No-LIMIT-Rooms 01 English

No-LIMIT-Rooms 01 English

Kumiho

by

Jepasch

Note from the author.

I wrote this story originally in German, and then translated it using deepl software.

If you are bothered by the grammar, feel free to translate it correctly yourself. I don't have the money to pay a professional translator for my stories, which I put online for free.

In the meantime there are 8 parts, which I either translate further, or leave in German, depending on feedback here. I hope you like it, although some things are probably not understandable due to cultural differences if you didn't grow up in Germany. But I am also happy to answer questions of understanding. Have fun!

Prolog

My cell phone rang. On the display I saw that it was Nadine. "Hello Nadine, how are you?" I answered.

"Hey Laura." Her voice sounded pressed, she wasn't feeling well, I felt that immediately. "I need your help."

That sounded serious. Alarmed, I asked. "What's the matter, is there trouble, have they found you, are you being followed?"

"No, nothing like that. Why should they I haven't done anything. It's you who they want. It's different, I think I'm pregnant."

Thoughts raced in my head. "By whom? Kevin?"

"Of course from Kevin, who else?" Her voice almost cracked.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. It's only been almost three months since he... "I didn't finish the sentence. Suddenly I saw the scene again: Kevin and I at the poker table with the bosses, the masked and armed men who stormed the room and the shots. And Kevin, who was suddenly lying on the floor covered in blood. I had managed to stop thinking about it or dreaming about it for almost a week.

"Yes, but at first I didn't think about it at all. It must have happened the night before he died. Then everything rushed out. The funeral, the questioning ... I didn't even register that I was overdue." "You used to be, too," I reminded her. As twin sisters, we usually had the period at the same time. "If you go hungry again, that may be the cause. Did you do a pregnancy test?"

"No not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I'm scared."

"Of course you're scared. But you need certainty. There's no point in burying your head in the sand. If you are actually pregnant, there is very little time to make a decision."

"A decision?" She sounded confused. Then she understood what I meant. "You can not be serious! Kevin is dead and his child would be all I have left of him."

She knew, of course, that I had always thought Kevin was an asshole, he had gotten us into the whole thing in the first place, but I was partly to blame for his death. My stupid idea to call in the police had ended in disaster. I had to leave university and have been under police protection ever since. Anyone who messes with the Russian mafia is playing with his life. I answered her as gently as possible: "Hey little sister, I didn't mean it like that. But before you can make any plans for the future, you need to be certain. Get a test, will you?"

She sniffed. "Yes, I'll be leaving in a moment."

After our conversation, I threw myself thoughtfully on my bed. Nadine had a steady job, not very well paid, but sufficient. She had an apartment and a lot of friends. But could she raise a child alone? I always considered her my little sister, and not just because I was four minutes older than her. She had always been less independent than me, took the path of least resistance, took up a teaching and submitted to it. I, on the other hand, had always resisted. They could hardly control me in the home. Nevertheless, or perhaps because of it, I passed my Abitur, got admission to the university and was about to take my exams. In the meantime, however, I was already earning more money with my part-time job than I could ever earn as an academic in the teaching company. I deserved it, I corrected myself. That was over since I lived in this state apartment. No income, no studies, no degree. Damn cops and bureaucracy. They had promised everything, except that I would be helped quickly and unbureaucratically afterwards. They didn't say that, for good reason. I was stuck here and couldn't get any further. Far from my university, far from my sister and my few friends, far from my scene. It didn't take long for my phone to ring again. She must have hurried. "Finished already?" I asced. Loud breathing in the line. "Nadine, are you okay?"

"Hello Laura," answered an unfamiliar male voice, with an overly clear Russian accent. The shock went into my limbs, my stomach knotted together.

"Who is speaking, where is Nadine?" I managed to speak calmly with difficulty and not let my rising panic show.

"We have them now. She will pay off your debts, it won't be pleasant for her."

It was immediately clear to me who was meant by "we". "She has nothing to do with it, let her go. I withdraw my statement too." My panic broke through.

"It's too late for that. Blood has to be paid for by blood. But if you surrender yourself to us, we will let your sister go."

I wasn't that naive. Still: "Well, I'll do it, I'll come. But give it to me beforehand, I want to know if she is okay."

It was only seconds before I heard Nadine's panicked voice: She was speaking English, I guess she was hoping the kidnappers didn't understand.

"Laura, don't, they're going to kill us both, I heard. They didn't know that I understood Russian." Her voice stopped abruptly, and someone covered her mouth.

"We're expecting you in Berlin tomorrow evening."

The conversation was over.

I didn't have to be told where in Berlin. The club still existed, and certainly still belonged to them, even if one boss was dead and the other in jail. Of course they wouldn't hide Nadine there. I didn't own a car. I didn't need one in Berlin, I couldn't afford one here. The train ride to Nadine's place of residence took a while. On the way I called my contact and described what had happened. When I got to her apartment, the police were already there. The only thing they found was their discarded cell phone and a dropped, unopened pregnancy test.

1 The apartment building

Even when I got off the train shortly after eight o'clock, my blouse was sticking to my back. It was over thirty degrees, and the train wasn't really air-conditioned either. I still had almost two hours until the appointment. I decided to walk, and take a look at the outside of the building beforehand. Needless to say, I was nervous, because on this depended whether I could ever see my sister again. And yes, I also had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

This city was completely different from Berlin, and not just because there were hills bordering it. I stopped at a bakery and treated myself to a small breakfast. Fortunately, the saleswoman understood High German, so much for advertising. She didn't know what to do with Schrippen at first, but she was familiar with rolls.

With the coffee cup in one hand and the sandwich in the other, I slowly walked around the block of the apartment building. Since it was downtown, traffic rolled noisily past. A quiet location it was not. There was only one entrance at the front, with a mirrored double door. No company name indicated the building's purpose. A driveway led to an underground garage, but it was obviously only accessible to visitors and residents. A barred gate blocked the entrance. While I was eating the roll, I saw a vehicle drive in there. It stopped in front of the gate, and for no apparent reason, the grille lifted, revealing the driveway. As soon as the car drove through, the grille gate immediately closed again. A yellow warning light indicated that one should no longer move through it. So you couldn't easily get in or out of the building. Apart from that, it was completely inconspicuous. Via a side street I reached the back side at the parallel street. But there seemed to be a completely different building, which obviously had nothing to do with the apartment building. A bistro, a bakery, doctors' offices and small boutiques were located in this row of houses. Where and whether the apartment building had another entrance, or exit, I could not see. However, I knew through Holger that there must be one here. To the further search however no time remained to me. I threw my trash into a wastebasket and went back to the front entrance.

There were neither mailboxes nor a row of doorbells at the entrance. Instead, just a single bell button, with no nameplate. There was an electronic door lock on the door, which apparently could be opened with a magnetic card. After glancing at the clock on my cell phone, I gathered my courage and walked up the two steps to the entrance. In the doorway, my reflection greeted me: a normal young woman of 26, not unattractive, with light brown, medium-length hair and blue eyes. And a blouse sticky with sweat, over blue jeans and with high heels. Before I could even ring the bell, I heard an electric buzz, and the door swung open to the outside. A gush of cool air rushed toward me; the house was air-conditioned. When no one came out even after three seconds, I decided that the door had probably been opened for me. However, I hadn't been able to spot a surveillance camera anywhere on the building. Except, of course, at the entrance to the underground garage. Determined, I stepped through the door, which closed silently behind me.

Behind the front door, a spacious lobby with a reception desk on the left awaited me. A doorman smiled at me in a friendly manner with a questioning expression on his face.

"Good morning! You must be Mrs. Blauert, right?"

I was taken aback for a moment, but then nodded back in a friendly manner.

"Uh, yes. Good morning. How did you know?"

"They're on my list. Wait, I'll let the boss know they're here. She wants to show them around personally. If you would be patient for a moment, please?"

"Yes, thank you. - Uhm, excuse me: quickly freshen up a bit? I just got here, and the train wasn't really air-conditioned."

The relatively young man nodded understandingly. He might hardly be older than me and looked quite athletic, absolutely not the usual porter type. His suit also fit perfectly, not cheap stuff that security guards usually wore. As he raised his arm to point in a direction, I noticed that his upper arm filled out the suit jacket nicely. He seemed to be doing weight training.

"But of course! There, just behind them are the restrooms."

"Thank you!"

Immediately I disappeared through the indicated door. The rooms were bright, clean, and smelled good even though they had no windows. A large mirror above a generous sink allowed me to redo my makeup. Unfortunately, I had not thought of a change of clothes. Therefore, I removed my blouse and bra, washed my torso, and dried myself with paper towels before getting dressed again. After a final, searching look in the mirror, I headed back to the lobby.

When I re-entered the lobby, a black-haired, medium-figured woman stood in front of the reception desk. She was wearing a tasteful white suit, pearl necklace, pearl earrings, and extremely high-heeled shoes, which I'm sure had been as expensive as her dress. She might be a little shorter than me, but her shoes made up for it. I estimated her to be in her early 40s.

She wore perfect makeup, which accentuated her pretty face, but still didn't make her look girly. She could have passed for a CEO at any board meeting of a large corporation.

With her hand open, she came to greet me. "Ah, good morning Johanna! I'm Rebecca! I'm glad you made it on time. May I offer you some refreshments before the tour, coffee perhaps?"

I grasped the proffered hand. She had a surprisingly firm grip for a woman and turned her wrist up slightly as we shook hands. A gesture I knew how to interpret. This woman was a dominatrix!

Her discreet perfume, which had certainly not been cheap either, penetrated my nose pleasantly. This woman radiated power, wealth and self-confidence. Undoubtedly, she was the supreme boss here.

I was disconcerted for a moment, because I hadn't expected to be greeted by the boss herself right away. Was that the custom here?

"Good morning! Thank you, no. I just had some breakfast on the way here. But, do all prospective customers here get greeted by the boss herself right away?"

Her bell-like laugh filled the lobby.

"What else would a boss have to do all day?" She winked to show she was joking.

Dutifully, I smiled. Still, it didn't escape me that she hadn't answered my question clearly.

"Now come, I'll show you the apartments in question. And you can ask me more questions then."

With an inviting gesture she pointed to the elevator.

After she showed me the regular apartments, the recreation rooms, and the spa area, we surprisingly took the elevator down to the basement.

"The basement has several underground levels," she explained to me in a calm tone. "On the first level, you'll find the rooms for the laundry, the garbage garbage cans, and everything the property manager needs. If you own a bicycle, you can safely store it there, too. But more interesting are the levels below."

I glanced at the buttons on the elevator, which showed only one basement floor and the levels first floor to the 5th floor.

She noticed my glance. "No, there are no buttons here for the lower basement levels."

Questioningly, I looked at her.

"Weren't you wondering about the confidentiality agreement you had to return?"

"Somewhat!", I admitted.

"Well, our house is - in principle - perfectly legal. We rent apartments, provide technical services to our tenants. Also investment and tax advice. Drug abuse and prostitution in the house is not tolerated, and leads to the termination of a lease without notice.

Impatiently, I waved it off: "I know the catalog, otherwise I wouldn't be here. Besides, I'm neither new, nor inexperienced in the webcam business. The competition is fierce, the profits are low, so what justifies the absurdly high prices for an apartment here? If an acquaintance hadn't tipped me off that I could make a fortune here, I would have laughed it off."

This time she raised an eyebrow. "This place specializes in fetish."

I waited.

"And S&M."

"Yes," I interjected impatiently, "I'm aware of that."

"EXTREME fetish!" clarified Rebecca. "We have our own doctors in house, 24/7 emergency service with no questions asked. We have the studios of No-LIMIT-Rooms here!"

Surprised, I looked at her: So THAT was it? Of course I knew the website. An Insex successor, hard BDSM porn for wealthy customers. I hadn't afforded a membership yet, but there were pictures and videos of it circulating freely on the net.

"Seriously? Here in Germany?" My tone betrayed clear disbelief. "And the authorities condone this?"

Rebecca laughed out loud.

"The health department is here regularly, we've had police raids here, and the tax investigation too. I can really only recommend that every tenant keep their books clean. From our side, everything is legal until..." she hesitated, "...of course, on the Rooms. The existence here is not known to the authorities, and should it become known to them, that would be the end of this location, of course."

"This location?", I interjected questioningly.

"Of course there are several locations. The Rooms are international. Models from other countries and continents don't necessarily have to travel to Germany to appear in the Rooms. Which, of course, also makes it easier to keep the studio location secret.

"But there are Publik sessions with live guests. They must know the locations, right?"

Rebecca laughed. "Okay, I see you know the rooms. The guests know the countries, at best the regions, but not the exact locations," she explained. "They're driven around in closed vehicles for hours before they get to the destination. Some sessions are also held in specially rented rooms or theaters. The exact location of the studios is kept to insiders."

I felt a little sick to my stomach. Rebecca looked at me.

"Scared?" she asked, "You're wondering why I'm just telling you the location now?"

Cautiously, I nodded.

"You were invited. No one lives here who hasn't been invited and screened. Without that, you wouldn't have even gotten the catalog."

Waiting, she stood there. Her gaze was penetrating.

"What?" My voice rolled over with nervousness.

Sighing exaggeratedly, she pulled more documents from the folder she carried under her arm. By now we had reached the basement level and ahead of us was the usual tenement basement. Rebecca strode out of the elevator and turned right down the hall. "Come!" was all she said.

2 The basement

Footsteps sounded from the left. A young brunette woman, in her early 20s, with green eyes, loose blue sweater, pink sweatpants, and pink bathing slippers came down the hall with a full laundry basket. Rebecca turned, "Hi Fredi!"

The brunette tilted her head. "Fresh meat?" she asked.

Rebecca smiled, but her smile did not reach her eyes. "A new tenant, - maybe. We'll sort that out now."

The brunette nodded and pushed past me to the elevator. Suddenly, the laundry basket slipped from her hands. I quickly bent down to help her pick up the laundry. There were precious pieces of underwear in it.

"If I were you, I'd turn back now and forget I was ever here!" she whispered to me, snatched the black silk slip overt from my hand and, without looking back, entered the elevator.

I straightened up and looked at Rebecca, who was waiting for me a few paces away. She waved her papers impatiently and pointed to a door. "Are you coming?" She seemed to have heard nothing. Hesitantly, I followed her. We entered a small room, sparsely furnished with a table, three chairs, and a TV. Rebecca closed the door. "You can wait here if the laundry isn't done yet. However, smoking is absolutely forbidden here." She pointed to the smoke detector on the ceiling.

"I don't smoke," I replied curtly.

Rebecca nodded. "Right, I forgot."

Astonished, I raised an eyebrow. Rebecca pulled up a chair and sat down at the table. With her left hand, she pointed to the seat opposite. Casually she explained, "I told you, no one gets an invitation here without being screened. And now comes the point where you can ask the last, decisive questions and also answer my questions!"

A thousand questions rushed through my mind, and I didn't know which one to ask first.

"Alright, I'll ask the questions then," Rebecca opened after a short wait. "The most important question first, do you even want to know more? You can just say no now, stand up, we'll shake hands, I'll walk you to the front door and you'll forget what I've been telling you for the last five minutes. I never said that and you will never tell anyone about it. You're welcome to tell everything else, of course," she pointed upward with a smile. "It's not like it's a secret. If you think there's someone interested in an apartment with basement, go ahead," the emphasis on the word 'basement' sounded strange coming from her mouth. "Contact me, give me their name, give us the details, and we'll see if you're allowed to give a recommendation or not. Of course, there will be a small commission if a lease is signed!"

She tapped her index finger on the papers in front of her.

"This is a referral contract I'm offering you for that now. It may earn you something, but not much, and definitely not for sure."

"Do they have to be eligible for the Rooms too, or regular camgirls?"

Rebecca smiled as if I were joking.

"Of course we can go up to my office, you sign the standard lease for your apartment, do your thing and you're good."

I laughed out, "I can't afford that at all, I'd never get that in as a camgirl, what you guys are charging in rent."