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Camp for the Betterment of Women (CBW).

CBW Chapter 3

I don’t know why you all want more story. That is where the story ends, with a girl in her rightful place; a servant, a fuckdoll, and an empty-headed automaton. The intricacies of CBW do not matter because they do not matter to Victoria. She is where she needs to be. Feel free to theorize where she goes next, although I believe she stays at camp.

CBW Chapter 2

Many months have passed since those first fateful days at CBW. Victoria, or 32C23 as she was now known, had no idea specifically how many. She knew it must be at least a few months, since the weather was turning cold. She was going to remain her much longer than just a summer.

At this point, Victoria had developed a routine at camp. At 6am, an alarm woke all the campers. She still stayed in the same cell as her first night. The petite brunette under her was named Audrey, although she was known as 32A22. They had become friends of sorts, helping each other to wake up on time and to maintain good bedside manner. Beyond that, they did not see each other much during the day. The C-Class, of which Victoria belonged, had a schedule vastly different than the A-Class of which Audrey was a member. Victoria had no clear idea what the A-Class did, only that it involved a good degree of manual labor, since Audrey was always dirtied and tired when she arrived home. Unfortunately, she rarely spoke of her day before collapsing to bed around 1am.

Today was a day like any other. Audrey and Victoria said morning pleasantries, before the two were let out of their cells by the same guard who beat Victoria on the same day, who made his way down this cell block releasing the girls for the day. After that first day, Victoria was sure to bow her heard and say “thank you, Sir”. Audrey never knew of the beating Victoria received the first day, but was meticulous about thanking the man too, so Victoria always figured something similar happened to her.

They never learned that guard’s name. Indeed, they never learned the names of any of the men. They were discouraged from learning the names of their fellow girls, although it was inevitable they did. It was a dangerous game, however, since if any girl accidentally called out to another by her “bitch name”, as it was called, a beating or a variety of other punishments were in order.

Victoria slept and worked in the same set of clothes: a torn white tank top, short khaki shorts, and a strong steel chastity belt to which she did not hold the key. Indeed, she did not know who held the key, only that it had never been unlocked. The furious frustration she initially felt had given way to a numbing burn that kept her from falling asleep during the day. Her only chance for sexual release was hoping a guard took a liking to her and chose her to be unlocked for an hour to have his way with her, but this was a pipe dream. Victoria had only ever seen D-class girls selected, except for one exceptionally beautiful C-class. Once. Victoria knew she was not that beautiful. She could only imagine how Audrey, a humble A-class, felt. No one below C-class has ever been unlocked. As Victoria walked to the mess hall for breakfast at 6:15am, she saw the results of recent punishments on about every fourth girl. Lashes and bruises were common sights, but the one punishment Victoria only saw rarely was the “unlocked punishment”. In this, the girl’s chastity belt was removed for a full 24 hours. This seems ideal, except for a few things. For one, masturbation in any way was off-limits, and full CCTV monitoring made sure cheating was not allowed. The punishment for breaking this rule was…astronomical. Beatings were the tip of the iceberg. Going hungry for a few days was a common punishment for such an infraction. At least at the moment, Victoria cannot masturbate. She could imagine how hard it is for girls suffering the unlocked punishment. Furthermore, while in most cases, guards and other staff must submit approval before unlocked and fucking a girl, which can take upwards of a business day, unlocked girls are at the mercy of whatever guard walks past – no approval necessary. It is common to see girls get fucked, sent to the bathroom to clean up, only to be ambushed and fucked again outside. Victoria pitied these girls, but the part of her mind swimming in sexual frustration thought about breaking a rule just to get this punishment.

Victoria entered the dining room with the other girls, and immediately entered the C-Class line. 4 lines existed, one for A-Class, one for B-Class, one for C-Class, and one for D-class. The quality of food in the mess hall varied significantly between classes, although technically comparison was not allowed. A-Class girls mournfully ate another day of stale granola and nearly-rotten bananas in full of the D-class girls eating fresh eggs, fruit, and bacon. That is not to say D-class girls were happy. By no means. While treated well on the grounds of superior beauty, D-class girls were trained hard from sunup to sundown. They were not strangers to beatings, although the guards went easier on them. The D-class girls were also held to much higher standards. Where a B in any of Victoria’s classes was grounds for an extra ration of pudding with dinner, anything below an A- was grounds for skipping dinner in D-class classes.

The days differed depending on your class. A-Classers like Audrey could be seen performing a variety of tasks around the camp, mostly cleaning or other manual labor. B-Class girls had it a bit better; they were expected to cook camp food and perform middle-management jobs, although filled in for A-class girls who were sick or had injuries. C-Class girls like Victoria attended classes for half the day, which consisted of a variety of physical education and lecture classes. The other half of the day was spent either performing leftover A-Class duties when necessary or helping the men with whatever was needed. D-Class Girls attended physical education classes for two-thirds of the day, and lecture for just the last third. They also directly served the men when necessary.

Being C-Class, Victoria had 10 minutes to eat before beginning her day. She went to her first class, a physical education class, which began promptly at 6:30am. She knelt in the field with her other C-Class “friends”. They were forbidden to speak unless spoken to, so friendships between girls were few and far between. They knew their morning routine. As they performed a series of jumping jacks, dashes, and pull-ups, the coach grunted a series of comments on their performance and appearance.

As they ran, their chastity belts gave their bodies rashes. Their sweat stung their cuts. But they kept going, for failing to continue until told to stop results in punishment.

The old Victoria would’ve hated these activities, although a series of beatings, sexual denial, and nonconsensual gropes had rendered her a husk. She only knew how to do and how to be told what to do. She had few thoughts unique to herself beyond “hungry” and “cold”. Victoria was told she was doing well, although she honestly never noticed herself changing. She simply did as she was told. The program was working. She had achieved the weight that was considered medically perfect for her height, and had defined toned her body to achieve as close to physical perfection as her meager diet and filthy living conditions allowed.

After PhysEd, the girls retired to the showers. Their belts stayed on. Some newer girls, not quite accustomed to how things were done, unsuccessfully tried to grind their sexual frustration away. Guards usually came within the minute to stop them. The girls learned fast.

After the shower, the girls went to the classroom. They called it a classroom, but it was not a place of learning. Rather than learning any real information, Victoria spent in lonesome days memorizing a series of increasingly complicated phrases. They started simple: “Brains are for boys.”, “I am a fuckdoll”, etc. By now, they were becoming more complicated. Today, she was working on “I am a useless member of society. My man gives me purpose, pleasure, and life. I will do whatever it takes to pleasure him. Please fuck me, sir”. It seems simple enough, but the rigorous activity, restless horny sleep, and meager diet meant the mental faculties of girls like Victoria were limited at best.

Today was lucky. They were given ham sandwiches for lunch, which they ate during class. After class, more luck. The A-Class girls had successfully completed their chores, so the day got to end after dinner. Dinner consisted of a small portion of roast beef, some old peas, and the corn leftover from D-Class’s yesterday dinner. They had 20 minutes to eat before returning to their cells.

At the end of every day, each girl is required to say “thank you, sir, for another wonderful day”. After a while, and before her mind began to go, Victoria began to mean it.

Audrey returned home an hour later, thanked the guard, and fell asleep. So was another day at CBW.

CBW Chapter 1

Victoria sat alone in a broad, silvery room somewhere West of…somewhere else. Truthfully, she had no idea where she was. She had been told of a camp called The Camp for the Betterment of Women (CBW). It was marketed as a kind of feminist utopia where she might be able to understand herself as a woman. Their insistence on her not knowing the location of the camp was a small price to pay, especially when the actual price of the camp was an astounding just $500 for an entire summer. So she sat. And waited. It was clearly a warm day, the sun shone brightly onto the metal floor through a variety of windows placed high, out of arm’s reach. An empty receptionist desk was strewn across the other side of the room from Victoria. There were several doors, but none of them showed signs of life. She rocked back and forth restlessly in her purple blouse and yoga pants. They had confiscated her phone “for the experience”, so she sat without entertainment. Suddenly, life! From the door just behind the receptionist table emerged a woman, clad in a white blouse and grey skirt. She must’ve had a rough night; her makeup was a mess, her blouse was misbuttoned, and her skirt was askew. Her heels seemed a strangely formal aspect of an otherwise-typical office outfit. Victoria didn’t worry herself with the receptionist’s appearance too long before she spoke in a cool, if unsure, voice:

“The Counselors will see you now”, she said in a cool tone, motioning through the door she just entered through.

“Thank you”, replied Victoria, as she gathered her things.

She walked through the wooden door, down a sterile hallway, and through a door marked “new-comers” with a small plaque. The room she entered was a hollow yellow with the familiar metal floor. It appeared to be a small medical clinic. The luminescent lights were much brighter in this room, she needed a few moments to adjust from the relative darkness. From the light emerged a face. It was a man’s face, with an athletic body and casually magnificent face. He stood, as if expecting her, while Victoria entered the room.

“My name”, he began without pleasantry, “is Counselor John. You will call me Counselor John”.

So much for a female paradise, Victoria thought, maybe he’s the owner or something?

“H-hi, my name is Victoria”, she said as she took a seat in one of several chairs in the room that looked like a small clinic.

Counselor John looked bemused. “Just FYI, sweetheart, you should really ask before sitting in my chair. It’s a habit soon to be broken.”

Victoria seemed a bit annoyed. Who was he to tell her that? There were plenty of chairs to go around. She hardly had enough time to finish the thought before he took her arm and showed her to the scale. “Is this, like, a weight loss camp then? What’s going on?” She asked Counselor John. He didn’t reply as he took a series of measurements on her body, mumbling their results to himself.

“120lbs, 5 foot 9 inches, 23 years old…” he began to trail off, before snapping back into focus, “what’s your breast size?”

“Excuse me?”, Victoria shot back, a bit affronted. What would her breasts have to do with this?

“Your breast size, sweetheart. I need it for the form. It’s nothing.” He sounded surprisingly mundane.

Victoria obliged. 32C. After a series of measurements of her shoulders, waist, and hips, she was finally done. Counselor John directed her down another hallway.

She walked for about 500m down a well-lit hallway into a room labeled “Welcome”. It was similar to the clinic room, although a bit better lit and, well, more welcoming. The room was full of women similar to herself. They welcomed her, but knew nothing of what was to happen next. Only a sign on the wall said “wait to be called”. Every so often, a woman’s name was called and that woman was guided by two large individuals out of the room. Every woman complied. It was a rather mundane situation, after all. These women had all been to camp before. They understood organization.

Within the hour, Victoria heard her name called, and she walked towards the door. The large men took her hands as they began down the hallway. As soon as the door closed behind them and they had made it around the corner, one of the guards made a move. His hand slid from Victoria’s hand to her supple ass. “Hey!” She slapped his hand away. He met her with overwhelming force. As the other guard simply watched, he grabbed her wrists and held them at her side. She kicked his body arm futilely.

“You’ve got a lot to learn, 32C23”. He rumbled in a deep voice.

Victoria didn’t relent. Eventually, the two men, unfazed by the situation, bound her hands and feet and gagged her mouth and took her down the hallway towards the next room. Victoria was terrified. Up until this point, it had appeared to be a mundane series of checkpoints, the same as happens at every summer camp. Her screams seemed in vain. What had she gotten herself into!

The men took Victoria through a door and into the outside world. It was the edge of the woods. The building she left cast a shadow down on her, but other similar buildings were nonetheless evident around her. She remained bound, although the man waiting for her outside approached to remove the gag.

“Now, if I remove this, will you scream or will you listen?” He said in a condescending voice. Victoria continued her struggle. “Alright, let’s just see.”

He removed the gag, which was evidently just a piece of cloth. She screamed.

“Help! Help me! I’m being taken! Pl-erbhlpmeh”. The man shoved the gag in her mouth deeper than before, slapping her twice very hard on the cheek.

“Such disobedience will not be tolerated, young lady! Guards, administer.” The man shot back, evidently angered.

The guards were joined by another man with a small needle from inside the building. Victoria’s eyes were bloodshot. Her legs were weak, her heart was racing and sweat was forming on her forehead. She continued to try to scream through the gag to no avail. Without her consent, a small injection was made to her arm. The man with the syringe returned the building.

Whatever it was, it was fast acting. She did not pass out, but was made much weaker. Her struggled lessened, her mind clouded. It was as if she was tired and drunk at the same time. The man removed the gag. Victoria did not scream.

“Good girl. Now follow these men, they’re taking you somewhere special”.

Victoria agreed, although she clearly didn’t know to what. The guards allowed her to walk, rather than be carried, down a small path towards another building. By the time they were halfway there, everything went black.

* * * When Victoria awoke, she was bound to a table. She had no idea how long she’d been out, only that it must’ve been at least a few hours. The clock read 6:52pm. Last she checked, in the room with the women, it was 2:30pm. What she remembered of her outside ideal could not have lasted nearly 5 hours. Her head remained fuzzy. She was unable to think, only to listen to what was being told to her. “It’s time. The chip is planted; we have her phone. Do it.” one voice muttered.   “No. I think there’s one more thing I need to do.” another deep voice spoke.

Glances were exchanged, and all but one man left the room. He walked to her head, whispering “baby, it’s time you get your real induction.” She could only hum in response. He adjusted her leg restraints, using a small knife to cut off most of her dirtied leggings. Even if she could resist, she wasn’t thinking straight. The man entered her. She felt little, still drugged, but was aware of it happening. She groaned and tried to resist, but this only egged the man on. He finished within 20 minutes, kissed her forehead, and slipped a small pill into her drooling mouth. She knew enough to not accept the pill wholeheartedly, but was unable to fully reject it. The man held her mouth shut and massaged her throat until it worked its way down. She went black again within minutes.

* * * Victoria woke up with a hangover in a bunk bed. Her bunkmate, a petite brunette she had never seen before, remained asleep. Victoria wiggled out of tightly-made sheets and walked to the edge of what seemed to be a jail cell. She was in a cell. She called out for someone to come get her. She was beyond confused, too much to even focus on her anger. She didn’t remember the incident on the table. A man dressed in a guard uniform approached her. She began to speak, but was immediately stopped.

“On your knees when you speak to me, cunt. Now.” It was a firm voice, with little room for debate.

Victoria obviously began to protest such absurd treatment, but the guard was having none of it. He pepper-sprayed Victoria then and there in the cell. She shrieked, but the guard was not done. He took a Billy club, entered her cell, and beat her. Over and over and over. Her heard, her chest, her legs. He beat her until every ounce of strength in her body left her. He spoke again, “On. your. knees. when. you. speak. to me. Got it?”

Through the burning and the aching and bleeding, Victoria had no will to resist, “Yes. Okay.” “Yes, okay, what?” He gave her a small kick which caused Victoria to lurch forward in pain. She was not ready for it, but knew what he wanted.

“Yes, okay, sir.”

“That’s better”. The guard locked the cell and left, without even giving her a chance to ask what she wanted to ask. She still didn’t know where she was, who the girl in the bed was, or why she had to call him sir. The girl in the bed did not awake throughout the ordeal. She was likely drugged too, but her small stature meant she likely would be out for a few more hours.

And such was Victoria’s first encounter at CBW. Many more would come.

sweetsubmissivegirly-deactivate

Allow me to introduce you to someone. She doesn’t have a name, she is whatever her master says she is. Some days, she’s a filthy slut, some days, she’s a bitch tied up downstairs. Today, however, she’s playing the part of lovely yet sexy girl for him to flaunt around town.

But this change has no effect on her. She purged herself of her self-identity years ago. She effortlessly transitions as her master demands. You can too, just remember a few basic points:

1. Do not cum. Masturbation should never be allowed, but even if a master has entered you, try your best to satisfy him fully without climaxing yourself. Then, of course tell him you came because that’s what men like to hear. Over the years, this will make you desperate for male contact and start interrupting your life more and more, which brings us to number 2.

2. Cut out all unnecessary parts of your life. School? Flunk out, or at least don’t pay attention to your studies. Hobbies? Fuck them. Friends? Ignore them. There are three ways you should be spending all your waking time: shopping for new clothes, doing your makeup, and perfecting your figure. Run all your decisions in these areas past your man for approval. That brings us to step 3.

3. Find a man. A woman cannot be whole unless she is guided by a man. He will tell you which shorts to buy, what low-cut sweater screams “you”. He will tell you if your makeup looks good that day, or if your hair should be straight or curled. Seek his approval on everything, from date wear to casual outing wear.

4. You likely have been with a man for a while now, and he will naturally want to make this a more serious relationship. You go as far as he wants, but likely he will have you move in with him at some point. This is the most crucial part, because now is when we begin to purge you as a person. Surrender your belongings to him, and accept that you “own” nothing, you merely “use” it. Your hair curlers, clothes, shoes, body are all really his property to take away or give back at his leisure. It will take time, but begin to refer to things in this way.

Following these steps will eventually purge you of yourself and make you finally the perfect woman. It may take months or years, but slowly you will notice small changes about yourself. Maybe you stopped doing your makeup in a way that used to be your favorite. Why’d you stop doing that? Oh, that’s right! Master took away your -- er, his -- mascara and that blush.