No-limit-rooms Johanna
Copyright© 2026 by Jepasch
Chapter 15: Lost time
Thriller Sex Story: Chapter 15: Lost time - A BDSM cam girl is searching for her kidnapped twin sister.
Caution: This Thriller Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Crime BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Sadistic Torture PonyGirl Interracial Anal Sex Exhibitionism Oral Sex Squirting Water Sports Public Sex Nudism Porn Theatre Revenge Slow
“Are you sure you haven’t been found out?” Holger’s voice sounded concerned.
“I don’t see how, I was always careful. Besides, I don’t think they would let me leave the house if that were the case.” With the phone in one hand and pushing my bike by the handlebars, I walked along a somewhat remote forest path. I had already told Holger in detail everything that had happened this week. Including yesterday’s conversation with Rebecca.
“They may also be trying to find out who you work for. Maybe they were able to identify Walter and assume that you work for the FBI, so they’re leaving you alone for now until they can safely take you out of circulation.”
The thought worried me. “So what should I do?”
Holger was silent for a moment. “The decision is yours. If you want to quit, we’ll cover for you, of course. I’ll try to get my superiors to give you the promised new identity anyway. You can also give the information you have so far to the FBI and ask them to give you a new identity. But they won’t like that.”
No, the BKA definitely wouldn’t like that. Nor would I like the veiled threat of being abandoned. Damn. Caught between a rock and a hard place. I had already racked my brains on the way here. I needed a solution.
“I’ll keep going. If I feel like I’ve been found out, I’ll give the signal. If I can’t do that anymore, they might use me in the basement for filming. Then I’ll try to signal you. Are you still monitoring the building?”
“Yes, around the clock. If you’re taken out, we’ll know. Do you realize that you’ve already caused us two red alerts when you came to the hospital?”
Oops. No, I didn’t know that, but I’m glad to hear it.
“Then it seems to be working.” I saw my comment as payback for the threat earlier.
“We’d like to do without any more false alarms. In Germany, you know the story of ‘Peter and the Wolf,’ right?”
“What am I supposed to do, notify you in advance when I have an accident? The first time, I was unconscious, and the second time, they gave me sedatives. Besides, I didn’t have my cell phone with me to send status updates.”
“The first time, we didn’t hear from you for more than six hours until the ambulance took you to the hospital. At that point, you could have at least sent an ‘all is well’ message while you were drinking coffee there.”
I was about to give a snappy reply when I realized what he had said. “Six hours? No way, the whole tour and conversation didn’t even take two hours before I stumbled on my way out. Let’s say it was three. You must be mistaken.”
Silence on the line. Then, with a concerned undertone: “Please describe what you remember again.”
This time I described my first day in detail, not just in short, cryptic keywords. Somehow, though, I had a suspicion that I had missed something. Something I couldn’t remember right now. I didn’t mention that, though.
“Strange. Something’s not right here. I’ll have to check again. Or they left you unconscious in a chair in the basement for almost three hours before taking you to the hospital.”
The queasy feeling I’d had since yesterday evening intensified in my stomach. Was that possible? But why? And how could I find out?
“Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know. I’ll clarify that with us. Maybe it’s just a communication error on our part. But that shouldn’t happen.”
“But last time they took me to the hospital right away?”
“Yes, if the show started on time, there’s not much of a time gap. You were at the hospital at around 10:40 p.m. Live shows are of course better suited for monitoring you.”
“I hope you like them.” I felt increasingly compelled to provoke him. However, he didn’t respond.
“You said that more live shows are planned with you? That doesn’t really suggest that you’ve been found out.”
“Two next week. A short one on Tuesday and then a 48-hour show on the weekend. I’ll find out the details this afternoon. And generally two shows every week in the future.”
“Good, then at least you seem to be safe for next week. I’ll look through what we have on Vladimir Morosow and see if there are any known connections to the Calabrian mafia. Get back to me after next week’s show. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.”
He had made the decision about whether I should continue. I felt resistance stirring inside me, but on the other hand, I didn’t want to give up the opportunity to get closer to my sister.
“Then I’ll stick it out until October. If my sister is in Cyprus with Morozov, I might find something out.”
“I think that’s too dangerous. You should find an excuse not to go there. Have a bike accident and break your ankle, for all I care, I can arrange something.”
No, thank you. I dodged the question. “Can you monitor me in Cyprus?”
“Yes.”
“And protect me and get me out if necessary?”
Hesitation.
“Difficult, but certainly feasible.”
“Good, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go there, no accidents beforehand! Now I have to go back, see you soon, bye.”
Without another word, I hung up. I enjoyed having the last word this time. Then I returned the cell phone to its hiding place and did my shopping. It was convenient to transport it on my bike, but since I was still sore, I didn’t enjoy the exercise at all.
Three hours, it went through my mind. I’m missing three hours of my memory. What happened? If it wasn’t really a surveillance lapse, which wouldn’t really reassure me, because in three hours they could easily have taken me out of the house a dozen times and disposed of me somewhere, I had spent three hours in that basement. I thought hard as I continued pushing. Somehow there was something on the edge of my memory, but I couldn’t grasp it. Surely someone must know something about that day? My doctor? Probably, but since he was privy to the whole affair, I couldn’t ask him. Why were there no public phones anymore? I could have just called the clinic and asked them to look in the records to see when I had been admitted. But that would be too risky from the apartment building. By now I was back in the bicycle cellar. I dragged myself to the elevator with my shopping bags. Then it dawned on me. But I needed more information.
I spent the rest of the weekend making plans for Tuesday, doing housework, and watching what happened to Isabell in the basement. I would be facing something similar next week. On Sunday evening, I picked her up after the show in the basement. She was completely exhausted, both physically and mentally. I took care of her and cuddled up to her during the night. Yes, I now had a toothbrush at her place and she had one at mine.
“Hello, Rike!” My smile lit up my whole face.
On Monday morning, I stood in front of the entrance to her apartment, where I had rung the doorbell seconds before.
After breakfast together, I said goodbye to Isabell again. We planned to meet up again for lunch.
Frederike was wearing casual clothes and looked a little disheveled, as if I had woken her from a nap. Her expression showed complete surprise.
“Hello, um...”
“Johanna,” I helped her out.
“Thanks, what do you want from me?” Her tone was cool and dismissive.
“Nothing at all. I just wanted to say hello. I don’t know many of the residents in this building yet, and we’ve already met twice. Just to be good neighbors and stuff, you know.” Well, even I didn’t find that very convincing.
“Well then, good neighborliness.” She was already about to close the door.
“I’m three hours short.”
“Excuse me?”
“From the first day we met in the basement, I’m missing three hours of memory. At least, I think so.” I showed her some bills.
She turned pale and looked around the hallway to see if we were being watched. Then she lowered her voice: “We can’t talk here, they monitor everything with cameras. Probably hidden microphones too.”
I nodded weakly to signal that I knew.
“Where then?”
“In the basement, in the boiler room. The door is at the end of the hallway leading to the bicycle storage room, but it’s in the blind spot of the cameras. At 11:00?”
“Okay. See you then.”
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