No-LIMIT-Rooms 03 English

After this interlude, Isabell came into the sitting cage and also disappeared from view for a while. It was up to Jelena again to take care of my entertainment. I already suspected what she had in mind before the two paladins lifted me onto the wooden horse.

The top edge of the three-edged beam was not sharp, because that could have hurt me badly, but even rounded it was a real torture to have to sit astride it. Some customers were now obviously paying very well for my suffering, because the weights on my feet were also very heavy. My hands were pulled upwards and thus my upper body was freely accessible from all sides. With a smile, Jelena turned the nasty gag on me further.

"I'm not interested in your lies or pleas. I just want to see you demon spawn suffer."

She grabbed the Snakewhip and positioned herself.

"So, how many blows will I need before you pass out?"

The fear in my gaze was only partly feigned now. This woman was a full-fledged sadist and, moreover, had an unfathomable hatred for me that I didn't understand. Sure, I had stolen her thunder at our first meeting, but that couldn't be it alone. It is possible that her hatred of Germans reinforced this, perhaps I should have told her that I was actually a Sorbian. But of course that was out of the question, because Johanna definitely wasn't.

The pain of the first blow tore me out of my thoughts. The whip had wound once around my entire upper body and the tip had struck between my shoulder blades. Ah, that had really hurt, my moans coming loudly through the gag. She gave me a moment to 'enjoy' the subsiding of the pain, then she lashed out again. The second stroke sat exactly an inch below.

A camera filmed me sideways from behind and in close-up the viewers and studio guests saw what Jelena was doing to my back. Stroke by stroke, she worked her way down to my buttocks, precise as a clock. Then she worked her way back up, creating a crisscross pattern on my backside. I was no longer in control, tugging at my chains, further aggravating the pain in my crotch. As I pulled particularly hard on my chains, and lifted myself up a tiny bit from my seat, I clamped my clit afterwards. My scream was so violent that the gag had no effect. Pain, I consisted only of pain. Pure, white-hot, filling everything, washing away my thoughts and me.

A gush of really ice-cold water brought me to my senses. Jelena stood in front of me, smiling and with an excited face. How had I come off the beam? Why was I lying on the floor? My gag was also missing. Rebecca appeared on the stage. Slowly she approached me, squatted next to me and took my face between her hands.

"My brave vixen, why do you want to suffer like this? Just tell me what I want to hear, and your suffering will be over." She spoke so gently, so compassionately, so lovingly and persuasively. Her gentle hands stroked my face and I began to cry.

"So, what is your name, your real name?"

If I ever let that slip, Kumiho was lost. With Thomas, I had thought long and hard about what it should be. Not even Rebecca knew it. It was going to be the climax and end of my story as Kumiho if I ever revealed it, so I couldn't name him. Not now, not here. Therefore, I just shook my head.

Rebecca gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Well, you obviously wouldn't have it any other way. I guess we'll have to hang you then."

She signaled and Jelena and René picked me up off the floor, holding me upright between them, while Rebecca stepped in front of me and began to tie off my firm breasts tightly with a rope, close to the base.

They immediately began to discolor and the pain in them steadily increased. In the meantime, Jelena tied my elbows tightly back again so I couldn't move my hands. By the time Rebecca was done, my breasts were sticking out in front like pink eggplants. A hook was forced into the loops between my breasts and a rope was attached to the top of it. Then they let go of me and presented their grotesque work of art to the customers. Without further warning, the rope lifted and I was pulled upward by my breasts. Nothing could have prepared me for this pain. They radiated into my entire abdomen and at the same time I felt like my breasts were being ripped off. My breath was taken away by the pain. Spasms of pain ran through my entire body and I offered a bizarre spectacle as my bladder emptied. This time I did not faint, but entered a trance that was beyond pain, but in which I was still aware of everything. I had never experienced such an effect. It was as if I was seeing from outside what was happening to me. With light slaps Rebecca checked if I was still conscious, which I acknowledged with a twitching of my closed eyelids. They lowered me again until I could reach the floor with the tips of my feet and convulsively tried to stand. The pain subsided and I regained my breath. Gasping, a long-drawn-out gasp of pain escaped me.

I had seen something like this done before. But the model had tolerated it much better, unlike me. Damn, that had been pain, which I did not want to experience again.

"Well, what's your name?"

Didn't she have any other question? Why, of all things, the only one I couldn't answer for her? I looked her in the eye and tried to figure out what her goal was. But again I failed to be able to discern her feelings.

Again the rope tightened and pulled me up. This time I was about to scream. Seemingly endlessly, I seemed to hang there while screaming my lungs out until I was lowered again, this time sinking powerlessly to my knees. But I knew that it was not over yet. Three times, was the rule, because that was how many times each torture was used at a stretch. After that, it was not allowed to be used again. And I was right: slowly the rope tightened, barely allowing me to catch my breath for a few minutes. Just as I was still prancing on my toes, Rebecca approached me again. "Your name and you are redeemed."

Wildly, I shook my head. Immediately the jerk came and I was pulled up into the air. This time much higher than before. Tears welled up in my eyes as I screamed in pain. Then they lowered me down. Not to the ground, however, but back onto the wooden horse. The renewed pain in my crotch met my anger at this mean betrayal. They broke the rules of interrogation. I had already sat on it and a repetition violated the sacred rules. Unaware of my sounds of pain, Jelena again applied weights to my feet. The pull on my breasts had eased, but the rope on them kept me upright and prevented me from sinking forward. I tasted blood and my tongue ached. Sometime in the last few minutes I must have bitten it. Damn, what was Rebecca thinking? Did she want me to cancel the live show or even bring down the whole story? I was close to giving the signal when she approached me.

"I admire your strength. Anyone else would have already given up in your place. But I knew you were special." She ran her hands along my sweat-drenched body, tracing my scars and welts with her fingernails and caressing my bruised breasts. Then her right hand went down to my crotch and very gently caressed my martyred pearl of pleasure. I shuddered under her touch and the pain sank into the background. Never would I have thought such a thing possible, that I could suffer such pain and feel such pleasure right after. As much as I was into pain, this was completely new even for me.

I had lost all sense of time and had not looked at the clock for a long time. And even now it didn't even occur to me to look at how much longer the show was going on, but I had a feeling I wouldn't last much longer. Either Rebecca would bring me to orgasm right away, or the pain would force me to stop. I barely noticed how the pull on my breasts intensified and I was lifted up again. Then I sank down and came to sit on a box. Uninterruptedly Rebecca had aroused me and I was close to having a huge orgasm when she abruptly stopped.

"Not yet!" she whispered in my ear and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

A rooster crowed, the signal for the final morning.

"Lock the vixen in her standing cage again now we have the traitor to trial first."

Jelena unhooked the hook and rope from my breasts, painfully shooting the blood back in. Then she and René helped me into my cage.

"Master, for the next degrees we need to remove her chains so we can stretch her limbs one by one and give her more pain." They were the first words I heard René say in this show.

"After the trial. Then we'll tie her to the cross and let her watch the execution of the traitor before we question her further."

I had survived the night of hell, now my day was dawning.

21 Triumph

Isabell was pulled out of her cage. She looked somewhat recovered, which was not surprising given the extended break. Although the 'rooster' had only just crowed, the morning was already well advanced. Most of the studio guests had left by the time I was locked back in my cage, the climax must have been over. On the American continents, however, only the last of them had tuned in and were probably watching the past few hours on the recording.

The coming trial was, of course, a farce. Prosecutor, judge and executioner were the same people. Rebecca was the presiding judge. Diana and Matej sat on the chairs brought in as assessors. The prosecution was led by Jelena, while Master P acted as the guard.

The charges were read, the accused was found guilty, and the sentence was determined. As a demon servant, this meant death by burning. Before that, however, she was to be stunned, which meant nothing more than having her breasts torn apart with a steel whip. Then her tongue would be torn out and each of her bones would be broken on the wheel. The subsequent burning alive should then already be considered an act of mercy. I was glad not to have really lived in such a time. Isabell played her role convincingly now, too, and she threw herself at the feet of the court, begging for mercy and spitting in my direction to make it clear that she had renounced me. P had to whip her into silence. Rebecca broke a wooden staff over Isabell's head, symbolizing the finality of the sentence, Isabell was lost.

Now the chains were in the way of both of us and had to be removed. An anvil was brought in and first Isabell's riveted chains were broken. Immediately afterwards she was put in a pillory and displayed there until the execution. Now it was my turn. They took me out of my cage and dragged me to the anvil. My chains, decorated with magical symbols, did not withstand the blows of the hammer and chisel for too long before the rivets broke and I was free. Unfortunately, though, they had left the gag in my mouth, so I couldn't take advantage of that.

Then they tied me to a cross and left me hanging by my arms. My feet only found support on a narrow, sloping wooden platform and were tied to the beam with coarse ropes.

Jelena presented long needles with a smile.

"I have ten beautiful long needles here, what could I possibly use them for?"

She held one to my left big toe, under the toenail, and looked into my fear-distorted face.

With obvious pleasure, she pressed the needle under my toenail.

Needle sticks basically didn't scare me. The prick of a needle can hurt pretty bad, but the pain is usually brief. As soon as the needle was removed or no longer moved, it was over. Staples were much nastier, because they caused constant, lasting pain. Under the nails, however, it was something else and also something completely new for me. Who had told me again that all subs went under cover when Jelena, Diana and Rebecca came together to do a session? Slowly I had an idea of what was meant by that. My cry of pain was no fake. Yet, strangely, the pain also excited me. Just like an acupuncture point triggered certain nerves, my toe seemed to be connected to my pleasure center. This surprised me after all.

Jelena didn't miss the fact that I was getting wet. With one finger she wiped through my cleft and presented my secretion of pleasure.

"What kind of demoness is this? She feels pleasure from pain? Can I increase that?"

Again she placed a needle, this time on my other big toe.

I leaned my head against the beam, closed my eyes, and drew the pain into myself. Heaven and hell at the same time.

Rebecca stepped up to me and looked at me more closely.

"She fooled us, she's more powerful than any of us thought. No two-tailed kumiho reacts like that! Go on, put the other needles in."

With her deft fingers Rebecca massaged my pleasure cleft again, while Jelena slowly and as painfully as possible pushed the needles, one by one under my toenails.

I could not hold back much longer. Either I gave in to the pain or to Rebecca's efforts. But it was still much too early for the finale. It was supposed to go until evening after all. I screamed into my gag, ready to talk.

They both paused. Rebecca signaled, P climbed up behind me and removed my gag ball. With grinding chewing motions, I tried to set my aching jaw again.

"We're listening," Rebecca spoke from below. "Speak what you have to say."

"If you release her unharmed, I will give you answers to your questions." I pointed my head at the unhappy Isabell.

"Why would you do that? And most importantly, why should we? You're going to tell us everything we want to know sooner or later. And we're in no hurry to do that."

She started massaging me again. This time I let it happen. I had warned her.

Rebecca managed to bring me to climax in no time and I cried out in pleasure as I had cried out in pain before.

That was the signal for the technique to make my tails appear.

Nine fluffy, silvery glowing tails popped out of my wooden cross and framed me. The light changed and the whole stage seemed to be illuminated by my tails.

I myself didn't see the effect, of course, and was unable to react for the first few seconds, because my orgasm had been real. Exhausted, I hung in the ropes and was too finished to follow my role now.

But the others continued to play great. Rebecca let out a scream of terror.

"She's a cat-o'-nine-tails, may the gods help us. Quick, the gag and the magic shackles!"

P, in his efforts to comply with the request as quickly as possible, tripped over an outstretched leg, of Isabell, who was in the pillory, and flew off the stage in a high arc, where he landed with a crash. I could only hope that René had not seriously injured himself. Jelena, Matej and Diana, for their part, now tried to follow the instructions, while the clever Rebecca disappeared from the torture chamber, shouting loudly that she was getting ready to arm herself. But it was too late. The brief moment Isabell had given me had been enough to catch me. I opened my mouth and summoned the storm. My nine tails disappeared back into the beam of the cross.

Powerful fans blew violently across the stage, seemingly pushing the paladins against the wall. My bonds miraculously loosened of their own accord and I was able to climb off the cross. At first I calmly pulled the needles out of my feet, not caring about my tormentors. I gave myself credit for the fact that I did not make a face. Rebecca had escaped, but these four had no more mercy to expect from me. I pounced on them and broke their necks before they could even whimper for mercy.

Then I freed Isabell from the pillory. She threw herself at my feet.

"Mighty Kumiho, do not kill me, spare my soul!"

"I care neither for your soul, nor for any other human soul. Only that of my sister. But if you stay by my side and help me, you shall want for nothing and I will take care of you."

Isabell kissed my battered feet. "I swear, by all that is holy to me, you are my only mistress from now until the hour of my death. And I will obey you in everything."

"Then so be it. Now come, before the other paladins appear to imprison us again."

Naked as we were, we strode off the stage.

Charly's voice sounded from offstage: "Cut" - and the stage lights went out.

Applause rang out in the auditorium, and the cameramen and technicians also joined in.

Together with Isabell, I stepped back on stage, the lights came back on and we bowed towards the audience. I leaned over to Isabell and gave the stunned one a passionate French kiss, which she returned hesitantly at first, but then enthusiastically.

"Your vow is binding, you are now mine until I release you. Rebecca has no more power over you!", I whispered in her ear after we had released ourselves again.

The 'dead' had also picked themselves up and now also stepped forward to bow. René was limping slightly, but otherwise seemed unharmed. 11 and 17 appeared and brought me and Isabell, bathrobes and something to drink. We were allowed to sit on chairs and enjoy a short break. Rebecca was nowhere to be seen. She was probably boiling with rage because I had not kept to the script. Jelena and Diana also scowled at me, although they smiled at the audience.

I, however, was completely satisfied with myself and grinned like the cat that had just eaten the canary, pardon, like a fox, of course.

The subsequent interview with us actually lasted another two hours. Isabell and I had to present ourselves to the customers again and again and show our marks so that they could see that our torture had been quite real and not a fake. Only with the glowing irons was exposed as a trick, however, to clarify immediately that I had suffered no real burns, but very well pain from electric shocks.

The users had also been impressed by the nine tails and asked if it was a digital trick, or installed on stage.

"Those were my real tails, of course," I explained with a laugh. Some technician switched in a flash and made my eyes light up demonically blue for the spectators at the PC. I didn't see this and my dicks until much later in the recording, but I saw on the monitor, with the chat history in front of me, the many laughing smileys and thumbs up.

We were asked the numerous questions in many different languages. I automatically answered English and Russian fluently, even before the German translation was shown to me. Isabell could at least answer English questions accordingly. It was crazy: the same people who had spent hours getting off on how Isabell and I were mistreated and humiliated were now mostly friendly, polite and grateful, downright accommodating. Only one asshole did not understand that the show was over and that he was now talking to the actresses. But we didn't answer his questions and the director blocked him immediately. The rest of the tenor was clear: the show had been great, the plot convincing and everyone was waiting for the sequel.

When the cameras were finally turned off, some studio guests came on stage to offer their congratulations to us in person. One of them held my hand for a barely noticeable moment. He was about 50 years old, gray-haired with a three-day beard, had pale gray, almost watery eyes and a slight tummy line. He wore a white shirt without a tie, with a dark blue expensive

suit over it.

"Do we know each other from somewhere, perhaps? Have you ever been to Moscow?" he addressed me directly in Russian.

All at once my good mood was abruptly gone and a sinking feeling spread through my stomach.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't see how you could know me," I confessed, albeit in German. "But maybe they've seen me on another stage before. I had already done live performance."

"No, I don't think so. Do you play poker?"

It was like a punch in my stomach, but I didn't let on.

"I'm afraid I have absolutely no idea about that," I tried to brush him off with a smile.

"That's unfortunate. I'm sure she could play it great."

"You must be mistaken, because I don't like gambling."

"Is that so?" Rebecca had approached and now, in her turn, greeted the man with kisses on the cheeks. "Vladimir, I am delighted to find you here. And I see you have already introduced yourselves to Kumiho."