I`d seen the advert online: Obedience and servitude training for men - take a holiday
you`ll never forget!
The ad had been placed by an organisation called the Obedience Academy for
Submissives and Dominants.
They were offering a host of different short breaks catering for all fetish
tastes.
I clicked on one that promised intensive female domination.
It looked interesting but I didn`t do anything about it there and then.
Over the next few days, though, I couldn`t stop thinking about what an incredible
experience it would be, and eventually I filled out the online application form and paid
for a four-day stay at The Boot Camp.
The advert stated that the camp was staffed by attractive, young female officers,
whose standard uniform was short black skirt, low-cut white blouse and black high-heels.
"And when they say `jump`, you say `how high?` - if you know what`s good for
you!"
Following emailed instructions, I arrived on a hot, sunny Monday morning at nine
o`clock.
Boot Camp was situated in a secluded part of the British Peak District and was
surrounded by several acres of woodland.
The main building, which I assumed had once been a small hotel or youth hostel, was
set in the midst of a dozen prefab-style cabins.
I did a little exploring and discovered, to the rear of the central structure, a
maze-like complex of barracks, interlinked by a series of covered walkways.
I checked in at the main reception desk and was allocated a cabin - number seven. I
was then escorted to Reception Room Two and greeted by a woman who introduced herself as
Officer Amanda.
She went through my application form with me, and was very thorough. I had ticked
several boxes, opting for strict domination, caning and whipping, humiliation, bondage,
nipple torture, ball stretching and penile restraint, and orgasm control/denial. In for a
penny, in for a pound.
Amanda emphasised that no Boot Camp activities or role-play scenarios were carried
out without the client`s consent, and she issued me with a safe word - tangerine.
"Obviously, we`ll base your programme on the preferences you`ve stated,"
she said, "but if you ever feel uneasy about something, you can call a halt to
proceedings. In fact, you don`t have to get actively involved at all; you can simply be a
spectator here. It`s up to you. Some men get cold feet at this point."
My feet were warm as toast. "I`d like to be fully involved, please," I
replied eagerly.
"Good," said Amanda. "You won`t regret it."
After I had signed the final consent forms, Amanda added: "Satisfaction is
guaranteed, or your money back, and we`ve never had anyone ask for a refund. We`re very
good at what we do. Are you ready for the most exciting erotic experience of your
life?"
"Definitely," I said.
Amanda led me to a door with an Induction sign on it, opened it wide and ushered me
in. "Here`s the last one, Fiona," she announced.
The room was large but sparsely furnished: a desk and chair, a couple of filing
cabinets and a wall-mounted cupboard.
Four other men were lined up with their backs against a wall, looking nervous yet
excited - as I supposed I was.
Fiona, a 30-something brunette, rose from the chair and told me to join the end of
the line.
"Right," she said, slowly pacing up and down in front of us, "we all
know why you `re here. You`re here to learn obedience and servitude."
She continued: "I am the camp`s officer-in-charge, and here are the ground
rules. You will speak only when spoken to by an officer. You will not communicate with
other inmates. You will, at all times, be respectful and polite to your superiors - and
that means every woman here.
"You will address your superiors as "Ma`am" or "Miss". You
will carry out all orders and exercises without hesitation.
"In short, you do what you`re damn well told, when you`re told. Any failure to
comply will result in punishments. Now we`ll get you load of misfits processed. Stage one
of your induction is the Manhood Test. Strip, now!"
I wasn`t expecting this sort of treatment so soon; Boot Camp obviously gave you no
time to settle in.
Fiona stood beside her desk, hands on hips, watching us undress.
"Come on," she barked, "I haven`t got all day."
She pushed a button inset into the desk and a buzzer sounded in an adjacent room.
Seconds later in strode a bikini-clad blonde with a stunning figure.
Fiona said: "The Manhood Test, if you please, Susan."
"Certainly, Fiona," said Susan, positioning herself in front of us,
inspecting each of our naked bodies.
"Put your hands on your head," she ordered us, her voice taking on an
edge that wasn`t apparent when she had spoken to Fiona.
From one of the filing cabinets, Susan extracted a pile of papers, which she placed
on the desk. Then she took a tape measure out of a desk drawer.
She started with the man at the other end of the line from me, measuring his
flaccid dick and recording the length in his file. She repeated the process down the
line.
Fiona said: "Susan will now take your erect measurements, but you aren`t
allowed to touch yourselves; keep your hands right where they are, on your head."
Susan returned to the first man and started whispering in his ear while stroking
his cock and balls. His prick soon sprang into action and Susan measured it when she was
satisfied it had reached its peak.
The guy moaned and gasped throughout the entire process, and was still groaning
softly as Susan recorded his hard-on measurement.
She moved on to the second man in the line, and achieved a similar result with his
shaft.
But the third guy didn`t measure up. Susan gave him five minutes of the whispering
and stroking treatment but his dick remained limp. She stepped back and said to him:
"Stand over there, at the other end of the room."
Susan continued her prick-teasing techniques on the fourth man, who obliged by
producing an erection. Then it was my turn.
Susan sidled up to me, enclosed her right hand around my knob and purred into my
ear: "You like that, don`t you? You`d like to fuck me wouldn`t you? I`d like to
fuck you."
I felt my cock stiffening, and after a couple of minutes she measured my erection.
Fiona walked up to the man who had failed the Manhood Test. He had placed his hands
over his dick, presumably to hide his embarrassment.
"Who gave you permission to take your hands off your head?" Fiona yelled
at him. "You will now be taught a short, sharp lesson for disobeying an order."
Fiona went to the cupboard and came back brandishing a three-foot-long slender
rattan cane. She made the man bend over her desk, and announced: "Six of the best on
the bare."
Whack. "One," called Susan, grinning.
Fiona had the man yelping by the third stroke. After the final lash, his whole body
was trembling but his striped backside was quivering with a life of its own.
Fiona ordered him to his feet, hands on head again.
"You`ve obviously been found wanting in the manhood department, and that`s an
insult to Susan," she told him.
"Your punishment will be enforced feminisation. For the duration of your
confinement here, you will wear the camp`s she-male uniform - panties, bra, and short
tight skirt; nothing else, no top."
She turned to Susan and said: "Would you take him to the feminisation officer,
please?"
"My pleasure," replied Susan, grasping the man`s left ear and hauling him
out of the room.
I assumed this guy had ticked the "enforced cross-dressing" box on his
application form.
Fiona turned her attention to the remaining four of us. Well done, you`ve passed
your Manhood Test, but I warn you, there`s no room for complacency."
She added: "Now it`s time for you to report to the barber. Follow me."
***
Fiona led us along a passageway and into a small room with a second door opposite
the entrance. She beckoned me over to this door, opened it and called out: "Got
another four for you, Pamela. Here`s the first."
She pushed me in and closed the door after me. I still had my hands on my head,
and, of course, I was still naked, although my erection had subsided.
"You can take your hands down," said Pamela. "I bet your arms are
aching by now."
I lowered my hands to my sides and said: "Thank you, Miss."
"Oh, how polite," said Pamela. "I like that."
I looked round the room and realised there was no barber`s chair. But there was a
long wooden board - set on two trestles - with leather straps and buckle fastenings.
"You aren`t here for a haircut," Pamela informed me. "This is the
pubic-shaving stage of your processing."
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