A Whore Is Born

"Debbie, lovely to see you, it has been too long…" the General said as he kissed his niece. "I hope your husband has been treating you well. I know that we have been working the poor boy hard at the Ministry of Defence, but it is no easy ride when you want to rise up the ranks, isn't that right Justin, my boy…" Then, in an old comrade sort of way, he slapped Justin on his back.

"And it is lovely to see you Freddie." Debbie replied as she returned her uncle's kisses. "How is it all going, fighting those horrible people in Iraq?"

"Oh not so bad, struggling on... Look your Aunt is over there, I know she is keen to say hello. I will catch up with you later, I just have some business with the Ambassador that I need to attend to. I promise to spend some time with you later."

"Yes Freddie, you must. You know you have always been my favourite uncle and we do need to catch up…"

"Yes my dear, we do, oh we do…" he replied, as he watched his niece walk off to greet her aunt, who also happened to be his wife.

Debbie was actually not his niece through blood relation, rather she was related to him through his marriage. Debbie was his wife's brother's daughter. He had known her all her life. Although they had not seen each other recently, he had fond memories of her when she was young and they had always got on well. And of course it was he who had got her husband a job in the army and given his career a little push, whenever the need arose.

As he watched her walk off, with her arms around her husband's waist, he wondered at the hypocrisy of the whole situation – here was this supposed loving wife who, just a few weeks ago, had participated in a lewd BDSM session in a dungeon, and was now playing happy families with her unsuspecting husband. And to cap it all off her uncle had, unbeknown to her, not only witnessed everything, but had set the whole lurid thing up.

As he contemplated about how strange life could be, he could not help but focus on the young mother's wonderful tight little arse. At 36 years old, she was at the peak of her womanly beauty. She had chosen to wear a light, pink flowery summer dress which he noticed was quite short. In fact, it was shorter than what that Debbie usually wore as the dress stopped a good few inches above her knee. She was also wearing high heels. Very high heels in fact, the heel was at least 5 inches and this was definitely unusual for the normally shy, conservative Debbie. She was dressing like any whore for the Club would dress, the General thought. This was good…

He then turned to look to see where the Ambassador was. They were actually at the Ambassador's private residence for a small parry. They were there ostensibly to socialise after a period of intense negotiation over a lucrative arms deal between the two countries. However the dinner had actually been set up for another reason, a more sinister reason. It had been set up in order for the Ambassador to fuck Debbie.

Since it was such a beautiful sunny day in London, they were all outside. There were about 14 people milling about in the Ambassador's beautiful garden. And since this was supposed to be a social event, wives were also invited. Debbie and Justin were there because Debbie's husband, a Major in the army, had been part of the negotiations and was worthy of an invite. Or that was what Debbie and Justin thought. Little did they know they were there solely in order for the Ambassador to fuck Debbie.

The General walked over to the Ambassador, who was talking to some of his fellow countrymen. Ambassador Umbutu was from a large rich African oil state. He was a huge man, around 6ft 6, had wide broad shoulders and, at aged 60, has the beginnings of a slight paunch in the tummy area. He seemed to be talking business with a couple of his diplomats, who he immediately dismissed when the General came over.

"So, General, my dear old friend, I am glad to see you have brought over our little sweetener which should help clinch our deal." The Ambassador then put an arm over the General's shoulder and led him towards a waiter who was carrying a tray of champagne. "Here, let us celebrate the imminent conclusion of our negotiations and of course, more importantly, the imminent fucking of the beautiful Debbie!" He then handed the General a glass of Don Perignon Champagne. They then clinked each other's glass in acknowledgement of their impending achievement and took a sip of France's finest.

"And you are sure the bitch does not suspect a thing?" The Ambassador enquired, as he looked over with keen interest at Debbie, who was laughing sweetly away with her aunt, totally unaware that, just a few feet away, two men were plotting her downfall.

"Not a thing, Mr Ambassador, not a thing. She still has no idea that we witnessed her beating in the dungeon the other day. And since then, the Club has deliberately stayed away from her. We have been waiting for you to be free to take delivery!"

"Yes, sorry about the delay, as you know I had to return home to iron our one or two details regarding our deal but yes, I am here now to take delivery of my white meat! Ha! Ha! Ha!" The Ambassador spoke with a loud, booming African accent and the General was slightly nervous of anyone overhearing.

The Ambassador sensing the General's concern calmed him down, "Don't worry, she can't hear. And anyone who does is not important enough for us to be worried about."

For a few moments nothing was said as both men drank their Champagne and looked at Debbie. Finally it was the Ambassador who broke the silence as he could not help but feel smug at his impending conquest. "Oh, General my friend, how the wheel has turned."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, only 50 years ago, my family and my people were essentially your slaves as you ruled over my land. Now look at us. You are prepared to hand over one of your finest white women for me to fuck so that you can sell us weapons!

"General my dear, do you not see the irony in all this? Years ago, you and your people would have had me shot for just looking at her. Now you are handing me over, you wife's niece…"

Indeed, the General did see the irony in all this. He and the Ambassador went back a long way, they had fought together in the civil war that had raged in the Ambassador's homeland and forged the type of close friendship that only men who had served in the army could understand. As such, not only did he know where the Ambassador was coming from, he was not offended by it either. The General may have been the worst type of sexual predator, but that did not stop him from being tolerant of other people's views.

"Yes, times have changed. And you know what, I am happy that they have. You will enjoy Debbie, she is such an innocent bitch. I have always wanted to fuck her. Although you will get first crack today, my day will come, and come soon…"

As they continued to eye up the stunning Debbie and both openly salivated at the prospect of fucking the poor girl, Debbie continued to play the role of a dutiful wife at her husband's work function. Mingling with guests, laughing at their weak jokes, blushing appropriately whenever someone would tell her how lovely she looked, no one could possibly have suspected that this sophisticated lady had a dark, terrible secret…

Debbie, after her session in the dungeon some three weeks ago, had initially been confused and horrified by what had happened to her. Confused because she could not explain why, in such a short space of time, she had turned into such a wanton submissive slut who was prepared to allow her body to be abused in such a violent manner. Horrified because, despite desperately wanting to put these feeling aside and carry on with her normal, mundane existence, she had deep down enjoyed every minute of her abuse and wanted to continue with her "training". In essence, she wanted to be a whore. She wanted to be violently dominated and abused and, notwithstanding her religious upbringing and every sensible bone in her body telling her to behave, she could not deny what she felt.

However as the days passed and she spent time away from the Club's dominating, intimidating members, it gave her the time to think rationally and she became determined not to allow those dark feelings, and the awful reality of who she was, deflect her from her normal married life. She told herself that, provided she stayed away from the Club and was not tempted by their perverse needs, which she wanted to fulfil, then she would be ok and her life as a whore could be averted. As far as she was now concerned, her time with the Club was at an end.

The return of her husband from a six month tour of duty in Afghanistan naturally helped. She was understandably delighted to have him home and seeing him again reminded her how much she truly loved him and what the awful consequences would be if he ever found out what she had been up to. She was determined to ensure that never happened.

And as was usual, whenever Justin returned from a tour of duty, there followed a sustained period of gentle love making. And as was also usual it only ever lasted for a few days before her husband immersed himself in work and became too tired to attend to his wife's considerable needs. And this time it was worse than usual since Justin had been posted at the Ministry if Defence in London, which meant more responsibility and longer hours. But at least he was no longer posted overseas, that should help her, Debbie thought…

But it didn't. She still spent most of her free time thinking about her time in the studio and the dungeon, of being whipped by Jack, his big cock and so on and so on. Deep down she wanted to take things further. But she was married, she could not do that to her husband. Could she?

So, to try and take her mind off things, Debbie immersed herself in her work, doing as much for charity and the church as possible. As fulfilling as that was, it did nothing to fulfil her own base needs.

So Debbie decided to do what all women did when they were feeling down: she went shopping. A spot of retail therapy, with her husband's credit card, would surely make her feel better and forget all about Jack and the Club. But, when browsing through the aisles of Harvey Nicholls (London's premier store) she found herself spending an inordinate amount of time in the lingerie section. This resulted in her making several purchases of stockings, suspenders and g-strings. And, if that was not bad enough, most of her other purchases consisted of dresses and skirts that were all tight and short and shoes with very high heels.

These were not her normal purchases. Debbie usually veered towards classy and conservative. Not classy and risqué. The fact of the matter was that Debbie was constructing a wardrobe that would have met with the considerable approval of The Platinum Club. Not that she for a minute recognised that brutal fact herself.

And over the next few days, Debbie took great delight in wearing her new outfits. She took particular pleasure in wearing her new lingerie. She had never really worn stockings and suspenders on a regular basis before and had never, until she was forced to by Jack, worn a g-string. But she now found it almost natural to wear these items on a daily basis. It was as if she would be betraying the principles of the Club if she did not dress in a way that would please its members and is seemed like that would be the last thing she would ever want to do. However, whenever she felt this way, she would try and tell herself that this was ludicrous, that she was merely experimenting with fashion, as was every woman's prerogative. But deep down she knew different, deep down she knew what was happening to her. She wanted to look and feel like a whore…

Often, before she would put on her dress, she would stand in front of the mirror in order to see how she looked in just her heels, stockings, suspenders and g-string. Looking down at her shoes, she understood why men liked to see their women wear high heels (or fuck-me-shoes as some of her friends called them). They accentuated the calf muscles and of course raised a girl's bottom. Before she found them uncomfortable and would prefer to wear something with a smaller heel, or just flats. But not now. Now she found that her comfort was secondary to the way she would look to other men.

Then came the stockings which accentuated her long, slender legs. Normal hose, which ended up around her waist, whilst being more practical, did not have nearly the same affect as stockings. Stockings would reveal the top of a lady's legs, the most sensitive and alluring part and, since the rest of her legs were covered, a man's eyes would naturally be drawn upwards. It was a definitely a case of wearing something can be more revealing than wearing nothing at all.

The suspenders and suspender belt (or garters and garter belts as they are called in America), were a little old fashioned, but Debbie found that she preferred them to just hold-ups. Again, they drew a person's eye to not only a woman's thighs, but to her lovely flat well toned stomach. They also had the added advantage of framing a woman's pussy.

Sometimes she would forgo the bra or merely wear a skimpy one which barely contained her big tits (as she was doing today). And any bra she wore would be see-through and often so small that her nipples would peep out of the top.

But it was the g-string that made Debbie feel that extra bit special. The front just about covered her pussy, but it was the back, the piece of string which lay snugly between the valley of her cheeks, that made her feel most like a slut. This item of clothing for her, more than any other, symbolised what a woman should wear if she wanted to be taken seriously by a real man. This item was designed purely for their pleasure since it had no real use for the wearer. A man's eyes were immediately drawn to the string, meaning that each delicious bottom cheek was separated thus highlighting their beauty. Again, it was a case of less is more and, just like a lot of what she now wore, it may have been uncomfortable, but that was a complete irrelevance. A man's pleasure was the only thing of importance to Debbie, even though she was telling herself that that man was her husband, and not the members of the Club with whom she swore she would have nothing further to do with.

However her husband was too busy (or stupid) to appreciate, or really notice, the change in his gorgeous wife. So engrossed was he in his work and career that he either did not recognise the tighter and more revealing outfits or, when he did, he grunted in semi approval and merely commented that that was "a little risqué" but offer nothing else.

And Debbie now found herself dispensing with her old wardrobe completely and just wore her new clothes. She loved the way the new Debbie looked. She wondered why she had not dressed like this before. So many wasted years of dressing with her female friends in mind (nice and conservative) but not crucially thinking about what men would like and what they would make of her outfit. How stupid of her, she said to herself. It was men who desired her body so why shouldn't she dress to please them? And there was nothing wrong with this. She was not being unfaithful to Justin, she was merely dressing to please the opposite sex.

And Debbie was happy to apply this wonderful dress policy for today's party at the Ambassador's residence where it could be safely said that she was wearing something a "little risqué". She was wearing a newly bought pink flowery summer dress which was tight at the top and flared out at the bottom. Still Channel, but it was little bit less conservative than what she would usually wear. It was sleeveless and there were a few buttons at the front that did their best to contain her enormous breasts (the dress could have been a size bigger but Debbie had deliberately bought it because of the way it would accentuate her tits). Naturally, with this tight little wonder, she wore stockings (flesh coloured), white suspenders and white g-string. She initially wanted to go without a bra but decided at the last minute to wear one since she did not yet have the courage to go braless to such a high profile event. Finally, she wore five inch strap on pink heels.

Once more her husband just about acknowledged how she looked but he failed to notice that when she sat in the car, her short skirt rose up her delicious thighs to reach the very tops of her stockings.

And as she mingled in the party, she was aware that all the men's eyes seemed to linger on her delicious body. In particular the black men. There were black diplomats, waiters and bodyguards who lingered longer than most and made no attempt to hide the fact that they were staring at her, savouring her tight, young white married body.

Whilst Debbie had previously been happy to flaunt her body to the white men that frequented the rich parts of London, she found it a little different to do the same with black men. Their stares and looks were more predatory than mere wanton lust. She was now wishing that she had dressed a little more conservative.

So it was with some relief when dinner was finally called and she could sit down and remove her body from these preying eyes.

Unfortunately, her relief was going to be short lived…

Initially she was pleased to discover that she was sitting next to her uncle, the General. But when she discovered she was also sitting next to the Ambassador, she felt a little nervous, not only because he was black, but also because of all the stares she had received from the other black people in the garden. She wondered whether he would also treat her the same.

But her fears appeared to be unfounded for the Ambassador came across as a real gentleman. His English, although spoken with a posh African accent, was impeccable. She quickly discovered that he had attended all the right schools, went to all the right shows in London and was, at the beginning at least, nothing other than charming company. And that was handy since the General seemed to be fully engaged with someone else and had been unable to pay her much attention.

It was only after the appetisers had been taken away and the wine glasses were being refilled, did things start to change for poor Debbie…

The conversation had veered towards fashion, what was in vogue in London these days when the Ambassador made his move.

"And I must say, Debbie, whatever they are wearing these days, you look delightful today…"

"Why, thank you Mr. Ambassador. I actually just bought this the other day from the Channel shop in Sloane Street. Does your wife go there....?"

"Yes, and I do note that it is nice and short. And tight! Just as I like it…"

Debbie was taken aback by this. To say something so bold did not fit in at all with how the Ambassador has previously spoken to her.

"Err, well, yes, I-I suppose so…" She nervously replied, conscience again that her skirt was very short. As she spoke, she tried to push her skirt down and when she did, the Ambassador made no attempt to conceal the fact that he was looking down at her legs.

"Yes, although you are dressed slightly different from when we first met."

"First met? I don't believe we have ever met before. I would certainly have remembered meeting you, Mr Ambassador."

Debbie was now getting increasingly irritated with the Ambassador and where the conversation was heading. She had no time for a lecherous old black man. She was semi aristocracy and did not need to take this from him. She looked around the table for other people to talk to. But the Ambassador pressed on.

"Oh I don't think we were properly introduced, you were tied up at the time…"