No-limit-rooms 8 Nadia
Copyright© 2026 by Jepasch
Chapter 2: The Milk Bar
Thriller Sex Story: Chapter 2: The Milk Bar - Nadia wakes in a Russian clinic with no memory, a newborn daughter, and no way home. Taken back to the Milk Bar, a guarded fetish club where women are owned, displayed, and milked for powerful clients, she is told she once helped build this prison. To save her child, Nadia must uncover who she was—and what Yuri is still hiding.
Caution: This Thriller Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Blackmail Consensual NonConsensual Slavery Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Exhibitionism Lactation Oral Sex Big Breasts Nudism Prostitution Slow
With the crying baby in my arms, I stood forlornly in front of the bar. I looked at the building with both curiosity and fear. I searched my memory to see if any of it looked familiar. But there was nothing. There were three cars in the parking lot, two black Mercedes and a dark blue car that was probably Russian.
The main entrance consisted of a heavy double door made of black lacquered wood. There were no other entrances at the front. To the left of the entrance I saw a row of windows, to the right the window openings were bricked up, I could still make out where the window sills were. The floor above had windows everywhere. But all the windows I saw, including those on the second floor, were barred.
Some of the windows on the upper floor were open, music was playing somewhere and pieces of laundry were hanging over some of the bars. All in all, it looked more like a prison than a bar.
While I was still wondering whether I should walk back to the city and how I could get through the gate, I heard a shout from one of the windows: “Nadia’s back!”
Immediately, several women’s heads appeared in the open windows. A young Asian woman, presumably the one who had just called out, waved from one of the windows.
“Nadia, come up here! Don’t leave your baby in the sun for so long! But come around the back, the bosses are up front discussing something.”
“Ok!” I replied, a little confused.
I slowly walked around the building. I found two more doors at the back. Next to the first one were large garbage containers that smelled bad. A glance through the windows revealed that there was a large kitchen here, but I didn’t see anyone in it. The second door, about 5 meters further on, was open.
The gravel-covered backyard was lined with clotheslines on which numerous items of laundry were hanging. Mostly towels, women’s clothes and underwear, a few pairs of jeans and bed linen. There was an empty baby carriage on the wall next to the open door. With a quick glance, I realized that although it was older, it was clean inside. So far, I hadn’t given any thought to where my daughter might sleep.
Through the open door, I saw a wide stairwell. I entered hesitantly. The concrete steps were worn, the walls painted with a salmon-colored latex paint. I was surprised to see that I immediately noticed the type of paint.
The music that I had heard at the front sounded from above. I carefully went upstairs. My baby had calmed down again and was snuggled up to my breast.
Upstairs, I entered a wide corridor with doors leading off to the left and right. Some were open. A young woman, at best in her early 20s, had just come out of one of the rooms. She was obviously heavily pregnant. She was wearing shorts, a loose T-shirt and pink flip-flops. When she saw me, her expression became joyful and she waddled towards me.
“Nadia, you’re back! That’s great!”
She spoke Russian with a very slight accent and looked European. She wore a brushed metal choker about 8-10 cm high around her neck, with a gold-colored clasp on the front. A very unusual piece of jewelry, but not undressable.
“Um, yeah, hi,” I replied, embarrassed because I didn’t recognize her.
She looked at my baby and grimaced with delight.
“How sweet! Boy or girl?”
“Girl.”
“And what’s her name?”
“I don’t have a name for her yet!”
Her expression changed from rapture to astonishment.
“Why not? You actually wanted to take your grandmother’s name if it’s a girl.”
The Asian woman appeared in the hallway and came to us. I immediately noticed the collar on her too. It was identical.
“Hello Nadia, welcome back! Did everything go well?”
“Hello, uh, yeah, no. It’s hard to explain.”
“Imagine, Aigul, she hasn’t named her daughter yet!” the first one reported indignantly.
The woman named Aigul looked at me in amazement.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve lost my memory!” I explained with a sigh.
After a brief surprise, the women led me into a small common room, where we were joined by other women. There were eight of us in the room. Apart from the first one, none of them were pregnant, at least I didn’t see any bellies. But apart from me, they were all wearing these collars, which I no longer found so fashionable. Rather frightening.
After we had taken a seat on the sofas against the walls, I briefly explained that I had lost my memory at birth, but that according to the doctor, this would not be permanent. Nevertheless, I asked her to introduce herself briefly. After a brief moment of amazement, they all agreed.
The heavily pregnant woman was called Polina and came from Bulgaria. Aigul means moonflower in Kyrgyz, so she came from Kyrgyzstan.
The five other women also came from abroad. Mavi from Azerbaijan, Chinara from Nigeria, Li-Ming from northern China, Chau from Vietnam, and Hala from Syria. These last four women didn’t speak Russian very well and took little part in our conversation.
“And what is this place now? A brothel? Do we work as hookers? Am I a hooker?” I blurted out the questions that had been on my mind the whole time.
The women looked at each other uncomfortably. Finally, Aigul replied: “We’re all hookers, yes. Even you! But this isn’t a brothel. Not really. This is better than a brothel!”
Shocked, I looked at her: I was a hooker?
“Then what is this?”
“They call it a fetish bar. The men here are into breast milk.”
I stared around in disbelief. Was this a joke? But the women avoided my gaze.
“And what are we doing here then?”
“I can explain that to you!”
Startled, everyone looked in the direction from which Yuri’s voice had sounded. He was standing at the entrance, watching our little gathering.
“So it wasn’t a show? You really can’t remember anything? Then come with me, I’ll show you everything and fill you in.”
I was still holding my daughter, who had fallen asleep again.
“What about my baby?”
“Aigul, take Nadia’s child and look after it for a moment. Take it to the nursery. You had everything ready, didn’t you?”
“Yes, boss!” Aigul replied immediately and bowed her head.
“The rest of you can clean if you’re bored. Everything should be clean here. Is that clear?” Yuri’s order sounded sharp.
Everyone nodded and stood up.
“Nadia, you’re coming with me!”
Without looking back, Yuri left the room. Aigul quickly took my daughter from me. For a moment, torn between my daughter and my curiosity, I stood there indecisively until Aigul urged me to follow him.
So I hurried into the hallway. I caught up with him at the stairs where he was waiting for me, then he went down. I followed him, both anxious and curious. I still couldn’t imagine being a hooker. Why did I even know the term? How did I know what it was, had my language, but couldn’t remember anything personal about it?
Once downstairs, we went through a fire door on the right and entered another corridor, where the kitchen was apparently on the right and offices were on the left. Yuri went straight through the first office door and I followed hesitantly.
It was a typical office, with filing cabinets, computer and telephone. Not overly large, but spacious. A fan provided air circulation, apart from that it was warm in the room.
One picture on the wall was absolutely unusual. In a glass frame was a pale pink canvas, about the size of an A2 sheet, on which two flowers could be seen in a delicate red. But they weren’t painted, they were dabbed on. I had never seen anything like it before and, above all, never expected to see it in an office like this.
Yuri noticed my look but didn’t say anything, instead waiting to see if I would say anything. I decided to ignore the picture as unimportant. Sighing, he shook his head.
“Please, sit down,” he directed me to the chair in front of his desk as he walked to a fridge.
“Would you like a drink? A Coke maybe?”
At first I wanted to say no, but then decided otherwise.
“Yes, I’d love to, thank you!”
He took out two cans and placed one in front of me before sitting down in his office chair and opening his can. Then he took a deep drink.
I followed his example.
“What do you know about accounting?” he then began.
I searched my memory. Finally, I shrugged my shoulders:
“Nothing, I think!”
He pushed two printed lists in Russian over to me.
They were tables and accounting documents, as far as I could tell. But I didn’t understand exactly what they meant.
Shaking my head, I pushed it back.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”
I couldn’t interpret Yuri’s look. He just looked at me for a minute before he finally shook his head.
“You’re back and can work. That’s good. But what’s bad is that you’ve forgotten everything. That’s a problem.”
“I can’t work as a hooker. I can’t imagine that I’ve ever worked as a hooker here either.”
Yuri’s gaze darkened.
“Girl, you are what you are. In the end, we all have to do things we don’t want to do in order to survive.”
“Why am I here?”
“Ah, the question! It would take too long to tell you everything now, but the fact is that you have nowhere else to go. You’re mine!”
“So I’m a forced prostitute, a sex slave?”
“Rivet. Not a sex slave. You are in debt bondage. You’re working off a debt to me. And you happen to be the best and fastest at it.”
“What kind of debt?”
“Family debts! Your sister’s!”
I had a sister?
“Why me and not her?”
“Because she went underground. And you helped her do it.”
“So you kidnapped me?”
Yuri raised both hands and opened them forward in a gesture that meant ‘here you go’.
“Since when?”
“About six months ago.”
I slowly gathered all the information in my head and sorted it. Still, none of it made any sense.
“What do I have to do here? What is my job here, apart from letting disgusting men mount me?”
“Watch what you say,” Yuri warned me sharply. “The customers who come here are important people from politics and business. This is not a street prostitute. And all the girls in this house are happy to work here.”
“All sex slaves, like me, no doubt,” I interjected.
“Now listen to me carefully,” Yuri’s tone became louder and even sharper. “You could have been feeding the fish in the Baltic Sea in pieces long ago. Or, you’d be sitting in a gangbang puff right now, where you’d be dead in two years. I was very generous to you, downright good-natured. What your sister did would have justified cutting you up into little pieces very slowly! And many others in my position would have done the same immediately. But I gave you a chance. It annoys me that I now have to teach you everything all over again.”
Yuri’s words made me freeze. He had meant it. And the way he was sitting in front of me now, I immediately believed that he was capable of such deeds. Why hadn’t I fled when I still could?
“Well, it is what it is. Maybe you’ll get your memory back tomorrow, maybe never. I can’t wait that long: so let’s start from the beginning. It’s your sister’s fault that a friend of mine is dead and another is in prison in Germany. My company has also lost a lot of money because of her. Instead of helping me find her, you helped her escape. You killed another woman in the process to protect your sister!”
I stared at him in amazement. I was supposed to have killed someone? The driver had already claimed that at the hospital, but I still couldn’t believe it.
“How did I kill her?”
“Does it still matter? She’s dead because of you! And you can’t go back to Germany because they’re looking for you.”
What did I face for murder in Germany? 15 years to life? And this here, wasn’t it much worse? Why should I make such a decision not to return to Germany?
“How do you like your daughter? Do you love her?” Yuri interrupted my thoughts abruptly.
Now I was confused. What did that have to do with it?