No-Limit-Rooms 04 English

No-LIMIT-Rooms

Kumiho 04

from

J. Paschmann

All rights reserved by publisher

Copyright © 2022

Contents

25 Grace Period

26 Knocked Out

27 Dungeons & Dragons

28 The Test

29 Reveal

30 Ranking

31 The ranch

32 Negotiation with Hal

25 Grace period

After we had submitted to Rebecca, she had immediately strutted out again, satisfied. She had achieved an apparent victory all along the line and had made it clear to us who was the boss in the house here.

Isabell had closed the door behind her and returned to me with her head bowed.

"I'm sorry," she began to apologize. "I hadn't thought about the fact that she would hold you accountable for this."

By now I had sat down on the sofa and was tapping the empty seat next to me.

"Come here, slave!", I commanded, though in a friendly tone.

Immediately she scurried over to me and knelt down in front of me with her head bowed. She began to tremble all over her body.

"I'm really sorry!" she sobbed.

Tenderly, I grabbed her under the chin and lifted her head so she could look into my eyes and wiped away her tears.

"What are you sorry for? That we fell in love?"

She shook her head violently.

"That you lied to me in the beginning?"

She started to shake her head, but then paused. "No, I mean, yes, I did. But I didn't know you yet, and I had to do what Rebecca ordered."

"Then, that we have to do our webcam shows only on Rebecca's orders?"

Another shake of the head.

"That we are now Rebecca's slaves together?"

She hesitated. "That was not my intention! I didn't mean to drag you into this! Not for a moment did I think she was going to throw you, I mean us out, just because I resisted."

"Or that I'd practically bought you off Rebecca now?"

She widened her eyes in astonishment.

I don't know if it was the lack of sleep, but clearly she had not even really realized what had just happened.

"I had thought it was about my release and you keeping your job?"

"No, she sold you into my custody. Your release wasn't up for negotiation at all," I clarified for her.

"But ..." she began, "she did say we could leave then with no strings attached if we wanted to?"

I showed her the second page of my statement and pointed to the relevant passage in the fine print:

'The slave becomes the property of the buyer without transition upon settlement of the owner's account.' Including all, in detail named rights and obligations to and towards the slave. In addition, the buyer has the obligation to keep the slave at least five years in possession. Otherwise, she reverts to the possession of the original owner. Release within this time, except due to the death of one of the parties involved, is also excluded.'

This meant nothing more than that she had to be my slave or fall back to Rebecca.

She read it over several times, trying to understand it. Then she looked at me sorrowfully.

"She doesn't believe it will work out with us," she stated.

I didn't even know if I believed it myself. This was all so new to me. I wasn't a mistress, I was masochistic, chaotic, and my name wasn't even Johanna. I had to involuntarily imagine how I would explain Isabell and our relationship to each other to the BKA.

Isabell looked at me in complete bewilderment when I suddenly threw my head back and started laughing hysterically.

***

I pushed my bike through the forest again and made a secure phone call. It was Friday afternoon and I had dropped off to report. Leaving Isabell behind had not been easy, because she wanted to spend her last days of freedom with me without interruption. I felt the same way, but I couldn't very well take her with me when I talked to my clients and the BKA.

First, I called Walter from the BKA and reported back. I explained in brief what I had found out so far, without mentioning the hidden studios in the basement. However, I did reveal that parts of the website No-LIMIT-Rooms were filmed in the apartment building and that many female tenants were models there. Also, that the billing was done through the Caymans and thus taxes were saved semi-legally. So far, I had also not been able to find any clues that confirmed the suspicion that the apartment building belonged to the Sicilian mafia.

The missing girls were alive and in good health, but currently housed in a kind of private sect. - Calling them BDSM slaves at the BKA did not seem advisable.

"Walter, I'm going to join the cult on a probationary basis so that I can have access to more information."

"Why do you want to join the cult so badly? And what is it called, anyway?"

"It doesn't have a name. At least not an official one. If they need a name for files, they'll call it the Pony Ranch for now."

"Pony Ranch? Are they serious? Laura, you've got to be kidding me right now!"

"The cult doesn't have a name, that's the truth. But I had first contact with it at Rebecca's ranch. That's also where I met the missing girls. There are actually five that I know of, by the way. Wait a minute, I have their names here. You can check it out." I had memorized the names of the girls in the morning and now I gave them to him.

After obviously noting them, he confirmed to me that two of them were in the file.

"And where are the girls housed now?"

"I don't know that for sure," I asserted. "At least not at the ranch. They only stayed there last weekend."

"And are they doing well, have you been able to talk to them?"

"Visually they seem fine, but part of the rules is an absolute ban on talking to outsiders. That's why I really need to join, because I know one of the girls has information about my sister," I lied to him in part.

"And how do they know that?"

"Because I spent a lot of money on that information. I will have very limited access for some time and probably won't be able to talk to them on the phone for a few months. But I will send vital signs via Facebook. They'll be able to tell if I'm okay or in danger based on the code words."

"Will they move, or just disappear?"

"I can't say for sure yet, but I have another emergency contact covering me. If anything goes unplanned, he'll let them know."

"He knows about me? Are they still in their right mind?" Walter was visibly trying hard not to yell at me. "They signed the confidentiality clause, they could be kicked out of the program for this!"

"Relax, he doesn't know anything about the witness protection program or my new identity, just that he should contact them and tell them everything he knows about my whereabouts. I claimed they his a distant relative who can help then," I lied to him again though.

It remained quiet on the line for some time, during which Walter must have been thinking the whole thing through. "I could help them with equipment. A locator beacon, for example."

I hadn't expected that and now had to think about it on my part. "How big are they and how do they work?"

"We have different models in different sizes. All of them have GPS and a sim card. If there is a receiving tower nearby, it can be located quite accurately."

"And how do I hide it? I expect to have to take off all my clothes and be examined."

Silence again on the other end of the line.

"We are not CI5 and I am not M. Our devices are meant to locate vehicles or objects. They can't be implanted. And you can see their purpose. They could be hidden in little boxes or sewn into clothing, but that would be it."

"And what about the broadcast time?"

"A maximum of four weeks from switch-on, for the smallest ones."

"Would you get a message when I activate it?"

"Yes."

"And if I'm abroad then?"

"Where abroad?"

"Cyprus?"

He sucked in a breath. "The cult lives in Cyprus? Nadine, too?"

"I suspect so."

"They'd be on their own there. We'd need concrete leads and to act there we'd have to ask for assistance from the local authorities."

"That's what I thought. Then it's of no use to me. Thanks for the offer, anyway." I was fully aware that Walter had just pretty much exhausted his powers there by offering me a tracking device.

"Walter, worst case scenario, I'm in this cult for almost a year from now. But I hope to find my sister sooner and get back to you. It's very important to me, though, that they don't block my identity during that time."

Again a long silence on the line. "Laura, they are asking a lot of me there! We can't help them in Cyprus."

"Please," I pleaded. "I have proof that Nadine is alive. And this is the only way to find her. I'm going to go through with it either way, with or without their support. But it's going to be a lot more dangerous for me without it."

"That's almost coercion! I can take her into protective custody, do you realize that?"

I had forgotten that I was talking to a German official. "Listen, Walter, if you want me to provide you with secured information, there is no other way. As an informant, I guess I have to be able to assess the risk myself. I'm sure you're recording our conversation, aren't you?"

"No, not so far," he objected.

"Then do it now!"

"I, Laura Zamora, hereby declare that I absolve Walter Schmitt, Commissioner at the BKA, of any responsibility for my actions. I have offered myself to enter as an informant into a private cult that is believed to be holding German citizens, including my own sister Nadine Zamora, against their will. I am fully aware of the risk and am taking it against the express advice of Herr Schmitt!"

"Wait, I can't decide this on my own, I'll call you back in 15 minutes."

I sat down on a bench and waited. I was already glad that he didn't want to give his ok a week later.

It took almost 25 minutes before he called back, "Alright! If they actually find Nadine in Cyprus, they contact our embassy there in Nicosia. They can then call me. Should they reach the embassy with Nadine, they will be safe. But, Laura, you give status updates whenever possible, is that clear? You have the support of the BKA. And stay away from the mafia. From all mafias, Russian and Sicilian, is that clear?"

"I will try. Thanks Walter!"

"Take care of yourself, Laura! Good luck!"

That had been the end of the unpleasant conversation. The conversation with Holger was going to be much more pleasant because I could stick to the full truth and not invent a cult.

"Holger, there is a surprising development!", I started our conversation and explained what had happened.

"You did what?" asked Holger incredulously. "You agreed to play sex slave to Rebecca for nine months?"

I had kept quiet about the details of how it had come about. Instead, I presented it as my own idea that would give me access to inside information. I presented the terms as a benefit, since I would get the theoretical opportunity to contact him at least twice a month.

"How do you envision that? If you are placed somewhere else, possibly in another city, how are you going to get the phone? And how are we going to provide you with one there?"

I hadn't considered that.

"Why would Rebecca do that? Her other slave girls all live in the apartment building."

"I don't know. But we have to expect everything."

I could see that. Holger was probably highly trained and had appropriate experience.

"In any case, Vladimir Morosov seems to be one of the VIP clients, if not a silent partner. And when my sister is with him in Cyprus, I can get to her that way."

"Johanna, how can I protect you if I don't know where you are? You can't even tell me about the third basement level."

"Not yet, but soon. And if I'm placed somewhere else, it would probably be more like Rebecca's ranch."

He thought for a moment. "That would actually be good, you could get us access to the intranet there," Holger remarked.

"How so?"

"You'd have to replace the network junction box to their router there."

"And how am I supposed to do that? I don't know anything about that sort of thing."

"We'll train you."

"That's great. How are you going to make that work by Monday?"

"Relax. What do you say you just go dancing at a club tomorrow night?" said Holger cheerfully.

Heavens, sometimes I'd like to shoot the whole gang to the moon: Holger, Walter and everyone who stood behind them and wanted to take advantage of me. I had actually convinced myself that the conversation with Holger would be easier? A simple 'All right, keep us informed!', was that too much to ask? Well, he had had a not entirely bad idea, and Isabell would certainly like it, on the last weekend of our reprieve, to go dancing again in a club with me. But the evening itself would not please her and also me, for sure. No, I corrected myself: I already didn't like it!

I had to hurry back to the apartment building. The phone calls had taken longer than planned and the hardly any shopping could not serve as an alibi. Isabell had not understood so already that I wanted to go absolutely alone with the wheel, instead of being now with her. Shopping was completely implausible as an excuse. I insisted that I simply had to go out alone again, away from the total surveillance in the house. Just think about everything again. Of course, she had taken that on herself and had gone back to her apartment in a huff. After all, I had arranged to meet her again in the late afternoon. I thought about whether we should go in front of the camera again today. But I decided against it. On the one hand, because we still carried traces of the weekend, on the other hand, because I really had enough of the constant observation. At least this weekend we should be allowed to spend again unobserved. Our weekend show in the basement had already been reassigned on Monday evening, and it would have been too inconvenient to change the schedule again at short notice. And of course it wouldn't have been fair to my colleagues, who were also dependent on the money from the shows.

At first I had believed that all the actresses were working in the basement every week, but now I knew that most of them only did one or two shows a month. This made sense, of course, because audiences quickly became jaded.

As Rebecca had told me on the first day, many shoots also took place for other websites that were attached to the Rooms. The models were responsible for the planning and execution themselves and rented the corresponding studio, so to speak. In return, they also owned the rights to the recordings.

Only two shows per week were released in the Rooms themselves. While the rooms brought in a lot, the other productions were financially rather poorly remunerated. Of course, if you were good and had a large fan base, you made quite a bit.

But the models were tied to the rooms. They couldn't take their fans with them, or pull their fans from the webcam business into the rooms, because that was prevented by the deepfake. After hardly any years, the models were burned out and replaced. Sometimes after hardly a few months.

Those who were good lasted three years. Six years, like Isabell, none had lasted here except the trio, Thomas and a hardly few others. And all those who left had a vested interest in keeping the rights and revenues from their recordings in the basement. If the Rooms were busted, their income from it would be gone. They couldn't even prove that they were on the recordings.

But, oddly enough, there was no shortage of applicants. Most of the women in the house had found their way to the rooms themselves, by word of mouth or simply by applying on the site itself. But out of 100 applicants, usually only one made it in.

There were three studios worldwide: Germany, USA and Russia. They all produced independently and on their own sites. German shows were for Western Europe, Russian for Eastern Europe, USA for the rest of the world. Hardly any shows were presented on all sides.

Kumiho had been an exception from the beginning. Actually, it was an absolute coincidence that I initially met only the German performers. The majority of the girls were from other countries. Very many from the new Eastern EU countries, such as Bulgaria, Poland, Romania and Hungary, but also from all other EU countries.

The basic requirements for all models were EU citizenship and a reasonably good knowledge of German. Those who did not meet these requirements had to switch to the other studios.

The average net income here was around €10,000 per month, including apartment costs. Even high-class prostitutes probably didn't get much more. I already belonged to the absolute top earners, which better not be known, because then some would go here on the barricades.

Hardly back, I hurried to stow my purchases in the apartment, before I freshened up a bit and changed. I parked a cooler bag in the freezer between until I was done. Then I packed a small sports bag with a change of clothes, threw the cooler bag in and left my apartment.

Isabell was already waiting impatiently for me.

"Why don't you ever take your cell phone with you when you go shopping?" she reproached me as soon as she opened the door for me.

"Because I might lose it on the bike and I can't talk on the phone while biking anyway," I fibbed at her. "Did something happen or did you start longing for me again?"

"No, nothing happened, you just could have brought me something else. Ice cream wouldn't have been bad. Longing I had anyway." She gave me a kiss.

I closed the door kicking my foot backwards, I dropped the gym bag with change of clothes to the floor and we hugged. Because of my cold, we had refrained from intense kissing the last few days. Obviously, she now assumed that I was now healthy again, since I could ride a bike. And if I was honest, I had also missed her kisses. For minutes our tongues played with each other until I remembered that I still had something in my pocket that was not allowed to get warm.

"Crap, the ice cream almost melted," I remarked when I had broken away from Isabell and taken the package from the cooler in my gym bag.

She looked at the misery and sighed. "How did you know to bring tiramisu ice cream? I would have liked it in a slightly firmer form, though."

Immediately, we transferred the ice cream into bowls and munched on the semi-liquid deliciousness. On a hot summer day, ice cream like this always did us good and lifted our spirits.

"So," I began. "How are we going to spend our weekend off?"

Isabell shrugged her shoulders and gleefully scraped the last bits of ice cream from the bowl with her spoon. "Actually, we'd have to go on camera again this week. Neither of us earned anything. And if you're actually going to spend that kind of money on me, we need to earn something."

"We didn't celebrate my birthday," I reminded her. "I suggest we visit the Pur Club tomorrow night. After all, we can go online in the afternoon and we'd still have plenty of time afterwards."

She glanced at me. "Just the two of us? Or would you like anyone else to come along?"

"Just the two of us. Dance and party until the doctor comes."

"Count me in!"

26 Outdone

Angel and Demoness, Jenny Pain and Wet Latex Girl were back online. We started our show in the late morning. We had still drummed up publicity the previous evening and announced our performance. Saturday noon was not the ideal time for good camshows, but it was better than not going online at all for the whole week.

The customers didn't wait for the girls, they chose from those who were available. There were hardly any regular customers. And of course, they didn't arrange their sex life according to us. Nevertheless, we had customers from the first minute.

We shot in my apartment, since it was bigger than Isabell's. There were plenty of toys for the customers to choose from, including the remote-controlled vibrators, of course. Depending on how much the customers paid, they could control such a vibrator for a correspondingly long time. There were different intensities and modes.