A Whore is Born Ch. 01

Katie Jones arrived at the studio at the appointed time. To say she was nervous was an understatement. It was her husband's idea that she went through with the photo shoot, despite her best efforts to convince him that they should wait. They would find the money from somewhere. Just give her time to get a job, she told him. There was that interview for the hostess job in a night club in just a few days time. Why did she have to do this now? She could get the job and their money problems would, in an instance, be solved.

Frank would always get exasperated whenever they talked about this, which in the current environment was almost every hour of every day, explaining to her over and over again that they could not wait. They needed the money now and the money being offered by Jack Wells, his boss, was too good to turn down. And it was money in the bank rather than the possibility of money from a job which she may or may not get.

And boy did the Jones' need the money. Frank, aged 35 was a middle ranking manager for a major bank in the City of London. He was married to the stunning Katie who had been his secretary for a short while. She was a mere 21 years old. She had been 19 when they first met and the dirty bugger had done rather well in nabbing such a fine piece of ass. Firm policy had dictated that one of them had to leave, relationships with co-workers were not tolerated. So it made natural sense for Katie to leave since Frank had the better job. She very quickly got a job with another bank, their marriage blossomed and soon thereafter they got married.

Then, like most newly weds, they decided to buy the big expensive house in one of those middle class suburbs. They could not really afford it but, a couple of years ago, interest rates were low and the mortgage broker told them they should leverage themselves up, pay next to nothing on the interest and, if and when rates did go up, well they were both in jobs, their salaries would have gone up so there should be no problem in repaying the loan. Like so many others, they bought into this dream and they bought a large 5 bedroom house in the affluent town of Guildford, Surrey, home to many well paid bankers.

Alas 2007 was a very different place than 2005. Not only had interest rates rocketed up to eye watering levels, but the sub prime crisis and the subsequent credit crisis had caused a wave of redundancies across the financial sector in London. The once great titans of the financial world were now on their feet and there were cutbacks galore in London and it was not long before Katie lost her job. Then they fired a whole swath of managers at banks but luckily for Frank, he was one of the few who were spared. New managers arrived with an aggressive way of doing business. Failure was not tolerated and everyone had to prove themselves. Bonuses were ruthlessly cut and salaries frozen. And still rates rose and the Jones' found it increasingly difficult to meet their mortgage repayments, especially on one person's income.

Their financial situation had, like for many other Britons, got progressively worse and worse. It had got to the stage where Frank and Katie's savings had gone and they could no longer make ends meet. Something had to give. They could either sell their house, but in the current market they would get less than what they paid for (disaster) or alternatively they could fall in arrears and the bank would repossess. Also a disaster. The only option was to generate another income stream and that is where young Katie came in.

Katie desperately tried to find work but, with so many people with superior qualifications out there unemployed and looking for work, it was proving rather more difficult than she envisaged.

The problem for Katie was that her main asset was her body, and she was reluctant to utilise it. Indeed Katie could have easily been a model, well a glamour model at least since she was petit at 5 ft 4. Not only that, if she wanted to make real money she could easily have been a porn queen, her looks were so good (and filthy). She could have easily been mistaken for the Romanian porn Goddess, Jasmine Rogue. She was the image of her. Blonde, slim, beautiful angelic face, an ass of a 10 year old boy and the most sinful pair of tits imaginable - which were impossibly big for such a petit body. Those 34DD jugs never failed to go unnoticed by men who could not help but to stare at her young body.

And during the last 6 months of looking for work, some of the agencies had suggested modelling and implied that there was a considerable amount of money on offer if she stripped off her clothes and displayed her young, tight body to the paying public. A few had gone so far as to mention the large sums on offer for appearing in a porno film. She had of course always resisted. She was far too shy to display her body to anyone else other than her husband. When she got married, she had been a virgin. The only man who had ever seen her fully naked, with the lights on, was her husband. That would be until today.

And as for appearing in a porno film? Don't be silly. Respectable middle class married girls living in affluent Surrey did not appear in porno films. (Or so she thought).

However, today all that was going to change. And the instigator of poor Katie's change of heart? Well her husband, naturally.

Frank had become, a few years ago, a member of a very select, secretive photography club. He had been introduced to it by one of his co-workers. Their sole purpose was to indulge in their fantasy of taking pictures of young girls. They would ask them to dress up in various outfits, maybe as a schoolgirl, nurse, secretary or in just some skimpy revealing lingerie etc. Essentially whatever took their fancy. And in return the girls were paid a considerable some of money. And the money they got, got higher the more they exposed.

So, for instance, if a girl did not want to disclose her tits or pussy to the eager men, she would get a flat fee of £200 per session. She would dress up, reveal a little leg and cleavage and that would be it. Not bad for two hours work. However, revealing her tits, well that would cost an additional £100; her pussy a further £100 and, to reveal her anus, a whopping £150. So, in total, a girl could make in one two hour session £550 plus tips. Not bad. And many of the girl's were repeat performers, they would come back once or twice a week and, if they were going full on naked, they would clear at least £1,100 a week, cash in hand, no tax, thank you very much.

And where did all these glamorous girls come from? Well, the club would regularly advertise for them in various magazines and newspapers. They would ask for high class glamour models who were interested in making good money for some private work. Interested applicants were asked to send in a full picture of themselves plus their vital statistics to an anonymous address. If they looked like they had a body worthy of being photographed, they would be asked in for an interview by the chairman of the club. There was, of course, a careful vetting process since they only wanted girls of a certain "calibre" to participate -- i.e. they had to posses a body sufficient to fulfil what the men wanted. And there were no shortage of applicants. Schoolgirls wanting money to supplement their drink and drug habit; college girls paying their way though college; and last, but not least, hot horny young housewives who either fancied adding a little spice to their dull married life or needed money to put food on the table.

And it was the last category that the club liked the most, the forbidden flesh of a young wife who was revealing herself because they were desperate for the money. These type of women were rapidly on the increase as the economic situation deteriorated and they were the most willing and were prepared to reveal the most. They came back again and again as their inhibitions melted away and their bank balance swelled. All of them would never reveal to their husbands that they were models, most would claim that the money came from doing some other mundane job. And, crucially for the club, most of them eventually came to revel in revealing their body to men that were not their husband.

Initially, they would just want the £200 flat fee. They would just dress up in a sexy dress, maybe a short mini skirt which revealed their legs and they were always made to wear stockings, suspenders, suspender belt and a g-string. The skirts were always of a length that allowed the flesh above the stockings to be on display. They would first be asked to sit in a chair, cross their legs so the skirt would rise up their delicious thighs and the tabs of their stockings would be revealed. They would then be asked to undo a few buttons of their shirt so that there cleavage and tits (at that stage they would still be covered by a small lacy black bra) would be on display. Some would even agree to take the bra off, provided the shirt remained on. That made little difference to the cunning men since the shirt's they were made to wear were always made out of the thinnest, most transparent cotton imaginable and, under the glare of the camera lights, you could clearly make out the outline of their tit flesh.

If they enjoyed the basic session, almost all would return with a view of just doing the basic session again. But once the photographers had demonstrated an element of trust with the young ladies, the women would became more comfortable in their presence and on that second visit, which was always at night, a little wine would be served. They would be asked if, instead of making £200, they fancied making £300, for the same work. All they would have to do was show off their tits to a bunch of old middle age married men who were in it for a bit of fun. Why not, they would think and, before you knew it, they were opening up their blouse displaying their tits.

It was so easy that after that and showing off their arse and pussy became a mere formality. The men would ask them to raise their skirt to reveal their g-string. They always did. And it was the most skimpiest of g-strings that money could buy. The front would barely cover their married pussy, whilst the back consisted of just a piece of string. Their wonderful bottoms would be entirely on display to the flashing cameras.

Look, for another £100, take off your g-string and show us your pussy? We can pretty much see it already, they would say. That's true, the girl would think. She would probably be on her third glass of wine by then and off they would come. And then the piece de la resistance would be offered. £150 for turning round, spreading your legs, reach back and open up your lovely little bottom cheeks so we can see your anus. There, have you ever made an easier £150 in your life?

£550 for a two hours work well, that was enough to help pay the mortgage and stave off the creditors. And since the money was so good, within a week they would be back, and this time they would not hesitate. Within 5 minutes of the shoot, they were stripping off just to their stockings, suspenders and heels. Maybe they would be asked to put in a see-through teddy which allowed their tits to be clearly visible. They would then be asked to scoop them out, raise their teddy or to take off completely. Essentially they were quite happy to do whatever these men wanted and to reveal their tight gorgeous married bodies. Most were prepared to spread there legs and allow the men to intimately photograph their pussies, get on all fours, arch their back so their anus would be on display. They would be ordered to thrust their tits out and to suck on their own nipples in order for them to be hard and erect. All, without fail, obeyed.

But that was as far as it would go. None of the men touched the girls or, for that matter, was any type of sexual activity permitted, either performed by the girls on themselves or with any of the members of the club. That was strictly prohibited. In this club at least.

For there was another club, a club that Frank was not a member of. The Platinum Club. Membership to The Platinum Club was strictly invitational only. And it was far from easy to get an invite. From what Frank could gather, it appeared that the existing members had to be satisfied firstly that you were of sufficient standing in society -- i.e. they felt that you were, in whatever your chosen profession, of a high enough ranking. Frank was aware of generals in the army, judges, directors, chairman etc all being members of The Platinum Club. And secondly you had to be able to afford it.

You see, all the money paid to the girls came out of the pockets of the members of The Platinum Club. They seemed quite happy to subsidise the initial shoots and at first, when the junior members joined, their charity seemed hard to explain? Why would they be prepared to pay so much money just to see pictures of girls being photographed? But then a pattern would emerge. Girls would turn up for a maximum of three shoots only and then they would never be seen again by the junior members.

On the initial shoots, one Platinum Member only would be present. They were there to ensured that the strict rules of the junior club were adhered to. These supervising Platinum members were always one of four people (Jack was one) and they were regularly rotated, each supervising a different girl.

On the third, or sometimes second, shoot (depending how it had progressed) another Platinum Member would arrive to observe. Their identities were never revealed to the junior members. These men were always middle age or old, aloof, appeared to be rich and would never bother themselves by talking to the mere junior members. They would never take pictures and would just sit at the back of the room, smoking a cigar and having a glass of whisky, say very little and, it seemed, assess the girl. For what purpose, know one really knew.

After the shoot was finished they would, away from the junior members but with the supervising Platinum member, talk to the girl. After that, the girl would never be seen by the junior members again. It was obvious that she had either agreed to become a model for The Platinum Club or, if she had turned them down, was never invited back to the junior club. In a month or so time, another girl would emerge and the process would begin again. Basic shoot followed by stripping off, Platinum Member chat, disappearance of girl. Junior members would never know because Platinum members would never ever talk to them about the girl or what they had offered. Any time a junior member talked about The Platinum Club to a supervisor, they would be shot down and told to stay out of business that did not concern them.

Sometimes, and only sometimes, a junior member would disappear and it became apparent that they had been invited to The Platinum Club. A condition of membership seemed to be total cut off from junior members. And despite the friendships developed over the years, whatever The Platinum Club offered, it seemed to be worth it.

What was it that The Platinum Club offered? Junior members could only guess but it did not take a genius to work out that the girls were asked to step it up for the older, richer members. One assumed what they did was more explicit in nature and maybe even the veto on sexual activity was lifted. But despite Frank's best efforts, he could never be sure.

Frank was just happy to be a member of the junior club. Taking pictures of naked girls was great. When he got married he had initially lied to Katie about what he was up to, but in the end he told her the truth. She did not mind, so in love was she. And when she was convinced that he never touched the girls, she thought nothing more about his club.

That was of course until today, when she was outside the door of the studio which the junior members used. She had, despite her better judgment, been persuaded by Frank to model for the junior club. Frank had told her that after one basic shoot and two more of the revealing shoots, they would make £1,300. And with the inevitable new found confidence, she could maybe start a modelling career. It was perfect, Frank told her, he would always be there with her, nothing could happen to her, they would make some money and with the photos they took, put together a portfolio and she was off in her new career and their financial problems were solved!

And there was one more additional benefit for Frank. An oh so very very nice benefit. Of course, following the third shoot, when she was invited to the Platinum Club, before turning them down, she could find out more about what was offered. You see Frank had made it clear to his wife that for his little plan to work, no one at the shoot could know that she was his wife. That, for obvious reasons, was strictly forbidden. He knew that his little club was a mere feeder for the main event. If a wife ever got in, then the secret of what went on, and with whom, would be out. Whilst some of the junior members whom he went out with for a beer with knew he was married, he knew that no one had ever met Katie. Even his boss Jack had not met Katie, he did not even have a picture of her at work.

As such, the apparently clever Frank came up with his plan. First he sent in Katie's picture to a PO Box address in the magazine that the club used to advertise for girls. Since she stunningly beautiful, an initial interview was inevitable. And sure enough, a week or so later, an email came to Katie's account asking her for an interview at a bar. The result was a formality and she was invited to the shoot. A date was given and Frank ensured that he was registered that date to be one of the photographers. You see, only a maximum of four photographers, including the supervisor, were ever allowed at a shoot as you did not want to initially intimidate the poor girl.

Furthermore, Frank promised her that she would not have to do anything she did not want. If she felt it was getting out of hand, she could put a halt to proceedings. He assured her that if necessary, he could put a stop to things by telling the other guys to lay off. He even said he would disclose to everyone that she was his wife and rescue her, even if it meant that he would inevitably be thrown out of the club.

Katie agreed and that is how this poor, nervous, shy, beautiful wife found herself outside a modelling studio. Inside she knew that there were up to four men, one of whom was her husband, and she was expected to model a slutty outfit, of their choice, and show off as much of her body as possible. The more the better, in fact. She had never, in her young life, been more afraid than she was at that moment as her shaking hand went up to the door bell. For a moment she hesitated, then she made the fateful decision and pressed the button. Little did she know that from that moment, her life, and her husband's, would never be the same again...

After a minute or so, the door was opened and there was Jack, looking down on the innocent beauty. "Ah, Katie, we have been expecting you. Do come in. Come on in." Jack said, in his soft but commanding voice. Jack was around 50 years old, tall and in good shape. Having played lots of rugby in his youth he was very broad and muscular and, which through regular exercise today, meant he was still in good shape. Whilst he may have had the body of a 25r year old, alas the ageing process had caught up with him in other ways as his blonde hair had started to turn silver grey. His model's face was also looking a little warn but he was still strikingly hansom, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Katie.

As Katie greeted with him with a firm handshake, she looked up at his lovely blue eyes and his soft features and at that moment she felt a little weight being lifted off her shoulder and a little less nervous. She had expected it to be a bunch of old bearded, fat sweaty men perverted men (other than her Frank) who just wanted to ogle her body and would be slobbering all over themselves as they took pictures of her young innocent body.