Chapter 2: First Card

It had been a full day and I couldn't find that fucking card. At first, I had thought it would be hidden in the magazines he'd left. Failing that, I checked my entire room, beginning with my own porn stash. Nothing. Then I thought about the kitchen, since that's where he'd shown me Mom in her trance. He must have spent a lot of time there. I ran down the stairs two at a time, only to find that Mom had just cleaned the kitchen.

What if she'd already found the card, and thrown it away? Without a care, I went barreling out of the house, jumped into the trash container and continued my search as though my life depended on it.

No luck there either, but I supposed that meant she hadn't thrown it away. It would have truely sucked if the game had ended before it had even began. I decided to take a shower, to clean the smell of trash off me, and wash away the dirty thoughts of failure. Following that, I checked the living room with no better luck.

After eating, I kept trying to check places I hadn't been yet, but Tanya was home by this point. With both her and Mom underfoot, it was becoming more difficult to search. They were both curious as to what I was doing, and I certainly couldn't check their rooms without arousing suspicion.

So, after checking the guarden, and double checking all the previous locations, I headed back to my room for the night. To relax a little, I decided to read some of those Sultry Sandy magazines that Paul had left. They were amazing. Mom had given a lot of interviews back in those days. The questions ranged from what her favourite colour was to more serious topics. One asked her where she saw herself in ten years. Her answer was that she would like to start a family. She wanted to be a typical housewife, and mother. Cooking, cleaning, and the whole lot. The interviewer said he'd envy those kids, having such a beautiful mother.

I laughed to myself for a while about that statement, and began to pay less and less attention to the articles, and more to the suggestive pictures.

I can certainly say that Sultry Sandry knew how to do her job. Without really paying attention, I began handling my cock with the mastery that comes from being a lonely, horny, frustrated teen. Looking at those sexy curves, in a bikini so tiny that it could barely constrain those massive mammaries that I have no memory of sucking as a baby, sadly. I lost myself in her good-girl face that says 'I would never harm a fly' while also suggesting 'I love to suck my lollipop'.

After a while, I came on one of her pictures, loosing my seed all over her body, and lost myself to dreams to doing that with the real thing. I had to find that card tomorrow. I had to.

The next day, I felt revitalized. Too good to waste the day at school, so I figured I'd skip. I pleased illness, and then waited for my mother to leave the house, so I could search my parents' and Tanya's bedrooms. Mom made sure that I wasn't wasting my sick day, and had me studying. A few hours later, Mom left to go to the grocery store. I bolted to her room in search of that holy card.

I made sure to be careful. If she noticed a mess, then she'd know someone had been in there, and I didn't want any unnecesary attention. First, I checked her pantry drawer, trying to think like the incestuous pervert that hid it in the first place, and barely noticing that I was already headed down that path myself.

Nothing in the pantry drawer, but before I moved on, I took the opportunity to take some of her panties, holding it to my nose and inhaling deeply. I knew that the object of my fantasy had been in intimate contact with these underthings, and I let that thought fill me.

After that strategic break, I looked in the rest of her clothes, and her jewelry, but there was nothing. Just when I was leaving to search in my sister's room, a glimmer of light caught my attention. When I came close to look at it, I realized that the glimmer was the reflect of the sun light when it touches a metallic part in one of mom's belts in the open closet. In fact here are all her belts, and between them, I finally found my prize.

My hands were sweating, and my heart was beating faster. This thing was so important that I had dug through the trash and skipped school. Now I could read those words on the plain, white card.

When someone misbehaves, it is normal to say 'Spanking is the customary punishment'.

Almost instantly, the implications came to my mind. It was obvious that this trigger would allow me to spank those soft, round, delicious buttocks. I thought about waiting for my mother to get home, so I could repeat the tigger phrase over, and over, but then I remembered what Paul had said. The trigger will only work under specific circumstances. I needed to consider what would be considered the correct situation 'When someone misbehaves'.

Mom is a prude, bordering on sainthood. The closest thing to misbehaving I could attribute to her would be the occasional break in her diet for some chocolate, but even that is rare. Paul couldn't be expecting me to wait for that that sort of instance to say the trigger. It had to be something that could reasonably happen before the week was out.

Maybe if she was misbehaving from my point of view? Making me take out the trash, or give my sister control of the television? That would certainly give me more control over the trigger. I decided to try that.

After dinner, Mom asked me to wash the dishes, and I did so, waiting for the chance to use my new power over her. After the plates were clean, she asked me to stop by the grocery store to pick up some sugar, and a few other things. I was in a good mood, so I did so without complaint. When I returned, Tanya was watching television from the couch. I entered the kitchen and left the various items on the table. Almost immediately, Mom asked me to help her with the laundry. My mood had worsened, and I snapped.

"Why me? I've been helping you all evening and Tanya's just watching television!"

Mom looked angry, but in control. "First, young man, you don't give me orders. Second, I'm free to choose who I ask for help, and third, your sister is tired after her workout, and you've been relaxing all day."

"So you're saying that just because she opts for various activites after school, that she's excused from all the chores? That's so unfair! I think ... I think spanking is the customary punishment."

"What?" Mom looked confused. "You're too old for a spanking, Jake. What are you trying to say?"

Shit, this wasn't going as expected. "Well, you're treating me like a child, but you're the one misbehaving."

"So you think I need a spanking?" She cocked an eyebrow. "No more games, Jake. Get out of here, and deal with the laundry, like you were told."

This was going badly. I thought about what Paul said about fulfilling the right conditions. Maybe I needed to do something else to make it work. A spank? That must have been it, and after the first spank, she'd be begging for more.

As she turned away, I mustered all my courage and gave her one light slap on her right buttock. She spun around.

"Have you lost your mind!? What do you think you're doing, you little perv? Get out of here before I call your father and tell him what you did."

I couldn't understand what had happened. Why didn't the trigger work? Was this just some cruel joke of Paul's to ruin my life?

For the next few days, I could barely look Mom in the eye, let alone think about using the triggers.

Friday night, I got home a little too drunk, having tried to forget the entire episode in one of Dad's bottles of tequila. Dad was home this weekend, and I was in the living room getting reamed out.

"Jake, I don't work sixty hour weeks so you can steal my booze and get home at this hour. Do you know how much I sacrifice for this family? Do you think I like working weekends, or overseas while you're drinking under age and doing god knows what else? I swear, if you get some tramp pregnant, you're on your own."

Surprisingly, Mom was on my on my side on this one.

"Honey, take it easy. Jake's too wasted to even understand what you're saying, and I doubt he'll remember tomorrow. Let him rest, and I promise I'll handle the situation in the morning. He'll be grounded for a long time, and he won't forget it. Now, you should get some sleep too. You work tomorrow."

"You're right, you're right." He turned back to me. "You can thank your mother for this one, son. If it were up to me, I'd be wringing that alcohol out of you with my bare hands."

I was thankful. Dad's a short guy, but thickly built, and he can be intimidating when he sets his mind to it. Go Mom.

The next day, I woke up, surprised to remember everything that had happened the previous night. However, thanks to this, I also knew that nothing good was waiting outside my room.

Mom was in the kitchen. When I saw her, it was difficult to believe that she was the same person from those magazines. How could the same woman who used to pose for pictures in lingerie and tiny bikinis be standimg in from of me in a long, formless blue skirt, a boring white blouse, and an apron.

She didn't say anything about last night right away, and fixed me something to eat, along with lots of water. I felt like a convict, enjoying his last meal with dread. Once I was finished, she fixed me with a state.

"Son, you know that I have to take actions for what you did yesterday."

"Yes, I know."

"Do you understand how big this is? How wrong you were?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay. Let's start with this. You have to come directly home after school. No television, or computer use, unless it is for school. No phone calls, no entertainment, and don't you dare ask for spending money. You will be spending the next few months studying. Maybe this will help you focus, and you can gain something positive from the experience."

"Yes, Mom."

Her expression softened a bit. "You did something bad, Jake, and all actions have consequences. That's why you're grounded."