Redemption 3

He sincerely loved to see me in diapers, it really turned him on. I began wearing them to excite him, walking around the warehouse in diapers under a shirt, which always led to great sex. And in the morning he loved to feel my heavy wet diapers and to help me masturbate in them. 


 You will find the preceding chapters of this story in “categories” under “Redemption”, with the different chapters in reversed order. To find the first chapter you just have to scroll down to the bottom.

 Chapter 3

 When I got out of the train it was almost evening. My first priority was to find a place to sleep. As in every town in the world there were a number of cheap looking hotels all around the station. I entered one in a side street that looked really cheap. The price was still much higher than I had expected but nevertheless I nodded that it was ok for me. The guy took out a register and asked for identification. I hadn’t expected that. I was afraid my mother had declared me missing – many years later I discovered she never did – and anyway I hadn’t brought any ID. Confused I mumbled I would come back and hurriedly left the dirty hotel lobby.  I walked around a little, thinking what to do, until I found myself in front of an even sleazier looking place. Not having thought of any alternative I decided to try my luck again. The guy sitting at the reception desk was watching some TV show and looked at me in a distracted way. When I asked the price for a room I was surprised he gave me a price for an hour. I remember wondering who would take a room for an hour, and asked what the price was until 7 a.m. He looked surprised, but then said that in that case he could give me a room on the third floor that was cheaper. And when he asked for identification I told him my purse had been stolen. He didn’t seem surprised, asked to write my name and birthday on the registry card, had me pay, and then distractedly gave me a room key, before returning his attention to the show. I felt elated and proud.

Without eating, but I was used to that, I went to sleep, putting a towel on the dirty mattress as protection in case. The next morning I woke up with wet panties, on a wet towel and a wet mattress. Luckily I had taken off my dress and shirt. Without washing I pulled on my clothes over my wet panties and left the hotel as soon as possible.

Realizing my money was not going to last very long I began looking for a job, walking street by street looking for “help sought’ signs on bars and restaurants. Every time they would either look at me or tell me the place had been taken already, or ask for my age. When I told them I was 18, they asked for identification. By nightfall I was desperate. I didn’t dare to go back to the hotel and after all the suspicious looks I had had that day I hadn’t the courage to try other hotels. That night I slept on the street. It was a nice summer night and I hided in a park before closing hour. I slept on a small grass pad behind some bushes, thinking how great it was to sleep under the opens sky, until… I got horribly cold.  

The third day of my “free” life the weather changed. Temperature had dropped and it began raining towards the end of the day. I entered a bar and sat there all evening wondering what to do. From time to time the barman would ask me what I wanted to drink, and told me I couldn’t just sit there without drinking anything. I ordered some cokes and some chips, and made them last. I was conscious I was attracting the attention of some of the guests but couldn’t decide what to do. Anyway the place got very crowded and loud, and I was sitting way back so after a while they forgot about me. At a certain moment I must have fallen asleep. The barkeeper woke me up at 3 a.m. announcing he was closing and I had to leave. I got up, half asleep, took my bag and asked how much I owned him. He looked at me and asked if I hadn’t a coat or something to cover me up. Looking outside I noticed it was pouring rain, and nodded no. The barman looked concerned and told me my consumptions had been on the house. I nodded gratefully and walked towards the door. The barman stopped me and offered me a plastic bag to cover me up, excusing himself he had nothing else. Again I nodded gratefully.

When I went to the door I noticed there was still one guest, standing next to the exit, observing us. He was a huge man, with a big beard, a big red nose, sloppily dressed, but with kind brown eyes. As I wanted to pass him to brave the rain he put out his arm and stopped me. “Hey kiddy, you have no place to go to, do you?” I stopped and nodded a no. “That’s what I thought. Well, we can’t let you go out in the rain and spend the night outside in that little dress of you, can we?” I didn’t know what to answer, with tears welling up behind my eyes. “Oh we aren’t going to cry are we? I live right behind the corner, my place is a dump, and I have only one mattress, but it will always be better than sleeping in the rain. Let’s go!” I hesitated but he was already pulling open the door and pushing me in the rain. He began running, unsurely on his drunken legs, and I followed him.

By the time we got to a small door in a back court I was soaked to the skin. The place was a kind of a warehouse, worse that what he had said. It was damp and stank of stale food and filth. Shivering from the cold in my wet shirt and dress I looked around and noticed a dirty mattress lying in a corner next to a sink and some shelves. My host noticed my shivering and picking an old sweat shirt from the floor he handed it to me and told me to take off my clothes. I hesitated but he smiled kindly: “Come on kiddy, I’m not going to rape you. I’m way too drunk for that.” I smiled too and without further hesitation I pulled my dress and shirt over my head. As I was standing in my underwear he came up to me holding a large dirty bath towel and began rubbing me very hard. Noticing my underwear was wet too he told me I should get rid of that too.

A few minutes later I was sitting on a kind of a pouch wearing nothing but the huge sweater with a blanket covering my legs. He went to the shelves and came back holding a glass and a bottle of whisky in his hand. He poured me a large glass: “This will warm you up.” I had never drunk whisky, and I hated it. But he insisted and after finishing the glass I was not only warmed up but I felt much better too. He then showed me the mattress: “I take the right side. But I have to take a leak first”, and without further comment he walked off to the far end of the warehouse. When he got back I went to look in the same direction and found a dirty toilet. When I returned to the “living” area he was already asleep.

Despite the whisky I didn’t sleep very well, too afraid I might wet the bed. In the early morning hours I got out of bed, went to the toilet again, and then looked for a shower or a bath as I hadn’t washed up in 48 hours. But except for the sink in the ‘living” area and a small wash basin with only cold water next to the toilet there wasn’t anything. Not being a regular washer anyway, I limited my washing to wetting my face at the basin. I wanted to get dressed but my clothes were still quiet wet.  I put on my panties – which were not dry but not wet either – and kept the thick sweater.

I explored the surroundings and discovered the warehouse was filled with the most diverse objects: old furniture, car parts, computer screens, broken TV sets, a pile of mobile phones, old shoes, books … You name it, it was to be found there.

All the time my host was sound asleep and after finishing my inspection I sat down to wait for him to wake up. Looking at him more closely I realized he was younger than I has thought, not much older than 30 I guessed, and quiet handsome. Watching him asleep gave me a peaceful feeling. As I was watching him he woke up. He sat up, revealing his broad hairy chest, and when he saw me looking at him gave me his warm smile: “Hi Kiddy, had a good sleep?”

 He got out of bed, went to the sink, filled an electric kettle with water and put some instant coffee powder in a mug. He was wearing only his briefs – not too clean I noticed – and he looked even more imposing than when clothed. He dressed without washing and then sat down to drink his coffee: “Listen kiddy, you can stay here for a couple of days, but I can’t provide for you. I barely get around myself. So you’ll have to find a place.”

Although not a surprise I was disappointed. I nodded to indicate I understood. Noticing my disappointment he asked if I had a job. And when I answered I didn’t, he asked my age. I told him I was 18 and he laughed heartily: “Sure! But I guess you have no ID to prove that, do you?” I didn’t answer. “Don’t you worry kiddy! I have some friends who might need some help. I’ll ask around” He then watched his watch and told me he had to go. Standing up he looked at the way I was dressed and smiled: “I think that sweater suits you but I suppose you would prefer to change into something else?’ When I answered my dress was still wet he laughed: “Sure, and with the change in the weather I think you’ll want something a little warmer. Go and have a look over there.”  – He showed me a corner of his warehouse – “In those trunks you’ll find probably some clothes that will fit you.” Walking towards the door he added “Have fun discovering Ali Baba’s cave.” When he had the door handle in his hand he stopped and turning around he came back, and handed me a key: “Don’t forget to lock when you leave, and make sure to be here when I come back.” He was walking off again and I ran after him: “When are you coming back?” He shrugged: “Don’t know. Let’ say not before the end of the afternoon. Got work to do, and to find you a job kiddy. By the way, my name is Lewis.” Realizing we hadn’t presented ourselves I told him my name was Katie. He smiled, and bending over he gave a kiss on my cheek: “Nice meeting you Katie.”  I blushed and standing in the door watched him start up an old pick up truck and leaving.

After he had left I opened the trunks he had indicated and discovered a huge collection of vintage clothes. I really had fun choosing and trying on a large number of outfits. I finally settled on a black and brown flowery print dress. It had a tight fitting top with two small braces, and a wide short skirt trimmed with lace. Wearing it with heavy brown boots, underneath a short black denim jacket, brought me back to my gothic days.

It had stopped raining and I went out for a walk around the neighborhood to look for some food. When I got back I ate the things I had bought and then didn’t dare to go out again. It was only the beginning of the afternoon but I didn’t want Lewis to be locked out. I looked around and decided I might clean op the living quarters somewhat. That took me a couple of hours but II was proud of the result. As afternoon became evening I was impatient for my host to come home. Bored I decided to go back to the trunks with clothes and sorted out a number of outfits I might want to wear. I put everything back in the trunks but making sure the selected clothes were on top.

When it became dark and Lewis was still not there I decided to go to sleep. Having left the door unlocked I didn’t feel safe but did doze off. I was barely half asleep when he irrupted in the warehouse. He woke me up to announce me I had a job. I would start the next day. When I wanted to know more he said he was too tired and would explain the next morning. Taking off his clothes he fell down on his side and a second later he was snoring. I barely had gotten him to tell me at what time I had to get up. For the third night in a row I barely slept. To the fear of wetting, I added the fear of not waking up in time.

The next morning at the designed hour I woke him up and he explained me it was a cleaning job in a place where at night people came to drink and to dance. He commented me on my looks – I was wearing the black and brown vintage dress of the day before – and I realized it was not the most appropriate way to dress to go cleaning. I wanted to change but he told me I was fine and shouldn’t be late on my first day. He explained me how I would get there and went back to sleep. It was easy to find and I got there a little early after a 20 minute walk. The place was a huge warehouse that I had to clean all by myself. If the actual hall was discouragingly big, – covered with ashes, cigarette butts, spilled drink, and an occasional condom behind some pillar – the worst were the toilets: Piss, vomit, and even shit, were everywhere.

I barely managed not to vomit myself, but after 4 hours I was done. I went upstairs and found the loft where my employer lived. He came down to inspect my work, said it was all right and gave me my wages – $ 30 – telling me I was expected there at the same time the next day.

As I walked “home” I felt great having earned my first money ever. On the way I bought a bottle of cheap wine. When I got to the warehouse Lewis was sitting in bed reading a book with his coffee mug next to him. I gave him the bottle “in thanks for all he had done for me.” Saying I was welcome he got out of bed, again wearing nothing but his briefs – I couldn’t help staring at the large pack in them -, and almost opened the bottle. But changing his mind he suggested it would be nicer to keep it and have it at night, on what I agreed.

He dressed and said he had to go. Looking at his key he decided we should agree on a hiding place for it outside so that we were not obliged to wait for each other all the time. A few moments later we had agreed on the place and leaving me with the key he left. Again with the door handle in his hand he turned around: “Oh thanks for cleaning up this place. You know what, to thank you I will take you out for dinner tonight. How about that?” and before I could react he was off.

He got home in the late afternoon. We opened the bottle of wine and finished it. Then as promised he took me to a small Puerto-Rican place where we had a simple but tasty meal, empting another bottle of wine with it. When we got home we were both tipsy. He lighted a joint which we smoked together. When we decided it was time to go to bed and he was standing with his bare torso next to me I couldn’t resist stroking his hairy breast. He smiled, kissed me on my lips, but then gently pushed me away: ‘Time to sleep kiddy”.  When he pulled down his pants I again couldn’t help looking at the pack inside his briefs. Before I knew what I was doing I walked over to him and cupped his things in my hand. This time he didn’t push me away. That night I lost my virginity.

I fell asleep happier than I had ever been. I had left my witch of a mother barely 4 days ago and I had found a place to stay, a job, and a boyfriend. I felt happy and, for the first time in my life, proud.

The next morning when I woke up reality catched up: I woke up all wet, covered in blood, and … in piss. The mattress was soaked. Lewis was sound asleep and when I looked at the time I realized I was already late for work. I dressed in a hurry – I had selected black army pants several sizes too big and a sleeveless camouflage shirt as a more appropriate way to go cleaning – and left without waking up Lewis.

Walking back home I felt horribly ashamed of what had happened and afraid for Lewis’ reaction. He was not there when I arrived and when I entered I found everything as when I left, the mattress with the huge wet stain sitting in the middle of the room. Anxiously I waited for him to come home, but again afternoon became evening and then night and he was still not there. I found a big plastic sheet which I put over the wet spot and tried to get to sleep. When he finally entered and saw me lying on a cold plastic sheet he came over and kneeled next to me: “Poor girl. What did I do to you?” I put my arms around him and cried. And … we made love again. When ready to go to sleep he took away the plastic and turned the mattress over. I went asleep lying in the arms of someone for the first time since my father died.

But don’t expect this to become a fairy tale. That night I pissed all over Lewis. We woke up all wet and this time he was annoyed to say the least. He asked me if I did that often and all ashamed I told him I did.  He turned the mattress over again and the other side not being dry yet, covered it with a heavy blanket, and we went to sleep again. Next day when I got back from work he was waiting for me and excused himself for his coarse reaction that the night. On his insistence I admitted I had been a very regular bed wetter all my life, but telling him nothing about the humiliations I had been subjected to on the part of my mother and her friends. He asked me how I coped with it and I said, more or less truthfully, that I always slept on a plastic mattress cover. He shuddered at that idea.

But then he was off again on one of his daily rounds. By then I knew he lived from buying and selling junk. People would sometimes come by to sell or buy stuff, or he would get phone calls from people who wanted him to come by and pick up some stuff. When he was broke – which was most of the time – and he couldn’t buy anything, he would do rounds through the streets randomly picking up anything that was not fixed. Later I learned that he also was known to take care of “hot’” stuff.

That evening Lewis got home somewhat earlier than the previous days. I had just gotten ready for bed, wearing the big sweater of the first night over my panties. He seemed good humored, announcing he had a present for me. I looked up in anticipation and he blindfolded me telling me to wait. He went out again and when I was told to take off the blindfold he had placed a big pack of disposable diapers in front of me. I wanted to die! Seeing my horrified look he began telling me how much more comfortably I would feel going to bed knowing I was not going to wet the bed. I was not ready to tell him about my relationship with diapers so I just whispered “I don’t want diapers, I don’t want diapers!” He looked very annoyed, telling me if I didn’t do it for myself I could at least do it for him.

This argument made me even more ashamed but I knew he had a point. I said softly that I would wear them for him, and standing up, I opened the pack of diapers. He had a guilty but relieved smile. I took a diaper out of the pack, unfolded it on the mattress, took off my panties and, pushing up the sweater, sat down on the diaper and fastened it. When I looked up my eyes met his and he gave me the sweetest smile ever. Coming over to me he pulled me up, took me in his arms, and putting his hand on my bottom he whispered that I was the sexiest girl in the world. And I knew he was sincere.

Nevertheless from that moment everything changed. With the diapers came back all my insecurities. My four days of emancipation were stopped in their tracks.

And soon afterwards I got to know the dark side of my boyfriend. Lewis had a horrible temper. I never quiet knew what provoked it. Over time I learned to notice the signs of an upcoming scene which helped me often to get out of harm’s way in time. But the causes of his tantrums remained always somewhat of a mystery. Of course it was related to pressure. Lewis always owned people money and his creditors were no choir boys. But most of the time he managed without getting stressed.

I knew that abuse of substances played a big role. He was often drunk but alcohol usually had a soothing effect on him. He used all kind of drugs, – over time he introduced me to most of them – and the combination of stress, with certain drugs and alcohol made an explosive mixture.

His verbal aggression was as bad as my mothers. He would call me stupid, an idiot, a piss baby. All the things my mother used to call me. The big difference however was that afterwards he always felt sorry. After each scene we had great reconciliation and consolation moments. Those moments of great emotion and happiness more than made up for the bad moments.

But maybe as important in my acceptance of his transgressions was that he helped me bare with my handicap and my diapers. He sincerely loved to see me in diapers, it really turned him on. I began wearing them to excite him, walking around the warehouse in nothing but diapers under a shirt, which always led to great sex. And in the morning he loved to feel my heavy wet diapers and to help me masturbate in them. I wore my diapers provocatively to please him, but at the same time I felt horrible doing so. Even as he was whispering in my ears what a sexy baby I was, I felt ashamed. And when I woke up with my wet diapers and he introduced my hand in my plastic pants I felt degraded.

So as I said, our love story was not a fairy tale. We were poor, living in a dump, often went hungry, seldom washed – especially not in winter because the warehouse was hardly heated and there was no hot water. And I was 16 years old living with a guy double my age. We were living at the margin of society.

Although we were no junkies – we never touched crack or shot cocaine because Lewis called those dangerous – both of us were using all kind of drugs. No junkies, but addicts yes, although at the time we denied it. Whenever Lewis got some money – usually when he sold some stolen goods – we would be stoned for several days in a row. Of course I lost my job when on a couple of occasions I hadn’t shown up. As I was handing all the money I earned – my mother’s money was gone since long – to Lewis to help him pay for drugs and other expenses, he got into one of his tantrums, calling me too stupid to even hold a simple cleaning job.

As he refused to pay for my food, and even threatened to throw me out if I couldn’t pay for myself, I looked desperately for a job. Knowing that it was very difficult to find people willing to clean the alternative rave places, I went to all of them. But all the owners knew each other and my reputation as unreliable closed all doors. Until I had an inspiration: I offered to come during the night and to keep the toilets clean through the night, for free, asking only voluntarily contributions from the clients.

I spend every night in a piss stinking place, cleaning up piss, shit and vomit, smiling nicely to the people who gave me some spare coins, taking the abuse of others, and coming home in the morning, to put a piss stinking towel in my plastic pants to go to sleep. If my mother had seen me she would have loved it.

Sometimes I would be too tired or too stoned to put on my protection and would piss the bed all under. On those occasions Lewis would get mad as hell. He would press me with my face in the wet mattress, call me degrading names worse than my mother, and have me sleep on the cold floor as he turned the mattress and went back to sleep.

Once when I tried to resist him from pushing me with my face in the mattress he beat me up. From that moment I began taking regular beatings, and not only on those rare occasions that I wet the bed. The next day he would feel horribly guilty, would ask me to forgive him and would buy me nice presents or take me out for dinner (paying with the money I had given him). He would be so charming and so sincere, that every time I would fall for him again.

One day my charming boyfriend came home in a more than usual somber mood. One of his criminal creditors had threatened him with breaking his legs if he didn’t pay up his debt. I knew the guy as he had been in the warehouse on several occasions and I shared Lewis view that this might not be an idle threat. Lewis looked at me for a while in silence and then said the gangster had offered him another way out. He would cancel his debt if I would go and work for him for a couple of months. I looked at Lewis not understanding, how could I, a bathroom attendant, earn enough of money in a couple of months? Lewis looked at the floor and then explained I would have to work in a bar entertaining guests. Even after almost one year “in the world” I was still naïve: “Entertain? How entertain?” Lewis got nervous: “Well how do you think? Sleep with them, ok?”

I gasped in silence, and Lewis told me to forget about it, that he would find another way. But two days later I spend my first night as a prostitute.

The first weeks I was reserved for “special clients”. I didn’t have to work the room, but stayed behind the bar pouring drinks and washing glasses, dressed in shorts and a shirt knotted over my small breasts with a bare belly. Word was spread that I was the 14 year old – horny – niece of one of the doormen, doing a summer job. For a good price I could probably be persuaded to join a gentleman in a private room. But of course after doing that every night for a few weeks everybody realized I was a whore just like the others. From then on I had to wait tables and try to sell my services to at least 3 clients a night.

The “couple of months” became almost half a year because the bar provided me, and Lewis, with drugs, which were of course deducted from what I earned. Working as a whore affected me more that I would admit. I thought what I did was repulsive and feared that Lewis, knowing I was having sex with all kind of men, would be repulsed too, and stop wanting me. But it didn’t seem to bother Lewis at all. He was even more relaxed and caring than usual. The fact that I systematically provided for our drug needs helped I guess.

When after 6 months Lewis’ debt was finally paid we had a little celebration. The question of what we were going to do now came up. Of course the prospect to go back to my job as a filthy bathroom attendant didn’t appeal. Lewis told me not to worry he would come up with something.

Two days later he came home with a “friend”. The 3 of us chatted for a couple of minutes, and then suddenly Lewis got up and put on his coat: “I see the two of you get along quiet well. I’ll just give you some privacy then.”, and before I realized what was going on he had left. From then on my boyfriend became my pimp, bringing in clients on a regular base. Of course receiving them in a filthy, damp, warehouse, wasn’t attracting the best paying clients, but at least I didn’t have to clean shit.

One day when I was already sleeping Lewis came in with a client and he made me get out of bed. I was wearing only a short shirt over diapers and plastic pants. I could have killed Lewis for making me do that, but fearing his reaction I came out from under the sheet. The client was immediately all excited by what he saw and Lewis eclipsed immediately.

At that time I used a large bath towel as a diaper, fastened with safety pins in the old fashioned way, underneath large plastic pants. The client made me sit on his lap, and introducing his hand in my plastic pants noticed my diaper was still dry. He asked me to wet them. I stood up but didn’t succeed in doing what he asked. Saying we had time, he took a bottle of water and having me sit on his lap again, made me drink the whole bottle. About an hour, and 1, 5 liter of water, later, I succeeded in really wetting the diaper. This time he was satisfied with the heaviness of the diaper, took the plastic pants off, and made me lie down on the mattress. He then unpinned the diaper and then did it while I was lying on the wet diaper.

When he was ready he made me refasten the wet diaper, and put the pants over them. He put his hand underneath and feeling the heaviness approvingly, wished me a good night and watched while I went back to lie down on the damp mattress wearing my cold wet diaper.

He became a regular, and we soon understood what excited him and how to get him to pay an ever higher price. The last year and a half I had been clothing myself with stuff I found in Lewis‘magic crates. By then I knew exactly what was in it, and helped by Lewis, I found the right outfits and props to satisfy the specific sick wishes of our new client.

One of the outfits we which I scored best was a white communion dress. The dress was designed to fall ankles length for a 12 year old. When I tried it on, and  being extremely slim I did fit in it, it fell somewhat below the knee, but I shortened it to half knee length. It fastened with a row of white buttons in the back, fitting tightly, pressing flat my small breasts. It had a big white bow in the waist, short balloon sleeves and a small round collar. I wore it with knee high white socks, light blue Mary Jane shoes and a white tiara in my hair. Underneath I wore diapers and plastic pants – I made sure those were quiet wet when our special client arrived – and I carried a baby doll in my arms. He would ask me over and over again to wear that outfit.

The first time I proposed to go for a walk dressed in such an outfit he refused vehemently, looking quiet frightened. But after a while he got used to the idea, and then would pay a fortune – or what Lewis and I considered to be a fortune anyway – for that privilege. He was a sick pedophile of course, but at least he was always kind, and I always thought that maybe I kept him from hurting even younger kids.

Some of the other clients were much worse. When our last money was gone, which was all the time, Lewis would bring in some old, dirty, tramp, stinking of cheap alcohol, whom I had to pipe for a couple of bucks. Or the violent gangsters to whom he paid his debts by having them have their way with me. One of them beat me just for the fun of it, making me sit on my knees to plead him to stop.

I couldn’t really say that my escape from my abusing mother was a success. If she would have seen me she would have laughed telling me she always knew I was too stupid to take care of myself.

Next chapter:


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