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Diddly - Chapter 2

Deirdre accompanies her new friends home and plunges head first into a world of kink.
I watched the traffic without really noticing it. I paid no attention to the whispered conversation going on between the girl on whose lap I was sitting - whose name I still didn’t know - and her friends on the back seat. My mind screamed that what I was doing topped all previous reckless, dangerous adventures by miles. My heart thumped.

I jerked when two pairs of hands suddenly grabbed my knees and pulled them wide apart. My legs were encased by strong thighs and the front of my flimsy skirt was lifted and tucked behind the waistband.

I panicked. With my elevated position in the middle of the back seat, everybody would be able to see my exposed sex! I started to form a protest, but that died in my throat when hands came to rest on the insides of my thighs and started to rub softly up and down, reversing direction only an inch from my exposed pussy.

The earlier flames between my legs roared up again, and I whimpered. The girl behind me didn’t need more than a finger to push me back against her, and I felt her soft breasts and hard nipples against my back.

“My dirty, little virgin kitten,” she whispered into my ear, and I shivered, “you’re such a depraved little thing. Letting a stranger masturbate you. Letting other strangers touch you so intimately. Taking a ride to a stranger’s home and letting her expose you like this. Oh god, you’re such a slut!”

The words pierced right through me and kindled the shameful flame of arousal in me. I closed my eyes, and my head sagged back in submission, coming to rest on her shoulder. She was right, on all accounts, and I couldn’t understand what was happening. My pussy was once more producing juice like mad, and when the hands on my legs wandered even closer to my sex, and fingers started to trail the outline of my small, swollen plum, my whimpers became louder.

I was plunging into sexual wonderland once more, and my hands shot to my breasts on their own volition. Before they could make contact and elevate the pleasurable feelings, the girl behind me caught my wrists, and when she pulled them behind me and circled her arms around me, a pitiful noise escaped my throat.

The drive may have taken five minutes or an hour, I couldn’t say, because I was quickly reduced to a puddle of wanton arousal, writhing and trembling under the teasing of the fingers on my sex, yearning to feel them delve deeper into my folds, but being denied that gratification.

The next thing I became consciously aware of was being led across a narrow front yard towards the entrance of a small townhouse, both of my hands tightly held in bigger, stronger ones and my skirt still bunched in my waistband.

The girl - I was unsure what I should call her in my head, but settled for capturer - had walked ahead of us and unlocked the big wooden door. There was no time to appreciate the neat little garden or the pretty green borders painted around the windows on the corn-yellow walls for me. We filed in, and I came to stand right in front of a woman, about ten years the girls’ senior, with long, sleek black hair and wearing burgundy colored silk pajamas, lounging on a big couch and sipping from a glass with a straw.

At first, the woman looked as startled as I felt. Then her eyes narrowed. “Debs,” she hissed, “what do you think you’re doing, bringing that girl here?”

Debs, Deborah probably, at last I learned the given name of the girl. She didn’t appear fazed. “Cool down, Lydia, she’s one of Amy’s classmates and already eighteen.”

Calculating eyes roamed up and down my body, but I could see Lydia’s expression relax.

“Think about what we talked the other day? I think she’d be perfect.”

The woman’s eyes rested right between my legs, and I wanted to die with mortification. My hands were free by now, but they dangled uselessly by my sides.

“You think so?” Lydia’s face was elegant, slightly oval, with high cheekbones, pouty lips, a straight but narrow nose and big, silvery-grey eyes that seemed to be able to look all the way inside me. I fidgeted.

“We found her diddling herself in a changing booth at the mall, that’s why I decided to name her Diddly, by the way.” My cheeks exploded with color and heat. “I helped her out a bit while the girls watched. Made her taste herself before I took her virginity. She let me push her panties inside her and followed us home without even knowing my name. She’s the epitome of a slut.”

I hung my head and tried to sink into the ground. My eyes started to sting. I bit my lips and tried to hold down the sob of shame that wanted to escape me.

The couch rustled, and then pale feet with ruby nails entered the edge of my vision. A finger gently pushed at the underside of my chin and made me look up into her eyes, my knees almost buckling when our gazes met. Then another finger brushed over my pubes, and my hips jerked forward to meet it involuntarily.

A smile spread over her lips. “Yes, I think you’re onto something there, Debs.” Her finger guided my head left and right, and she studied my profile. “You live in the dorms?”

I nodded, just barely.

“You’re going to move in with us. Debs will drive you. Do you think your things will fit into the SUV in one go?”

My hearts missed a few beats. Move in? With people I didn’t even know? People who had done - were doing - such depraved things to me? A big warning light flashed in my mind, and a siren howled ‘danger!’

Her face was suddenly just inches from mine. “Answer me!”

I couldn’t look away from her eyes. Like through a fog, I heard my own voice answer her, clumsy and trembling, “yes, Lydia.”


I can’t remember all that much about the short drive to the dorms. Deborah asked me a number of questions about my classes, hobbies and family. She learned that my parents had moved to the other side of the country and that I didn’t really have close friends in town. She had me tell her about my changing room adventures in detail. My cheeks burned while I recounted those, but something about her was too compelling to keep silent.

My breath of relief when we found my shared dorm room vacated was audible. Sandy, my roommate, would sure have asked awkward questions.

Deborah went to work with skilled efficiency. She assembled the boxes on and around the coffee table and had me point out to her which of things were mine. I felt light headed, especially when she gave my assorted undies an examination. Clothes, underwear, books, paperwork and all those knick-knacks I had amassed over the years vanished inside the cardboard, and little more than ten minutes later we were packed and ready to go, my whole dorm room life stowed away in six moving boxes.

I scribbled a note to Sandy. “Moving in with friends. See you around. Love, Deirdre.”


My nervousness rose steadily on the way back. My life was being turned upside down, and I had no idea where this was leading. The only thing I could say for certain that things had taken a decidedly sexual turn, and that it would be Lydia and Deborah who controlled the direction. I watched the houses fly by outside the window and realized that this was something I had deep down inside been longing for. To give up control, to just be ordered what to do. My last years had been a constant competition to be accepted as a grown-up. Handicapped by my size and looks, I had to be tougher than the girls around me to appear strong, had to have better marks than others to be recognized as intelligent, and I had to be more in control of myself than others to avoid being ridiculed for every small verbal slip-up. Now I could stop pretending. And even get the sexual gratification I needed so desperately.


“Yes, little slut?”

I bit my lip, my face heating up once more, and almost kept from asking my question. “What will happen now?”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m sure you’ll like whatever happens. You’ll find out soon enough.”

That didn’t tell me anything, and I huffed. “Can’t you at least give me a hint?”

She giggled. “A hint? How about you’ll be naked a lot?”

I blushed even more. “Who else lives with you?”

“My, aren’t you suddenly getting inquisitive? It’s just Lydia and me, but we often have visitors around.”

“You and Lydia,” I managed to look at her, “are you sisters?”

Her bellowing laughter startled me. “Sisters? Oh my god, that’s a good one!”

“But -” She didn’t let me voice my question.

“Lydia’s my pimp.”

“Pimp?” The word came out with a high pitch and made me probably sound exactly like the young girl I was dressed as.

“Yes, pimp,” she confirmed with a chuckle. “Lydia’s got a whole host of clients who like young girls, and I make more money than I could with a regular full-time job. But I’m growing too old for some of them. To be honest, I’ve always looked a bit too grown-up for some of their tastes, and that’s where you’ll come in. You’ve got that innocent thing going, and you’re going to drive them crazy.”

My breath had stopped, and I felt close to fainting. What had I let myself in for?

She glanced at my paling face and sighed. “Don’t start panicking now. You’re going to love whatever happens, and you’re going to get your share of cash. Lydia’s a lot of things, but she’s always fair where money is concerned.”

“Still,” I stammered, “you want me to become a whore! If I’d known that…”

“If you had known that, you’d made a small tantrum, but then I would have played with your pussy again for a minute and you’d have agreed to anything I asked of you.” True to her words, her hand left the gear stick and touched me between my legs.

“No,” I started to protest.

But she was right. My skin immediately started to tingle where her fingers touched me, and when they tugged lightly on the corner of the panties still buried inside me, I failed to hold back the gasp.

“See,” she purred, “you already are a whore. You just didn’t know it. Stop fighting it.”

The last few miles were a straight road. Her fingers kept softly stroking my pubes, and I slumped back in the seat, closed my eyes and whimpered. There was just no denying her words.


We left the boxes in the car, and I was still in the same dazed state of mind when we approached the entrance door. Lydia was still on the couch, now with a notebook computer on her lap. She looked up at us and smiled.

“Good, you’re already back. I’ve invited Clare and Robert for the evening.”

“Oh my,” Deborah gasped, “that’s going to be interesting.”

“They’ll pay extra to be the first.” She typed something. “They’re going to be here at seven. It’s four already, so you should see that you get Diddly ready until then. And make sure you’re both smooth.”

“Of course. Come on, Diddly, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Right at that moment, my stomach growled like a caged bear.

“Hungry much?” Deborah sounded amused.

I quickly nodded. “Haven’t eaten since breakfast,” I admitted, “I was going to snatch something at the mall.”

“We’ll fetch something quick from the kitchen, you can eat while we get you ready. It’s right through here.”

The kitchen was small, but it was bright, clean and functional. Deborah’s eyes roamed over the fridge, but then the corner of her mouth quirked upwards and she picked up a banana from a fruit bowl on the counter. “That’ll do.”

I could only traipse after her when she marched back into the living and out through another door into a small hallway, up a staircase and into the room directly opposite the landing.

It was the bathroom. And as bathrooms go, it was glorious, the biggest bathroom I had ever been in. It contained a huge, triangular bath tub with massage jets, big enough for three people, an equally big, flat shower, a toilet, a bidet, two washing basins and even a large wooden reclining chair. The free space in the middle would have been large enough to lie there and stretch out in all directions. But the most intriguing thing was that, instead of regular tiles, the wall and ceiling were completely covered with mirrors, which made the room look even larger.


“It’s cool, isn’t it?” She twirled on the spot, her face suddenly full of youthful enthusiasm, and gestured around. “It was my idea. The clients love it too. Strip off your clothes while I start the bath.”


While the hot water poured into the tub, Deborah was busy at the washbasin, filling a transparent plastic bag. I watched her curiously, naked as I was, and didn’t realize what she was planning until she attached a rubber hose.

“No,” I protested and stepped backwards, but she followed me with a wide grin.

“Yes!” She insisted. “Lydia wants you clean. Inside and out. And who knows, you might even like it. Now get on all fours.”

“Please,” I begged, “I don’t want an enema!” I had, in my forays into the forbidden corners of the internet, picked up that some people seemed to find that kind of treatment erotic. I couldn’t wrap my head around that, the idea of having a hose shoved up my bum and my bowels filled with water sounded dirty rather than appealing.

My back was to the wall right now, and Deborah was right in front of me, the rubber hose dangling down in the corner of my field of vision.

“The sooner we start, the sooner it will be over.” That her free hand softly kneaded my breast didn’t make it easy to resist.

“Do I really have to?” I sounded pathetic.

She nodded and pinched my nipple. “I love it when you bite your lip, that’s so cute.”

I sighed and hung my head. She gave me a bit of room, and I dropped to my knees, turned around and bent forward until I was on all fours in front of her.

When her finger spread the lube on my bum hole and pushed inside, I couldn’t suppress a yelp. I yelped again when the warm liquid rushed into my bowels. I did learn that there was an erotic component to receiving an enema, but it was also a borderline painful and quite humbling experience. Especially getting rid of the mess in front of another person.

When all was said and done, I was trembling and incredibly ashamed, but also horny.


I could hardly remember the last time I was being bathed by someone else, and it felt strange to have another person’s hands roam all over my body with the wash cloth and massage shampoo into my hair. Being told to kneel so Deborah could reach between my legs and between my bum cheeks was a bit disconcerting, but so were a lot of things I had experienced that day. Any misgivings quickly went out the window the moment she touched me there.

Being stroked with the soapy cloth gave me feelings I hadn’t expected as it glided smoothly over my pubes. Then Deborah pulled on the - by now completely soaked - panties that were still stuck inside my pussy, and I almost came from the sensation.

She reached to the side and held up a futuristic razor and a can of shaving cream. “Time to get you nice and hairless.” She pushed a hidden button on the razor’s handle and it started to emit a low, humming sound.

My heart was beating quicker than normal while she soaped up my skin and trailed the razor over it. At first my legs were liberated of any hairs, not that there were many to begin with. Then she did my arms, and I couldn’t resist and ran a finger over the freshly smoothed skin. It felt like silk, and I liked it. It tickled like hell when she shaved my armpits, the buzzing razor head dancing over my skin like a small vibrator, but her hissed commands kept me motionless, and forcing myself to obey seemed to spread the tickling sensation all the way to my sex.

“You’ve done this before,” I stated.

“Lydia likes to be pampered by me.”

“So she’s not just your pimp. She’s also your lover.”

Deborah shrugged, and a strange expression crossed her face for an instant, but it was quickly replaced by a somewhat sad smile. “You might call me her lover, but I wouldn’t put it the other way around. I do whatever she tells me to. Part of it is about the money, but she’s also incredibly beautiful and has a wicked imagination. If things were different, I could even fall in love with her.”

“What things?” I inquired, hoping I wasn’t getting too personal. Which was, in a way, ridiculous. Can you get too personal with somebody who is kneeling next the bathtub and to your naked body, especially if you are kneeling yourself, naked and with your arm extended above you, so that she can shave your armpit?

“Nothing that should concern you. At least not for now.”

I pouted, but the thinning of her lips told me I should stop my questions right there.

“Done here. Now sit on the edge and spread your legs as wide as you can.”

I leaned back against her once I was in position, and it was easy for her to reach around me and spread the foam over my pubes. She took her time, carefully rubbing it into every small cranny with her index finger, and small shivers raced over my skin wherever she touched me.

Her soft giggle told me she was well aware of her ministrations’ effects.

She guided the razor over the soft skin right next to my sex, and I moaned. Thousand butterflies seemed to follow in its wake.

“Keep still!” She admonished.

It was incredibly hard to do so. Her fingers pinched and pulled so delicately, she used every opportunity to lick and nibble on the sensitive skin at the sides of my neck, and the razor left trails of desire all over my pubes that lasted long after the buzzing blades had moved somewhere else. My breath came hard and in fits.

“There,” she purred and put away the razor, picked up the wash cloth and removed the remnants of the foam, “all nice and smooth.”

“Oh god,” I gasped, “don’t stop!”

“Gosh, you really deserve that nickname. Sit down again and let me wash the shampoo from your hair.”

It was hard to just sit there and let her rinse away the shampoo, all I really wanted to do at that moment was to push one hand between my legs and rub myself to a glorious release. But I knew that wouldn’t be accepted.

So, when she was finished and told me to get out of the tub, awaiting me with a huge, fluffy towel, my knees were weak and my cheeks flushed.


After blow-drying my hair, she put in two bright pink clips to hold back my bangs. She added equally pink eye shadow and rouge. The lipstick she handed me matched as well, and when I was finished, the reflection in the mirror showed me a sweet, innocent and sexy looking girl that didn’t look like tomboyish ol’ me at all.

I was about to comment on my new look when I saw the pajama dangling from her fingers, fluffy and soft and incredibly pink. Prints of tiny cats were chasing each other all over the fabric and small bows on the shoulders left no doubt about the intended style.

“Gosh,” I declared wide-eyed, “you’re not expecting me to wear that, are you?”

I stared at her, daring her to reply in the positive.

She held my gaze, she didn’t even blink, and when first five seconds passed by, and then another five, without a reply, my self-assuredness faltered.

That was the moment when she stepped closer, putting the bottoms away on the sink and gripping the hem of the top with both hands. “Lift your arms for me, sweetie.”

Which I did. She pulled the top on me, then held the pants while I stepped into them, making me feel as small and girlish as she was dressing me up as. Her eyes twinkled with a lustful glee all the while, a sexual tension that was palpable all around us.

“What’s going to happen with…?” I bit my lip, already having forgotten the names of the couple I was scheduled to entertain.

“Don’t worry about that,” Deborah soothed, “you’ll like whatever they’ll come up with, and I’m sure about that.” She put her hand on my chaw and softly brushed my cheek with her thumb. “God, you look so adorable. I could eat you right here and now. Robert and Clare will love you. Just act like yourself, you’re a natural.”


Ten minutes later I found myself in a small bedroom, tucked in under a soft and, of course, pink blanket on a king-size bed, surrounded by piles of cushions and straining my eyes to see in the dim light of a small bedside lamp. Deborah had already left the room, so now it was just Lydia inside with me, sitting on the edge of the bed and studying my face.

“Deb’s done a brilliant job with you. Now don’t let me down.”

I felt a bit of apprehension at her words. “I - I’ve got no idea what they’ll want, what…” My words trailed off.

Lydia just smiled. “There are just three rules. First - act natural and don’t lie to them, they love innocent girls like you. Two, address her as Ma’am and him as Sir, and always be polite. And third - do whatever they tell you to. They are paying us a lot of money.”

I swallowed and nodded. “Will he - I mean, am I supposed to - will we have…”

I finger on my lips halted my ramblings. “You’re asking if he’s going to fuck you? I’d be surprised if he didn’t.”

Red heat shot into my face, and I had a hard time keeping myself from covering it.

“You’ll love it. He’s a good-looking guy, given his age, and he’s gentle.”

“What about her, though?” My heart was beating quicker the closer the moment of truth came, trepidation and excitement vying for dominance.

Lydia grinned smugly, and I feared that I knew what the answer would be. “Clare? She’s…”

I didn’t get to hear the rest, because we were interrupted by the doorbell.

“Listen, kitten,” Lydia told me in a whisper, “pretend to sleep when they come in, and take your time to wake up. You’ll do great.”

She pressed a soft kiss onto my forehead, and then the door snapped shut behind her and I was alone in the silence, fighting hard to even out my breathing, a thousand depraved images dancing wickedly behind my eyelids.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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