(Author Note: This is the sixteenth story in a series. The characters and situations were introduced in the episodes:
Camp Torowa Falls 1964 - 01: A Fair To Remember
Read that episode first! Then read episodes 2 thru 15 before reading this one.)
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It turned out that Sandy Welles never had a chance to make his getaway, if that had indeed been his plan. The Asscons on the trip took turns trailing him around Glens Falls all day long, and they were less than subtle about it. According to Eric, Sandy complained to the counselors about this surveillance, but he was essentially told, "tough shit". Eric, for his part, had offered to accompany Sandy and show him around Glens Falls. Sandy had refused the offer - politely, for a pleasant change.

As the Wolf Cabin campers walked to the Mess Hall for dinner on Saturday night, Sandy seemed as morose as ever. Since returning from town he would provide short, polite answers to questions, but refused to actively participate in any conversation. Corey was just about ready to chalk Sandy up as another Phil Lundon. As long as Sandy participated in any team activities like Phil did last year, Corey didn't much care if he kept to himself the rest of the time.

Dinners (and all meals on Sunday) were the only meals where campers did not have to eat with their cabin mates. The four friends sat down to dinner on Saturday night with Robby Jones. Jerry's 9-year-old cousin finally seemed to be loosening up a bit, as he made his way through his first summer at camp. The little guy had thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon spent cruising on Little Bear Lake in the sloops. Corey was glad to note that at least one of their "problem children" seemed to be making some progress towards becoming a participating camp member.

Dinner was another one of Corey's favorites, spaghetti and meatballs. Camp food was pretty good in general, but there was something special about any pasta dishes, or pizza. One of the cooks must be Italian, or at least have learned from an Italian. Even Filetti's back home didn't do Italian food better than this. Corey's opinion in this matter was shared by a majority of the campers, so it was a very happy and noisy group of boys who were eating dinner that evening.

Eventually Corey noticed that Robby seemed a bit distracted. The youngster kept staring off towards the front of the Mess Hall. Jerry obviously noticed this too because he finally said, "What's the problem now, cous?"

Robby kept staring, then finally pointed and said, "Who's that blonde girl over there?"

Corey followed the line of sight indicated by Robby's pointing finger and saw.... Anna Belling! Corey's heart skipped a beat as he looked upon his true love for the first time in eleven months. His heart skipped another beat. Even with her face turned away from him, she was a gorgeous as ever. His heart skipped another beat, then another. In fact this was getting a bit ridiculous. Corey punched himself firmly in the sternum and his heart reluctantly began beating again. That's better!

Corey began staring at Anna even more openly than Robby had been doing. "Do you need a lobster bib, Corey?" asked Alan helpfully.

Corey quickly checked his chin and found that he was not, in fact, drooling. Although he wouldn't have been completely surprised if he was. As his friends broke up in laughter at his reaction, Corey said, "Shut up, Alan!" and went back to staring at Anna. As he stared, Corey wished that Anna would turn his way so he could see her face. She stayed turned away from him though, talking animatedly and sharing laughs with..... Sandy Welles?

The smile fell from Corey's face and he literally rubbed his eyes in disbelief. He opened them again, and had another look. Sure enough, there was that spoiled rich twit, Sandy Welles, looking happier than Corey had ever seen him. Sandy said something that made Anna laugh uproariously, her laughter rolling through the loud background noise in the Mess Hall to break across Corey's consciousness, snuffing out his happiness like a candle.

NOOOOOO!!!! shrieked Corey's mind, as he shook his head slowly. It just couldn't be. Anna Belling was his girl.

Wasn't she? Anna had sought him out after church the final Sunday of camp last season, specifically for the purpose of giving him a kiss. Corey's very first kiss with a real girl.

As Corey watched Anna engaged in happy conversation with Sandy, he realized that kiss had happened eleven months ago. He and Anna had not seen each other at all since. Hardy a day went by when Corey didn't think back to that kiss. Did Anna remember it at all? Did she even remember that Corey was alive?

Anna had chosen Corey to flirt with while at camp last season. She had even kissed him on the last Sunday they were together. Corey had assumed their relationship would continue this season. Now he could see that she had chosen Sandy for this season.

Cold waves of reality washed over Corey's consciousness. Anna was a beautiful, rich girl from New York. Why would she have any long term interest in an average boy like Corey, a boy from a middle class family? A boy whose father sold insurance in a small town in Pennsylvania?

Wouldn't it be more logical for Anna to be interested in a rich boy from New York, a boy whose father teaches Greek Literature at an Ivy League University? Corey suddenly found that he hated Lysander Welles.

"I wish you'd at least tell me what's wrong," said Jerry, who was sitting on the edge of his bed.

Corey was lying on his side in bed, his back turned to his best friend in the world. "There's nothing wrong," said Corey, his voice ragged with emotion.

"Really?" said Jerry, his voice thick with disbelief. "Then why did you brush off Anna so rudely after dinner?"

Corey sighed, "Because she was with him."

"Him who?" said Jerry, confused. "You mean Sandy?"

"Yeah."

"I really don't think he's much competition for you," said Jerry.

"Really? I think you have that backwards," said Corey, keeping his back to his friend. "He's a rich kid from New York she probably sees all the time - maybe even goes to school with. I'm a poor kid from Pennsylvania she sees a few Sundays a year. I was nuts to think there could ever be anything between us."

Jerry digested this for a few seconds, then said, "First of all, you're not a poor kid."

"Don't start that again!"

"Okay, I won't," said Jerry. "But she kissed you last year, right?"

Corey finally rolled over on the bed to face Jerry, who was sitting on the edge of the next bed. "How the hell did you know that?" It was one of the few secrets that Corey had kept from his best friend.

"Call it a lucky guess," said Jerry. "The point is that she went out of her way to kiss you. Though why she would pick you over me is an interesting question. I guess there really is no accounting for taste."

"Don't even try to distract me with that garbage," said Corey. "Yeah, so she kissed me once. Can you imagine what she's been doing with him for the past eleven months?"

"Wait," said Jerry, "did either Anna or Sandy tell you they were involved in any way but as friends?"

"They didn't have to!"

"What are you talking about?" said Jerry.

"Never mind!" said Corey. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." He rolled back over, once again turning his back on his best friend.

On Sunday morning Corey stood at the full length mirror at the rear of Wolf Cabin and adjusted his tie. Corey hated the tie, but it was the only one he had with him at camp. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, since he hated all the other ties he owned too. In fact he hated all the Sunday clothes he was wearing. At that moment Corey hated just about everything and just about everyone. Corey was wearing his emotions on his sleeve that morning, so he was being given a wide berth by everyone, including Jerry.

Corey mumbled his way through the national anthem at the morning flag raising ceremony. The fourth verse of "The Star-Spangled Banner" had Jerry in tears, as usual. What a wimp!

At breakfast Sandy sat with Anna and her grandparents at the head table with Boss Lemmon. Corey couldn't stomach the idea of pancakes, and settled for bacon and some toast, which he was only able to pick at. "Are you okay, Corey?" said Alan, a look of concern on his face. "You've seemed out of sorts since last night and now you're hardy eating."

"Yes, I'm fine," said Corey, sarcastically. "Mind your own business, Dr. Kildaire."

"Fine," said Alan, echoing Corey's sarcasm. "Suit yourself."

Corey sat with his friends at church as always. But he was with them in body only. Given Corey's mood, they avoided talking to him, with suited him just fine. Predictably, Sandy sat up front next to Anna and her grandmother, on "the Bench" that campers had to lie down on to get their rumps roasted by Boss Lemmon's razor strop. Corey wondered if Sandy even realized that fact, as the hated rich twit sat there smuggly in his Brooks Brothers suit.

Corey was never in any danger of falling asleep during the nearly 90 minute sermon, although he was happy to see Sandy nod off once or twice. Anna had to prod him awake the last time, and they exchanged a few whispered words. Corey smiled to himself. With any luck, both of them would be called out by the Asscon monitors and have to stand in line to take a spanking for not paying attention in church.

Corey delighted in imagining Sandy on the bench where he was sitting with Anna in highly different circumstances. He wanted to see Sandy lying across that bench naked, while Boss Lemmon gave him the worst public razor stropping ever seen at Camp Torowa Falls. His imaginings eventually became even darker, with the throughly thrashed Sandy actually tied down on the bench, this time face up. Then the rich twit screamed for mercy as certain tender parts of his anatomy were slowly flayed....

Whoa! Corey shook his head briefly to clear it. Wow! That was a bit much, even for the hated Sandy to have to endure. Corey started to wonder if he had been hanging around Jerry too long. His friend was a big fan of the idea of torturing information out of captured enemies.

Eventually the sermon ended, and the congregation filed out past Reverand Belling and Boss Lemmon, who stood at the entrance greeting everyone. The Asscon monitors were at their usual posts, and for a pleasant change Corey was not called out to get in line for a spanking. Jerry and Robby both were called out, as was Alan. Corey did actually feel a bit of sympathy for his friends. Which is more than he could say when Sandy and Anna were both called out to get in line.

To Corey's intense amusement, Sandy had no idea of what was going on. Anna had to move to the front of the line with the other two girls being spanked, because this was definitely a "ladies first" affair. This left the unhappy Jerry to explain to Sandy what was going on, and what Sandy would be expected to do when his turn came at the front of the line. Sandy shook his head in disbelief.

Corey still longed for the day he'd get to see the look on Sandy's face when the first "thwack" of Boss Lemmon's razor strop burned into the rich twit's bare bottom. That would be a glorious day! Meanwhile Corey would take what he could get. A public over-the-knee spanking on the seat of Sandy's Brooks Brothers briefs was a whole lot better than nothing.

Soon an Asscon brought a stool out and set it near the front of the line of children waiting to be spanked. Corey counted three girls and... 24 boys in line this morning. The children in line shifted nervously, wondering who would be coming out to spank them. Corey knew exactly how it felt to be in that line, having been spanked after church several times, including twice the previous summer.

A murmur went throught he crowd as Miss Sally, one of the laundry matrons, advanced to the stool. As she walked she hunted through her purse and came up with... a solid wooden hairbrush. The 27 children in line stared at that brush, which would all-too-soon be connecting with their underwear-clad backsides.

Corey was curious to see Miss Sally in action. He had been spanked several times by Miss Bertha, Miss Sally's sister. He wondered if Miss Sally was a good as Miss Bertha, who in Corey's opinion was quite skilled at making children's bottoms sting.

As he looked at Anna and Sandy in line, Corey hoped that Miss Sally would be spanking hard today. Of course that would mean that his friends would get it harder too, but that's the way it goes sometimes. Whatever the doomed kids were gonna get, their wait was just about over.

Miss Sally sat down on the stool, and set her purse down behind the stool. Then she straightened out her skirt, making a nice flat place on her lap for her "customers" to lie while she warmed their fannies with her hairbrush. "Okay, Gina dear," said Miss Sally, "let's get going."

An 8-year-old girl named Gina, who was a daughter of one of the kitchen staff ladies, was the first to climb into Miss Sally's lap. Miss Sally wasted no time, but flipped up the back of the little girl's skirt and applied four sharp whacks of her hairbrush to the white panties of the squirming girl.

Soon Gina was rubbing her eyes with one hand, and the back of her skirt with other as she walked away. Then it was the turn of 11-year-old Tricia, Miss Sally's own daughter. "I'm sorry Mommy," said Tricia as she scrambled up on her mother's lap.

"You're about to be a bit sorrier," said Miss Sally, as her hairbrush went back into action. Five whacks to her panty-clad bottom later, Tricia danced away, sniffling slightly.

Here comes the first main event, thought Corey, as he watched Anna climb into the large woman's lap. Anna tried to maintain her dignity, but the fact was that everyone standing around there was now seeing her panties, which were about to be spanked.

As the traitorous vixex lay there, bottom up for her spanking, Corey couldn't help but notice what a shapely bottom it was that was covered - barely - by those white panties. It was such a shame, Corey thought. He used to dream about getting better acquainted with that bottom, and possibly even spanking it himself one day.

Actually he'd still be quite happy to spank it - spank it until it fell off of the traitorous brat. But for now he'd have to settle for letting Miss Sally take care of business. And so she did - six sizzling swats of the hairbrush were applied to the seat of Anna's panties in short order.

It was too much to hope that six swats of a hairbrush would make the 14-year-old girl cry, but at least she could have grunted a bit. But Anna retained as much dignity as she could under the circumstances, not making a sound apart from a brief gasp between the last two whacks.

Corey had hoped to be able to see Anna's face during the spanking. But she hung her head down throughout - hiding her face from the gawking spectators. But as she climbed off Miss Sally's lap and began to walk away, she happened to look over in Corey's direction. She noticed the smug grin on his face and turned quickly away. Was it his imagination, or did Anna start to cry as she turned away from him? It was probably just wishful thinking on Corey's part.

As Anna walked away, hiding her face, the first of two dozen boys dropped his trousers and climbed up on Miss Sally's lap to receive the tender ministrations of her hairbrush. The boys were dealt with in an assembly line fashion.

As one boy was up on Miss Sally's lap squirming under the blows from her hairbrush, the boy at the front of the line unbuckled his belt (if he wore one) and then unbuttoned his trousers and unzipped his fly. The boy then held his loosened trousers at his waist as he waited his turn. When the freshly spanked boy climbed off of Miss Sally's lap and limped away, the next boy let go of his loose trousers as he climbed up on her lap. This allowed his trousers to fall around his ankles, exposing his white briefs. It also kept the younger boys from kicking too energetically as their bottoms were warmed.

After the new boy was in place Miss Sally's hairbrush went back to work, applying four to six swats to the seat of the presented briefs. Meanwhile the boys still in line all took a single step forward and the boy in front of the line began loosening his trousers. It was an efficient way of doing business, if your business happened to be spanking naughty boys.

The third boy in line was Robby Jones. Jerry's little 9-year-old cousin had a sick look on his face as he watched the boy in front of him get his spanking. As poor little Robby suffered his own spanking across the laundry lady's broad lap, Corey exchanged a sympathetic look with Jerry. It was a shame the poor little guy was getting publicly spanked his first Sunday at camp.

A short time later Alan was unbuckling and unzipping himself at the front of the line. As the future doctor climbed up on Miss Sally's lap, Corey began to feel a bit guilty about the way he had been treating his friends. He could be as mad as he wanted at Anna and Sandy, but that was no excuse to treat Alan, Eric, and especially Jerry the way Corey had been today. He vowed to apologize to them before lunch.

Soon Dave Drury took his turn on Miss Sally's lap. While Dave was getting his dose of hairbrush whacks, Sandy Welles was unbuckling his fancy belt and unfastening/unzipping the trousers of his grey Brooks Brothers suit. Sandy was actually wearing the jacket that came with the suit, the only boy in church that hot summer day wearing a coat. In fact the only men wearing a jacket in church that day were Reverend Belling and Boss Lemmon.

The two men obviously wore their jackets out of a sense of duty. The only reason Corey could see why Sandy would wear a jacket on a hot, humid late July day was that he was certifiably nuts. He chuckled at the thought - Anna probably deserved a nut case like Sandy. May they enjoy a long and miserable life together.

Corey chuckled again when Sandy's "sartorial accoutrements" brought the proceedings briefly to a halt. The tails of Sandy's expensive suit jacket covered the seat of his briefs after he climbed up on the lap of correction. So Sandy had to climb back down off of Miss Sally's lap and take off his suit jacket. He handed it to a nearby Asscon to hold while he climbed back up into place. This caused a good deal of laughter among the spectators, including Corey.

They all laughed again when Miss Sally looked carefully at the fancy script imprint on the waistband and said, "Brooks Brothers undies! Wow!" She felt the material on the seat and said "It feels the same, let's see if Brooks Brothers cotton provides more protection than Hanes cotton."

Corey was delighted that all that hubbub had caused Sandy's face to turn beet red with embarrassment before the first hairbrush whack fell on the seat of the Brooks Brothers cotton. The six whacks sounded the same as the six the other boys, including Alan, had received. Corey could only hope that some special property of the expensive Brooks Brothers cotton made the whacks hurt ten times as much. Alas, it didn't seem likely since Sandy made no sound during his spanking, and the rich brat didn't even look close to shedding any tears.

While all this had been going on, Jerry had stood patiently holding his trousers at his waist. After Sandy climbed down climbed up on Miss Sally's lap and duly received six swats on the seat of his white y-front Jockeys. After he climbed off her lap and got dressed again, Jerry walked over to stand next to Corey.

As they watched 14-year-old Bill Ramsey get his spanking, Jerry said, "You don't mind me standing here, do you?"

Corey chuckled ruefully, "No, of course not."

"Well I just thought..."

"No, I understand," said Corey. "And I'm sorry about the way I've been acting."

"Good," said Jerry. "Does this mean you're ready to tell me what the heck is wrong?"

"Ummm, not yet," said Corey. "I need to be alone for a while after lunch I think. Maybe later I'll be ready to talk."

"Okay," said Jerry. "You know I'm here for you whenever you need me."

Corey smiled at his best friend and said, "I know, my friend, and thank you."

"No problem."

The beat went on, literally, for a few more minutes. After 16-year-old Jim Slater got his dose of after-church discipline (the nearly 6-foot-tall teen looked ridiculous over Miss Sally's lap), the official "punishment parade" ended. But that was not the literal end of the punitive festivities. This week, like many weeks, there were staff parents who had children in need of discipline for offenses that occurred outside of church. Of course this kind of discipline was usually performed in the home, as with most families. But occasionally one or more of the staff children had committed an offense serious enough to warrant a public spanking.

Todd Ritter, the camp bus driver, handy man and caretaker, was standing in line with his son Kurt. The 8-year-old looked nervously at the short black leather strap that his father held in his left hand. The boy had felt that strap applied to his naughty backside many times, and was clearly not looking forward to a repeat performance. He rubbed the seat of his trousers in anticipation of the pain to come.

Standing behind the Ritters was Miss Margaret, one of the kitchen ladies. To Corey she looked strange without her hairnet. Miss Margaret was accompanied by her 10-year-old son, Donny. Corey could not see any instrument of correction being carried by Miss Margaret or Donny. Perhaps Miss Margaret had a hairbrush in her purse, too.

After Danny Myers got off her lap Miss Sally got up and grabbed her purse. As she walked away, she put the hairbrush back in its place.

"So how was it, compared to Miss Bertha's hairbrush?" asked Corey.

"Dunno," said Jerry, chuckling. "I didn't get it from Miss Bertha's hairbrush last year - you did."

"But I thought...."

"I got it with that strap," said Jerry, indicating the strap held by Todd Ritter, who had replaced Miss Sally on the stool. "We all got it the final Sunday last year, remember?"

"Oh yeah," said Corey, not really remembering. These Sunday punishments had all started to run together in his memories.

The two friends watched silently as Kurt Ritter very reluctantly lowered his trousers and even more reluctantly climbed on his father's lap. The lad protested as his father pulled down his white briefs in the back exposing his bare bottom for the strap. Poor kid. These unofficial punishments after the official parade did not have to be over underwear, although kids were not bared in front for these public punishments witnessed by children of both genders.

Kurt Ritter protested a lot more once his father's strap began raining down firm blows on his bare posterior. The lad kicked as much as the trousers around his ankles would allow. By the time the last lick of the strap fell, little Kurt was bawling. Corey thought he got an even dozen licks of the strap, but he could have miscounted.

10-year-old Donny was not a happy camper either, and the reason soon became apparent. After Kurt climbed down and limped away, massaging his still-bared bottom, Miss Margaret made Donny drop his trousers and climb up on Todd's lap. Donny was gonna get the strap too! But first his bottom was bared, just like Kurt's had been.

Todd Ritter applied his short black strap with care to the cringing bottom of little Donny, making sure to cover the entire bottom surface with painful welts. Donny, for his part, was most unappreciative of the care taken. In fact the little guy protested most sincerely, his protests taking the form of rather pathetic howls and pleas to stop. Said pleas fell on deaf ears, needless to say, and the naughty 10-year-old received his full allotment of 12 strap licks before the whipping ended.

After Donny was duly whipped and sent on his way, Todd Ritter rose to take the still sniffling Kurt home and the waiting Asscon removed the stool from its public place of honor. This signalled the true end of the public punishments for that particular Sunday and the gathered spectators and lingering victims all dispersed. Most of them made their way to the picnic ground by the lake, where the tradional Sunday picnic lunch would be served.

"You know, I don't get you," said Jerry.

Corey laughed bitterly. "I don't get me either."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I!"

"You're out of control."

"Not completely," said Corey, "or Sandy Welles would be coughing up his balls right about now."

Jerry laughed, "I'll have to remember that one." Corey just glared at him as he changed out of his Sunday clothes. Jerry got serious again, "Look, buddy, let's say for a second you're right. Let's say that Anna has picked Sandy Warbucks over you. Why do you care?"

"Why?" said Corey incredulously. "Because I loved her! No, damn it - I still love her!"

"Okay," said Jerry. "Fair enough. But big deal, you're a very cool guy. And there are a lot of other girls out there - some of them even better looking than Anna."

"You take that back!" said Corey, putting up his dukes.

"Excuse me?" said Jerry, shaking his head in disbelief. "So now you're threatening me?"

"I'm sorry!" said Corey, deflating. "See! This is why I need to be alone this afternoon."

"We're never supposed to be alone," said Jerry. "Rules are rules."

"Yeah, I remember how you never break the rules," said Corey. "Given any cherry bombs to littleuns lately?"

"Har de har, har," said Jerry as he finished changing and clutched at his stomach, "Look, I gotta hit the head - real hard."

"I really didn't need to know about that," said Corey, smirking.

"Will you be serious?" said Jerry. "I'm just asking you to wait for me until I get back. I'll go with you."

"I dunno..."

"Well," said Jerry. "Please wait - meanwhile I gotta go!" He clutched at his abdomen again and dashed out the front door, sprinting for the Bath House.