No-LIMIT-Rooms 05 English

"Thank you, medium please!"

She stood up and left the mask.

"Yvonne, were you here on Saturday too?"

She looked around a little nervously.

"Yes!" she answered hesitantly.

Did you follow the show?"

"Yes!"

"From where? From here?"

"No, there's a service area in the back. I helped behind the counter, and the stage can be seen from there, too."

"Were you able to see the engineering section there, too?"

"What tech area?"

"Well the one where the computer technician sat holding his hand over the button for the Dalek's emergency off switch."

"Oh, I see, not exactly. But the room is next to it and has a mirrored glass panel."

"Were any of our employees still around when the Dalek went berserk?"

She powdered my forehead and was obviously thinking.

"Only Edward had anything left to supervise on the sound system."

"Edward does the sound engineering down here?"

"Yes, of course."

"Doesn't he sit in the control room with you?"

"No, he's got his console all the way in the back, he also controls the lighting, sort of in a personal capacity."

"And the technician was alone in the room when the Dalek went berserk?"

"There was no technician there. René was on duty in there."

"What happened when the Dalek went crazy?"

"I don't know. It all happened so fast. It suddenly went around like crazy, hit the air, then rammed into Phoenix."

Phoenix? That had to be Twenty's room name.

"And then? What happened then?"

"René came out of the room and rushed to the stage while the Dalek was hurting Phoenix. On stage, René pressed the emergency stop on the Dalek and it stopped. Then the doctor came."

"The Dalek was still driving around when René was on the road?"

"Yes!"

My thoughts raced wildly in my head, connecting with other information I heard.

"Here's your water!"

I hadn't heard Diana come back at all.

"Thank you mistress!"

Immediately I drank something and continued to think. Was I in danger today? If it was a purely technical problem, certainly, since the code had not been changed in the meantime. But if there was access from the outside, would the person risk pulling it off again today?

"Mistress, who will be monitoring the Dalek in the tech room today?"

"That will be me, along with the head of IT! Are you going to chicken out now?"

"No mistress, I just wanted to know."

"Good, it would be too late for that now, too. Is she ready, Yvonne?"

Yvonne nodded. "She's done."

Diana turned my swivel chair around to face her and looked at me. Then she nodded with satisfaction.

"Come, your audience is waiting!"

As I stood up, my eyes fell on Yvonne, who, with a pale face, raised both fists and crossed her fingers. I nodded to her, not knowing myself whether I was more reassured or more worried.

We went to the stage door. The stage music was waiting for me. Edward's music...

"Mistress Diana, it was probably Edward!" with these words I suddenly stopped.

Stunned, she turned around.

"What, what makes you think that? It has nothing whatsoever to do with controlling the Dalek?"

"This is going too far now, but I would feel a lot more reassured if someone from security could stand next to him all evening."

She was about to say something back, but then she nodded. She took a small radio from the belt of her pantsuit.

"Diana here. One man is going to be put on sound now and he's going to stay there for the whole show, you understand?"

Silence reigned for a brief moment, then came confirmation. "Will do!"

"Is that it? Are you ready for the stage now?"

Despite my knot in my stomach, I nodded. We entered the stage one after the other, where the Dalek was already waiting for me.

The beginning of the show was similar to my first time. Only the music was different today. Unlike last time, however, I was much more tense today, my muscles less loose. I already noticed that when the Dalek grabbed me and forced me into the shackles.

Hal questioned me again if I was here voluntarily and would agree to be tortured.

"Yes, I am here voluntarily and I agree to be tortured for four hours or until I pass out!"

Through the blinding headlights, I tried to make out anything in the booths in front of me. But this time the windows were opaque. The spectators did not want to be recognized or seen.

Hal asked the first question. One of the questions that I could not answer because I was innocently interrogated.

"Kumiho, do you work for the police? Don't deny it, because I can tell by your pulse if you're lying!"

I was really startled. I had not expected that.

"No, I don't work for the police!", I yelled.

"You're lying, Kumiho!"

My bondage rack lifted into the air with me and the first blows hit my butt. It hurt like hell, much more than usual because I hadn't concentrated. But the pain helped me to turn off my thoughts. I became the pain again, soaked it up and tried to fill my inner hole with it, which I felt since my childhood.

My entire backside was on fire. In centimeter distance the first blows had been set. Precisely, emotionless and evenly.

Hal repeated his question and I again answered in the negative.

This time the strokes were in a crisscross pattern to the first ones, so I'm sure they created an interesting pattern on my backside. They hurt like hell, but no more than I was used to. Hal wouldn't be able to break me with that. I began to focus on my bonds, turning the pain back into arousal, but Hal seemed to notice, because a gush of ice-cold water unexpectedly hit my back. My scream was loud, but more from surprise than pain.

It started to burn. Salt water! I cried out loudly in pain for the first time.

Had my backside already been beaten bloody? How long had I been hanging here? No countdown, no time display, only torture.

The Dalek turned to my front while Hal questioned me.

Precise, no trace of imprecision, that's how the Dalek placed the blows this time, too. But they were irregular, not uniform as in our first show. There was no rhythm to which I could adjust, no taking a breath and 'enjoying' the pain until the next blow came.

"Admit you work for the police!"

"No, I don't!"

Stroke.

"Admit you work for the police!"

Each in quick succession blow directly on my nipples. I cried out in pain.

"I don't work for the police!"

'No you idiots, I work for a much more dangerous organization!' I added in my mind.

A blow hit me right between the legs and I was breathless with pain.

It really was torture. As real as it could possibly be, except for the limits. And it made me angry, to my surprise. I tugged frantically at my restraints, not to escape the blows, but to destroy the Dalek. That filthy droid, that electron monster, it wouldn't make it through the show. My thoughts were completely irrational. I hadn't experienced such an adrenaline rush in a long time. And I liked it. I screamed out my rage.

"You fucking scumbag dalek, you can kiss my ass! And you, Hal, I'm not going to tell you anything, because I'm innocent, you fucking idiot chatterbot!"

Trying to insult an AI was quite ambitious, I admit.

The Dalek stopped hitting me.

"Kumiho, you are strong, but can you bear the clamps of truth?"

Clamps of truth? What kind of stupid name was that? There were many clamps, even particularly nasty ones like the Paperclips. But either they were so strong that he could only use them briefly without endangering my health, or they were too weak to frighten me.

"Go ahead, I'm your guest!"

The Dalek raised one arm. I recognized what he was holding. Damn, I hadn't expected that. Were these allowed? Without hesitation, he applied the torture device to my right nipple - and I screamed out in pain.

Spring grippers! These damned, little, nasty tools, which could hold screws or the like. At their tip were four little spring steel fingers, stuck in a tube and pulled back by a spring. Like Cloverclamps, the more pull at the bottom, the tighter they held. But the surface area was only a fraction of the nipple clamps. Actually, only as big as the heads of pins.

And they didn't pinch off a large area of skin. No blood stasis, no large bruising, and no risk of tissue death. These spring grippers didn't need to be removed after 25 minutes at the most. They could be worn for hours!

Of course, they also caused damage to the skin. In extreme cases, they would provide holes, like an infinitely slow, particularly painful piercing with a blunt needle. Micro bruising. But just not dangerous. And the surrounding nerve cells would be preserved.

Yes, I had experimented with many things over the years. I had also come across such spring clips in the hardware store, in the form of voltage clips for electricians, who could use them to measure current on wires, or whatever.

The thin, sharp steel tips had easily penetrated my nipple skin and contributed to an intense, very painful orgasm. For about two minutes. After that they flew into the corner and disappeared sometime during the next move.

What the Dalek put on me here looked a little different, but it didn't hurt any less. Only the fingers did not penetrate my skin. At least not immediately, even if it felt that way.

"Kumiho, do you work for the police?"

"No, damn it, take it off!"

Of course, the Dalek put the next one on my left nipple.

While I was still screaming at the top of my lungs, my head clamp tightened and the Dalek stuffed a gag into my mouth. Immediately it was fixed. I could only breathe through my nose. Why? I couldn't answer like that, could I?

Kumiho, I'm tired of asking. I won't ask again for another hour!"

The Dalek held the third clamp in front of my eyes, then lowered it down out of my sight. I felt a suction cup being pressed onto my clit to suck it out of its protective foreskin.

NO!

My scream was unintelligible and muffled by the gag. But I was sure that he had penetrated to the last corner of the room. I was no longer playing, this was real panic.

And Hal also got serious with the torture. Four more clamps on the labia followed. Of course the clamps were hanging on wires. And of course, electric shocks followed. Without the gag I would have bitten my tongue.

Electricity doesn't look good enough for the show? Maybe, but as torture it was almost unrivaled. You can't get used to electric shocks, no matter how often you repeated it. However, the pain receptors dulled for a short time if the current flowed continuously. But here came electric shocks, pulsating, violent, and not entirely harmless, as I felt in my heartbeat.

But it did not stop there. I felt something push into my anus and expand. Then ice-cold water filled my stomach until I got cramps. In between, electric shocks again and again.

By now I was almost ready to admit everything, if only I could have.

Suddenly the gag was removed.

"Kumiho, do you work for the police?"

Cramps in my stomach.

"Stop it! I don't work for the police!" I shouted as loud as I could.

The gag was stuffed back into my mouth.

"Later, then!"

Damn it, why hadn't I called 'Red'? My last bit of sanity began to work. By now I was longing to pass out. What was this? A pure sadist show? Training course for dictator torturers?

Once again, my mood swung back to sheer rage. Fuck the pain! Come on, give me more! Give me everything you've got! I already broke my arm bone on purpose, on a public stage, do you think I couldn't do that again?

A speculum was pushed into my vagina.

Well, what are you going to do now? More electricity?

I felt it spread open wider and wider.

Something penetrated deep inside me, reaching my cervix.

Pain, sheer, white pain! The electric shock was hardly bearable.

I had never been so close to fainting. But my anger was stronger. I hated Rebecca. I hated Hal and I hated the Dalek. And they could all go fuck themselves.

My restraints were readjusted. Had I pulled so hard that my muscles and tendons had stretched? The stretching became painful.

Again, pulsating electric shocks ran through me and I bit down on the rubber gag, so hard that my teeth and jaw ached later.

But I persevered.

Hal, you're a loser!

My stomach relaxed, the ice-cold water was pumped out. But shortly after, hot water filled my intestines and I began to sweat.

The next time I was electrocuted, my bladder emptied onto the stage.

As a child, I once burned my hand on a candle. An experience, which every child probably makes once, and then avoids the fire. But I was fascinated by the burn blister. With almost scientific curiosity I had studied the resulting bubble, analyzed the pain, partly even enjoyed.

And no sooner was the bubble gone than I was holding my hand over a candle again. My mother had a panic attack and almost collapsed. She just didn't understand that pain was just a very interesting feeling for me.

But her reaction frightened me so much that I stopped my experiments with fire and tried not to keep any traces in the future. A small red spot on my right palm still reminded me of it.

At school I learned that I was different. When others slipped on the gravel and fell, their knees bloody, the pebbles still stuck in their skin, they screamed and cried as if they were being slaughtered.

When that happened to me, I just sat there looking fascinated at the blood leaking out and pressing on the little pebbles. Yes, it hurt terribly, but it was also fascinating. There was so much coming together: Pressure pain, stabbing pain and also a pulling pain. It was an experience like trying a new dish. You might not like it, maybe it was too spicy, but it was interesting.

I learned that pain was an alarm signal of the body. I could not ignore it. Not always, at least. Since I obviously felt pain differently than other people, I trained myself to be able to distinguish the alarms. Over the years, I acquired a sense of pain almost similar to everyone else. My sister became my teacher, because she seemed to be completely normal in this respect.

But it remained with only an almost similar sensation of pain. I could transform pain into pleasure. I could turn off pain or use it specifically to put me in a different mood. I was a pain artist.

Had Rebbeca known this? No one I knew would have endured this voluntarily. But I began to retreat into my world of analysis. I felt the pain, I hated it, because it came from outside, was not given to me to please me. No, it was pure sadism. But my mind began to evaluate it again. Like an analysis program of a spaceship, I evaluated the damage. Catalogued in alarming or harmless and considered countermeasures. At least the latter, however, remained theory for the moment.

It had never been the case that I could completely switch off pain. I would have loved to be able to do that with many a hangover. But it helped to do without painkillers. Or, as at the moment, not to pass out.

Hal had lost!

They had managed to lift me past the point where I perceived pain like normal people, taking me back to a time when I was a total freak.

From now on, the Dalek could have peeled off my skin in strips, and I would have only worried about the scars from the required plastic surgery.

I stopped struggling and screaming. My pulse dropped and Hal concluded that I had passed out. My gag was immediately removed.

"Kumiho fainted!" The voice rang through the room.

"No, I wasn't! You can go ahead!" My voice sounded strange to my ears.

The Dalek backed up and the Doc appeared on the stage with his bag.

He looked at me, shone a light in my eyes, took my pulse and looked at my wounds. I was actually just waiting for him to ask me if anything hurt, but he remained silent. Shortly after, he nodded to the audience and disappeared again. He was even more emotionless than Hal!

"Kumiho, do you work for the police?"

"Hal, do you have a crack in the plate?"

"I don't understand the question!"

"Anyway, go ahead!"

Hm, would the spring grippers create holes in my nipples, labia and clitoris? Could there be pulled through the same rings? I wanted to have some anyway for a long time.

"Hal, while you're at it, what do you think about putting piercings in my nipples and clit? Can you do that?"

"I'm not cut out to do body modifications!"

"That's a real shame though, I'm hanging so comfortably right now!"

A series of electric shocks jolted through me. I almost bit my tongue. Someone was getting careless. Was Hal still in control? My apprehension returned. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the Dalek start to move. But it moved differently than before, not as precisely. His arm extended and pulled at the clamps on my labia without opening them. The pain became incredibly intense. Then I thought my labia were going to tear.

"RED! RED!", I screamed.

Immediately, every movement of the Dalek stopped. Unfortunately, however, his gripper, which held the clamps, did not open. My labia were extremely stretched by the spring gripper fingers.

Now I screamed again in pain. Again my urine ran out of me and down the arm of the Dalek. A part of my brain once again made a strange observation: There were very specific pains that I could neither turn off, nor ignore, and that had a completely surprising effect on me. I was virtually turned inside out!

It was a familiar feeling, but so sudden, so unexpected, and at the same time so intense. And it flooded me so strongly that I almost fainted.

I got an orgasm as overwhelming as never before in my life!

As if twitching with electricity, I hung in the bonds, intensifying the pain of pleasure with every movement of my abdomen and screaming out my lust.

It was not urine that made the Dalek wet there, I squirt my pleasure juice, I squirted!

Suddenly it was over, the intense torment deep inside me stopped with an eruption of pain and ebbed away. Someone had opened the clamps. They were now also off my clit and nipples.

I hung twitching in my bonds, completely exhausted and floating as if in clouds. It was like an almost out-of-body experience.

My restraint frame lowered, I was placed on a soft mat on the floor, a warm blanket enveloped me and worried faces framed my field of vision. But I was still twitching and crying with happiness! I saw everything, heard everything and at the same time understood nothing, because I had just experienced heaven.

37 Agent in pink romper

"I'm fine!", I whispered. I didn't want anyone around me now, at least not a thousand people standing and kneeling around me. Just to have peace and quiet and someone to lean on, but there was none of that here.

"Kumiho, how are you?"

Leave me alone! I did not want to speak.

"Why don't you make room and get out of here?" A male voice. Doc.

"Hey, Johanna, do you understand me?"

Johanna? Was I Johanna? Or Laura? Or Kumiho? Or Eighteen? Leave me all on my cloud in peace, here I was myself.

"She's coming to the clinic with me!"

"Don't. Not clinic!", I muttered. All I wanted was to lie here. Curled up, left alone. With difficulty, I pushed the doc away.

Shortly after, I felt a twinge in my upper arm.

"It's going to be all right Johanna! Everything will be fine!"

It was all good after all, what did he mean?

Then my eyes went black.

Waking up in the hospital bed was apparently becoming routine for me. What was new, however, was that the doctor was sleeping in the chair next to me.

Reiner Meier. My doctor with two faces. Friendly here, dismissive and cool in the basement.

He was unshaven and snoring a little with his mouth open. A sight that woman always likes to see when she wakes up. Some at least, not me.

I moved a little and immediately felt a sharp pain in my abdomen that radiated throughout my stomach. Bloody hell, what was that? I flipped back the covers and looked at my abdomen. A rubber tube came out of my taped up cleft and led to a drainage bag. They had put an indwelling catheter in me. Why would they do that? I already felt the obligatory gauze mummification was normal hospital wear for me.