No-LIMIT-Rooms 03 English

She moved easily in her sleep. She looked so vulnerable. I imagined her now in the real BDSM torture basement instead of the studio. The difference seemed marginal to outsiders, but it wasn't: in the studio, everything was timed. There was a script, possibly even a screenplay, and ultimately it had to look good for the audience but not feel good for the performers. In the end, you could check it off in your mind.

In a 24/7 BDSM relationship, there was no end of shooting. There might be rituals or set daily routines, but there was no time off, no break, and no pay.

Suddenly, a realization made me jump up: Isabell had been Rebecca's slave. She wouldn't just let her go. It wasn't the usual thing to do. And as a dominatrix with several slaves, she couldn't tolerate a slave simply rebelling and going her own way, either.

If a voluntary 24/7 slave wanted to break off a relationship, of course she had all the rights to do so. But the essence of such slavery was that there were rules in place to make the feeling of slavery as real as possible and to make it harder to get out if things didn't go so well.

In some relationships, slaves and female slaves were actually kept in chains and cages continuously to make rebellion impossible. In others, there were dependencies, such as leaving slaves without identification or funds. The possibilities seemed almost limitless.

In Isabell's case, it was clearly emotional dependency. She had rebelled, broken her chains, but felt naked and defenseless without them now. But she was still basically Rebecca's slave, despite the argument. If Rebecca was really pissed off, she would kick us both out!

I absolutely had to have a talk with her soon, together with Isabell. Preferably at the beginning of next week, when I was fully fit again.

Yes, I admit it: I wanted to delay it as long as possible. To be honest, I was dreading this conversation. It was best to postpone all considerations until later.

24 All In

Friday promised to be another sunny, hot August day, as it had been all week. My symptoms had subsided, the fever was gone, and I was visibly feeling better, even though I hadn't slept that much last night.

Right after I got up, I had thrown off my bandages and taken a long shower. That had been so wonderful. While I was still in the shower, Isabell already made the bed fresh and threw the bed linen into my washing machine. Kindly, she refrained from starting it right away. I hated showering under alternating hot and cold water. When I got out of the cubicle, she slipped in, but not without pressing herself naked against me and kissing me. I was already tempted to take another shower together with her.

But instead I prepared our breakfast. After she had taken care of me all week, I wanted to at least serve her breakfast today. I quickly slipped into a comfortable jogging suit and took the elevator down to the bakery in the parallel building to buy fresh croissants and rolls. By now I knew the building quite well and knew the connecting routes. Of course, they could only be opened with key cards or chips, so only authorized people from the other street line could get into this building.

The cold was still noticeably in my bones, I was not really fit. But it was enough for the short walk. I didn't even have to go outside. I entered the bakery through the emergency exit, so to speak.

When I came back, I had the feeling that the cameras were watching me very closely. That was my imagination, of course, and after a moment's thought I blamed it on my guilty conscience. I was actually still on sick leave, so tomorrow's show had to be completely rescheduled. And now I was bouncing around the house.

Back in the apartment, Isabell was already waiting impatiently and reproached me for running around outside again now: "I could have gotten them."

It was a glorious morning.

After we ate, we began to plan the day. But everything I suggested, she forbade me with the words, "You're not fit enough for that yet."

Swimming, cycling, sauna, even shopping she forbade me.

"I suggest you stay in bed today, and I'll keep you company there!" was her suggestion.

"I'm not fit enough for that yet!", I countered dryly.

We looked into each other's eyes with smiles, leaned forward and kissed intimately.

When we finally broke away from each other, Isabell immediately jumped up and quickly cleared the table.

"You get some rest today. You can answer your messages and surf the net.

I'll clean up here in the meantime."

That wasn't a bad idea. The last few days I hadn't done much more than send off short status messages and confirm the odd get-well wish. Incredible how many here in the house knew I was sick and sent me a greeting.

That Thomas was the first was not particularly surprising. What was noticeable, however, was that not one line came from Rebecca. The receipt of my sick note had been confirmed by Diana, who immediately wished me a speedy recovery.

But also from Thomas nothing came since the first greeting. No status, no new script, nothing. Otherwise he had often written to me several times a day. That could have been because he wanted to spare me, but I suspected something else behind it: Rebecca.

If I hadn't been sick, I would have been allowed to visit her long ago. It was as if I could feel her anger. Isabell had gone over to me and revealed her secrets. Of course, it was highly illegal to secretly install cameras and microphones to monitor tenants. And I was sure that quite a few, even here in the house would not take it lightly.

Isabell, on the other hand, seemed to be completely carefree at the moment. She had just turned on the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. We looked at each other in amazement. She quickly reached the door and peered through the peephole. Pale, she turned around. "It's Rebecca," she whispered in my direction.

It had to come at some point. As much as I would have liked to avoid the conversation any longer, now it would be decided how things would continue here. With me, with Isabell and with our jobs.

Resignedly, I shrugged my shoulders: "Please come in."

Hesitating a bit, she opened the door.

"Hello slave. A little more quickly next time, if you please!", Rebecca greeted her, but then didn't waste another glance on Isabell, but strode past her into the room.

"Hello Johanna. As I had to notice, you are feeling better again, glad to see!" She handed me a small bouquet of flowers and the obligatory envelope in which I usually received my fee and billing.

"Hi, thank you," I nodded to her. "That's very kind of you to bring this to me personally. And thank you for the flowers, they look great." I said it kindly, but inwardly I braced myself against the inevitable attack from her.

"You didn't really need to come here for that, though, I'm going to plug you in later."

She glanced around, then strutted over to the sofa, where, without asking me, she sat down, completely relaxed. Isabell stopped at the entrance to the room with her head down.

"What is it, slave? Aren't you going to put the bouquet in a vase?"

Startled by Rebecca's harsh words, Isabell literally jumped over, grabbed the bouquet and ran to the kitchenette to find a suitable vase.

A moment later, the vase of flowers was on the table in front of me, and Isabell was kneeling on the floor between me and Rebecca, her head bowed.

"You see, Johanna? That's how you have to deal with her. She needs that. Isn't that right, slave? Permission to speak!"

The addressed hesitated for a moment, but then nodded without looking at either of us. "Yes, Mistress!"

I was caught completely off guard. What was this performance supposed to mean? Anger rose in me, but I restrained myself. "Again Rebecca, what are you here for?"

She pointed to the envelope, "Open it."

Confused, I opened it, emptied it onto the table, and looked at the contents: it was a whole bunch of 200-euro bills. I read the accompanying statement and was initially delighted with the sum: I was almost debt-free! But I almost overlooked the second page. Confused, I looked up.

"Final statement?"

Rebecca didn't elaborate, but pointed at Isabell as she looked at me.

"Do you think you're right for her? Can you take care of her, provide for her, protect her, and truly love her?"

I forgot about the reckoning. "What do you want, Rebecca?"

"A quarter of a million euros!"

I looked at her without understanding.

"That's what Isabell is worth, or would you deny it?"

"You want me to buy her from you? Do I understand that correctly? You can't be serious!"

"She is my slave. By her own free will. Until I release her, sell her, or one of us dies. Is that not so? Answer me, slave!"

"I am Mistress Rebecca's slave of my own free will until she sets me free, sells me, or either of us dies."

Speechless, I looked from one to the other. Of course this was immoral. It wouldn't be valid in any court of law, but that wasn't the point here. Isabell had voluntarily placed herself in Rebecca's dependency in order to relieve herself of all responsibility. If she decided to end it now, she would have had to ask Rebecca to release her first. She had failed to do that. In doing so, I had stolen Rebecca's slave.

"I can pay for this!" exclaimed Isabell.

"Silence, permission to speak revoked, slave.", Isabell rebuked her. Turning to me, she explained, "As her current mistress, I have absolute power of disposal over the slave's trust account. Moreover, it is my duty to take care of her well-being. Therefore, I cannot allow you to ransom her with her money. So, when do I get my money?"

"You don't seriously expect me to buy Isabell? She's not a horse you can just buy or sell!"

Rebecca leaned back. "Have you ever had a mistress-slave relationship?"

"No," I admitted.

"You signed a slave contract with me, had you read through the rights and responsibilities thoroughly?"

Isabell's eyes widened in surprise.

"I had skimmed over them," I admitted.

"Then I will enlighten you: The mistress has full power of disposal over all the slave's goods and assets, with the obligation to look after them for the slave's benefit, to secure them and, if possible, to increase them so that she does not stand there penniless after the slave period. In return, the mistress is entitled to compensation should the slave behave in breach of duty or wish to end the slave relationship unilaterally."

"I don't quite understand ...," I began, but Rebecca interrupted me.

"The final account: let yourself!"

Still confused, I read through the sheet again:

Training costs ...

Administrative costs ...

Equipment costs ...

...

"150,000 euros paid into the trust account Isabell Ullrich?"

I lowered the sheet and looked at them both. "Did you know about this, Isabell?"

"Permission to answer granted, slave.", Rebecca granted her consent.

"No, I do not and did not know about this. I had never bothered with the finances, it was all done by Re ..., I mean, my mistress for me."

Tired, I closed my eyes and tried to think. After all, I wanted to be with Isabell and she obviously wanted to be with me. But was that worth €250,000 to me? In my mind I let the last month review pass. Then I opened my eyes. My eyes fell on the pile of cash. It was only paper! I had already spent the same amount on Nadine, and she was still missing. Isabell, however, I could help here and now.

Calmly, I looked at Rebecca.

"You know better than anyone that I don't have that much. But I can find it, work it off through my work here!"

But she just shook her head. "You're out of it. Kumiho is dead. You can keep the apartment, of course, as long as you pay your rent on time. But you won't get another job in the basement!"

My stomach tightened in horror. Although I had expected such a blow from Rebecca, it hit me now. I had budgeted for the money. I needed it!

Isabell had to visibly pull herself together not to jump up and say something. She had already lifted her head and opened her mouth to speak when I held her back at the last moment with a wave. Anything she might say now could only make it worse.

"Unless ..." began Rebecca.

Questioningly, I looked at her.

"You yourself are willing to voluntarily become my slave. For one year, along with Isabell.

You may perform in the basement again, but your webcam appearance will be reduced to one show per week. Outside of these times you belong to me. What you earn is yours. At the end of the year, you may both leave if you wish. No demands on my part."

You could have heard a pin drop in the room, it was suddenly so quiet. Isabell and I held our breath in amazement and looked into each other's eyes. She looked at me hopefully. I exhaled calmly.

"Six months, and two whole days off a week to ourselves, with no movement restrictions."

Rebecca looked at me thoughtfully. "You're playing high poker," she noted. "Nine months, and two days off a month - from zero to midnight, and set by me. - My final offer."

Isabell nodded her agreement to me.

"Starting when?"

"When you're fit again, Monday?" There was no emotion in Rebecca's voice.

"Agreed!"

I made an expression as if I had just been pulled over the table, while I knelt in front of Rebecca and kissed the tips of her shoes to confirm the agreement. But I had achieved my goal: I was in the inner circle. And I would go to Cyprus, where I hoped to find my sister.

In poker, the highest possible bet you could bring was called 'All In'.

Was there a higher stake than putting yourself in slavery?