No-limit-rooms Johanna
Copyright© 2026 by Jepasch
Chapter 36: Cash Game
Thriller Sex Story: Chapter 36: Cash Game - 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
Of course, I wasn’t dressed. I was only given a dressing gown and slippers, then we waited silently for Diana to appear. Isabell shook both my hands goodbye. Then Diana led me to the AI studio, where the makeup artist was waiting for me again.
Diana sat down in the chair where Rebecca had sat last time.
“Are you actually aware of what you’ve gotten yourself into today?” Her tone was lurking.
“Torture without limits? Yes!”
She remained silent while Yvonne began to apply my makeup. I caught Yvonne’s gaze; she looked a little pale.
“Mistress Diana?”
“What is it, Eighteen?”
“May I get up and get some more water to drink?”
“No, you stay seated and let us finish getting you ready. But I’ll get you something. Still or sparkling?”
“Thank you very much, still please!”
She got up and left the dressing room.
“Yvonne, were you here on Saturday too?”
She looked around nervously.
“Yes!” she replied hesitantly.
Did you watch the show?”
“Yes!”
“From where? From here?”
“No, there’s a service area at the back. I helped behind the bar, and you can see the stage from there.”
“Could you see the technical area from there?”
“Which technical area?”
“The one where the computer technician was sitting, holding his hand over the Dalek’s emergency stop button.”
“Oh, I see. Not directly. But the room is next door and has a mirrored glass panel.”
“Was anyone else from our staff nearby when the Dalek went crazy?”
She powdered my forehead and was obviously thinking.
“Only Edward had anything to monitor on the sound equipment.”
“Edward does the sound engineering down here?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Isn’t he sitting in the control room?”
“No, he has his desk at the very back, he also controls the lighting, he’s kind of a one-man band.”
“And the technician was alone in the room when the Dalek went crazy?”
“There was no technician there. René was on duty.”
“What happened when the Dalek went crazy?”
“I don’t know. It all happened so fast. It suddenly started driving around wildly, hitting the air, then it rammed Phoenix.”
Phoenix? That must have been Zwanzig’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 Dalek’s emergency stop button and it stopped. Then the doctor came.”
“The Dalek was still driving around while René was on his way?”
“Yes!”
My thoughts raced wildly through my head, connecting with other information I had heard.
“Here’s your water!”
I hadn’t heard Diana come back at all.
“Thank you, mistress!”
I immediately took a drink and continued thinking. Was I in danger today? If it was a purely technical problem, then definitely, since the code hadn’t been changed yet. But if there had been outside access, would the person risk doing it again today?
“Mistress, who will be monitoring the Dalek in the technical room today?”
“I will, together with the head of IT! Do you still want to back out?”
“No, Mistress, I just wanted to know.”
“Good, it would be too late for that now. Is she ready, Yvonne?”
Yvonne nodded. “She’s ready.”
Diana turned my swivel chair toward her and looked at me. Then she nodded with satisfaction.
“Come on, your audience is waiting!”
As I stood up, my gaze fell on Yvonne, who raised both fists with a pale face and crossed her fingers. I nodded to her, not knowing myself whether I was now more reassured or more concerned.
We walked to the stage entrance. The stage music awaited me. Edward’s music...
“Mistress Diana, it was probably Edward!” With these words, I suddenly stopped.
She turned around, bewildered.
“What? Why do you think that? He has nothing to do with controlling the Dalek, does he?”
“This is getting too complicated, but I would feel much more comfortable if someone from security could stand next to him the whole evening.”
She was about to reply, but then she nodded. She took a small radio from the belt of her pantsuit.
“Diana here. A man will be assigned to the sound system and will remain there for the entire show, understood?”
There was a brief moment of silence, then confirmation came. “Will do!”
“Is that it? Are you ready for the stage now?”
Despite the knot in my stomach, I nodded. We walked onto 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 relaxed. I noticed this as soon as the Dalek grabbed me and forced me into the restraints.
Hal asked me again if I was here voluntarily and if I agreed to be tortured.
“Yes, I am here voluntarily and agree to be tortured for four hours or until I pass out!”
Through the blinding spotlights, I tried to make out something in the booths in front of me. But this time, the windows were opaque. The audience didn’t want to be recognized or seen.
Hal asked the first question. One of the questions I couldn’t answer because I was being interrogated innocently.
“Kumiho, do you work for the police? Don’t deny it, because I can tell when you’re lying by your pulse!”
I was really startled. I hadn’t expected that.
“No, I don’t work for the police!” I shouted.
“You’re lying, Kumiho!”
My restraint frame lifted me into the air 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 switch off my thoughts. I became the pain again, absorbed it into myself and tried to fill the inner hole I had felt since childhood.
My entire backside was burning. The first blows had been delivered centimeter by centimeter. Precise, emotionless, and even.
Hal repeated his question and I said no again.
This time, the blows were delivered in a criss-cross pattern to the first ones, creating an interesting pattern on my back. They hurt like hell, but no more than I was used to. Hal wouldn’t be able to break me with this. I began to focus on my bonds and transform the pain back into arousal, but Hal seemed to notice, because a torrent of ice-cold water unexpectedly hit my back. My scream was loud, but more out of surprise than pain.
It started to burn. Salt water! I cried out loudly in pain for the first time.
Had my back already been beaten bloody? How long had I been hanging here? No countdown, no time display, just torture.
The Dalek turned to face me while Hal questioned me.
Precise, no trace of inaccuracy, the Dalek delivered the blows again this time. But they were irregular, not uniform like in our first show. There was no rhythm I could adjust to, no breathing deeply and “enjoying” the pain until the next blow came.
“Admit that you work for the police!”
“No, I don’t!”
Blow.
“Admit that you work for the police!”
Blows in quick succession, directly to my nipples. I screamed 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 struck me right between the legs and the pain took my breath away.
It was pure torture. As real as it could possibly be, apart from the limits. And to my surprise, it made me angry. I tugged wildly at my restraints, not to escape the blows, but to destroy the Dalek. That filthy droid, that electron monster, it wouldn’t survive 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 anger.
“You damn filthy Dalek, you can kiss my ass! And as for you, Hal, I’m not going to say anything, because I’m innocent, you damn idiotic chatterbot!”
Wanting to insult an AI was quite ambitious, I admit.
The Dalek stopped hitting me.
“Kumiho, you are strong, but can you also bear the clamps of truth?”
Clamps of truth? What kind of stupid name was that? There were many clamps, including particularly nasty ones, such as paperclips. But either they were so strong that he could only use them briefly without endangering my health, or they were too weak to scare me.
“Go ahead, I’m your guest!”
The Dalek raised an arm. I recognized what he was holding. Damn, I hadn’t expected that. Were those allowed? Without hesitation, he applied the torture device to my right nipple – and I screamed in pain.
Spring clamps! Those damn little nasty tools that could hold screws or similar items. At their tips were four small spring steel fingers that were stuck in a tube and pulled back by a spring. Like clover clamps, the more tension was applied at the bottom, the tighter they held. But the surface area was only a fraction of the nipple clamps. Actually, they were only as big as the heads of pins.
And they didn’t pinch off a large area of skin. No blood congestion, no major bruising, and no risk of tissue death. These spring clamps didn’t need to be removed after 25 minutes at most. They could be worn for hours!
Of course, they also caused damage to the skin. In extreme cases, they would cause holes, like an infinitely slow, particularly painful piercing with a blunt needle. Micro-bruises. But not dangerous. And the surrounding nerve cells remained intact.
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