Escape From Camp Conversion - Chapter 1

Camp Conversion. Deep 80s dark. Jenna held in line with the other girls, top peeled away, sweat off bare skin. Grey gym shorts now nothing but shapeless rumpled cotton. Military barking voices run an endless calisthenic routine. Breast and ass shake with each jump. No modesty, nothing left to hide. After chow they stand in loose hip-low underwear and count out slogans against everything the camp claims they are. Mechanized insults roll off dry throats. Fluorescent overhead lights blast down like signals dropped from a wet pink sky. Counsellors smooth latex gloves across their bodies. Three sets of hands, six eyes. Cut to the final humiliation. The day’s display doubles over into extended writhing pile work. Ameena locked high on Angela’s face, hips moving steady, lotion-slick bellies dragging over one another. Lucy slotted in the curve of Angela’s wide hips from behind, rides at a tight grind, distant stares caught by Marcy’s ruler thwacks along straps already rubbing raw. They keep slick thighs apart to avoid climax, reflexive arcs of orgasm bitten into bitten lips, suppressed, paused mid-air. Marcy reminds them, stern timbre keen as scissors: two circuits through, back arches, pure exhibition, no release. Jenna is notched between the three counselors themselves, Vivid exposed, drawn under calves, lips wet from Marcy and Lynn, straps commanding hard under length with piercings swinging rhythm beneath. She tips cheeks in harder spirals at command, ass clenched until her thigh sinews pop. Still throat full of whisper, "No, no, fuck, that, all, mine." At evening campfire relay Nina steps forward, Vivian shear locker tweed expounding reproach yet observing from bath-clad outline, palm slipped between narrow folds measuring movement—regulation elevated in monem above seam yet never reward. Jenna adjusts tone and tendon. She says it to nearly anyone. "Still mine." A new absence ripened the pre-dawn metal kiss freight gates. Skin kicks alive itself moving and making air. Night fall limp sheet light affords Lulu: alarm-gate clack and spiffy arrival introduced blood-beat beats clockwise in stomach lying next vault and presumed comrades.