This a work of fiction

James stumbles onto the memoirs of a photographer who takes pictures of girls and exploits them. What was initially an enjoyable read slowly turned to horror when he sees his wife’s name on the list.

Yes, he knows his wife is a former model and she has a past. He didn’t mind.

Everyone has a past. The only difference now is that his wife’s past is up online for the whole world to find out.

We all carry baggage from our past.

Things we did when we were younger.

Some remained as sweet memories, while some are like a bitter nightmare. One that will always return to haunt you.

This is not so just for us, but for our partners as well.

Some of us can deal with their past, while some can’t even bear to think about it even though they say they are ok on the surface.

I belong to the latter.

I pretend to be all forgiving and cool on the surface but I’m affected by my wife’s past. It’s always on my mind and I wake up everyday telling myself not to be affected by it.

Imagine flipping a dairy.

One that offers a glimpse into your partner’s life.

On the very first page itself you are treated to something that you wished you wife didn’t do.

Would you dare to continue flipping ?

On one hand you are curious to know about her past, on the other hand you are worried you can’t handle it.

Marrying my wife Ling is one of the best thing to ever happen to me.

She’s very beautiful, she has a nice figure and she is the envy of all my friends.

Now I am a nerd.

The kind that just study and study for grades, graduated as a scholar and I go straight into the civil service and get promoted after 1 year.

Ling, is the popular girl in her school. The one all the guys would look at and think of things they want to do to her in their head.

She’s the one everyone invites to clubs.

The kind that goes to parties, the one with all the fancy dancing Tic Tok videos showing off her body and legs.

Her Instagram story are filled with her travel pictures, of her posing like a model in a picturesque setting.

At one glance, it’s not wrong to say she is out of my league.

She really is.

Ling may be wild when she was young, but at 30, she’s a lot more matured.

More down to earth. Everyone grows up eventually.

We met when we were both 28, dated for 2 years and we tied the knot.

We were just both really comfortable with each other.

I thought my life was complete.

What more can a simple guy like me ask for ?

A good career, a beautiful wife that all my friends were envious off, a nice apartment in town, a fully paid continental car.

We travelled twice a year. A short trip and a longer one at the end of the year.

The sex was good and regular. The orgasms were frequent and explosive. I was satisfied physically, mentally and spiritually.

The pieces were all in place for a good and enjoyable life.

It was perfection.

My life was perfect until I chanced upon something.

A blog.

One that offered me a glimpse into Ling’s past.

No, it didn’t belong to Ling.

It belonged to a photographer and he was sharing his work and exploits on the blog.

He gave a detailed log of each girl he shoots, what he did with them and he rates them.

He rates them not in terms of looks or professionalism.

He rates them base on how they did in bed.

As if that was not enough, he is also a good writer.

He gives a detailed step by step account, of how he got the girl into bed with him.

He doesn’t always succeed at the first try.

Usually it takes time to build up trust.

Some girls, he could easily get with money. Just keep throwing money at her.

If the figure is right, they will do it.

These are the money sluts.

They are the easy ones and the ones he gets the least satisfaction from.

He gets satisfaction from the ones that refused money. Not because they do it willingly, but because they don’t. The ones that did not agree to have sex but was forced to under certain circumstances that he can control.

He coerces and blackmail the girls into having sex with him. Slowly with nude shoots, then of compromising poses, sometimes exposing themselves in public.

There were even videos of the photographer having sex with them.

It was an arousing read.

I fell for the planning and manipulation. The videos and screenshots were the icing on the cake.

It’s like playing a game, one that requires planning and different strategy but the end prize is the same.

The body of the girl.

To be able to use her body for your own pleasure.

I loved it.

The story starts with a similar format.

It started off as a normal photoshoot, before developing it into something more sensual. Still fully clothed mind you.

Then it changed into swimsuit and bikinis.

Still clothed.

And as time past , trust built.

The photographer will then try his luck for a nude shoot. Usually a quick 5 or 10 minute shoot towards the end at twice the price he paid the girl.

The sudden request caught many of the girls off guard. Some felt bad to say no, some were tempted by the money, and most of them agreed.

A quick 5 minute shoot of their naked bodies for a few hundred dollars.

It’s a photographer that they have been working with for a while anyway.

Someone they’re comfortable with.

It’s for his own collection anyway.

What they didn’t know was that was the photographer’s plan all along.

The naked shoot was the key to opening them up for more.

There’s a whole collection of girls, with their names, their history, their background on the blog. All of the pictures exposing their naked bits were censored though but not the girl’s faces.

It was there for the world to see.

The photographer made it clear that his videos and materials were not for sale or trade. It’s ok , I’m just there to read his stories. Even watching the censored videos painted a good picture for me to wank off.

It’s arousing enough for me to get in the mood.

I cycled through the collection of girls he exploited for sex over a couple of months and during one particular evening, I froze in front of the screen.

I was working down the list of girls base on their names in an alphabetical order.

Then I finally came to the letter ‘ L ‘

There was a list of girls with names starting with ‘L’ but my eyes settled for the one that jumped out right at me.

The one with the same name as my wife. I clicked it and my heart stopped beating.

My hand hovered above my mouse.

I swallowed a gulp of saliva as I looked at the picture of the girl on my screen.

I blinked a couple of times and immediately looked behind me to make sure my wife is not in my study.

I got up and shut the study door and I turned the lock, if Ling asked I would just say I’m in a teleconference.

I looked at the picture on the screen and my heart started beating faster and faster.

It was a picture of my wife, Ling when she was younger.

It was a photo of Ling when she was 23.

5 whole years before we got together

I suddenly felt a shortness of breath as I looked at the profile.

A click.

It might be nothing.

There might not be a past, or a history.

I have read stories where the photographer failed in his attempt to get the girl’s body. Some girls just say no.

Ling might have said no.

As my mouse lingered on my wife’s name, I deliberated whether to click it or to just skip it.

A single click is all it takes for me to find out a part of Ling’s past she never told me about.

The difficult choice here is whether do I click it or not.


7000 words

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