Chapter 14: Slave Contract

As if through cotton wool, I realized that I was being carried out of the studio. Someone had put me on a stretcher, I was given an injection, and I drifted off. It was only in the hospital bed that I really came to my senses. My numerous bruises and burns had been treated and bandaged. Once again, within two weeks, I was partially mummified.

Isabell sat at my bedside.

“You’re crazy!” she sobbed. “I saw the recording, why didn’t you stop earlier and more often?”

“Because I like it and need it.” My voice was hoarse, and it hurt to speak. “I had incredible orgasms.”

Her expression changed; she seemed hurt. Damn, the orgasms with her had been great too, just different. “It’s wonderful with you, but I also need ... roughness sometimes,” I tried to explain.

“Obviously. Well, the basement is definitely the right place for you. When is the wedding with the Dalek?”

I laughed out loud, ouch. My throat really hurt, I needed something to drink. My gaze fell on the water on the nightstand. Isabell saw it and handed it to me. There was a cannula in my arm that led to an IV. It hindered me a bit. She held out the cup and I drank, moistening my sore throat. It was dark outside. She had come here in the middle of the night. “Thank you,” I said when I had drunk enough and she took the cup back. “For being here with me now.”

“Better not get used to it. I’m not going to do this every week.”

“So only every two weeks, then?”

“Go ahead and make your stupid jokes, but this can’t be healthy. Do you have any idea what you look like? Not just red, green, and blue, but scalded like a lobster.”

“I can hardly feel anything.”

“Yeah, because you’ve been given painkillers. Just wait and see. That wasn’t a show, it was real torture. And nothing justifies going through something like that.”

“I think 30,000 euros is a good reason.”

She tilted her head. “So you plan to become a millionaire here at the expense of your health?”

“You sound like my mother. Torture happens every day in the basement. What’s the difference between Studio 11 and the AI room?”

“Normally, no one has to be carried out of the basement on a stretcher; we leave our show upright. At least 50% of what we do is pure show; no one gets beaten as badly as you did on the first day. That’s digitally added if desired.”

That was news to me.

“So basically, you’re accusing me of pushing the boundaries, is that it?”

She looked a little caught out.

“No, I’m really worried about you. But of course also about where this could lead,” she qualified.

“Are you on the works council?”

“Not yet, but it’s a good idea. I’ll put myself forward for it first thing tomorrow morning.”

We both had to laugh.

We talked for about an hour before she said goodbye with a tender kiss and left me to rest. But after I had initially dozed off, I was awakened again by increasing pain. Isabell had been right: when the painkillers wore off, I realized how bad it really was. My breasts burned like fire, and my back and buttocks felt hardly any better. Of course, I couldn’t see how bad it was because of the bandages, but it had to be bad. Sleep was out of the question, even though I was completely exhausted. Nevertheless, I wanted to do without more painkillers. Pain is important; it proves to you that you are alive.

In the morning, after breakfast and the doctor’s rounds, Rebecca strutted into my hospital room, a garment bag slung over her arm.

“You lost. Congratulations on losing your bet,” were her first words after approaching my bed.

“How are you feeling?”

I listened to my body. “Apart from the pain, especially when peeing, surprisingly good.”

“That will be history in three to four days. The Dalek didn’t cut your skin with the blows, the burns are only slight, hardly more than a mild sunburn. You have a few tiny blisters on your pussy from the electric shocks, but that’s not really bad either. You’ll be fit again next week. You can leave the clinic today. In fact, I’m here to pick you up now.”

I sat up a little, threw off the blanket, and looked around for clothes. “So?”

“Don’t be silly, I brought you a coat and your shoes.”

“Just a coat?”

“What else do you need? Did you want to go shopping?”

Slowly, I struggled out of bed and slipped on the shoes Rebecca had placed in front of me. Then I stared in amazement at the silk kimono she handed me. It was turquoise with a picture of a nine-tailed fox emblazoned on the back. It must have cost a fortune. Not to mention how she managed to get it so quickly.

“A gift from me to you. You’ve made me proud. Besides, I didn’t just bet with you.” She winked and smiled.

Somehow, Rebecca’s praise touched me. I just couldn’t figure out this woman, who could hardly have been old enough to be my mother. In any case, she was more dangerous than I had initially assumed if she really did hold a high rank in the Calabrian mafia. I now considered that to be quite likely.

“It’s wonderful. Thank you,” I said, nodding and slipping into it with her help.

Her car and driver were waiting downstairs. By now, I no longer believed he was just a chauffeur; a barely visible bulge in his suit suggested he was carrying a firearm. The man was her bodyguard. We drove through the city directly to the apartment building’s underground parking garage, where we got out. Rebecca led me to a niche where a hidden door opened in front of us. This took us to the second basement level, but to the service corridor. A narrow passage led to the hallway I was familiar with. We took the elevator directly to the fifth floor. We had hardly spoken to each other the whole time. Now she invited me into her office and had something to drink brought in for me. Then she handed me a thick envelope.

“As per your instructions, we have legalized most of it and transferred it to your account. We deducted my 5,000 beforehand. Open it.”

Curious, I tore it open, looked at the receipt, and counted the sum in disbelief. This brought me a giant step closer to paying off all my debts. “Wow!”

“Yes, isn’t it?” But don’t think that happens every time. That was a first-time bonus. A multiple one, in fact. Some guests tipped you. They also asked if they could invite you to their homes privately. We declined that, for now, though.”

I was grateful for that and said so quite clearly: “Damn, I sure hope so, I’m not a hooker.”

Rebecca looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Those were important clients, it’s not advisable to upset them. We have to be careful. We may not always be able to say no, but the final decision is always yours. Basically, we are not pimps and we don’t allow that kind of thing. But what we would consider is a performance in a private setting, accompanied and protected by us. No sexual intercourse with clients. Would you be willing to do that?” She pointed to the envelope. “Similar high remuneration, and you could make contacts that are worth even more than money.”