Summer Camp

by Tabitha Black

  * * * * *

  Betty was plaiting her new friend Nancy's hair before breakfast, and mulling over the events of the previous days.

  To her surprise, she had settled into the routine of the camp much more quickly than she had thought she would.

  Every day was the same. The women were awoken at six in the morning and given ten minutes to dress in their regulation frocks, brush their teeth and hair, and assemble at the door, ready to be taken into the canteen. There they were given a bland breakfast of oatmeal porridge, fruit and milk, before being taken to their classrooms.

  There they had four hours of lessons within their groups of six women. Their assigned Aunties and Daddies were the tutors; and the curriculum was varied – although all the lessons focused very much on marriage: bookkeeping, housekeeping and cooking.

  Lunch was served at eleven in the morning, and usually consisted of some sort of soup, or meat with two types of vegetable.

  After lunch they were sent back to their cots for a two-hour nap, and then it was back to the classroom for four more hours.

  Afternoon lessons were far more based on self-reflection. The women were asked to write journal entries exploring their feelings, thoughts and ideas with regards to their time at the camp, their lives so far and what they would like to see change in the future.

  Dinnertime was at six in the evening, and the women were given bread with cheese, cold cuts or jam. Then they had playtime for an hour; during which time the disciplinarians often summoned a woman with whom they wanted to have a 'private session.' Meanwhile, the others were gathered in their groups, and were able to talk freely to one another, or read or write a letter — it was their choice how they wanted to spend that hour. All the women looked forward to that time of the day the most — unless they had been summoned, of course.

  At seven o'clock in the evening, then, they were all sent to bed. Lights out was at half past, and anyone caught out of bed or talking after that was punished. This was a rare occurrence however, for the women were usually exhausted by then, and fell fast asleep almost the instant their heads touched the pillows.

  "Was your hair always this wild?" Betty grumbled, dragging a comb through Nancy's black curls.

  "Yes!" Nancy giggled. She and Betty had hit it off immediately, and spent every possible minute together, of which there weren't very many.

  "Can you believe we've been here for a week already?" Betty went on.

  "Really? It feels more like five weeks!" Nancy caught her friend's eye in the mirror and winked conspiratorially.

  "I'm amazed how quickly I've grown accustomed to this whole being treated like a child routine, though. I never thought I would get used to that disgusting porridge we get in the mornings."

  "I can't get accustomed to all the punishment, though. I've lost count of how often I've found myself over Daddy or Auntie's knees this past week."

  Betty shuddered. "I never knew how lucky I was; never having been spanked as a child. It hurts so much, and is so humiliating — is it easier to take as an adult, or harder?"

  Nancy frowned. "I really couldn't say. I suppose it's just as bad – no matter how old you are. I'm just glad we haven't been spanked with any implements— not yet anyway. I really thought I would get paddled when Daddy summoned me for an evening session, but I didn't, thank God. Mind you, his hand can hurt just as badly as a piece of wood if he uses it long enough and with enough enthusiasm!"

  "How do you feel about the things they've been telling us here? Do you agree with what Sir said about your marriage and behavior towards Ian?" Betty tied the end of Nancy's braid with a pink ribbon and appraised her handiwork carefully.

  "To my surprise, I do. I can't believe what a difference some discipline and love and care can do! It's like a void I've had inside of me has been filled at last. Even when I'm over Daddy's knee, I feel loved and cherished and... cared for. Do you feel the same way?"

  Betty didn't even have to think about that before she answered. "Yes. Before I came here, Jeremy mentioned something about not being able to discipline me properly, and sending me here to make up for it. I laughed at the idea, but now I can tell he was absolutely right. I just wish he would be able to give me some of what Sir does. Just occasionally. I think it would do our relationship the world of good if he could take me in hand sometimes, show me that he cares for and about me."

  "You think he could be taught? I know that Ian would jump at the idea of taking me over his knee if I don't behave the way he'd like me to!"

  "You think so?" Betty was incredulous. "Even though there's nothing sexual about that?"

  Nancy arched a black eyebrow. "What do you mean? Of course there is!"

  "How?"

  The bell rang, summoning them both, and all the others, to breakfast in the canteen.

  "We'd better hurry so that we're not late. I'll tell you later. I know that I feel very pleasant tingles between my legs when I'm over Daddy's knee though. Maybe you should concentrate next time to see if you feel anything similar? Thanks for doing my hair, Betty." Nancy planted a brief kiss on her friend's cheek, and hurried to put her shoes on.

  Betty pulled her own red curls back into a loose ponytail, wrinkling her nose in disbelief at Nancy's theory. Then she hurried to join her at the door.

  * * * * *

  Jeremy's eyes were huge as he went through the literature he had been sent by the 'academy', as Mr. Turbott liked to call it.

  He had always liked to think of himself as open-minded, especially when it came to things like sex, and back when they were first married, he and Betty had experimented enthusiastically, but what he was reading and the diagrams he was looking at were giving him a hard-on the likes of which he had never before experienced.

  Taking another sip of scotch and re-lighting his pipe, he raised his eyebrows as he spotted yet another drawing of a naked woman over a man's lap. The man was wearing a nicely tailored suit and was obviously spanking the lady's bared butt vigorously.

  The sexual arousal that may be induced in both partners during a spanking is a secondary matter, Jeremy read. First and foremost is the disciplinary effect, which men all over the world throughout history have been using successfully to keep not only their offspring, but also their partners in line. Women sometimes need to be treated as though they were still little girls. Not always, of course, but if she has the right temperament, you will find that by spanking her when she is naughty, and cherishing and coddling her when she is good, you will receive a loyalty and devotion in return that you may never have experienced before. From anyone.

  He tried unsuccessfully to picture his own headstrong wife over his lap, her backside bared for a spanking, and was unable to stifle a snort of derisive laughter. "If she has the right temperament indeed," Jeremy muttered to himself. "Whoever wrote this has never met Betty. I would love to be a fly on the wall at that camp right now, for I truly pity the man who tries to spank my wife!"

  * * * * *

  A man was, in fact, getting ready to punish Betty as Jeremy sat at home, engrossed in the pamphlets he had been sent.

  Joseph had summoned her to his office that evening, after he had heard of her attempts to bribe a staff member to bring her some cigarettes from her bag.

  "'I know you have them hidden away somewhere,'" he quoted, as Betty knelt on the rug at his feet. "'My husband is a wealthy man and I can assure you that you will be well rewarded once this ridiculous camp is over. I cannot stand it one moment longer— if I don't have a smoke soon I shall die!' Did you, or did you not say that?"

  "I may have said something similar," Betty said petulantly.

  "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

  "I like to smoke!"

  Her green eyes were bright, a sign of an oncoming tantrum. Had Jeremy seen it, he would have known not to inflame her further. Joseph, too, read the signs but chose to goad, rather than avoid her.

  "I'm just tired of everything here," she went on. "I like to smoke, I like a glass of wine
with my supper, I like to wear cosmetics and set my hair in pin curls, I like to wear stockings and gloves! I'm a married woman, I'm an adult and I cannot stand being treated like a six-year-old any longer!"

  "There is no need to raise your voice, young lady, I can hear you perfectly well."

  "I'm upset!" she responded, shrilly. "And so would you be if you were forced to sleep in a room full of strangers, have every moment of your day regimented, and were spanked for every tiny transgression!"

  Joseph let her pour out her grievances. His expression was mild but his eyes never left her face. Once she had finished, he leaned back in his chair. "Is that all?"

  "Is that all? Isn't it enough? I want to go home!"

  "Betty." His tone was gentle. Soothing. "Come sit on Pa's knee and let's have a little chat."

  "I don't want to!"

  "Now, young lady, or you'll be even sorrier when I'm done with you."

  A week at the camp had taught her not to push Joseph too far. He was mild-mannered and calm, but he also had an infuriating tendency to follow through with every promise or threat he made – unlike Jeremy, she thought bitterly. He was positively easy to sway.

  With a sigh of defeat, she stood up and settled herself in Joseph's lap, sliding an arm around his massive shoulders and resting her head on his chest.

  "That's better." He rubbed her back, gently, in circles. "Now talk to me. Tell your Pa what's really the matter."

  "I just did."

  "Those are surface issues, hon. You gave every impression of settling in just fine until your outburst this afternoon."

  "Well, maybe it's all just become too much for me. I am a grown woman, after all. And I have a grown woman's needs. And desires," she added, in a whisper.

  "Ah. Why didn't you just say so? You're missing sex?"

  A frantic blush crept over her face. "No! Of course not!"

  "Don't deny it, sweetie. And don't be ashamed. We all have those needs, believe me. You're not the first girl in my office to be frustrated over lack of... certain attentions." He chuckled.

  "I don't wish to discuss it with you. It's none of your damn business!"

  "Oh but that's where you're wrong. While you're here, everything you do, think and feel is my business."

  "That's what's so irritating. Not a moment alone, not ever! You can't lock up and scrutinize a bunch of women for weeks on end without giving them any privacy!"

  Joseph's hand moved to her thigh and slid slowly over the bare flesh. The sudden bolt of lust that shot through her when he did so almost made Betty gasp aloud.

  "There is a reason for everything we do here," he said, "did we not mention that when you first arrived? Tell me, little Betty, have you and Jeremy been... intimate regularly over the last few months?"

  Still blushing, her skin prickling from the warmth of his hand, Betty shook her head, unable to speak.

  "And when you are... does he satisfy you?"

  She hadn't thought it possible, but her blush deepened even further. "He used to." Her voice was almost inaudible.

  "What's changed?"

  "I have." To her astonishment, Betty began to cry. "I don't think he... I don't think he... desires me anymore. I'm sure he's only at work so much in order to avoid me. Why else would he leave me alone all the time?"

  "I'm sure that's not true. He must love you enough to want to make it work. Why else would he send you here?"

  "I don't know! To punish me? To get rid of me? Maybe he's seeing someone else!"

  Joseph reached for a tissue with his free hand and gave it to her. "I want you to listen carefully to me, sweetie. Are you listening?"

  "Yes... yes, Sir." She gulped, took a deep breath and mopped her eyes. One advantage of not being permitted make-up, she thought irrationally, was being able to weep without ruining one's face.

  "You are an incredibly beautiful woman, inside and out. And Jeremy knows that. He still desires you – he would be a fool not to. He has confirmed to us that he is only working long hours in order to provide for your needs – obviously not realizing that you have other needs besides material ones. Don't think for one moment that all we do here is treat you like children for a month and then send you home. Your husband, too, is being taught while you are away. And as I said before, there is a good reason behind everything we do."

  The fight had gone out of her. "If you say so."

  "And as for sex, it just so happens that there will be voluntary sex ed classes beginning next week. Attendance is purely voluntary, there is no pressure."

  Betty had to laugh despite herself. "We're all married! I think we all know how to make love by now!"

  "Silly girl! It's not biology; this isn't high school! Our sex ed classes focus on different aspects. On the giving and receiving of mutual pleasure. On the importance of mental, as well as physical stimulation. Girls who choose to opt out will be given quiet time to read or listen to the wireless for a couple of hours. It's up to you, but I would highly recommend taking part. And you are welcome to pass that information on to the other girls."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Are you feeling better now?"

  Betty had to admit to herself that yes, oddly, she did. The tears had been cleansing and it was comforting to know that Jeremy, too, was working on things, albeit from home. "Much better, thank you, Sir."

  "Good. Now before you go, there is one more thing to address."

  "Which is?"

  "You tried to bribe a member of staff. And you swore just now, while you were having a childish tantrum. I'm afraid we can't let that sort of behavior go unpunished. Let's make this quick, shall we? It's almost bedtime, and I'm sorry to say that you will be going to bed with a hot, sore, red bottom."

  * * * * *

  Only two women out of the dozen enrolled for that camp chose to opt out of the sex ed classes. Curiosity got the better of the rest – as soon as a tear-stained Betty returned to the dorm after her session with Joseph, and she told them about the upcoming lovemaking lessons.

  "What exactly did he say?" Sandy was wide-eyed.

  "Just something about the emotional side of things being just as important as the physical side of things," Betty whispered.

  "Well I for one can't wait." Emma tossed her blonde hair. "I'd like to see them tell me about anything I haven't already tried! I mean, we're all married women! Not naive teenagers!"

  "I wonder whether it will have anything at all to do with the way they're treating us," Nancy mused. "You know, the whole spanking thing."

  "Ha! If they think that any woman in her right mind could get any sort of gratification out of being turned over someone's knee, they're delusional!" scoffed Lucille, an unfortunate recipient of more than her fair share of trips over assorted laps since camp had begun. "I mean really, the whole notion is preposterous!"

  "Speak for yourself," said Nancy, quietly. "I happen to think that some might feel differently. There's something quite... risqué about the whole process. That sense of being overpowered, the way you feel so much more exposed with just your butt bared when the rest of you is still dressed... I could go on."

  "Don't tell me you get off on what they're doing to you here?" Lucille was incredulous.

  Nancy was unapologetic. "I don't climax, Lucille, if that's what you mean. But I do possess enough imagination to understand how passionate our lovemaking could be if it were my husband doing the spanking... and then ripping my dress off afterwards."

  Sensing a potential row, and all too aware of the fact that they were talking in the dorm, which was strictly forbidden, Betty decided to put an end to the discussion. "Well we can talk about it all we want, but we won't know for sure until we attend the class. So shall we get some sleep, ladies?"

  It wasn't until after the women had finally grown silent, that Betty began to replay the conversation in her own mind. She tried to imagine Jeremy putting her over his lap for a spanking. Him being strict and authoritative, not brooking any nonsense from her. That sense of being loved and cherish
ed coming from him rather than a stranger. And she was forced to admit to herself that she didn't entirely dislike the fantasy...

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jeremy had to force himself not to floor the Ford Fairlane on his way to the camp. He had worked himself into a veritable frenzy of excitement over the past week— ever since he had received the phone call from Mr. Turbott and been reading the literature voraciously.

  He couldn't imagine what this halfway visit would be all about, but he was certainly keen to find out. And besides, he was genuinely missing his wife and looking forward to seeing her again, even if only for a few hours.

  "Good morning! I'd like to extend a warm welcome to you all, gentlemen." Mr. Turbott smiled broadly at the group of men gathered in the sports hall.

  "I'm so glad you were all able to make it. In a few minutes, you will be able to see your wives, but they will not know you are watching them. We have set up observation facilities beside each classroom, and only we, and the camp instructors, are aware of that. Our reasons for everything that will happen today will soon become clear. Please, don't worry, you will have the opportunity to see and speak to your wives after lunch this afternoon. Does anyone have any questions before we adjourn?"

  One man raised his hand and waited for Mr. Turbott to acknowledge him before he spoke. "Is the camp working?" he asked. "Will my wife be better behaved when I take her home?"

  Mr. Turbott beamed happily. "Of course, Sir!" he said. "But why don't you gentlemen follow me and see for yourselves?"

  * * * * *

  Betty was doodling on her pad; only half-listening to what Auntie was saying. Their disciplinarian was droning on about something or other— something about this being a special day at camp, seeing as how they were halfway through their stay, and what the women had to remember when they saw their husbands again.

  Betty, however, was far more interested in the butterfly she was sketching than what Auntie was waffling about. Until Nancy, who was sitting beside her, gave her a sharp elbow in the ribs.

  "Ouch! What did you—" she trailed off as she realized all eyes were on her, including Auntie's.