom?!?// -- but it became pretty clear that this tact wasn't going to have much of an effect. After all, that's pretty much the point... Even still. You scowl at the Punishment Board, hoping you can erase it by looking at it angrily enough. //No dice//. Guess you'll have to find another way -- //because there's no WAY I can let Emily see that...// Your face burns at the very //thought// of it. If you don't play your cards right, this weekend could be a disaster. //At least I have a full day to do damage control,// you think ruefully. //And there's a LOT of damage to control...// [[Begin|1]]

You go to the door of the study and knock softly, trying your best //not// to look at the Punishment Board on the wall beside you. You hear your mom's voice from inside beckoning you. "Come in!" You sigh deeply, close your eyes...then push your way inside. Your mom is reclining on the couch in the bright room, sipping her tea in her plush white bathroom, drying after an afternoon bath. The french windows are open and a nightime breeze is wafting through. There's a novel spread open on her lap. Her eyelids flutter as she looks up at you, expectant, as though she were already waiting for you to explain why you've interrupted her weekday ritual. "You're home early for a Friday," she says. "I'm glad I don't have to remind you that you aren't going out to any //social// events until further notice. I assume our //lessons// have begun to sink in?" "Y-yes, mom," you say, your cheeks already reddening. She definitely wouldn't be making this easy on you. "Good," she says, taking a sip of her coffee. When she looks up at you again, she seems surprised to see you still standing there. She raises an eyebrow. "Do you need something?" You grit your teeth, face hot. //I most certainly do...// [[Continue|BACKSTORY 1]]

The truth is that you've come home straight from school for a particular purpose. And that purpose has to do with Emily Laurel Rachelle-Briton. ==><== --- <== When Mrs. Lambert originally told you two to work together, you'd both actually //laughed//. You thought she must be joking -- some of the other students in the class thought so too. "Uh, I don't think Emily and (print:$rival_name) would make a great team," a girl in the class named Helena Ramirez had remarked. But Mrs. Lambert had only raised her eyebrows. "And why not?" That's when some of the laughter had died down, and you started to panic. "They, um...their families don't really get along," Helena had said, sounding surprised that she even had to say it. And what an understatement! In every possible realm, the Holloways and the Rachelles were rivals. They'd faced off in everything from politics to finance to job interviews to raquetball (a story for a different time) and every competition only //deepened// the ill will. But putting aside your family history: you and Emily just //did not mix//. You'd run against each other for the Senior Editor position of the school newspaper (she'd won that one, much to your dad's annoyance). You'd competed for the same national network internship spot (and you had won //that// one, although she did manage to get a different intership with her family's help). If you had a class together, it was like being at battle. She would smugly thrust her best grades in your face, and you'd parry with your own -- you typically kicked her butt when it came to Chemistry or AP Stat, but English Lit was her strongest class... Which, humiliatingly, is apparently why you wound up paired together on this project. [[Continue|BACKSTORY 2]]

"(print:$rival_name), you have a C in this course -- and I have it on good authority that's your lowest grade. You can't afford to lose that cushy internship this summer if your GPA drops," Mrs. Lambert said. A few collusive //ooohs// make their way around the class. "And Emily: you're doing very well, but you aren't //challenging// yourself." Emily smirked at first, but even being openly praised as better than you wasn't enough to keep her from scowling at the thought of having to work together. //The feeling,// you'd thought, //is very mutual.// Then Mrs. Lambert straightened her back and said with simple finality: "It's one project. Work as a team this weekend, and we'll see your best work on Monday. I'm expecting you two to be amicable -- to work as a team!" //Amicable.// That was rich. You'd left class that day with Emily's contact info written in your day planner, which Emily had given you with a roll of her eyes. "Don't text me outside of this," she'd said brattily. "If you do, I'll block you." "Oh, don't worry," you'd said. "I won't." The two of you had agreed to meet at your place on Saturday afternoon. Emily's apartment was apparently having some remodeling done, so she was staying at a friend's place while her step-mom and dad were at their place in the Hamptons. You had no choice but to agree -- Mrs. Lambert had been watching the two of you closely. //From bad to worse to WORST...// [[Continue|BACKSTORY 3]]

You'd left to go to your next class with Emily and her friends sneering at your back. You could hear one of them say: "Omigod -- I can't believe Mrs. Lambert would make you work with (if:$gender is "boy")[//him!//](else:)[//her!//]" Emily only snorted with irritation. But as mad as Emily was, she didn't have //half// the reason to be upset that you did... ==><== --- <== Which is exactly why you went //straight home// to plead with your mom. See, last week on Friday, you had made the mistake of //borrowing// the family car to go to a party out in the suburbs at your friend Maxine's house. You'd figured it wouldn't be missed -- but you figured wrong. It had turned out your mom had an appointment the next morning, and you made her late for it. The results were -- to say the least -- //disasterous//. [[Continue|BACKSTORY 4]]

Your first punishment was a long, painful spanking that //still// makes you cringe to think about. Bent over the kitchen counter, the car keys still in your hands, your jeans down around your ankles, your mother had paddled you with a charcuterie board while your maid was washing the dishes. When she was done, she'd handed the board to Francesca for cleaning. You were still wimpering and moaning, your bottom bright red and marked with the beginnings of soft bruises...but the worst part about it was when Francesca had said, nonchalantly, "Oh, don't worry Mrs. Holloway, we have another. This can be for that." And so yet //another// implement had entered your mother's vast array of tools to spank you with...//Thanks a LOT, Francesca!// That, of course, was only the //first// punishment. The real punishment -- the worse one, in your opinion -- was still going on. [[Continue|BACKSTORY 5]]

Your mother is a firm believer in the power of //grounding//. But being "grounded" for you looks different than it does for most //other// 18-year-olds. When you are "grounded," it means three things: 1) Bedtime is at 8:00pm (set:$bedtime=8) 2) A //maintenance spanking// each night ("To keep the lesson fresh," your mom would say)(set:$friday_maintenance="normal")(set:$saturday_maintenance="normal") 3) Punishments for anything less than //best behavior//(set:$strictness=3) Depending on what gets you grounded in the first place, your //maintenance spanking// can be anywhere from 30 to 50 spanks, usually with some other mortifying add-on like mouth-soaping or corner time. It really all depended on what your mom decided... All of this was clearly written on the Punishment Board, beneath a line in your handwriting that reads: //I WILL NOT BORROW THE CAR WITHOUT ASKING//, marked by a couple of tear stains, revealing that you wrote it at a particularly, um, //tender// time...(set:$punishment_board="on") For the entire time you were grounded, the Punishment Board would be on display to any one walking through your house. Relatives, friends, associates...//whoever// happened to be walking through the east corridor while you were grounded would see the Punishment Board you were currently looking at. This is why you typically did your best not to bring over friends, //especially// not when you were grounded. So far, you'd been able to keep both this and your Punishment Journal secret... Until today. //Tomorrow// at 3pm, Emily Laurel Rachelle-Briton would be coming over. And you //can't// -- emphasis on CAN'T -- let her see it! [[Continue|2]]

"Mom, I..." //Might as well just say it.// "Mom, I need you to please take down the Punishment Board. For the weekend. I have a...//classmate// coming over for a group project, and I can’t let her- I don’t want her to see it." You fix your eyes on the floor, but even without looking, you can picture your mom’s expression: lips pursed, eyebrows raised, head tilted slightly to the side. An expression that says, //My, what a ridiculous question – surely I’m not meant to take this SERIOUSLY?!// The type of face you might make if a toddler asked you for the keys to your car. "The classmate is Emily Laurel Rachelle-Briton!" you blurt out. "Like, //the// Rachelle-Britons." You glance up at your mother’s face, but you can’t read the change in her expression. "I-I just know she’s going to be looking for //anything// to humiliate me. A-and..." You look down again, faltering under your mom’s unwavering eyes. "...and, well, it would just be for...for tomorrow." You mom takes a long sip from her tea before adjustin her towel. She sighs, looking out at the dusky light through the french windows, then finally replies. "How will you know what the rules of your grounding are if you can’t read them from the board?" Your face flushes hotly. //As if I could forget!// "I-I’ll remember," you say. "Bedtime 8:00pm. Maintenance spanking once a night. Best behavior." "Hmm," your mom says dubiously. She sips her tea again. She pauses long enough that you’re about to speak again, to add some reasoning or promise or just to //beg// -- but just as you open your mouth, she cuts you off. "You know, (print:$rival_name)," she says, "I know that seeing the Punishment Board is embarassing for you. That’s part of your discipline. Feeling humiliated is an excellent deterent, and it makes the lesson //stick//. That’s why your spankings are //always// on a bare bottom." You wince, and her lip curls in an ever-so-slight smirk. Then she puts her tea down and her expression becomes serious. "So. You’re effectively asking me to waive a part of your punishment. If I do that, I expect for you to //make up// that part of your punishment in a different way." //Where is she going with this...// She crosses her legs and thatches her fingers over one knee. "Here’s my proposal, then. I will take the Punishment Board down, but in exchange, you will receive an //extra// hard maintenance spanking tonight. And tomorrow, we will do your maintenance spanking in the //morning//, first thing. That way you’ll be thinking about it all day as you sit on a sore bottom." She raises her chin. Even though she’s seated, she somehow manages to make you feel as though she were looking down at you from a great height. "So. Do you agree to my terms?" [[Agree]<agree| [Refuse]<refuse|]<choice1|{ }(click:?agree)[(replace:?choice1)[You swallow hard. //An extra hard spanking and a morning maintenance...guess it could be worse.// You imagine Emily’s face when she sees the Punishment Board and you cringe inside. //MUCH worse...// "...Okaaaay," you say slowly. "I-I’ll agree to that." Your mother smiles. She extends her long-fingered hand for a professional shake and you take it, blushing hotly the entire time. It’s as though you just ended a successful corporate business meeting. //Except that an extra hard spanking is a part of the agenda...//You're pretty sure none of your dad's business meetings ended with //that//. Then you realize something and your eyes go wide. "A-and bedtime! We need to push back bedtime!" Your mother’s eyes narrow. She grips your hand just a little tighter. "P-please, mom? If the project takes us a long time, I can’t start getting ready for bed at 7:30...pleeeeeeeeeease? Just for tomorrow?" She gives you an icey stare. "You’re pushing it, (print:$rival_name)," she says in a low voice. But then she sighs. "Alright. I suppose that as long as this is a project for school, you may stay up past your bedtime to complete it." Your heart sings. "Th-thank you, mom! Thank you so-" Just as you’re about to release your mom’s hand, she pulls you closer. "But understand this," she says. "I will be looking for //better// than best behavior. If I see the //slightest// sign of rudeness, you will be over my knee with a red tushy faster than you or your little friend can //blink//! Do I make myself clear?" You grimace. Your mom will be looking for any opportunity – and she really means ANY – to give you a spanking tomorrow. "Yes, ma’am..." //She certainly does...//(set:$took_deal=1) ==><== ##(color:yellow)[END OF DEMO] <== **(color:yellow)[Wondering what happens next? Download the full game to see the full story -- over 50,000 words, dozens of choices, //spanking//, //humiliation//, and so much more!]**]]{ }(click:?refuse)[(replace:?choice1)["N-no," you say, shaking your head. Your mother flares her nostrils at this apparent defiance, but you can’t stop yourself. "I-I can’t! If I’ve been spanked hard tonight //and// tomorrow in the morning, Emily will definitely notice!" Your cheeks burn red – but not as red as your bottom would be tomorrow if you took this deal. "I-I can’t do that!" Your mother tilts her head back, then looks you up and down with a flick of her eyes. She seems like she might be about to take you over her knee //right now...//but instead, she simply takes up her tea. "Suit yourself," she says flatly. "Then the Punishment Board stays up." You open your mouth to protest...but you know there’s no use. Your mother is already turning away from you and back to her novel. Your shoulders slump and you sigh deeply, turning to walk away. "Don’t forget to be in my room at 7:30 for your maintenance spanking. PJs on, teeth brushed," she says nonchalantly. Then she adds under her breath: "You do //not// want to make me wait..." //No,// you think, sighing again. //No, I certainly do not...// ==><== ##(color:yellow)[END OF DEMO] <== **(color:yellow)[Wondering what happens next? Download the full game to see the full story -- over 50,000 words, dozens of choices, //spanking//, //humiliation//, and so much more!]**]]