No-LIMIT-Rooms 01 English

Passing through Sesame proved surprisingly straightforward: once you reached the hidden door, you stood in the area marked on the floor, holding your hand in front of the highly visible sensor. Above the door was a small traffic light that indicated green. "I hate that light," she remarked as the door swung open.

"Why?"

"Because the door won't open as long as the light is red. They really could have solved that more elegantly."

"Why, what does that mean?", I asked, uncomprehending.

Annoyed, she exhaled: "You didn't read it either? That means that someone is running around in the basement without clearance. Not everyone should know where it goes down here. And as long as the little green LED doesn't light up from the other side, you can't get down from there either. You can wave your chip around in front of the wall as long as you want."

"Oh, that's why I had trouble getting Sesame open earlier. I just thought I just hadn't found the right place to hold my hand out. But I wasn't alone in the basement either. Rike had just been doing laundry."

"Sesame?" she looked uncomprehending for a moment, until enlightenment struck her. Laughing, she nodded. "Fits. It's actually always Rike when the door doesn't open. Even the doorman has basement privileges here. If there are other visitors in the house, we are warned downstairs. The break room is also used to be able to do a raid once in a while. By the way, the sensor is easy to find: where the dowel hole is. Just hold your hand out, you don't need another spell."

Without any problems or delays, we made it to the infirmary. There we said our goodbyes. "Don't hesitate to call me if you need to know anything else. But not on cell phone. Use the house line. Just dial the apartment number. The house phone is muted when you're online, but gives a visual notification. And anything about the basement, we're not allowed to discuss via cell phone or internet anyway." She considerately refrained from a hug.

At the door to the station there was a bell with an intercom and a camera. It took a while before a female voice answered, asking me what I needed. What was I supposed to answer? I shrugged my shoulders: The best thing was the truth: "I've had my back properly whipped, and I'm bleeding again."

I didn't understand the words muttered in response, but I was also sure I wouldn't have wanted to understand them. "I'll be right there!" came intelligible words afterwards.

I had expected a nurse, but the middle-aged woman introduced herself as a doctor. Her name was Kling, and she was a gynecologist. The small practice was apparently equipped with everything necessary. The door I had rung had been the back entrance to the practice. The main entrance was on the street parallel to my apartment building. It really was a surprisingly large building. The doctor examined my back thoroughly, cleaned the open wounds, and put on some traction bandages. I was then given a sterile dressing and partially mummified. Finally, she gave me a pack of pain pills, and took out a small scanner. "Right or left hand?" I didn't understand. "Where's the chip?" I put my left hand out, she held the reader over it, and a short 'beep' sounded. No questions from where, no comments. Except, "Next time, please let me know ahead of time so they don't have to wait outside the door so long. I thought I was done for the day. Come to the consultation tomorrow afternoon for a change of dressing. Good night." With that, I was dismissed.

I stowed the tablets unopened in my pocket. My back was burning so pleasantly right now, I wanted to enjoy the feeling. On the way to the apartment, I made a detour past the snack machines. My stomach had made itself known unpleasantly to word. Indecisively I looked at the offers. There were vending machines with fresh produce, drinks and, of course, snacks and sweets. A salad with poultry meat and a bottle of water had to be enough for me. Here, too, there was the option of paying by chip. Practical, because I had left my wallet in the apartment. Arriving in front of my door, I rummaged in my pocket for the chip card for my apartment. It was missing. It must have fallen out of my pocket unnoticed in the basement. Darn, how do I get in? I went to the reception, but I didn't expect to find anyone else there. But to my surprise, someone was still sitting there. The middle-aged man was muscular, obviously well-trained, and gave the impression of a bodyguard rather than a night porter. "Good morning, what can I do for you?" he greeted me in an exceedingly professional and friendly manner.

"Good, uh, morning. My name is Johanna Blauert, apartment 417, and I've foolishly lost my smart card for my apartment."

The man nodded, typing something on the computer. "Did you lose it here in the building, Ms. Blauert?"

"Somewhere in the basement, I think."

He didn't make a face. "I see. Just a minute, I'll give you a new one. The old one is locked as of now." He typed something else into the computer and read something. "I just see they have an identity chip for our house? Would you be so kind?" He held out a small scanner to me.

I held the back of my hand under it. Beep.

"Thank you." He took the scanner back and went back to typing on the PC. A printer came to life, and produced the smart card. "They also have the option of opening their room door with the chip, but it was perfectly correct to come here, and report the loss. Would you like to take your mail right away?"

"What mail?", I asked, perplexed.

He removed an envelope from a tray numbered 417, then the smart card from the printer, and came around the reception counter. "I'll escort you to your apartment, Ms. Blauert" he said.

"That won't be necessary," I declined.

"I just need to check that everything is in order and no one has misused your card," he insisted.

"I don't think so, but thank you." I raised my hand demandingly.

For a moment he hesitated, then handed me the card and envelope. "Have a pleasant night, Mrs. Blauert. If anything is the matter, just dial o."

"Thank you, have a good night too!"

In the elevator, I took a closer look at the envelope. A brown C5 envelope without a return address, sealed. It had my name on it, nothing else. Arriving in front of my apartment, I hesitated, then tried my back-of-hand chip. Click, the door was unlocked. Okay, that was convenient. Why did I need the card then? Ah, logical, there were also tenants without a chip. And not everyone likes to be pricked.

Inside the room, I put my bag down, threw the envelope on the bed, got out my salad and water bottle, set that down on the nightstand, and changed. The Bathrobe I threw into the laundry basket in the bathroom. There was a washing machine and dryer here. What was there a laundry room for in the basement? Presumably there were differently equipped apartments. Great, did I get talked into the most expensive one? Wearing a comfortable sweater and sweatpants, I went back to the bed and sat cross-legged on it. In the envelope were euro bills and a terse note:

Congratulations on your first day!

Rebecca

I counted the sum and estimated my hourly wage in my head. Rather disappointing. That needed further clarification. But, other than that, the total was high enough to afford me the apartment for a week. Even more than a week. Then I realized my problem: What the heck am I going to do with that much cash if I earned it on the black? I bet they can offer me a solution for that too, at a cost, of course. Damn crooks. Isabell had mentioned something about paying rent with the work downstairs. I really had to ask her about that again. But before that I would also have a talk with Rebecca.

I stuffed the money back into the envelope, threw it into the drawer of the nightstand, and grabbed my cell phone and the salad at the same time. Great, I forgot my fork. So back to the kitchenette. On the way, I checked my messages. As suspected, they were sparse. A few inquiries about how I was doing, status updates, and an inquiry from Holger Schmidt about how the move went.

Immediately I started typing the answer: "All good, nice apartment, nice roommates, already made connections. Send you a video of the apartment soon...", DAMN, the SD card! My eyes fell on the cabinet where I had stored my Sony. The drawer was completely closed, although I was sure it had been open a bit when I stormed out of the room. I had stowed it in a hurry, and the wrist strap was hanging out a bit. I quickly took a look. The Sony was lying there, the empty spare SD card was apparently untouched next to it, and the full one was - gone.

I felt a chill go down my spine. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," I berated myself in my mind. I deleted the last, unfinished sentence of the message and typed instead, "Will keep you posted. 'wink'"

Surprisingly, it took only seconds for the reply, "Curious already. cu!"

Well, all was not lost yet. "Concentrate," I admonished myself in my mind I thought about all the things I had forgotten today. My chip card, my riding whip, which was now somewhere in the basement, and hopefully not stolen by someone, my ... *stomach growls*. My fork!

The salad didn't keep me up for long. Although I was tired, at the same time I was too upset to find peace. Thoughts were spinning in my head. So I did what usually worked.

From my bag I fished out some favorite toys, undressed and sat on the bed. The nasty clamps I put on the very front of my nipples where it really hurt. The others, with the cables on them, each to my left and right labia. The big glass dildo with the electrodes went in the front. I wasn't aroused enough yet and it hurt, but that was fine with me. The smaller one came in the back. Then I closed my eyes, and imagined myself standing in the dungeon again, tied motionless by my arms and legs, feeling the whip on my back, and let myself sink onto my back.

Immediately the pain freshened up again. My hand groped for the control panel, my fingers found the buttons, and I operated the knobs. The pain wafted through me in pulses. Sometimes sharp, sometimes burning, then again dull pulsing. Each time it became bearable, I increased the intensity. To the limit. Pain, pure, redemptive, white, all-erasing pain. And I came, screaming ...

Eyes still closed, I shut down, took down the clamps, out my electric dildos, shoved everything to the side of the bed, and curled up sideways into a hemisphere under my covers. Crying, I found my way to sleep.

The arrival of a message on my cell phone woke me up. Completely sleepy and with puffy eyes, I fished for it and opened the message history. The message was from a Rebecca Golmert. Should I be surprised that she had my number and that it was stored in my cell phone? The message just read:

Meet today at my office, apartment 501. 1:15 pm. Bring time. Leave your cell phone at home. Rebecca

Good morning to you too. What time was it? 10:17. There was still time. Suddenly I was wide awake. Why was I being called in? The SD card? No, probably not. Even if she had it, I could still truthfully say that it was a coincidence that I had recorded our conversation. I'd better not claim that she might have gotten hold of it without authorization. My bladder was pressing. So I went to the bathroom, relieved myself and freshened up a bit before going to the kitchen counter and opening the refrigerator. It was yawning at me, too - empty. That's right. I had still eaten breakfast in the clinic. Then nothing until my salad. I searched the cupboards. Empty except for dishes, cooking utensils and cutlery. At least cleaning supplies and trash bags were there. Great service. I had no idea where the nearest supermarket was here. I did not know the whole town yet. Possibly there was a bistro nearby? There was cash in my drawer, so I didn't need to speculate whether my card was still valid. I quickly turned on the computer and googled for a bistro. One was displayed right next to my location. I zoomed in closer on the map. This was here in the building? No, another street. Zooming in closer, I saw that there was a narrow courtyard or walkway between the buildings. However, there seemed to be connecting walkways. Oh, that's right. There was a short glass bridge leading to the surgery. So there might have been a way to get to the bistro without having to walk out to the next cross street and back again. I would have to ask downstairs at the reception. Good opportunity to try out the house phone. In fact, the doorman was able to confirm that there was an internal route to the bistro, and immediately explained the way. He also pointed out that I could pay there with my hand chip. "Where else?", I asked myself, after thanking him and hanging up. At that moment, the phone rang. The display read 322.

As soon as I had the receiver to my ear, Isabelle's voice entered my ear, "Good morning, sunshine. Slept in yet?"

"Good morning, Isabell. What's up?"

"You, I thought, since you're new and don't know your way around yet, I'd show you around. I wanted to go shopping."

"That's very sweet of you, but I don't have anything to eat in the house and wanted to go to a bistro first to get some breakfast. And I have an appointment with Rebecca later."

"That's fine, I wanted to grab a bite to eat first too. The house has a fantastic bistro."

"So I've heard."

"Then I'll meet you at the passageway in, say, 15 min?"

"Give me 20, I'm still sitting here in my eva suit."

"See you soon." Already she had hung up.

What was that? With so much friendliness I always became suspicious. Still10 I hurried to get ready for daylight. A loose sweater had to suffice over the bandage. Jeans and sneakers completed my outfit, there was no time for elaborate makeup anyway. Should I take anything with me? Handbag, cell phone - some money? I took the envelope out of the drawer, and took out two 50s. That should be enough. I left the chip card in the room. I obviously didn't need it in the house. I arrived downstairs right on time. Without getting lost, I was proud of myself. Isabell was already waiting there impatiently. "It's about time, my stomach is growling."

Mine was growling again, too. We entered the bistro through the back entrance. The waiter eyed us briefly, but then greeted us in an extremely friendly manner: "Welcome! Your favorite seat is free, as you can see. He waved us to a table. You brought a friend, how nice. What can I bring them?"

"The card, Mirko. I'm sure Johanna would like to see what's available first."

"Already on the way," he replied, eagerly. Already we each held a card in our hands.

The offer was manageable according to a bistro. Isabell told what she had already tasted of it, and what was all good. Everything seemed to be good. Cappuccino and tomato mozzarella baguettes with herbs de Provence was my choice, while Isabell preferred a caffè latte and a salad with tuna. While we waited for our order, Isabell tried to sound me out. Where I came from, how I got here, and so on. I simply turned the tables on her and asked her questions. Not that anything interesting came out of it. Mirko interrupted us with the ordered breakfast. It tasted really good. We were barely sitting in front of our empty plates when Isabell started again.

"You, I'm really sorry, but I have the appointment with Rebecca in a minute. Let's continue this another time, yes? But because yesterday was my debut, and I haven't spent any yet, you're invited. " I called Mirko to pay.

"I heard I can pay with chip here? Or is cash preferred?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Of course you can pay with the house chip, I'll get the device."

"No need, today I'm paying cash. I just wanted to know." With that, I handed him a 50.

Shortly after he returned with the change, I left some tip on the plate.

Isabell and I said a cordial goodbye, and she left the bistro for her shopping trip while I had to get back to the house. However, I actually still had time. So I decided to go to the basement and get my riding whip, which I had forgotten there yesterday. Today the walk went without any problems. Sesame gave me the green light and opened obediently when I waved my hand. Also the elevator obeyed me. Aha, so I had a valid passport. Studio 11 was closed, but here too my chip opened the door. However, it was dark in the studio except for the emergency exit lighting. Darn, where was the light switch? I dug out my cell phone. In the light of the small LED I walked through the studio and looked for the changing room. But I didn't find my whip there. A beep warned me of low battery. Great. I turned back, and almost made it to the door before the cell phone light went out. Fortunately, there was the emergency exit light.

As I opened the door, a scream of terror escaped me: standing unexpectedly right in front of me was a man.

"What are you doing here in the dark?" were his first words before he saw my cell phone. His expression darkened. "Cell phones are not allowed down here."

I glanced at it. No? "Uh, yeah, I just needed light. I had a session here yesterday and forgot something. And couldn't find the light switches. Then the battery died and I was in the dark."

"Okay, I'll check that out. Give it to me." He took the phone from my hand. "Name?"

"Johanna. Johanna Blauert.", I stammered, completely taken aback by the man's reaction.

He put my cell phone in his shirt pocket, simultaneously took his cell phone out of his pocket, then typed something on it.

"I thought cell phones were banned down here?" Escaped me.

"Shut up, hand over here." He grabbed my wrist and held his phone over the back of my hand. Beep. Then he looked at the display. "Okay, Ms. Blauert." again he glanced at me, switched devices again, and lifted my phone. "I'm going to have to hold on to this for now, and see if they recorded anything down here with it. You'll get that back at the front desk. Did you find what you were looking for?"

I was starting to get pissed. "Who are you to treat me like that? And I want my cell phone back right now." I tried to grab my phone, but he just stepped back, dropped it in his pocket in a flash, and before I knew what was happening, he had grabbed my wrist again, twisted my arm behind my back, and pushed me up against the wall with my face. Ouch. He was definitely a pro. It only took another 7 seconds for my hands to be fixed to my back with cable ties. Without any more talk, he took me to the elevator. Inside, he didn't push any buttons, just nodded toward the camera, and the elevator doors closed.

"You're going downhill very fast, Mrs. Blauert," was his only comment.

7 Welcome to hell

My knees almost gave way, but not because I was scared, I was just stunned and pissed off at the same time, but because the elevator was going up. I took a closer look at the security guard. His appearance was rather inconspicuous, but that he had what on it, he had just proved impressively. Probably, no for sure, I would have no chance against him. Not with my hands tied. Obviously I should take lessons from him, as skillfully as he had taken me by surprise. Years of training in Aikido, and then something like this. I still couldn't believe it.

We stopped, on the fifth floor, of course. His grip on my arm was firm but not brutal, I let him lead me along without resistance. He directed me to a small, quite tastefully furnished waiting room and left me there, sitting on an armchair.

However, I did not have to wait too long until he came back. He could have at least taken off my shackle and offered me something to drink. Rude guy. "Stand up, the boss wants to see you." He helped me up and cut the cable tie. The remark that I was normally into this sort of thing, and would enjoy it under other circumstances, I bit off at the last second. Inappropriate time, inappropriate place.