The Camp Ch. 02: Letters

The Camp 02: Letters

The following was mostly inspired by Andrew1968's story, "The Birthday Boy." The characters are different, as is the outcome, but most of the original premise remains the same.

I won't go into all the details about what happens at the camp, as that is covered in my previous story, "The Camp Ch. 01:Mike and Sandy." Instead, much of this story is told through the letters between the major characters.

Many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories. For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper...

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

Linda, John and Brenda walked into the apartment, having planned for another night of fun, games and raunchy sex at the expense of Linda's husband, Mark, who had foolishly allowed himself to become a submissive cuckold ever since his birthday party nine months ago. But something seemed a bit different today.

Linda looked at the sink full of last night's dishes and wondered why Mark hadn't washed them. That was his job, after all. Along with cooking, cleaning and laundry. So what if he had to do the housework while working two jobs to pay for the bills along with her pleasure. He was going to pay for this, she swore to herself. It was Brenda, Mark's sister, who brought her back to reality.

"What?" Linda asked.

"Look," Brenda said, pointing to something on the dining room table. A large manila folder with a printed letter on top of it sat in the middle of the table. A man's wedding ring was placed on the letter. Linda recognized the ring. It was Mark's. What the hell kind of a game is he playing now, she asked herself. She picked up the letter and began to read.

"Linda," the letter began. Not, "Dear Linda," or "My dearest Linda." Just, "Linda." She read on.

"I cannot continue to live like this. The fact is, you, your lover and my sister are killing me. For the last nine months, I have allowed you to use and abuse me, thinking that you would grow to love me if I played the part of a submissive. I have allowed you to humiliate me and cuckold me, thinking that is what you wanted.

"The truth is, I hate it. And right now I hate both you and my sister. I thought that if I played the role you wanted me to play that you would love me more, but that's not what has happened. I have tried to talk with you, reason with you, but you continued to dismiss me at every turn, calling me a loser. Instead, you and my sister have made my life a living hell and I can no longer go on playing your cruel games.

"Instead of being closer together, we have drifted apart. Worse yet, your treatment of me has nearly killed me, emotionally as well as physically.

"Thank goodness, my father intervened and I am now taking steps to remedy the situation. I have signed up for a three-month sabbatical to help me get myself back together. I will not tell you where it is, but I will send you my address as soon as possible. I do not have my phone, so you cannot call or text me. I will also have no access to Internet or email. I will be allowed to write you once a week. You can chose to write back or not, that's up to you.

"Inside the envelope is a temporary legal separation. We'll discuss the divorce when I return in three months. In the meantime, you will find the bank account has been frozen and your cards will no longer work. All the bills will be paid by automatic draft and you will receive a stipend each week for food, gas and incidentals. If you want or need more money, I suggest you either get it from your lover or do what the rest of us have to do and get a job.

"That also means you'll have to take care of your own cooking, cleaning and laundry from now on. I will no longer be your slave. Just so you know, you'll be monitored while I'm gone and I'll be getting weekly reports of your activities.

"I'll be in touch," the letter concluded. It was simply signed, "Mark."

"Oh my God," Linda said, handing the letter to Brenda. "Mark's gone. I think we went too far." Brenda read the letter as Linda looked at the separation papers, shocked. After she read her brother's letter, she pulled out her phone and called her father.

"Dad, what's going on? Where's Mark?" she asked.

"As if you care?" he asked, anger in his voice. "He finally broke down and told me what you and Linda have been doing to him the last nine months. He told me everything. I can't believe my daughter would do this to her own flesh and blood. I'm ashamed of you, Brenda, and I can't tell you how much you disgust me right now. I can't have you in my house anymore. I expect you to pack your trash and get the hell out of here. Today. Maybe you can stay with Linda and help her while your brother is gone."

"But Dad," she began. He cut her off.

"But nothing, Brenda," he said. "I want you out. NOW!" He ended the call, leaving a shocked Brenda looking at her phone. She looked at Linda.

"He really is gone," she said. "And my father just kicked me out of the house. He said Mark told him everything."

"Everything?" Linda asked. Brenda nodded her head.

"Yes, everything," Brenda said. "I've got no where else to go. He said that maybe I should stay with you until Mark gets back. Would that be alright?"

"Of course," Linda said.

"So, the little cuck has taken off, eh," John said. "Why don't we go into the bedroom and celebrate?"

"Not now, John," Linda said. "It's no fun without Mark here. You know this was all about humiliating him, but he's gone. I've chased him away."

"Well, you're too good for him anyway," John said. "He's just a loser, like you said. C'mon, let's go fuck. You know you want it."

"No, John," Brenda said. "My brother is gone and my father just kicked me out of the house. Linda and I have to go get my things so I can move in here. Why don't you just go for now and we'll be in touch."

"Okay," John said, heading for the door. "But you know you'll be needing this before too long," he added, grabbing his crotch. After John left, Linda picked up the phone and called Mark's main place of work, hoping to find out where he was. Surely this was just a cruel joke, she thought to herself. She went through the automated menu and finally spoke to Mark's boss, Ryan.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Smith, but your husband is on a paid extended leave of absence," Ryan said. "And I was instructed not to give you any details. He told me he was having serious problems at home and frankly, I've been pretty concerned about his health these last few months."

"Thanks, Ryan," Linda said, ending the call. She called the corner convenience store where Mark worked as a part-time cashier and was told by the manager he quit his job a couple days ago.

"I understand he's going in for some kind of treatment," the female manager said. "I hope he gets better. He hasn't been looking too good these last few months."

Linda thanked the manager and ended the call. She also tried getting information from the attorney who filed the papers but was given the same response. She collapsed on the couch, Mark's ring in her hand. Tears started falling down her cheek.

"He's gone," Linda said. "He's really gone. We've chased him away."

"Oh, he's just trying to make you feel bad about what we've done to him," Brenda said. "It's just a little game. He'll come crawling back, begging for your forgiveness. Just wait." Linda shook her head.

"I don't think so," she said. "What will we do?"

"First, we need to go by my dad's house and get my things," Brenda said. "Then we need to get seriously drunk. And royally fucked."

A few days later, Linda received a post card with the address where she could write her husband. There was no note from Mark. She pulled out a pen and a pad of paper and began writing.

"My dearest Mark," she began. "I got your note and just received an address where I can write you. I hope you're doing well. You have to believe me when I say I really do love you and I don't want a divorce. Your father kicked Brenda out of the house, so she's staying with me to help with things here. Did you really tell him everything we did to you?

"I want you to know I only came on to John at your birthday party to get you jealous enough to man up and take a stand. I thought you loved me enough to fight for me. Yeah, he makes a lot more than you do and he's got a huge cock that feels so good, but believe me when I tell you that it was only sex. It didn't mean anything more to me than that.

"And I was only kidding when I told you I was going to let him get me pregnant and make you raise the child as yours. I wouldn't really have done that to you.

"I wish you were here so I could tell you all this in person. There's so much I need to tell you. Please don't hate me. And come back soon. I love you, and your sister loves you as well. Your loving wife, Linda," she said in closing. She folded the letter and put it into an envelope. The next day, it went out in the mail.

The next week, she received a letter.

"Linda," the letter began. "Thank you for your letter of 6 March. Yes, I told my father everything. And I do mean EVERYTHING. I wouldn't have, except he could see I wasn't doing very well and he simply wouldn't let me off the hook. You know how good he is about getting information. I can tell you he was extremely pissed at both of you and he wasn't very happy with me for letting it go on and I'm not surprised he kicked her out.

"You said you hope I'm doing well. To tell you the truth, I ache all over. Every inch of me aches, but it's a good pain and I'm told that it will get easier in time. They have us on the go from before sunrise to well after sunset six days a week. I haven't worked out this much in my entire life.

"By the way, the in-house doctor said I was severely malnourished and put me on a special diet with supplements. I guess that's what happens when you're forced to eat nothing but dog food out of a bowl on the floor for three months. The only other time I was ever able to eat was when I was working.

"I also can't tell you how wonderful it is to be sleeping in a real bed for a change instead of that dog kennel you and Brenda put in the garage. Yeah, I told Dad about that as well.

"You say you and Brenda both love me, but frankly, I find that hard to believe. For that matter, I find anything you say hard to believe. I loved you both as well, and look at where that got me. You say you don't want a divorce. Well, I don't want a cheating, scheming bitch for a wife, either. Guess we can't always get what we want.

"So, are you and Brenda still doing threesomes with John? I imagine it would be easier now that Brenda lives with you. You're right about one thing -- we have a lot to talk about, and we will when the time is right.

"Tell Brenda I said hello, and keep the letters coming," the letter said in conclusion. It was simply signed, "Mark."

"So, how's the loser?" Brenda asked. Linda handed the letter to her.

"I guess he's okay, but they have him working really hard and he's sore," Linda said. "He said to tell you, 'hi.' Oh, and he's on a special diet. They said he was malnourished. I told you that making him eat dog food from that bowl on the kitchen floor wasn't a good idea."

"It was all in good fun though," Brenda said. "Do you think he's really going to finish this thing out?" Linda shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know," she said. "I think we made a big mistake, though."

"Oh come on," Brenda said. "You enjoyed it as much as I did and you know it. What do you think about having John come over for the night? Maybe we can all piss on Mark's clothes just for fun."

"What the hell," Linda said. "Let me get this letter off first. But no pissing on his clothes, though. Not unless you want to wash them afterward."

"Whatever," Brenda said. Linda grabbed her pen and paper.

"My dearest loving husband," she began. "Thank you for writing me back. I didn't know if you would or not. It's kinda weird doing this, especially in the age of instant messenger and email.

"I am sorry to hear about you being malnourished. You do know that was your sister's idea, right? Yeah, I went along with it, but I thought it was pretty funny. It was also her idea to make you sleep in that dog kennel in the garage.

"I know right now you have a pretty low opinion of me and I have to admit, I was something of a bitch to you. Please accept my apology for that. I guess it's easy to do when someone like John is around. He's an alpha male, you know. Not like you. I guess you're something of a beta male with a need to be dominated. Tell me the truth, was I really all that bad to you?

"Seriously, Mark, I need to know something. Is there any hope for us?

"You asked if Brenda and I are still doing threesomes with John. I won't lie. Yes, we've had John over a couple nights and he did us both. And yes, it was great. Fantastic, even. It wasn't as much fun without you here, though.

"So tell me what they have you doing. Do you really like it? Are you really in Idaho? All I have is the post office box number. I've never been there. What's it like?

"Well, I have to go now. Without you here, I have to help keep the place clean. Your loving wife, Linda. P.S. Brenda says to tell you 'hi,'" she wrote.

The next letter came about six days later.

"Linda," it began. "It was good to hear from you again. Thank you for your letter. Yes, it is a bit strange communicating like this, isn't it? Just think, this is how our grandparents used to do it back in the day.

"So you thought it was funny that Brenda wanted me to eat dog food out of a bowl on the kitchen floor? The kitchen I paid for with my own hard-earned money? And you thought it was funny to make me sleep in a locked-up dog kennel in the garage? Even in the dead of winter?

"Did you also think it was funny when she suggested fucking me in the ass with a strap-on? At least you never followed through with that, but I can tell you I didn't find it funny. Not one damn bit. Just the fact that you found it funny makes me think you're one sick demented bitch.

"Is that why you didn't stop her? Were you that far gone in your lust for John and your hatred of me? "Oh sure, you tell me NOW that you love me but I think that's only because I'm not there for you to torment and humiliate. Or is it because I'm not there to pay for your debauchery? Tell me, are you doing okay on your stipend? Is Brenda contributing anything at all?

"You wanted to know if you were really that bad to me. In a word, YES. And by the way, I happen to know that John has been over there almost every single night. I also know he brought a few guys with him a couple times. I'm glad I wasn't there to see that. I hope you and Brenda cleaned the place up.

"You should also know the apartment complex doesn't like loud parties. I'd hate to see you get evicted and end up on the street. I guess you could go live with John, if he'll have you. Or you could live on the street.

"You asked if there is any hope for us. Right now, I don't see it happening. Not unless you get your shit squared away, and even then, I doubt it. I can tell you that if you keep going the way you are, there won't be any hope for us at all.

"You wanted to know what they have us doing and if I like it. They wake us up early every morning. We do calisthenics, then run to breakfast. Then we run for our workouts. Then we work out. Then we run some more and work out some more. Do I like it? At first, it was really hard, but I'm starting to really like it. And believe it or not, I'm actually getting muscles. I'm not the skinny little kid you married, let me tell you that.

"As for where I am, you know I can't reveal that. But I can tell you I love it here. The air is crisp and clean, not like that sewer you live in. Everything is green here. There's mountains and trees and lakes everywhere. There's even wildlife out here -- deer, bears, you name it. The other day I spotted an eagle flying high in the sky -- imagine that.

"I gotta go now -- it's our smoke break. Yeah, I started smoking, but I only have one or two a day. Everyone here smokes, it's the one break we get all day and I look forward to it. Maybe I'll quit when I get home, maybe not. Tell Brenda hi," the letter read. As before, it was signed, "Mark," with no mention that he loved her.

"Well, what did the little wimp have to say this time?" Brenda asked.

"The usual," Linda said. "Read it for yourself." She handed the letter to Brenda, who chuckled as she read. "Is it just me, or is he changing?"

"This isn't the Mark I remember," Brenda said. "He sounds, well, assertive. It's strange seeing it come from him. And he's smoking now? That's certainly not like him. And he called you a sick demented bitch."

"We pushed him too far," Linda said. "And he knows about the guys we've had here. I'm losing him. For good."

"So what? He's a loser," Brenda said. "He'll always be a wimpy little loser. You're better off without him. He's talking tough now because he's not here. Remember, he's the one who ran off because he wasn't man enough to face you. He never was man enough to stand up to you. Why do you think he let you and John humiliate him at his birthday party? Believe me, once you two come face-to-face, it'll go back to the way it was."

"Maybe," Linda said, pulling out her pen and paper.

"My dearest husband Mark," she began. "I got your most recent letter. Thank you for writing me. I was a bit concerned about the tone of your last letter. You've never called me sick, demented or a bitch before. Is that what you think of me now? Please tell me it's not.

"I admit I went overboard with some things. And no, I didn't think it was funny when Brenda suggested pegging you with that 12 inch strap-on. If I hadn't been there, though, I think she probably would've done it.

"Yes, I lust for John, but only because he's got a big dick. Trust me, he wouldn't make a very good husband, not like you. He only cares about himself.

"I think you got the wrong idea about something. Yeah, I thought it was funny that Brenda put you in the kennel like that, but I never really liked it. She just kept pushing and you kept caving. Okay, I pushed some too, but it was all in good fun, like the night of your birthday party.

"I never could figure it out. I kept teasing John at your birthday party and you kept watching. Why didn't you come over and tell me to stop? Why didn't you fight for me?

"Thank you for being honest with me. I never knew I was really that bad to you. Can you ever forgive me? And do you still love me?

"As for the stipend, it helps a lot, but it's not enough. I had to take a job at the McDonalds down the street from us. It doesn't pay a whole lot, but it helps. Brenda contributes some of her pay as well, but she just had to get some work on her car. Normally your father takes care of that, but he's pretty much disowned her by now and he refuses to talk to her.

"Anyway, I have to go now and get ready for work. I look forward to your next letter. Please remember that I love you. And Brenda says hi. Your loving wife, Linda," she wrote. She folded the letter and put it in an envelope, wondering what his reaction would be. About six days later, she received a response.

"Linda," the letter began. "Thank you for your last letter. I'm glad to see you got a job. Not so much fun working and trying to keep a household together, is it? Imagine working two jobs, 12 -- 16 hours a day, then coming home to cook, clean, do laundry and get fucked by your own so-called 'family.' Who, by the way, is busy feeding and fucking some big-dicked asshole in your own bed.