Just over a hundred miles outside of Vegas, situated on an old county road, thereís an isolated Victorian-era hotel, a place known by its
patrons as the Horror Hotel. An evil establishment owned by a cruelly sadistic dominatrix, known only as Mistress Dark, the hotelís twenty-eight
rooms each containing a different live graphic scene of unspeakable torture and often death every night.
Leaning against the side of the medieval dungeonís rack in room 28, Donna watched the group of hotel patrons standing just outside the roomís front wall of glass, talking among themselves. Of course, I couldnít hear anything they were saying. The thick glass is quite soundproof. However, thanks to overhead speakers outside this room, theyíll be able to listen to every torturously intimate moment of what occurs in here tonight.
They almost seemed amused, like they didnít believe any of this was real, but I know it is. After all, earlier today, Iíd watched the video of the gruesome demise of the last unfortunate woman to occupy this room. I wonder how theyíd react if they knew the truth.
Iím awaiting the diabolic attentions of one of the hotelís staff of obscenely talented torturers. When he arrives, which should be in just a few minutes, my death will not be quick or easy. Instead, over the long coming hours, Iíll suffer in unrelenting agony, my body fiendishly mutilated and destroyed as he slowly and methodically tortures me to death simply for my audienceís sick twisted amusement.
And unlike this roomís last occupant, or should I say, victim, tricked into believing this was just another indie horror film, I know what it is that they do here. They film actual snuff films here every night. Why else do you think I would have willingly volunteered for this?
Inspired by Zatanna Darkís Hyper-Realistic Horror Hotel series...