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?"
