Summer Camp Read online

  "We've been waiting for you!" A voice interrupted her trance-like state, and Betty started when she saw the man standing beside her. To be naked in front of a strange woman was bad enough, but a man? Instantly, her cheeks flushed an even darker shade of red; she could feel the heat emanating from her face as she stood there, still trying to cover herself with her hands.

  "Sorry I'm late," she stammered.

  "Here's your dress." The man ignored her apology, and handed her a frock just like the ones the others were wearing. Hers was bright red, and she was surprised that her first thought upon seeing it was that it would clash terribly with her freckled coloring.

  "Well, put it on... Betty, I presume? We don't have all day!"

  Hastily, she drew the awkward dress over her head and pulled the hem of the skirt down to her knees.

  "Now go and join the others."

  Betty did as she was told, scuttling over to where the other women had gathered, and kneeling down beside them.

  "Right," the man went on. "Now that you have all arrived, we can begin at last. My name is Mr. Turbott – you will call me Sir. I am the founder of this camp for disobedient young ladies. I suppose you are all very confused, but if you will just bear with me for a moment, I promise the concept of your stay here is, in fact, very simple to understand. I will say a few words, and then you may ask me any questions you wish."

  The women gazed up at the elderly, balding man, eyes wide with confusion.

  "You all have something in common. You are all married, and your husbands are unhappy with your conduct at home. This may have a variety of reasons, but they don't really matter. What does, is the fact that something is obviously missing from your lives. Something your husbands don't seem to be able to give you, otherwise they would never have had to enroll you here. It is my calling, and therefore my duty, to show you what it is that you need, and to pass that information on to your husbands, in order to make sure all of your marriages work fabulously after your time here. I'm afraid I cannot say more than that by way of explanation for the time being, but if you just do as you are told here, you will soon understand completely. So all I ask is for your cooperation, no matter how unusual the requests that might be made of you during the next few weeks. We have one rule here, which is: obey all the other rules. Please make sure you adhere to that at all times. Now, any questions?"

  "Why are we wearing these ridiculously childish dresses?"

  Mr. Turbott glared at the plump, pretty woman who had spoken up. "First you raise your hand, and then you only ask when I allow it," he snapped crossly. "Understood?"

  The woman nodded meekly.

  "You will have discovered the purpose of your new attire by tomorrow, I'm sure. Any more questions?"

  Another woman raised her hand.

  Mr. Turbott nodded at her. "Yes? You, in the yellow dress."

  "What are the rules?"

  "Ah, now that is a good question. There are quite a few rules here in the camp, but I will give you the most important ones now. These would be: do as you are told at all times, do not speak unless you are spoken to, and do not even attempt to leave the building. Anyone caught trying to use a telephone will be punished, as will any woman who is caught wearing make-up, smoking or eating outside of your allotted canteen hours. Pay attention to the instructors here and obey their instructions, and I don't think you should have too much trouble. Is that clear?"

  "What are you talking about? Punishment? What sort of punishment?"

  Immediately, Mr. Turbott's flint-grey eyes darkened, and he glared at the woman who had asked the question without raising her hand.

  "Thank you!" he barked, at length. "You've just given me a perfect opportunity to demonstrate. Come over here!"

  The woman, who was wearing an orange dress and looked to be in her mid-thirties, stood up, hesitantly. After a moment, she made her way to where Mr. Turbott was standing.

  "It looks as though I may as well set one thing straight already," the wiry man went on. "For the duration of your stay here in camp, you will be treated like young girls – children, in fact. Hence the attire. The reason for this will soon become clear to you all, don't worry about that. And, as you may know, there is only one proper way to deal with disobedient little girls like this one here – I'm sorry, what is your name?"

  The woman in the orange dress gazed up at him with apprehension in her blue eyes. "Sandy," she said quietly.

  "Well, Sandy, I'm sure you know the answer. What did your parents do when you were naughty?"

  Sandy stared at the floor. "They spanked me," she whispered.

  "Very good! I'm sure that if your husband had done the same thing on occasion, you would have no reason to be here today – but that is a different story altogether. Now you are here, and you asked me a question without raising your hand – you just blurted it out! Isn't that rude?"

  "I suppose so."

  "I suppose so, what?"

  "I suppose so, Sir."

  "Very good, I can see I'm making some progress already. Now, little Sandy, please turn around, and touch your toes."

  Sandy did as she was told, albeit very, very slowly.

  Without a moment's hesitation, Mr. Turbott pushed the skirt of her dress up over her behind. Seeing as none of the women had been given any undergarments, this simple action left Sandy's bottom bared to the shocked stares of the rest of the women, who were still kneeling on the floor.

  "Bad little girls are always spanked on the bare bottom, Sandy. Were you always spanked on your bare butt?"

  Sandy let out what sounded like a sob. "Only when I was very naughty," she whispered.

  "You had very lenient parents indeed, then! Here, at the camp, we aren't quite so kind. Here, punishments are always on the naked bottom – we believe it is far more effective. Seeing as this is your first day and your first misdemeanor, I shall be less thorough than usual. We're behind schedule as it is!"

  The moment Mr. Turbott had finished speaking, he put an arm around Sandy's waist to hold her in place, and began to spank her, hard, with his other hand.

  The other women in the room gave an almost collective shudder at the sight of this grown woman, with her skirt rucked around her waist, being spanked like a little brat.

  CRACK! WHACK! SPLAT! SMACK! Mr. Turbott's broad hand rose and fell with calculated precision, his palm connecting with the pale flesh of Sandy's bottom over and over again, until she was whimpering and the skin of her behind had turned a hot pink.

  SLAP! SLAP! With a final two resounding smacks to the backs of Sandy's thighs, Mr. Turbott let go of the unfortunate woman and ordered her to stand straight and pull her skirt back down. As she did so, the others were able to make out a distinctive gleam in her eyes – that of unshed tears. It must have been as painful as it had looked.

  "Don't bother sitting down, Sandy, it's time for you all to have a nap as it is. Girls? If you wouldn't mind getting to your feet and following me."

  The women didn't dare to speak or even look at each other as they trudged along behind the stern man. They walked across a small courtyard, and ended up in what looked like a canteen.

  Mr. Turbott waited until the women had all arrived inside, and then he turned to a lady who had just entered through a swing door. "Mabel, the girls are ready for their milk now."

  "As you wish, Sir." Mabel walked behind a metal counter and fumbled around beneath it. The women's eyes widened with amazement as they saw what she brought out from there. For it was a rack containing a dozen bottles of milk. Baby bottles.

  Betty was as horrified as all the others. She hadn't been at the camp for more than three hours, and already she had made up her mind. The minute this ordeal was over, she would divorce Jeremy. That much was certain.

  * * * * *

  Betty's mind was racing as she lay in the dormitory. The entire morning had been so surreal, as if it were all a terrible dream – surely this was not really happening? She kept expecting to wake up to find Jeremy beside her, but ever
y time she gave her hand a surreptitious pinch, she was forced to realize that she really was at this strange 'summer camp.'

  In the canteen, the women had been given a bottle of milk each, and told not to drink it yet, as they were to take it with them. Then Mr. Turbott had led them to the sleeping quarters.

  Twelve single beds were arranged in the large room, six along each opposing wall, giving it the look and feel of a boarding school dormitory. Each woman was shown to her 'cot', as Mr. Turbott had put it, and told to look under the pillows. Sure enough, an all-in-one pajama suit lay in each bed, ready for the women to put on. They were made of fluffy, brushed cotton, and were surprisingly comfortable and soft on the skin. Unfortunately, all the pajamas also had a rather more unsettling attribute — a flap in the back — something Betty vaguely recognized as what her parents had called a 'drop seat'. Having witnessed Sandy's shocking spanking just an hour previously, none of the women had any illusions as to what that particular opening was for. Which was probably a deciding factor in their resulting obedience. All the women put on their cotton pajamas and clambered into their beds without a single complaint — even though it was no later than noon, and none of them were at all tired.

  Mr. Turbott had taken a last look around the room, making sure everyone was in their cot, and then he had left with a satisfied nod. "Make sure you drink your milk before you go to sleep; it should be just the right temperature by now. You will be woken from your naps in two hours, and woe betide any girl who dares to get up before then," he threatened, before closing the door behind him.

  Betty stared at the ceiling, hardly able to absorb the morning's events. What on earth was the purpose of this strange 'camp' Jeremy had sent her to? How would being treated like a child and, even worse, punished like one, save her marriage and rekindle her love for her husband? It was all beyond comprehension, and she wanted nothing more than to get up and go home.

  Eleven other women lay in their cots all around Betty. Undoubtedly, they were all thinking the exact same thing.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Good afternoon girls! Time to get up! You may take off your pajamas and put on the dresses we gave you earlier. On the chairs beside your beds you should also find a pair of panties and some socks and slippers. Please put those on, too. You have five minutes until I return, and believe me, I will be very angry if any one of you isn't fully ready when I get back." The matronly woman, Mr. Turbott had said her name was Mabel, clapped her hands briskly, and marched from the dormitory.

  Some of the women had dozed off eventually, from boredom if nothing else, but the lady's grating voice had brought everyone crashing back to the present. Now there was a hushed scramble to change clothing before she returned — none of the women wanted to be the next to receive what would obviously be a spanking if they took longer than the allotted five minutes.

  "Is everyone dressed?" The stern woman had returned, and glared around the room at each person in turn. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Mabel Detson, and I will now take you to meet the new most important people in your lives, at least for the next four weeks. So, if you will all follow me."

  In a daze, the women trudged along behind her, wondering what could possibly next be in store for them.

  "Now, please divide yourselves up into two groups, six girls to a group." Mrs. Detson had taken them to what looked very much like an indoor sports hall. While the women formed groups as they had been instructed, a door opened and some people came in.

  "Here we are, right on time!" Mrs. Detson continued, indicating the mixed group of four— two men and two women. All of them looked to be in their forties or fifties, and to the astonished camp attendees, they looked very stern indeed.

  "Daddies, please go and pick a group!"

  Betty watched as the men walked toward a group of girls. The one who came to her group looked to be one of the oldest men there; he had silver hair cropped very short, broad shoulders and a thick, muscular frame. His eyes were direct, but she was relieved to see crow's feet at the corners — this man obviously liked to laugh once in a while. He didn't speak, instead staring straight ahead at Mrs. Detson and the two women standing beside her.

  "Good, thank you. Aunties, please go and join your allotted Daddies now!"

  Betty watched the women who had entered with the men also each go to a group. What was all this 'Auntie' and 'Daddy' nonsense? The woman who had joined her group looked terribly familiar; with a jolt of recognition, Betty realized that she was the lady who had ordered her to undress that morning. Had all of this happened within just a few hours? It seemed hard to believe.

  Mrs. Detson waited until everyone had found their place before continuing, her loud voice echoing off the walls and high ceiling of the gym.

  "From now on, you will be in these groups all day, every day, until the day of your departure. You will call your Aunties 'Auntie', and your Daddies 'Daddy', 'Sir', or anything else he asks you to. The twelve of you will only see those women who are not in their own group at night, and possibly during naps in the nursery. But I don't think that will matter to you much — after all, you didn't come here to make friends, did you? That is what bridge clubs are for! We are here for a different purpose entirely; to help you become, once again, the women with whom your husbands fell in love. I know it must all seem very confusing and unsettling to you right now, which is precisely why you will all go off with your new guardians, and they will explain it all in detail. I shall probably see you again soon, so have a nice afternoon, girls." With that, Mrs. Detson nodded to the 'guardians', and left the gymnasium.

  Ten minutes later, Betty found herself in a spacious room with walls that had been painted bright blue. White furniture stood, carefully arranged, here and there, and her new 'Auntie' told the six women to sit down.

  Then their 'Daddy' spoke. "Good afternoon, girls! My name is Joseph, and I'm going to be your Daddy for your remaining time here at camp. You will refer to me only as Sir, Daddy or Pa. This lovely lady is your Auntie, as I'm sure you're already gathered. If you have any worries, questions or problems here at this camp, please feel free to come to either one of us for a chat, and I promise we'll be able to help. I also ask that you obey both of us at all times. We have been involved in plenty of these camps before, and we truly do know what is best for you. Now, please stand up one at a time, and introduce yourselves. You first, in the red dress."

  Betty stood up, heat spreading through her face yet again as she felt all eyes settle on her.

  "My name is Betty Smith," she began hesitantly.

  "And how old are you?"

  "I'm twenty-six."

  "Thank you. Does anyone have any other questions for Betty right now?" the man went on.

  The other five women shook their heads.

  "Fine. Betty, you may sit. You, in the green dress. Your turn to stand."

  A short brunette stood up. "My name is Lauren Gatsey, and I'm twenty-eight," she muttered.

  "Fine. Sit! Now, you in the yellow dress."

  The woman he pointed to was a tall, angular blonde. She had the grace of a ballerina, and Betty wondered what sort of a man could send such an elegant beauty to a camp such as the one they were in now. The blonde had a deep, soft voice. "My name is Emma Watkins," she began, "and I am thirty-one."

  Emma sat back down without being asked to, and the next woman in the small group stood. She was of medium height, with round hips and a mass of black curls that snaked down her back and over her shoulders. "My name is Nancy White, and I am twenty-seven years old," she murmured shyly. Without waiting to be told, she too sat back down.

  Betty barely noticed the last two women as they introduced themselves. She was far too mesmerized by the man who would be her guardian for the duration of her time there. He had a strange aura about him. He seemed affable enough but there was something else, too, an underlying sense of authority. This was a guy who commanded respect anywhere he went, she had no doubt about that. Almost as if he had a military background or somet
hing. So engrossed was she that she almost jumped when he spoke again.

  "I wish to spend some time alone with each of you in turn," he began in a slow, gentle voice. "The rest of you will wait here with your Auntie until your name is called." He glanced at his notepad. "Betty, will you come with me into the next room? I shall see the rest of you later."

  Turning on his heel, the tall man disappeared into the adjoining room. Betty followed him obediently, her head lowered meekly. She still didn't understand the point of this silly camp, but she was damn well going to make sure she didn't get into any sort of trouble while she was here.

  The room was starkly furnished. It contained a desk, a chair and a threadbare rug. Seeing as Joseph sat down immediately upon entering, there was nothing left for Betty to do but stand before him. She stared at the floor, wondering what would happen next.

  "Betty," he began, kindly. "Please sit down there on the rug. I'd like to have a little chat with you."

  She did as she was told. Her new position on the floor made Joseph seem enormous, and it was with a great feeling of inadequacy that Betty gazed up at him.

  "I see here that you have been acting like a spoiled delinquent at home recently," he began, looking at his notepad. "Your husband Jeremy felt he had no choice but to enroll you here. So, it's high time we began to look at the reasons for your bad behavior. Tell me, little Betty, why have you been so disrespectful and rude to your spouse? Does he treat you badly?"

  Betty fidgeted with the hem of her girlish frock. "I... I suppose not," she began, quietly. "I don't know why I've been rude. Maybe because I don't feel satisfied enough within my life... within my marriage. I no longer see the purpose in it all. Is that all there is to life? Serving one's husband for years and years and then just dying at the end? I can't help feeling that I was destined for greater things. I want more. I need more."

  Joseph was silent for a moment. He tapped his pen against his teeth as he digested what Betty had just said. Finally, he spoke.

  "What do you want from life, then, Betty? What is it you're missing?"