Camp Spank

By Alice Dark

Camp Spank is a military installation where the women are spanked, the men are caned, and in the end, the girl finds the girl of her dreams. In Camp Spank, two young women break Army regulations, and as punishment for their misbehavior, the entire squad is sent out on a 20-mile overnight hike. The other women of Charlie Squad are furious with the two privates, and they band together to punish the two women for their indiscretions. But that punishment is exposed when young men sneak into camp to spy on the girls as they deliver a harsh spanking. Find out what happens when the girls of Charlie Squad discover the voyeurs and retaliate against the men. WARNING: Contains mature adult themes, BDSM, spanking, caning and explicit F/F sex. STRICTLY for adults ONLY. All sexual acts depicted are consensual and between adults aged 21 years and over.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evil Ink
• Release date: Sep 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301082698

Alice Dark

I am Alice Dark, and I write erotica: BDSM, Femdom, sci-fi, horror, vampires – anything supernatural. I prefer spanking stories, though I’ll write anything that makes my girlfriend hot. She loves to read my stories, because I try to mix our own lives into each and everything that I write. Sometimes the stories are about our pasts. Sophia and I are both Catholic, and we were raised in strict families. The schools were even stricter. I was caned, and Sophia was paddled. Both of us have been hand-spanked in our homes as youths. You’d think we’d be done with it. But we’re not. Somewhere along the line, Sophia and I began to enjoy the feeling of a hand, paddle or other spanking instrument across our ass. While we both love to have our cheeks blushed, I tend to be the aggressor more often than not. The take-away, my pets, is that for us, it’s who we are.

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Camp Spank

by

Alice Dark

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Alice Dark on Smashwords

Camp Spank by Alice Dark

Copyright (c) 2013 by Alice Dark

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter 1

Sergeant Dominique Watson sighed as she flipped through the pages of the report that the company corporal delivered to her office earlier that day. The sheaf of papers was as thick as a magazine and more than 60 pages long. On each sheet was a full printout of the actions of her soldiers, detailing the successes and shortcomings of the young women in her platoon. It was times like this that Dominique wished the Army would join the the digital world. It wasn’t as if the Army didn’t have computers. They did. Plenty of them. At least one computer for each officer and another for every single drill sergeant in the company. But instead of streamlining the reporting system into bits and bytes, and then streaming the whole mess through a secure Internet connection, the Army insisted on printing out the reports. A paper trail a mile long, and Dominique had to read and acknowledge every single report - in triplicate.

Damnit, she murmured, thumbing through the pages. I’ll be here all night reading this crap.

It wasn’t that Dominique had a bad bunch of young women in her barracks. For the most part, the girls in the platoon were average, with a few standouts. But like any true Bell curve, for every private who was exceptional, there was one who was a fuck-up - a recruit who just couldn’t get her shit together. It was the latter that demanded most of Dominique’s time. And among those fuck-ups were a couple of prima donnas who took far too much of the sergeant’s attention. Luckily, those girls were part of a single troop - Charlie Squad.

The average-sized platoon in the Army was comprised of 60 young women. Dominique’s platoon was further broken down into three squads of 20 women each. Two of the squads were doing well, advancing through their training as expected. But the third squad was lagging, courtesy of Private Amanda Bekins and Private Brianna Meriwether - or Mandy and Bri, as they preferred to be called. Both were privileged girls from upper class families, neither of which had any real reason to be in the Army beyond boredom with their insignificant lives. Blonde and stereotypically ditzy, the girls were lazy without being outright insubordinate. Their bunks were always a mess, and neither one of girls could manage to keep her hair tucked under her cap. Amanda had a nanny throughout her youth and teenage years, and she had never done an honest day’s work in her life. Brianna was spoiled rotten, and she expected her bunk mates to make up for her poor performance.

By themselves, the two girls managed to ruin the collective score of Charlie Squad, and thereby pulled down the performance of the entire platoon. As the drill instructor for the platoon, that reflected badly on Dominique.

It wasn’t easy for a woman in this man’s Army. Especially for a female drill instructor leading her first platoon. Adding to Dominique’s challenge, was that she was a black female drill instructor. Not that she was the first black woman to serve in the Army. And she certainly wouldn’t be the last. But as one of the few women - and even fewer black women - to earn the right lead a platoon, more was expected of the young sergeant and her group of female recruits than simply an adequate performance. Dominique and her young women had to shine throughout basic training. Every one of her recruits had to perform at her best at every given task and in every given instance.

Dominique sighed again and threw the sheaf of reports onto her desk. From the bottom drawer, the sergeant produced a bottle of Dewar’s scotch and poured herself a stiff shot. Scotch, she believed, was a man’s drink. That’s what Dominique’s captain told her. Drink like a man. Fight like a man. Fuck like a man. That’s how you make it in this man’s Army. Dominique’s captain was a woman after the sergeant’s own heart. Dominique wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone on the Army post, but she thought Captain Andrea Jenkins was pretty fucking hot, for a white chick. The captain didn’t have a lot of booty, though Andrea filled out her uniform nicely: large breasts that strained her tailored uniform shirt; a slim waist and wide hips; and legs that went on forever and ever. The officer was a total babe with black hair and pale skin, and she looked good in her starched uniform. Dominique often wondered what the captain would look like naked.

To Captain Jenkins, Dominique said, raising her glass in a solemn salute to the empty room. Privately, the sergeant imagined the captain bent over her desk with her Army-issued skirt raised high, while Dominique administered some bare-handed military discipline. Dominique winced as she took a sip of the smoky liquor and closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw her very dark hand smacking the very white butt of Captain Andrea Jenkins. It was a fantasy the sergeant often entertained, but sincerely doubted would ever come to pass. There was a unofficial separation between officers and enlisted - a boundary that few were willing to cross for fear of ruining her career. Fraternization between the ranks wasn’t illegal in this day and age, but it was frowned upon. Officers didn’t date downstream, and the enlisted folks were suspicious of those with brass or silver on their shoulders. Even if Dominique could have found a way across that barrier, there was still the issue of gender. Don’t ask, don’t tell might be the official position in the Army, but the reality was that gays and lesbians were still persona non grata in the military.

All things considered, it was best that Dominique keep her lust for the captain to herself as a private spanking fantasy. The sergeant sighed and took another sip of the scotch. She put the fantasy away where it belonged - hidden in the recesses of her mind - and began to read through the reports, one at a time. There was room on the back of each sheet for her comments, and for most of her recruits, that would be enough space. But for a few of her privates, both outstanding and substandard, Dominique would have to add an extra sheet of paper.

Ah, well. She blew out a long breath. Sooner started, sooner finished. It was an old family saying that had taken her through many challenging situations. Dominique scanned the front of the first page of the reports, flipped it over, and began to write out her own comments.

***

Three hours later, Dominique stuffed the last of the reports into a large interoffice envelope. Deliberately, she wrapped the closure string around both of the red buttons, and then sealed the envelope with tape for extra security. Then, Dominique tapped the intercom.

Private Griffin. Dominique paused for a moment. She knew the the young woman was in the barracks and gave the private time to respond.

Yes, ma’am! The voice crackled as it emanated from the squawk box. Lori Griffin was a competent soldier, who had years of high school and college band practice in her background. The young private knew how to march and how to whirl a rifle above her head without banging into the girls who marched next to her in formation. Lori’s uniform was always immaculate, and she kept her shoes shined to high polish.

Get in here, private.

Dominique let go of the button when she heard a pair of boots hit the floor in the outer room. It would take only a few seconds for Lori Griffin to enter Dominique’s office. The sergeant took another small sip of scotch, then set the drink on her desk. She was just pulling another glass from her bottom drawer when Private Griffin knocked on her office door hard enough to shake the pane of glass.

Enter.

Private Griffin reporting as ordered, ma’am! Lori snapped to attention opposite Dominique’s desk with fingers her touching her eyebrow in a smart salute.

As you were, private.

Crossing her arms behind her back, Lori spread her feet to a shoulder-width distance and assumed a position of at ease. She looked straight ahead, eyes fixed on a distant target.

Relax, private. Have a seat.

Ma’am?

Dominique leaned back and kicked a straight-backed wooden chair next to her desk. I said, sit down. You and I need to have a talk.

Lori was visibly taken aback. As squad leader, she had been in the sergeant’s office dozens of times since the beginning of basic training. But never in an informal manner. The only times Lori had ever been seated in Sergeant Watson’s presence were in the mess hall or at class. Every other time, Lori was standing at attention, marching on the drill field, or standing at ease. A worried look crossed her face, but she gripped the back of the wooden chair and slowly sat down.

You have a problem, Private Griffin. It was a statement, not a question. Dominique poured a shot of liquor into the empty glass and pushed it across the desk to Lori.

A problem, ma’am? The private eyed the glass suspiciously. She was a recruit, not yet out of basic training. Drinking any kind of alcohol was strictly forbidden, and punishment was severe for those recruits caught with liquor.

Go ahead, private. Dominique lifted her own glass and tossed back the remainder of the scotch. She poured herself another shot. This one time won’t hurt, and I think you’re going to need it.

Lori paused for another moment, but decided that she wanted to make a good impression on her sergeant. As the recruit took the glass, Dominique studied the young woman. Lori wasn’t hard to pick out of Charlie Squad. Though the private kept her long, pale blonde hair wrapped in a tight ponytail, it was always clean and shiny, like a beacon on the tall girl. Lori was 5’10" and towered over most her squad mates. She was a stunning girl - a pale beauty - and could easily have been a model, had that been her chosen vocation. And Lori’s years as a drum major gave her superior skills in military drill and customs, as well as uniform care. That made the young woman an alpha female among the sergeant’s squad of girls, although Lori wasn't at all the aggressive type; she was a young lady, as well as a good soldier. Lori had a smile and a good word for everyone in her squad, and the other girls looked up to her and liked Lori for her forthright manner.

Lori took a tentative sip of scotch, and then gasped when the raw scotch burned her throat. The young soldier’s eyes watered, and she set the glass carefully on the sergeant’s desk.

Ma’am? Lori’s voice squeaked. The