Amity's Stories
Slave Camp - An Illustrated Femdom Fantasy - Part 2
©2000-2008 All Rights Reserved
Chapter Two
Dinner was lovely and afforded the owners, buys and sellers time to discuss camp-related issues with the directors. As a stream of naked, bald and strapping slaves served and cleaned up each course, we chatted about our reasons for bringing our boys to camp.
We had been informed that our boys were learning the ropes tonight and getting to know each other. Our host wore a wry smile when he uttered those words. I could only imagine what my boys might be doing for fun.
An owner from Georgia commented, "It's just too tiring to train new boys all the time. I wanted them all trained, all fitting into my household, and heck, I wanted to get away for a few days myself."
Several heads nodded because we all knew how hard it was to keep training new boys. We all love bringing new talent into our homes, but we are simply wearied by the required education that new talent requires.
One of the northern owners summarized many of our feelings. "I believe any boy can be trained," she began, "but it's quicker to do it in this 3-day program. After all, time matters."
We nodded again. We had lives to live and spending inordinate amounts of time working with submissives or slaves was exhausting and took away from our business opportunities.
One of the camp directors, a short but well-built man whose luxurious crop of thick dark hair hung loosely around his face, directed the next question at me.
"Why did you bring your boys?" he asked honestly.
As I sipped sweet tea, I thought about my answer. "Because," I began, "if you can give me what I just had - a personal slave with the talent and skill that Luke showed me - then THAT'S why I brought them." I smiled. A few of the other owners seemed quizzical.
He thought for a moment and then told me, "Luke is one of our prizes. Would you like him assigned to train your personal slave?"
Not only did I want it, but I wanted it badly.
"YES!" I almost yelled in glee. I could see one or two other women grimace briefly when they realized that the top trainer had been mine. I love it when others are jealous at my expense, but I think that's just a Domme trait and they were going to have to get used to it.
"He's yours," the reply was fast and gracious.
"It's time for you to choose your evening's pleasure," the co-director, Brad, announced. With that, we rose and were guided toward a set of double doors on the long wall. Slaveboys held the doors as we paraded in and allowed our eyes to adjust to the brighter overhead light. It was significantly brighter than the candlelit dinner we had just enjoyed.
The room was huge and the sight was almost unbelievable.
The entire
area was graced with naked slaveboys, each collared with a metal neck
ring that had wrist cuffs attached to the ends of the bars. Each boy was
anchored to an overhead beam from his metal collar and his ankles were
chained to floor rings at his feet. Each was naked, bald, blindfolded,
absolutely hairless and motionless.
I thought I had died and gone to heaven.
"These are recent graduates, back for a little skill updating," Brad said. "At camp, we like you to see what you're going to get when we're done. Go take a look and feel free to touch or ask questions. You can take one or more back to your quarters tonight and if you don't like what you select, or if you want something different, just punch the intercom," he concluded.
A quick glance at the others revealed that they were just as excited as I was. Their eyes danced with a kind of joy that only we could share.
Wanting
the best selection for myself, another Domme trait, I began walking through
the dense lineup of available talent. Almost out of nowhere, the slave
who had ushered me through registration was at my side.
"What's his talent?" I asked, knowing that he would answer immediately. I didn't even need to look in his direction. He was just 'there.'
"This boy has been trained as houseboy," his voice entered my ears from behind. I had no real reason to see his face and he stayed perpetually one step behind.
"Not what I want," I replied and moved on.
The
next boy who caught my attention was a stocky, 30-year old with a blond
crew cut and abs to die for. "What's he good for?" I questioned.
"Ma'am, he is one of our better pain sluts," was the answer that struck a chord deep within me.
Reaching out with a hand that wanted more than simply to touch him, I grabbed a dark nipple and squeezed, just to see what sort of reaction he'd give me. To my delight, the slightest hint of tight lips filled his face for only a moment and I knew just how hard I had squeezed. This one had possibilities.
"How good is he?" I asked and waited.
"Ma'am, perhaps you'd like to test him," my slave suggested. With another 'what-the-heck' running through my mind, I reached out with my crop hand and waited for him to place some instrument into it. I almost didn't care which - and I was not disappointed.
The
leather strap was thick, smelled of good oil and evidenced great care.
Its weight was just right in my hand and flexed it to see just how much
give it had. This was a quality strap and I appreciated what its history
must be. No one needs to offer twice to me, so I swung the strap directly
across the boy's right thigh. The noise it made was almost enough. Almost.
He didn't flinch, not then, not when I landed two fast medium blows to his other leg. Not wanting to use him up too quickly, I told my slave that I'd take that boy for my evening's pleasure. And with my Domme spirit overwhelming me, I added, "You'll see to it that I have a nice assortment of canes and the like when I get back to my room."
It was not a question and it did not require a response.
My slave unhooked the boy's chains and attached the lead to his own ringed belt. The slave boy I had selected would follow us throughout my inspection of the rest of the available talent attached securely to the slave who was my tour guide for the evening.
I moved forward, eager to see what else was available.
Some of the boys didn't really interest me, but I could see them getting scooped up by the other owners. One was obviously interested in a little boy-on-boy action because I heard her ask clearly if there were any camp rules against it. I loved her slave's reply.
"Ma'am, the only rule is what you want."
Given the circumstances and the 'what-the-heck' that was dancing through my brain, I thought a little boy-on-boy action might just be delightful in the privacy of my rooms. Searching down the long lineup of boys, I was rummaging around for just the right mixture of size, shape and skill to fulfill the little fantasy that was developing in my brain. I also was close to desperate for a massage.
"OK, here's what I want," I commented sort of over my shoulder to the boy who was obviously going to be one step behind me throughout the evening. "I want two boys. At least one of them should do great full body massage and the other should be a good receiver."
Grinning, I wondered if he understood.
"Ma'am, this way," he touched my elbow briefly to guide me down yet another row of available boys. We walked past three or four very interesting bodies before he touched my elbow again to indicate we had arrived.
What
was chained before me was the single biggest pair of shoulders attached
to which hung the most magnificent biceps I had ever seen. I followed
the striations of the boy's muscles and found myself lost in awe of his
strength. An eager hand reached out to fondle those muscles. In short
order, both my hands were investigating his upper body.
His neck was huge and his shoulders powerful. His arms were long and hard as rocks. He wore a facial expression of utter calmness and even though he was blindfolded, I bet his eyes were simply puppy-dog and right then and there I knew I had to have him.
"I'll take him," I instructed and even I heard the excitement in my voice. I bet my slave was smiling, but I didn't even care at this point. I heard the clank of chain being unhooked from the overhead beam and fastened to my slave's belt. I was almost done shopping.
What I needed now was a receiver.
A receiver is a special kind of slave. He must be not only willing, but also thrilled to participate in my special fantasy. Not all boys can pull off this unique combination of skills mixed with anticipation and I was going to find just the right one.
I can tell when I touch them. There's a little wince they do - I can feel it in my fingers even if I can't see it. They tremble a bit, quiver slightly and then relax. It's critical that I feel all three. I was done window-shopping and was now going hands-on.
What-the-heck.
Picking up my pace and assuming that my two selections were artfully following their leads attached to my slave, I moved deeper into the dwindling ranks of available merchandise. While I had been making my selections, the other owners had obviously been doing the same.
There were only about a dozen left.
I moved even more intently through the group and touched every one of them, boy after boy, until something caught my eye. Up ahead, I saw the distinct body outline that you don't see too often.
I marched toward it.
![]](images/evan.jpg)
The
boy was husky and full-bodied. His stomach needed a little exercise and
his arms were nowhere near as powerful as my last choice. Walking behind
him, I saw what I was looking for.
He had a great buttery ass. Its shape was round and bursting with a desire to be filled. I knew that shape, that bursting, that desire, and I wanted all of it tonight. He just had to pass one little test. I allowed my fingers to glance on his asscheeks and hoped for the best.
I wasn't disappointed.
His tremble was almost imperceptible and I could see his cheek quiver with excitement at the touch. Thankfully, he didn't stiffen, but he did greet my touch with a sort of expectancy and then settled back into absolute calm. I had found my receiver.
"Get him," I ordered my slave, and the five of us exited the room without a word to the other owners.
Brad walked me to my cabin and poured a fine Merlot for the two of us to share as my slave, and the toys attached to his belt, waited quietly outside in the dark.