Cruel Femdom Fitness Training Camp

PROLOGUE

The lights in the dungeon were dim, but the acrylic cane She whipped through the air was black light reactive, creating a fearful streak of light through the air an instant before the inside of my right thigh seared with pain. The sound of my sudden gasp could not block out the snap from skilled administration of a punishment stroke. I felt I had been branded. Branded with a

V

.

My outstretched arms, connected by leather cuffs to a spreader bar above me, ached from maintaining the same vertical position for an hour. My rear end sizzled and I knew sitting down would be a delicate task over the next few days. "Take some zinc every day until the bruising goes away. It will help, " Mistress V advised.

"Yes, Mistress," I replied quietly.

We had finished three hours of play in a large, multi-room dungeon Mistress V owns. Located in an industrial park near LA, the dungeon looks like any other commercial establishment from the outside. The soundproofing material could not be seen from either inside or outside the dungeon. Secrets stay inside.

I am not a masochist, Mistress V had once explained. I'm a pleaser. I will endure whatever painful delights Mistress V chooses to inflict upon me because I know doing so will please her. As always, she was correct. I do not enjoy pain.

But as She explained, that's precisely why using pain and humiliation was such a delightfully effective tool for my behavior modification.

I had served Mistress V for five years. In the vanilla world I held a senior level executive position. Evenings and weekends, however, were devoted exclusively to serving Her. Oh how I wish She would permit me to fall in love with Her! I would do anything, I would endure anything, if it meant hearing the magical words that She loved me.

The acrylic cane was a hornet injecting its burning venom into my inner left thigh. My mind jolted back to reality. These last blows were out of character for our dungeon play. It was time to be winding down from three hours of undulating levels of intensity.

Then again, Mistress V told me this session would be a reminder of the far worse punishment I would endure for any future rule violations. It sounded as if a gate was about to open before me and passing through it would not be optional.

My thoughts were confirmed when Mistress V spoke. "Slave, you have disappointed me. You've grown flabby and out of shape. Make certain you are available for a three day weekend next month."

"You are going to a very special fitness camp."

CHAPTER 1: To the Gutbusters Compound

Mistress V decided I would be going to a fitness camp. A "very special fitness camp," to be precise.

She was displeased with my lack of discipline for not following an exercise regimen and She had grown tired of having to point out my increasing flabbiness during each inspection. Her friend and colleague, Mistress Elan, was starting a 72-hour intense training program for submissives, named "Gutbusters." Mistress V wanted me to be the first subject to be put through the program.

After proving the program's success with several subjects, the goal was to offer the service to subs in need of fitness training and who must be referred by their Mistress. The fee will be $5000 for the three-day program, so as Mistress V explained, I had better work extremely hard and succeed at the program or I must pay the $5000 for quitting early and spoiling their test.

As collateral Mistress V required me to give Her a check for $5000 several weeks before my training session. Acting as an escrow agent She would pay the training fee if I failed to complete the program. I'd get the money back upon completing the program.

"Don't fuck it up."

Those were her last words before we departed. I could not speak with her again until I successfully completed the program. Being required to pay the $5000 fee if I failed was an additional motivating factor. More importantly, failure would mean the thought of being dropped from Mistress V's service. That was an option I simply could not allow to happen.

To qualify for this special training I was required to undergo a thorough physical examination by Mistress V's physician friend. A female physician friend. A very attractive female friend. That exam is a story unto itself but suffice it to say that since it was conducted on a weekend, when the practice was closed, the usual rules for modesty and patient rapport did not apply. It was indeed comprehensive and included a 12-lead EKG, a prostate exam and perhaps the most thorough genital examination I have ever experienced.

A key part of the examination included a series of exercises designed to test overall strength and endurance of major muscle groups. Under the doctor's supervision, a team of nurses placed sensor pads on a carefully selected muscle group. I was then required to perform a series of exercises until each muscle group reached exhaustion. I was required to do several exercises to test my abs and one type each to evaluate my thighs, chest and back.

The doctor told me they would use these measurements, which show my maximum muscle contraction ability, to design a fitness program that would be challenging but safe from causing injury.

When I passed the physical exam the date I was to begin training was set. Although I knew it would be a reasonably intense experience I really did want to get into shape and this special camp sounded like the way to get a solid head start.

I was told not to expect weight loss but that the muscle groups in my abdomen would be conditioned and hardened more than they had ever been before. I would then follow a strict diet and exercise plan to lose the fat covering the muscles until, voila, I could show off six pack abs. I liked that idea!

I was given specific instructions to follow beginning two weeks before reporting for training. I had to document anything that went into my mouth and measure the amount of urine each time I emptied my bladder.

Twice daily I had to perform a series of exercises for about 30 minutes per set. These included jumping jacks, sit ups, crunches, squats, high knees and squat thrusts; a fairly standard abs routine with the number of reps in each set increasing over the two week period. Not only did I have to write down the exercises I completed but I was required to make a video of every single workout session.

I was required to upload the compressed video files every day. These as of yet unknown trainers apparently didn't leave anything to chance.

I was required to drink water at regular intervals and my diet was gradually weaned until on Thursday the only food I was allowed to consume was vegetables blended with V-8 juice. I could have all I wanted but I pretty much drank my last meals before reporting for training.

The Friday morning of my training was now just a night's rest ahead. Preparing for the requisite eight hours of sleep I went to bed early on Thursday night. I had no idea what the next day would bring.

§

My GPS guided me perfectly during the 90 minute drive out into the country. The wooded scenery in stark contrast to the sights of the city and the waning desert behind me. Playing it safe, I allowed plenty of time to be sure I wasn't late. With 20 minutes to kill I parked in Ralph's parking lot to wait. The scent of bacon wafted into my car from a nearby Denny's, reminding me how much I missed enjoying "real" food. I realized then that I was shaking visibly.

At three minutes before 7 am I drove to the assigned address. It was a single story, beige and rather unremarkable adobe style home. The yard was fairly well maintained but clearly was not the priority to the owner.

The garage door was left open as promised. I pulled in next to a shiny black Jeep wrangler and before I killed the engine the garage door closed behind me.

I grabbed the duffel holding the extra pair of sneakers and six pairs of invisible-style white socks I was required to bring. I was told to bring nothing else.

I knocked on the door from the garage and waited. Several minutes elapsed -- it seemed an eternity -- until the a tall brunette abruptly pulled open the door while commanding me to step inside. Behind her, in the kitchen, I could see a blonde wearing white, athletic boy shorts and a fuchsia sports bra which showed off her well defined body. The blonde was having a conversation with a somewhat shorter brunette in the kitchen.

The brunette was wearing a yellow bikini bottom so low on her hips I thought they defied gravity to stay in place. An exceedingly small, matching bikini top left little to the imagination. Both women stopped their conversation and I could feel their eyes sizing up their new training subject.

"This way, " said the brunette who greeted me at the door, leading me to a bedroom off to the right side at the end of the hallway. I entered a room simply furnished with a shabby chic motif and which looked like it hadn't been used for months. A guest room, perhaps. I relaxed a bit when I saw that my furnishings looked comfortable. And private. I hoped that meant I'd have some quality time to relax after all.

"Take off your shoes and socks," the brunette said firmly. I knew better than to ask to sit down so I hobbled around on each foot until my sneakers and socks were off. The brunette pointed to an open closet door. "Remove all of your clothes. Hang them or fold them neatly in the closet."

I started to comply when she added, "if you continue to move slowly like this I see we're going to have some challenges this weekend." I stepped up my pace but my nervousness made it difficult to get my shirt and jeans nicely on hangers. I always slip my boxers off last and I dreaded having to remove that last bit of modesty.

I pushed the boxers down from either side and bent over to pick them up. Returning to my standing position she made it no secret that her gaze was focused right on my genitals. There was an uncomfortably long pause. She didn't say anything, but she put her hands on her hips, and gave a little amused laugh. She didn't approve of the way I folded my undershirt and shorts so I had to redo them all the while feeling especially naked under her very watchful gaze.

She pointed to a bathroom across the hall and told me to go take a shower.

"Report to the living room when you are dressed and ready to workout," she added. "I will set workout clothes on the bed for you while you are showering."

Even though I had very thoroughly showered less than two hours before I sensed now was not a particularly good time to question her direct order. The warm water felt good yet I made haste to finish as quickly as I could.

I was nice and wet when I opened the shower door and a bit confused to see a lone washcloth on the towel rack. I knew better than to yell out or otherwise inquire about a towel, so I dried off as best as I could using the small wash cloth. I couldn't get completely dry but I was able to abate the flow of water dripping onto the floor. Surely that would be some sort of violation.

I crossed the hall to the bedroom, the air chilling my damp, naked body during the brief traverse. All I saw in the way of clothing were some very short dolphin-style fitness shorts on the bed. The shorts could have been no more than six inches in length. There was nothing in the way of a top. The shorts were a pale fuchsia made of a breathable and alarmingly thin fabric; the type of synthetic fabric peppered with tiny round indentations.

I was frustrated that the shorts were extremely low rise and there was nothing I could do to pull them higher than riding low on my hips. They were probably women's shorts and I'm sure the low rise was part of the grand plan. The coolness of the fabric made me acutely aware that I was wearing such an unflattering garment. I had been worried that I'd have to wear a thong during training but the thought of wearing these supposedly less revealing shorts was of little consolation when I saw myself in the bedroom mirror.

Knowing there was nothing I could do about my attire at this point I put on my shoes and socks and walked tenuously toward the living room. My heart was pounding while I anticipated receiving a humiliating visual examination there.

The three very fit women were standing in the kitchen, near the door to the garage. The blonde was holding the duffel containing my extra shoes and socks. "This way," she directed, opening the door to the garage as she spoke. "Get in the back seat on the passenger's side." It was obvious she was referring to the shiny, black Jeep Wrangler.

I felt self-conscious climbing into the back seat while no amount of sucking in my gut could hide the rolls of fat I displayed while writhing into the elevated rear seat. I could see my thighs splayed and barely covered by the tiny shorts. The lack of tone in my thigh muscles was so obvious I must have looked pathetic. The other brunette gracefully climbed in and sat to my left, while the blonde climbed into the driver's seat and the brunette who greeted me at the door sat in the high back seat directly in front of me. Without needing to be told to do so I put on my shoulder belt and discovered it felt tighter than most. It didn't have the usual retraction gear so I was held quite securely in place.

I started to adjust the lap belt because it felt so tight on my hips. "Leave that alone, " said the blonde who had been watching me from the front seat. I complied instantly. The brunette next to me handed me a pair of ski sunglasses, the kind with the hoops that go behind your ears. "Put these on then move your hands to your sides and keep them there. Sit on your hands."

Whoa. I wasn't prepared for this. The "sunglasses" were covered on the inside with opaque black paper! The tight fit and curved frames obscured my peripheral view. I wasn't going to be seeing where we were going, that's for sure. We backed out of the garage and as I heard the door close behind us I realized my money, ID, Tag Heuer watch, iPhone, everything, remained behind. I was going to have to earn them back.

Jeeps ride rough, I soon learned. I could feel my 36" belly bouncing with each bump and wondered if one, or all, of my trainers was watching me. My question was soon answered when I felt a hand on my abdomen. It stayed there while we went through a particularly rough patch and when the hand was removed one of the women commented, "you won't be bouncing around like that next time you go for a ride in this Jeep." They all laughed at the comment.

The Jeep was open on the top and sides, so lacking the protection of a shirt I could feel the cool morning breeze across my body. I grew anxious each time we stopped at a traffic light or stop sign. I wondered if people could see me, nearly nude, on public display in the back seat of the Jeep.

After what seemed like a 45 minute drive the blonde brought the Jeep to a crawl. We traveled slowly over a rough surface blemished by occasional deep ruts which caused the occasional violent jerk to the Jeep. I felt my flab shake. When we came to a complete stop I heard a seatbelt being released and someone exiting the vehicle. The next sound was of chain being pulled, as if being freed to open a gate.

The Jeep lurched forward for a few seconds before stopping abruptly. Shortly thereafter I could hear the sound of chains again, this time emitting from somewhere behind us. We moved forward for another minute or two along a road which was obviously not maintained. I was swaying and bouncing while feeling very self-conscious with each bump. I feared my chest and belly might have been swaying in opposing directions from time to time. At last we stopped and the engine went silent.

Wherever we were it was a quiet place. I could hear no traffic sounds, no barking dogs, no leaves rustling. Silence. A very slight breeze helped me catch the scent of evergreen and in my state of enhanced perception that very slight breeze chilled my body. My shaking body.

I felt hands remove the sunglasses that blinded me. The overcast sky startled my eyes, making me squint as I struggled to undo the seatbelt. We were parked facing a tall chain-link fence which surrounded and protected this grassy parking knoll.

We were surrounded on all four sides by dense foliage, a mix of tall evergreens and other plants of varying height growing perfectly in harmony to provide a private shield of privacy. I shifted my focus to climbing out of the back seat and didn't notice the electric cart behind the Jeep until I emerged somewhat convoluted onto the grass surface of the parking knoll.

Standing next to the cart was a very thin and perfectly toned young woman having nearly black hair and legs up to her armpits. I was actually grateful to be wearing the tiny fuchsia shorts because they at least covered my growing erection, an involuntary reaction to the woman's incredible beauty and physical fitness. I felt humbly out of shape in her presence, as if spotlights highlighted any excess fat on my body.

The electric cart was open on the sides with a green vinyl surrey-top covering two bench seats: one facing forward and one rear-facing seat. I could feel the eyes of four very attractive and very fit women inspecting me as if eager to make me become as fit as they were.

The blonde trainer pointed her index finger at my pale fuchsia dolphin shorts and said, simply, "off," making a downward motion with her finger. I was so stunned I froze for second. Shocked, I complied, dropping the shorts, pulling them off over my sneakers. Even though I knew better I sort of cupped by hands in front in an attempt at modesty. Out of nowhere I felt a serious sting on my backside. Involuntarily I erupted a loud, "owww!, and almost fell over onto my face.

There were no comments but I knew better than to try to hide my genitalia again. I felt all eyes aimed on my very erect penis. No one said a word, making the situation all the more uncomfortable. Finally, the blonde opened a locked compartment in the back of the Jeep, placed the shorts into the box and then secured the lock with a circular security key. The four women climbed into the electric cart. The blonde and the brunette who opened the door were facing rearward. Facing me. "Follow us and keep up," the blonde barked.

They rode, I walked. As we left the grassy parking area I noticed several other parked cars in the lot. My heart raced while my mind went into overdrive, wondering how many other women were involved in this project. How many would be watching me as I followed, stripped of all clothing, behind the electric cart. We passed through another gate which was already open, pausing while the thin blonde secured it closed by attaching one of the largest padlocks I had ever seen to the galvanized links of a heavy chain.

We were in a fairly densely wooded area so I could not see how far the tall chain link fence spanned. On top of the fence a three-foot protrusion protected by strings of barbed wire. Somebody wanted some privacy. Either that or someone didn't want visitors to leave without permission.

I had to maintain a steady jog to keep up with the cart and was subject to occasional laughter and pointing and comments about bouncing flub and flab. "Just following the bouncing gut," elicited much laughter. As did a fairly loud comment that watching my small penis bounce all around was just hilarious. The blonde pulled out a small video camera and started taping. There was absolutely nothing I could do but jog along behind. In humiliation.

It must have been at least a mile until we emerged from the woods, entering a clearing covering dozens of acres. I could see a large, white farmhouse. On the far end of the house there was an inactive corral. About thirty feet to the right of the house stood a beige color corrugated steel building. It was about 40 feet wide and 50 feet long, almost but not quite a square. I could see HVAC equipment on top. This was one serious commercial building, certainly out of place is this secret rural compound.