Slaves of Magnus Hotel by Dog Desert

Author:Dog, Desert
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Desert Dog
Published: 2012-12-26T00:00:00+00:00

C

hapter 27 - Victoria’s Dungeon: Night One

Victoria clenched at the icy-cold steel woven mesh door of her cage and shook it once in a faint-hearted attempt to dislodge it. She knew the try was more than futile. “I designed every bit of this dungeon myself,” she thought with resignation. “Three walls of the kennels are rough-faced, twelve-inch structural-grade concrete block filled with number six rebar and four thousand PSI concrete. The kennel doors are one and a half inch schedule eighty pipe with imported Australian high-tensile galvanized wire woven into a one-inch-square mesh. Nothing I can do will break that 180,000 PSI strength twelve-gauge wire.”

She slumped down on the hard rubber mat of the kennel floor. Victoria Gibson also knew full well that the heavy kennel door wasn’t merely hung on a few simple hinges. Victoria had designed a clever electronic latching mechanism that ‘gripped’ the two sides of the pipe in six places when latched in the locked position. The door was strong enough to hold the strongest felons securely in the barren cell. ‘Vicki’ also had the kennel dimensions, and everything else in her dungeon, committed to memory. “Thirty-six inches wide, forty-eight inches deep, and seventy-two inches tall.” She groaned once and added aloud in a whisper, “Twelve square feet of cold ground surface in a kennel unadorned by anything except a rubber mat, a scratchy burlap blanket that smells like mildew retardant, and a piss-pot with a plastic lid. I’m so fucked! I thought about designing special escapes throughout the dungeon and decided against it. You are a stupid shit, Victoria!”

The Magnus Hotel Night Manager and partner to Darlene Pritchard had personally designed and then overseen the construction of an extensive dungeon below the hotel that contained a labyrinth of faux-stone tunnels winding through a maze of seven dungeon caves of various sizes, a large lounge area with a central slave exhibition stage, a kennel with ten slave cells, and separate locker rooms for Masters and Mistresses. Every wall and ceiling in the complex, except for the kennels, was built of a faux-stone finish over cast-in-place reinforced concrete wall. The tunnel ceilings were a claustrophobic eight-feet while the dungeon caverns and the lounge area had twenty-foot ceilings.

“At least that chit of a receptionist left some light behind,” she grudgingly credited Judy Wetmore’s charity. Judy had left a single torch lit in the kennel run; even if it was set to lowest position of flame. The hotel’s newest slave had cringed when her tiny kennel door clanged shut in the dim light and then almost burst into tears when the heavy grillwork entry to the kennel itself had thumped shut as well. A tiny electronic touch pad located in the ‘hall’ outside the kennel controlled the entry door as well as each of the ten smaller kennel doors. “There is no way to escape,” she reminded herself. “Only someone outside the kennel with the correct code can open the doors.” She fingered her only adornment, her collar, and ruefully thought of the impossibility of removing it.

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