The Bunker

 

In the control room, Mrs. Patricia leaned back in the executive chair, enjoying the feeling of warm skin against her skin. After a long bath, suitable music and a suitable glass of red wine, dressed only in a light silk kimono, he descended into the heart of his ultra-secret sanctuary to make decisions about human welfare. Captivity. In front of him were a series of dark screens and monitors, often connected to surveillance cameras, which gave him a view of every corner of the detention center. But the most important device of all was the plain, simple, flat iPad resting coolly on the woman's lap. The password to this toy was right there, and the power in his hands intoxicated him in a deep and dark way.

His fingers now controlled the air supply to Slave 1548's sealed cubic cell, not a useless application. The only person who knew him, guard Vanessa, brought him to the cell 10 hours ago. But Vanessa only knew some of the systems she needed to do her job. When he left the building, the game was between two men. One had no power and the other had infinite power.



And knowledge is power. He did not know what time it was in 1548, when he would be released, when he would be released, where he was, or who was holding him. On the other hand, the Mistress is aware of the slave's every breath as the sensors on the slave's jacket provide accurate information. The fingertips of his left hand rested lightly on the room's temperature and ventilation controls. The judge happily held the gold tip of the cigar, and when he smoked the cigar, it was time to press both controls. He silently stared at the main screen that showed the slave from all angles. The camera was not hidden at all. The pleading, uncertain, submissive gaze staring into the camera lens was so beautiful. The owner turned off the sound. He didn't want to hear the constant moaning, but he loved opening and closing his mouth like a fish in an aquarium.



It really was an aquarium. 3 x 3, fully sealed, smooth, thick painted apparent concrete. The only furniture was a knee-high concrete stand in the center of the room, and now it looked like the slave was lying on a plate of real food. In 1548, the owner knew what associations this piece of furniture would evoke. The "bed", which is like an examination table, is like an operating room, a shrine or an abattoir. On camera, she felt as alone and vulnerable as she did in real life.

The slave, who had been sleeping, now began to feel changes. As the temperature gradually dropped from a baseline of 20 degrees to 15 degrees, the woman enjoyed the subtle movements on the screen. The sounds in the room changed now too, and the occupants felt a pressure in their ears as the ventilation slowly stopped and the shutters clicked, indicating that the room had become claustrophobic. He was now off the table, still wearing his jacket and looking at the camera. And when the fish in the aquarium started talking and begging again, the woman decided to grab a box of popcorn and listen for a moment.