No-LIMIT-Rooms 01 English

I showed her my back.

"Very pretty. I hope it hurts you as much as it looks. Why did you get Jelena so riled up? Do you realize how much effort it took to calm her down again? NEVER use the name Gretel around her again, or call her that if you want to live. Her character is Brianna, not Gretel. You've been told that, haven't you? Were you trying to blow up the plot? You're new, and I'll give you that as some well-intentioned advice: Don't tease your co-stars, nor producer. Come on up."

The daze was almost completely gone. I slowly stood up, looking around for something to wear. Rebecca walked to the door, opened it, and waved through. Gretel, er, Jelena, aka Brianna appeared in the doorway. In her hand she held a complete set of neck irons, leg irons and handcuffs, connected with heavy chains, which she threw at me with a scowl, wordlessly on the couch.

I glanced at it, "Seriously?"

Rebecca gave me a threatening look and nodded to Jelena, "get along!" Then she left the room. Stunned, I stared after her: How can you walk so silently with the Manolos? Are there courses on how to walk with them depending on the situation? I really had to google that.

Jelena didn't say a word about what had happened. She helped me into my harness and led me back into the spotlight. Now the second part of the show began for me. Binding of the fans.

The voting for my stage name began.

During this I was allowed to present myself, show my welts, and had to answer questions from the users.

When I looked at the suggestions and the number of votes on the screen in between, my mouth was open. There were over 1000!

In the end, a Korean won with the suggestion Kumiho, which probably meant nine-tailed fox in German. Uhui, I already had a fan in Korea? But why nine-tailed fox? Nine-tailed cat, yes. But fox? Cat-o'-nine already existed as a name, ok, at least that made sense. But my hair color was light brown, not fox red. There was no explanation to me, not even by Charly, who had allowed the suggestion. So I just thanked him artfully, and hoped that he had no bad connotation.

The three of us hugged each other very intimately, kissed, and explained that in reality we all loved each other very much, it had been a great show, and we had all climaxed at all. In fact, only I was hugged, since I was still in chains the whole time, until the result of the auction. During my hug, I'm sure Jelena had just happened to squeeze my back very tightly, while Alice took heed, kissed me on the cheeks, and whispered in my ear, "Nine-tailed-bitch!" Then the show was over.

The lights went out, and we went to clean up. I had made my debut, but it had not gone well. Jelena was avoiding me. And Alice, for some inexplicable reason, was mad at me, too. Heck, she had at least had a real orgasm at the show, that hadn't been a fake. The accessories were cleaned and put away in numbered boxes. Technology checked and ready for the next use. My "costume" tonight had been flesh colored with applications of forged iron. My own clothes had not matched the setting. My toys had also been too modern for it, with the exception of the riding crop, but that wouldn't have really fit either. So I didn't have to worry about a lot of personal stuff. My makeup case (what was I dragging it down here for anyway?) was quickly stowed away, then I helped the others.

We also wiped the stage and torture equipment thoroughly clean. The all-round service probably had its limits down here. There was apparently no after-show party, and I was too tired for that, too. Nevertheless, I hooked up with Edward, and tried to chat with him a bit.

"Is it possible to use the studios for some private amusement? I mean, who else has such a fancy stretching bench available?"

Edward just shrugged. "I don't know. Never asked for it before. I've got to get going. Nice working with you. See you next time." He gave me kisses on the cheeks, turned, and left. Stunned and speechless, I looked after him. NICE to work with me? The guy was either Vanilla, Gay, or so jaded that I didn't interest him. Someone tapped me on my shoulder. When I turned around, I looked into the eyes of Thomas, who had been standing close behind me. I had probably aroused interest in Thomas, but sorry, absolutely not my type: in his mid-forties, belly and wedding ring. No way!

"What is it?" My tone was not exactly frosty, but certainly close to zero degrees.

"You can take a lot."

It wasn't a question, so I just tilted my head questioningly.

"I hear you're getting a trailer."

"Oh, yeah: I heard that, too. What woman wouldn't want a trailer?", I replied in a smug tone.

He looked uncomprehending for a few seconds before enlightenment struck him. Then he laughed.

"A solo trailer. You get your own commercial. Your business card, so to speak. A montage of all the scenes of your performances. Plus some previews of what users can expect from you. If it is well done, your viewer numbers will increase. The recordings should be done by one of the best for you."

I waited.

"I'm the best here!"

Surprising amount of confidence. Or arrogance.

"Sorry Mr. Weinstein, but I don't think so." Already I wanted to turn around.

"Wait, that's not what I meant."

I waited.

"I don't want to fuck you."

My gaze wandered with an ironic expression to the center of his body, where a bulge was clearly visible under his jeans. Then I looked him in the eyes again. He was actually blushing. How cute.

"You're attractive, no question, but," he raised his hand with the ring of commitment. "I'm faithful to my wife."

I looked completely unimpressed.

"She'd cut it off if I had something elsewhere, real slow. And this here in the studio. She works here as a dominatrix. I'm bottom."

Now I had to laugh. I was more likely to buy that. "So, why?"

"Let's go to the break room, it's better to chat there. I'll explain everything to you, and answer all your questions. We have to close here now."

So I had found a source of information after all. Bingo.

"Is there anything to drink?"

"Is the pope catholic? But you're paying, it's your deuce."

"Fine, Weinstein."

He contorted his face in agony.

We didn't have the room to ourselves; a team from another studio sat together in a cozy corner, laughing. They seemed to know Thomas well, and greeted him warmly as we entered. Obviously they had been shooting in the clinic studio, because one still had a nurse's cap, made of latex and with a red cross, on her head. He introduced me to them as Kumiho, the future star. He declined the invitation to sit with them, because he still had a lot to explain to me. The blonde with the bonnet laughed and asked what he would be willing to pay so that they would not tell Red Dragon that he "explained" something to me.

"You can tell my spouse about this for all I care, Mimi. But make sure you tell it right. You want to see your sweet butt always nice and sharp broadcast in HD format. With live recordings, a blur at the wrong moment can be a real turn-off. We still shoot the week together, if I have the plan correctly in my head. And with missing balls, I can't get any more sharp shots!"

One countered, "Or even more so, you'll be more focused!"

Everyone laughed. Thomas shook his head.

"Helge, then your shots should be better than mine. But they're not, even though you haven't had any balls since you screwed up that one shot at Red Dragon. Ergo, that can't be right!" Thomas blinked disarmingly at this to show he wasn't serious, and everyone in the room roared with laughter, even Helge.

He led me to the self-service bar, and explained the system. You could take whatever you wanted. But you had to check it off on a display, and confirm it with the chip in your hand. With that it was booked. Cheaper than in a bar, more expensive than from the supermarket. The choice of drinks was good. He took a regular beer, I a Diet Coke.

"No alcohol?" he asked.

The other team in the back laughed out loud again, at a joke we hadn't caught.

"I thought you were only allowed to talk quietly here?" I changed the subject.

"During breaks, yes. But today it's closing time everywhere. The studios are closed. The others will have gone to the bars."

"What breaks? We didn't have a break."

"It's not like we had a full day of shooting."

"What do you mean? All together, it must have taken us five hours."

"Come on." He walked to the empty corner of the room, Ifollowed.

There we made ourselves comfortable in opposite leather armchairs. At least he did. I was clearly having trouble finding a position that caused me the least amount of pain. I would have to spend the night sleeping on my stomach.

"That was a week session. For the fuckers who need release after work before they go to bed. Weekend sessions last longer. Some 24h. But also not in all rooms. And, with the intense sessions..., there are crashes. There you need sometimes 15 min break, or even an hour. Here you can relax for a short time, eat something or rest a bit. But that doesn't work if everyone talks loudly here."

"Twenty-four hours? At a stretch?", I asked, horrified. I pictured 24 hours of whipping and torture.

"Yeah, we've had 36 hours too. But that includes cage restraint, bondage, chain restraint, isolation tank and the like. If you're stuck in the cell between 'interrogations,' the camera keeps rolling. Even if you're sleeping, or need to relieve yourself. Just like 24/7, only for 24 or 36 hours. There's no 24/7 on this floor, though. These studios on this level are just for the short-term sessions."

Unexpectedly, I felt as silly as a beginner. "Ah, ok. That makes sense. The Tops take a break here and relax while the Bottom suffer."

Thomas grinned. "Tormenting is exhausting, no question. Ever dole out a hundred lashes?"

"Yes, more even. But mostly I've been the target myself." I pretended theatrically as if a light dawned on me, "Would I have been entitled to a statutory break there, I mean for my top part, not my bottom?"

Thomas laughed. "You'd have to have our legal department check that. Maybe you can still make claims against you."

Something penetrated my consciousness, "There are 24/7 dungeons? Here?"

Thomas turned white as a sheet. "I didn't tell you anything, you hear me? When you're ready, Rebecca will show you around. Right now you have studio authorization, so for this level. And, depending on requirements, for level 2, where the VIP auditoriums are located. Rebecca will explain everything else to you. You've read that in the rules, right?"

"What rules? Rebecca told me something, but no, I haven't read any yet. Wouldn't know where either." I was honestly puzzled.

Thomas obviously was, too. "Your check-in?"

"My what?"

He tapped the back of his left hand. You had to read the rules, didn't you, accept them, and then you got your chip?"

"No. The chip was implanted in me at the hospital when I passed out."

Thomas looked at me without understanding. I briefly told him what had happened, and how today (yesterday?), I was sent head over heels to the basement.

He frowned. "That's not like Rebecca at all. She is otherwise one hundred percent correct. Especially since you'll face drastic penalties if you break the rules."

"Penalties? In the sense of contractual penalties?" I asked, nodding anxiously.

Thomas tilted his head and eyed me, wondering if I was bullshitting him.

"Girl, where are we? Does this look like a lawyer's office? You can call it contractual penalties for all I care. And if they're minor infractions, stick with percentage cuts, fines, or temporary exclusion from the basement. But beware of breaking the ground rules."

"And those are?"

He raised his fist and unclenched three fingers in succession, "1. You do NOT utter a word about Fight Club. 2. you never bring an outsider to Fight Club. 3. you don't tell on Fight Club."

I laughed. "I guess the rules were a little different there, and I think there were more."

Thomas wasn't laughing. "I'm dead serious. Remember what I told you before, not." He jutted his chin emphatically, raising his hand to make clear what he meant. I understood, at least to some extent.

"Who's Rebecca?"

He relaxed; the subject was probably less volatile. "Simple: she's the boss. What she says gets done. If she says do the frog, you bounce until she says stop. No has consequences. She's Dom through and through."

"I didn't get that impression at all. At least not last week at the interview. Today, I would have bought it."

"Oh, she can be charming, and play submissive perfectly when she wants to. But she isn't. She's a dom and a sadist. And she makes no secret of that. She started down here, and some sessions she still runs herself. This is her place, she pulls the strings, and she knows everything that goes on. Go over the top, and she'll have your back before you can say whoopsie!"

That's right, I couldn't say 'whoops' earlier, she was already behind me. I decided to leave the dangerous waters. "What about you?"

Thomas frowned again. "What about me?"

"You were going to make me an offer earlier, which I can't refuse."

He laughed heartily again, "Indeed. So the thing is, I'm married."

"We've been down that road."

He waved it off. "She's the supreme dome here, after Rebecca, of course. She has the most viewers, the best models, does the best sessions. After Rebecca, of course."

We spoke the last sentence as a duet. He was definitely bottom.

"And I'm jealous of her, and can't stand filming her here with other subs. I don't care what she does, I just don't want to have to see it."

Did he mean Rebecca now, or his mistress? His Red Dragon, of course.

"For a cameraman to film that's a problem," I admitted.

"That leaves me with the other models. But stars are rare there. And many don't last long, either. They rake in a quick buck and look for something easier. Those who leave here get opportunities elsewhere, if they haven't screwed up. There are other houses that will consider referrals from here."

"Get to the point."

"You're a star. And I think you'll last a while here."

Not the first time I've heard that. Would be nice if it were true. Who's going to get me out of here? I tilted my head. "You serious?"

"I Googled you when I heard I was shooting with you. For purely professional reasons, of course."

"Of course," I confirmed, nodding. "Was it fun?"

"Yeah, uh, no, I saw what I needed to see. I..."

He stammered, I actually embarrassed him. An hour ago, he zoomed in to count each of my skin pores one by one on my nipples. And probably filmed 10 centimeters deep into all my orifices. And now he was blushing. Had my bathrobe slipped? No. - Well, a little, not too much. Anyway. Was kind of sweet his reaction. I was a bit of an exhibitionist too, I admit it.

"Shit!" His outburst surprised me.

"You're maso, definitely maso, but not bottom. You proved that earlier, too. You dominated the session even though you were new, chained second row, and absolutely hated by Jelena. BTW: Don't ever call her Gretel again, or mention the name when she's around. She'll kill you if you do."

"You're number two telling me that today. Why?"

"Different story, longer. Let her tell you when you make up with her again. Is not pleasant. She hates us Germans. In principle, quite rightly. Just leave it at that."

"A bit of a problem living and working in Germany, don't you think?"

"Her problem, not yours, if you don't mind with make violence yours. She is a sadist, and enjoys punishing Germans. So it's a good fit. And she can get very creative. If she has a session with you, and you are at odds with her ... You better go to Rebecca and tell her that. Rebecca is the only one who has influence over Jelena."

I let that sink in.

"So I'm Top Maso?", I picked up the thread again.

"Yes. A maso bottom with a shredded back is out."

Ouch. Did he have to remind me again? I had just forgotten about my back being bloodied.

"A maso top goes on as a rigger or top. You can do quite a few shows a month here. And I suppose with good crowds. The better you are, the more your team earns. The better your team, the more you earn. Win-win situation. You choose me as your regular cameraman for your top sessions. That's where you get a say. I won't always be there for your bottom sessions."

"Red Dragon?"

"Red Dragon." confirmed Thomas.

"Can I think about it?"

Thomas raised both hands. "Of course you can. Take your time. I just wanted to grab an opportunity by the scruff of the neck to make some extra dough. When you ride a dragon, you need expensive bridles."

I had to laugh heartily. Actually, he was sympathetic to me.

"If you're really the best around ..."

"I am."

I held out my hand, "On one condition: from now on, I get to call you Weinstein."

He screwed up his face in disgust. Very sympathetic.

"Joking, Don Vito Corleone? No? Vito? I got it: lens!"

He chimed in. "You can't mess with an kumiho!" He remarked with a grin.

"A kumiho," I tried to correct him.

"Oh, you don't know what that is?"

"A nine-tailed fox."

"That, too."

"And what else?"

"I'm not going to tell you all the secrets, am I?"

I can stick my tongue out very nicely. "Go ride your dragon, lens."

He paled again, looked at his watch, and cursed. "I've got to go. Take the bottles away, will you? Bye." And turning to the others, a little louder, "Bye guys, gotta go to the fire." Amid laughter from the others, he stormed out.

"I wonder if tomorrow for breakfast he will still be in possession of his eggs, or she will enjoy them for breakfast," Mimi said aloud.

I too said goodbye to the others, having politely declined another invitation to join them. A brief reference to the fact that I had worked in the black studio was quite sufficient as an explanation.

A girl in the group also stood up, "I'll join you, if that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, sure."

She also said goodbye to the group. Together we left the room and strolled down the hall to the elevator. "Isabell," she introduced herself. "Or just down here: Vixen, with V and X."

"Johanna, or Kumiho, which I guess means nine-tailed fox in Korean."

She stopped, puzzled, "Why is that?"

"I had a cat o' nine tails run down my back today for my first day."

"And then you're still walking around here? Off to the infirmary. You know the rules."

"Haven't read them. Uh, at least not all of them. There was so much to read." The truth was too long to tell now. I should write them down so I could just hand the answer to someone who asked why I hadn't read them. OR, I would go to Rebecca's tomorrow and read the damn rules. Probably easier, and more sensible.

Reprovingly, she shook her head. "Don't let Rebecca hear you say that, she can't take a joke. Come on, I'll take you to the infirmary. That should have been Top's job. Who was that?"

"Gre..., Jelena, I mean Brianna."

"I hope you didn't mean to say Gretel. And for heaven's sake, don't ever call her that."

"I already did. Didn't know. I mean you're not supposed to, uh, should."

Isabell blew an appreciative whistle. "Congratulations, you're still alive. Must be your lucky day. Probably not called that until the end of the session?"

"No, before that. And during. Several times."

"You're fucking joke with me right now."

I half-turned my back to her. "No, full truth. Want to see?"

"Has your robe always been red at the back?"

"No."

"I believe you. Let's go."

6. look into the future

Isabell took me to the infirmary, which was necessary in several respects. On the one hand I didn't know it yet, so I didn't know where it was, on the other hand I had to find my way out of the basement. It wasn't difficult to find the elevator, the corridor had no branches, but upstairs I had to overcome Sesame somehow, and no one had shown me that yet. On the way we talked a little. She lived, oh wonder, also in the house, room 322. Her specialties were, also unsurprisingly, clinic sex, latex, golden shower; but also bloodplay and extreme insertion. She worked in the basement only once a week to pay the rent, while otherwise she put on her show upstairs. Obviously she had enough regular customers to generate a decent income from it. She wasn't a star, didn't do her own shows down here, but was always an extra. "It's better for my health," she replied when asked why.