Summer Camp

Even Big Mike didn’t know he had a secret but Amity did. So did her whip, the one with the red handle.

Summer Camp – Strict Training on the Mountain

Summer Camp – Strict Slave Training Preface

THE ORDERS WERE flying in faster than she could fill them. Callie read through the list on the screen and shook her head again. There weren’t enough bodies in her stable that weren’t already scheduled to meet the demand. The few she owned that were not already rented weren’t matching her clients’ requests.

She needed more men to rent that met an ever-increasing list of kinky criteria. Business was almost too good. Callie was booking her stock nearly six nights a week and every weekend for the next several months. She wasn’t looking forward to having to sit through the growing number of video interviews she’d have to do with sellers confessing their kinks to buy more. It took too much time and that’s one thing she didn’t have enough of already.

Callie needed a better source—an easier way to get what she needed. A trusted vendor that trained the men she currently had with the talents she needed to meet and exceed her customers’ orders. But buying new ones that had the skills she was looking for were fairly pricey yet she knew it would take only a few weeks, at the rate she was renting her stock, for them to earn back their purchase prices. She could easily afford top-notch items but didn’t know where to buy the quantity she needed. Besides, if she could get the ones in her stable trained in innovative talents, she wouldn’t have to buy that many new ones.

The women in Callie’s exclusive circle often talked about their successes and their challenges in their all-network video calls. Some of the calls were centered on topics that impacted them all.

Wait, what did she read about the upcoming call? It was something about a wholesaler. Callie searched her inbox for that notice all the while hoping it wasn’t about buying discounted equipment or tools in bulk. She owned plenty of that. Her studio was jammed full of whips, paddles and cuffs of all sizes. That wasn’t what she needed.

Callie needed a supply of rentable men with the talents to satisfy her clientele’s dreams. Ones that would turn fetishes into weekends and dreams into two-hour realities.

There it was! Callie read the email carefully, hoping the vendor was selling what she was looking for. And in big enough quantities.

Send your property to Summer Camp! We take your boys for four-week sessions, expand their skills and give them new ones, then ship them back to you fully trained. Need to cull your herd and buy new talent? Not anymore! Send what you have to camp and get paid a commission when we sell the ones you no longer need to vetted buyers. Or keep them. They will tantalize your clients!

Maeve’s Advertising

It sounded perfect and Callie had met the camp owner. This must be a new venture for her, one that filled her own needs. It was worth looking into. Maybe her friends on the upcoming video call could shed some light on the quality of the training and if the camp had enough for sale to fill her empty stable beds.

If she could buy plenty of good ones to entertain her renters, she’d buy more cots and squeeze them into the building. Heck, if they were really good, she’d put an addition on it.

Their next video call was scheduled in the morning. Callie kicked the ass of the boy on all fours at her feet and told him to add it to her schedule. To drive the point home, she dialed up his anal expander and he groaned when it inflated. He was still two weeks short of being able to take the biggest cock among her clients and he was costing Callie a pretty penny to feed and house while he wasn’t earning adequate rental fees.

He lumbered to his feet and ran to his workstation to enter the details on his owner’s calendar. She turned the dial and added another half-inch. He groaned louder and jiggled his ass up and down as the expander stretched him wider. Time was getting short. The client’s big penis wasn’t.
Imagine what I could do with ten more talented asses, Callie thought.

A Note from Amity about Summer Camp

IF THERE IS a market for it, someone will sell it. It doesn’t matter if it’s wide-leg pants, although I have no idea why anyone wears them, or left-handed notebooks. If enough people want to buy it, someone is going to offer it for sale. That’s where my idea for expedited slave training came from. There were buyers already lined up for what we could sell.

Our network video calls range from the technical—how to use certain tools or how often to schedule your slaves’ piss-and-shit time—all the way to the best trusted sources to purchase additions for your stable. My friends deal only with sellers who include two-week return windows and offer solid guarantees. When new women join our calls, we make that clear to them.

We also do demonstrations of our slaves’ special talents or our new devices on those calls. I’ve done several demos. My favorite was showing off the electronic overnight anal expanders that my west-coast developers designed on a short video clip of the beta tests. I had four in my stable wearing the new belts that held the expanders in place and my friends oohed and aahed when I told them they wore them all day and all night. It sped up their elasticity and got them rented out faster. Boys in my stable are never idle, even while they sleep.

When I told them the new expanders were rechargeable, they were happily surprised. Batteries can be expensive.

Buying tools, whether they’re leather, plastic, carbonite or metal, is easy to do on my private website. I offer only highly-recommended implements that I’ve tested with video showing the best way to use them. Sales are great and skyrocket after every video demonstration.
Finding a reputable source for large quantities of trained asses has always been elusive. There are auctions, of course, as well as private sales, but you’re lucky if you can buy two good ones at a time. Three is almost unheard of, although I pulled that off in Memphis. For months, the women on our calls have complained about how hard it is to stock your stable with, say, a half-dozen talented mouth boys. With the number of my own clients pleading for appointments to rent mouth boys or singing cross-dressers increasing steadily, I imagine the rest of my friends, especially the new ones, are facing the same situation.

Supply and demand is a bitch.

Over hot chai and blueberry scones a few months ago, I met with a few friends to talk over possible solutions. I saw a need for someone to provide housing for large groups of male slaves, train them and deliver them back to their owners ready to earn rental fees. Location was the missing piece of the puzzle. Red Rick’s place was an obvious choice. He had facilities in the mountains big enough to house dozens and dozens of purchased men being processed to be shipped to their buyers on his trucks. When I visited Rick’s place after the Memphis Market, I saw the sensory deprivation building he designed, replete with a huge pool that could be sectioned off to accommodate, well, multiples. At the same time.

Rick also had some guest cabins and mine was decorated in shades of purple. That’s where I bought Nova, my current personal girl, and she’s worked out pretty well. But Rick runs a tight ship and we were talking about dozens and dozens of campers. I wasn’t sure how he’d react to that kind of disruption.

Big Mike had a huge compound on a nearby mountain if you flew or could stand an eight-hour drive. He’s Old Leather, so he had a sizeable number of boys that his brothers kept there and used when they wanted. It wasn’t the worst problem in the world, having two vast retreats on almost-adjoining mountains to choose from. It was just a question of whether Rick or Mike was willing to host the camp.
The Training Farm Mistress creates animals out of the men their owners send her. Each season, she turns out high-quality pigs, horses, cows and especially bulls. Her end-of-season bullfights are legendary in my network. Surely she had valuable input for a venture like this.
When I set up the meeting, she was sitting to my right.

Aside from Rick and the Farm Mistress, there were two others in my circle whose ideas needed to be considered. The Femdom Pet Shoppe owners, Annalise and Maeve, bought and trained dogs of every breed, especially for protection, but also to fill the wide array of orders our network sends in. City dwellers wanted house dogs. The women with larger property wanted herders to corral their stables and fetch missing slaves.

For group training, the Slave Circus Mistress was a natural choice. Her animals were expertly-trained performers. She had an uncanny ability to look at a naked body and know which species it was and how to turn it into a three-ring act.

They were all sitting around my dining room table enjoying tea and scones. We talked about how to build a place to take campers in, train them in very specific talents and return them to their owners or sell the finished products to buyers who wanted them.

We called it Summer Camp.

Find out where we built the camp, who runs it, how the campers learned rentable skills and what happened to them when the four-week season was over.

Learn what Amity’s secret plan was to help Karly, Big Mike’s big sister, and share her journey from her broken world back to her new real one, thanks to Zayn. And the Tantra. And the old man.

It’s the Summer Camp you wish your folks sent you to. Maybe I’ll open it up to new campers next season.