A Whore Is Born

One week later

Debbie arrived at the designated address. It was a huge Georgian mansion located in the heart of Mayfair, London's most expensive district. The house was one of those white, stucco fronted buildings with grand white pillars on either side. It reeked of money and power. Debbie climbed up the stairs, nervously rang the door bell and again asked herself why she had come here...

After she had been summarily dismissed from Jack's studio a week ago, she had spent most of the next six days in a complete state of turmoil. What was she to do? Although she had behaved in such a wanton fashion and had agreed to become a whore for the Platinum Club, none of it was binding on her. She still had time to walk away. All there existed was some fairly risqué pictures of her which, even if her husband saw, she could laugh off as a one off and there would be no issue. There were no pictures, as far as she was aware, of her playing with that huge dildo or of being covered in Jack's spunk. However she was aware that, any further involvement with this cruel, ruthless man, and she could be well and truly trapped.

Initially she decided that she would have no further dealings with Jack or his club, she put it down to a one off, born out of the sexual frustration that was generated by her husband's months of continued absence.

She felt like that on day 1, after her session in the studio.

Day 2, she had similar feelings but was beginning to wonder why Jack had not called her so that she could tell him where to go? She now had a slow burning itch in her pussy.

Day 3, the itch in her pussy was getting even more intense and she was still wondering why Jack had not called? Maybe he did not need to use her body after all? Maybe he had found her body unsatisfactory? These thoughts sent waves of disappointment through the wannabe whore.

Day 4, her pussy was now dripping wet and she was desperate to speak to Jack. To alleviate her tension, she decided to try and replicate fucking herself with a dildo by inserting the handle of her hairbrush up her tight cunt.

Day 5, she was now so hot and horny for some news that she needed something bigger than a hairbrush so she went out and bought her first dildo. She spent all day fucking herself with it, waiting for Jack's call. By evening, exhausted and desperate for any news that indicated that she was still wanted, she decided to email Jack telling him they needed to talk.

Day 6, and at 9pm Jack finally called. By this time she was beside herself. She had again fucked herself all day with the dildo but this time she had done it by watching some hardcore BDSM p0rn that she had bought. She had never bought a p0rn DVD in her life before, but she now somehow needed to recreate the kind of filthy atmosphere that the brilliant Jack had created for her the other day. When she answered the phone, he did not allow her to speak and instead ordered her to be at a certain address at 7pm sharp tomorrow. Delighted to still be wanted, she agreed and went upstairs to carry on fucking herself with her dildo.

Day 7, Sunday, and there was Debbie, despite her better judgment, at the appointed address at the appointed time, ready and available for The Platinum Club to do with as they pleased.

The door was answered by Jack. He was wearing black chinos and a white shirt. He greeted Debbie warmly, in a way that an old uncle might greet his niece by kissing her on both cheeks and gently shaking her by her hand. You would never have guessed that, just seven days ago, he had cum all over this lady's face.

When she entered the house he took her coat. He had given her no orders as to what to wear so Debbie, who had come directly from 6pm mass at a nearby church, had dressed in her normal, conservative, Jackie O sort of way. She wore a one piece all blue dress which came to her knees, a pair of sensible blue shoes and a matching white pearl necklace and earrings. She looked every bit the conservative religious housewife that she was supposed to be, and had been an hour before when she had attended evening church. She was aware that if Jack was to have his way, as he surely would, she was going to transform herself into something very different very soon.

Jack looked on, said nothing and just smiled. He could see how classy and well turned out she was and wondered whether anyone else knew what a dirty bitch this beautiful lady really was? Probably no one outside the Club he happily thought. Certainly not her poor, deluded husband whom he knew was off fighting in Iraq, completely oblivious to the naughty antics of his hot, horny wife.

Debbie stood there nervously looking up into Jack's smiling face, waiting to see what would happen next. Jack did not leave her waiting for too long and informed her that, for today's shoot, her first as a model for the Platinum Club, they needed to go downstairs into the basement. So, after hanging her coat up on a nearby stand, he led her down.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they were standing in a dimly lit corridor at which on either side there were two doors. Debbie then looked down and saw that the floors were not carpeted and just consisted of a cold, dark brown stone. She then saw that the walls were exactly the same as the floor. The whole ambience of the place was not warm or welcoming. It did not resemble any basement that she had been in before. It was more like a dungeon...

Jack then pointed towards one of the doors and told Debbie that that was her changing room. She was to go inside and put on exactly what was there for her. When she was ready, she was to come directly into this room (Jack pointed towards the door opposite her changing room) where the "shoot" was to take place. She had 10 minutes to get ready. Failure to comply with any of these instructions would lead to an immediate termination in proceedings and they would never do business again.

So Debbie, with much nervousness and trepidation, slowly walled towards her changing room. She was now terrified at being in this place, this dungeon, but she also knew that her body demanded that she go through with whatever it was that Jack had in mind for her...

9 minutes 55 seconds later...

Debbie entered the room. Inside she found that the walls and floor consisted of the same dark, brown flooring that was in the corridor. The room was completely sparse and there appeared to be no furniture in it whatsoever. What Debbie could see, however, were four big lamps. They were huge and almost touched the high ceiling. These were lamps that you would often find in a photography/film studio and were used to enhance the light. However in this dark, dingy room, the lamps actually provided the only source of light. They had been placed in the middle of the room but in four separate corners, as if they were each placed at the corner of an imaginary square. The light from each lamp was then directed into the middle of this imaginary square so it was all focussing in on the exact same spot. And in that very spot stood Jack, arms folded, waiting for his prey.

Debbie immediately walked towards him, extremely conscience of her outfit and what he would make of it, for she knew that Jack had seen another person wear something very very similar. The young famous model that was in the pictures that Jack had showed to her the other day!

Debbie, like the famous British model, was wearing black six inch high heel boots with a gold ring attached to the inside of each boot, black silk stockings with suspenders which were attached to a tight black leather corset. The corset was tiny and came to rest at the bottom of her huge 34-D tits which were, as a result, completely exposed. And as she walked over to Jack, with much difficulty since she had never worn boots with such a high heel before, her huge tits wobbled deliciously with each step.

Jack stood there, watching this half naked beauty make her way towards him, feeling smugly satisfied with his work. Just a few minutes ago this rich, conservative housewife, who had previously been nothing but utterly faithful to her husband of eighteen years and who had no incline of the depravity that his wife was now in, had come to his house dressed, just like many other rich, conservative housewives (probably in all Channel or Armani).

And from the Club's recent investigations of her, he knew that she would have just attended the Mass being held at a nearby church. No doubt she prayed, took blessings and sacraments from the good Farther with her other rich friends. After the service, she probably would have mingled with them and talked about some sort of forthcoming charity event or dinner party. Their children would have cropped up, their well being and their education. And after this inane chatting, they would have parted, kissed each other on each cheek and promised to meet up at the next coffee morning. Then, all would have left, headed back home where their husbands and family would be waiting for them and where they would all have had a loving, evening dinner.

All that is except Debbie.

Debbie of course had chosen to be here, in this dark, dingy dungeon, dressed like a sex slave with Jack, her new Master and the man who was no doubt going to punish her when she should really have been back at home with her daughter and on the phone to her husband making sure he was safe fighting terrorists.

When she got to Jack, she stopped just a foot or so sway from him. Jack said nothing, other than to look down, nod his head and lick his lips, obviously satisfied with the stunning transformation of this conservative beauty.

Debbie meanwhile looked down submissively at the floor, too embarrassed to look up at the man she knew was about to punish her, just as he had punished that young model all those years ago. She knew what was in store for her the moment she had entered the changing room and saw the outfit that had been laid out. She could have escaped there and then, she doubted Jack needed to keep her here by force. Such a man would have had lots of pussy at his disposal, so he wouldn't have had to go to the effort of forcing her to stay. Not when there were women out there, like herself, who would come here voluntarily.

Debbie then, for some unknown reason other than the whole place and circumstance somehow compelled her to do it, put her hands behind her back and thrust her tits out towards him. It was the classic submissive pose for a bitch whenever she was in the presence of her Master. And it did not go unnoticed by Jack who immediately responded by reaching out with both hands and grabbing her succulent tit flesh. When he did, Debbie groaned. This was now real, aggressive, physical contact with another man. Everything that had gone on before had not involved direct contact but she now knew that she really was operating at another level. A level where men would take what they wanted, without asking, and without any regard to the woman's feelings.

Jack began to roughly squeeze her tits and pinch her nipples. When he did, for the first time since she had entered this room, she looked up at her new Master and saw that he had a look of pure evil determination about him. He was no longer smiling and looked like a man who wanted to hurt and punish her.

She began to groan out louder, loving the rough, cruel treatment being meted out. Jack responded by taking his hands off her tits and instead began to cruelly slap them. Each tit would get a hard, firm slap from his big hand.

Still, no words had been exchanged between the two of them, yet Debbie somehow knew exactly what was expected of her: to serve and please her Master.

After a couple of minutes of tit slapping, when Debbie's groans seemed to get louder and louder, Jack suddenly stopped. He still had an angry look of determination, but seemed to be conscience about something else. He then turned his head to look behind him, nodded, and then looked back at Debbie. However, he did not resume his tit slapping, which Debbie had hoped for, but instead walked away without uttering a word.

Debbie was left standing there, hands still clasped behind her back. Her tits, now a deep shade of red from the slapping, heaved up and down and she was in a small state of confusion. What, or who, was her Master nodding at and why had he walked away?

Foolishly Debbie had assumed they were alone in this dungeon. She was about to discover that she was wrong.

Once Jack had left, she now had an unobstructed view of what was in front of her. However, because of the bright lights that were beaming down on her, she found it difficult to see beyond them. And, because the room was so big, and she was standing in the middle, this further hindered her view of what was at the back of the room.

Without taking any steps forward -- she had not been ordered to do so -- she leaned her head forward a little in order to try and make out what, if anything, lay in front of her. Straining her eyes, she could now see smoke coming from the back of the room. Then she noticed the smell. It was cigar smoke, expensive, Cuban cigar smoke, unmistakable. Belonging to a family of some wealth, she had been around enough men who smoked cigars to recognise an expensive Cohiba.

Now where there was a cigar, there would be someone smoking it. She looked down. At first she could not see anything, but, after a few moments, when her eyes adjusted a little to the light, she could make out the outline of two men! Oh my God, she screamed to herself, she was not alone! This was terrible. And there was more, for, in addition to the men, she could also tell that there were two women, one on each of the men's lap.

Debbie was truly horrified. She had not expected this. She had expected her first shoot, as a model of The Platinum Club, to be alone, just with Jack, where he would punish her and then cum all over her, just as he had done before. And then maybe, in later shoots, other members would be introduced. But not in her first shoot. Not dressed like this, waiting to be punished.

But this sudden revelation did not cause Debbie to leave. That thought did not enter her head. She had agreed to come here, to serve at the pleasure of Jack and that is exactly what she was going to do.

However, she did want to try and see a little more of what was going on ahead of her. But she still could not see clearly, so bright were the lights shining down on her, as such, she could not make out any of the faces, either of the men or the women. The men's faces were obscured, not only by the darkness ahead, but also by the cigar smoke and the fact that each woman had leant back into her man, put her arms around his neck and was kissing their neck or cheek. They were also stroking their man's face, it was as if they were paying homage to them.

She could however tell that each man was wearing a dark, business suit. They also looked old. They were probably distinguished, rich men who were here to enjoy the show.

She then saw that each man had a hand on their woman's leg and was stroking it. Each woman had on a ridiculously short mini skirt, and what looked like black hose but, as one of the man's hands went up one of the woman's legs, she noted that it came to rest on naked flesh. Of course, the women were both wearing stockings.

The hands of the men were actually the most visible thing to her since they were that bit closer and there was no cigar smoke obstructing her view. She then noted that one of the man's hand, that had risen up to play with the naked flesh, was not white but black! Debbie, if possible, was even more shocked. She had little or no contact with the black community and to discover that she was displaying her lovely, white body to a black man was another shock on top of numerous other shocks that day.

She then looked at the man sitting next to the black one to see if he too was black. She could not be sure until he put his hand on his girl's leg and, when it reached the flesh above her stockings, she was relieved to see that his hand was white.

For poor Debbie, that was something.

There were also the faint sounds of male laughter and conversation emanating from the back of the room. Then she heard the sound of girly giggles. Clearly all were enjoying themselves, probably at her expense. This was humiliating for the rich, upper class Debbie. She was a lady that was used to being invited to the opening nights of London's premier operas and plays, sitting in the best seats and wearing the finest clothes and jewellery. She was not, however, used to standing in dark basements, dressed like a sex slave, there for the amusement of people she did not know or could not really see.

This was humiliation on a scale not tolerated normally by Britain's elite.

Unless of course they were horny dirty sluts, that is.

Despite feeling degraded and humbled by her current predicament, the poor lady also felt turned on. She could not explain it. She could make the case for feeling aroused in the presence of a tall, hansom man like Jack. But in front of these people, including other women, well, that was igniting in her dark feelings of sexual arousal that she previously thought never existed. What kind of woman was she, she wondered? How much more of this degrading treatment could she endure? And enjoy?

As Debbie mulled this over, she could tell that there was movement up ahead. She saw that both women had got up from the laps of their respective men, no doubt after taking instructions from them, and were walking towards her. They walked with a confident swagger, by swaying their hips with each step in the manner of a fashion model. In a matter of just a few seconds both girls had walked into the "square of light" that Debbie was standing in and, Debbie, for the first time, managed to get a better look at each of the girls.

On first inspection, they looked slightly younger than her, possibly in their late 20s or early 30s. They both had short, cropped black hair. One was the split of Uma Thurman as she was in Pulp Fiction and the other Cate Blanchett as she currently looks in Indiana Jones IV. As such, they were both stunning. In addition to the same, severe, short, black hair, they also wore identical outfits. They had on leather boots, heels slightly smaller than Debbie's at around five inches, but their boots did not have rings on them; a tiny, pleated black mini skirt, which flared up at the bottom and did nothing to protect much of their arse's from being on display; a crisp white shirt and of course, the obligatory black stockings and suspenders.

Their breasts were big, slightly smaller than Debbie's at probably around a 34C and it was clear that neither were wearing bras. Debbie knew this because a few buttons of their shirt had been undone revealing their vast expanse of cleavage.

Once they had got to where Debbie was standing, each of them took a place on either side of the stationary wife and stood at a 45 degree angle to her. They then both put their hands on their hips and looked at her. Debbie remained motionless, hands still behind her back, tits still thrust forward. This was pure theatre and obviously put on for the pleasure of the men at the back of the room, who remained seating, smoking and laughing.

For several seconds, the stunning women just looked up and down at the equally stunning housewife. They both licked their lips, admiring the goods on offer. Debbie meanwhile was in an utter state of turmoil, she looked at the beautiful women who were just now inches away from her. They were stunning, classy ladies, not common tarts or whores, but ladies of real substance who, like herself, were somehow caught up in this dark, dangerous world. She looked down at their hands and saw that each of them had on a big diamond engagement ring. They were married, like her. And now, standing so close to them, she could get a better look at their faces, which were staring at her intensely as they smiled and licked their lips.