The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Facility

Chapter 3: The emails

The response to the interviews were surprisingly positive. The image of the facility being a human trafficking operation was replaced with the televised image of Li Juan smiling and hugging her handler, as well as the image of Vanessa and Doug holding hands and smiling at each other. The public outrage lessened, though there was an outcry from the far right about how Li Juan was in the country illegally.

In the public eye, that and other legal issues didn’t matter. Vanessa’s stoic explanations, coupled with Li Juan’s emotionally charged story had won over the general public. The interviews that followed with other slaves helped as well.

Over the next several days, an interesting side effect of the PR plan emerged. Email addresses had been set up so that people could contact the facility. Maxine was one of the people monitoring these email addresses. She expected 90% of what they got to be hate mail. There was a fair bit of hate mail indeed, along with a metric fuckton of spam. However among it were people sympathizing with them, and to Maxine’s surprise, people who wanted to volunteer to become slaves or handlers.

Maxine along with several others were now sifting through the volunteer emails:

Hi. My name’s Sally. I’m 22 years old, and pretty good looking, I think. I’m terrible with relationships and I don’t know why. I’m not ugly. Guys just don’t care for me. I was wondering if, uh if there might be room for me in that facility of yours. I’m pretty good at cleaning and I am willing to learn new things!

Another email read:

I knew something like this existed in our country. It makes total sense! It sounds like a pretty good deal and I want in. My name’s Cindy, and I have experience working in porn. I’d fit right in. Email me back and let me know.

There were more emails, maybe a hundred. Maxine wasn’t going to go through them all, she’d be there all day. However she had time to do some of them now, and it was best to keep on top of them.

My name is Tanya. I’m 20 years old. I just got out of a six month relationship with a guy who practiced hypnosis. He did his best to remove the triggers and stuff from my head, but I think I’m messed up inside. I probably am since I’m emailing a sex slave facility. I’m living on my own, but I don’t want to. I want to be part of something, part of a system that will take care of me. I know I’d be giving up my freedom and I’m okay with that. I don’t have much of a life anyway. Please let me know.

—Tanya

Maxine forwarded that email to the higher ups. Tanya sounded like she’d be a good fit.

It dawned on her reading through these emails, that this had probably been the higher ups plan all along, or at least for some number of years. They had to have known that sooner or later their information management system would fail, and likely planned this in advance as a way to expand their influence once the cat got out of the bag.

It was pretty ingenious actually.

Maxine opened another email:

So the facility does exist. I knew it. My name’s Jennifer. I’ve been hearing whispers of a secret sex slave facility for a couple years now. I know you guys have access to all kinds of tech that the government says doesn’t exist. They’re in on it too. I wanna know the whole truth! I’m aware that you’ll... do things... to my brain. I still wanna know the truth, I wanna know who REALLY runs this country!

You have my IP address in the email header. I’ll be waiting.

—Jennifer Buehler

Jennifer sounded like an interesting one. Maxine had always wanted to meet a conspiracy nut so she could psychoanalyze them, and Jennifer sounded like she fit the bill. She forwarded Jennifer’s email to the higher ups with the message that she really wanted to meet this one.

Maxine opened up another email:

hello i saw your facility on tv

That email went to the trash folder. She opened up another one.

Hi there. I’m Karen. 4 months ago I finally admitted to myself that I’m a submissive. I want to know about things like pony play and bondage, but I tried getting into the bondage scene here, and well the dom who selected me was pretty rough and I haven’t really tried it since. You guys don’t hurt people. I wanna try slave discipline without the pain.

Another potential new recruit. Maxine forwarded the email.

These emails she was forwarding would be looked over by the higher ups. The subjects would be researched, and if they qualified, an envoy from the facility would be sent to bring them in. Maxine wondered what they’d do if they got too many volunteers, a scenario that even a week ago seemed ridiculous. The compound they were in was designed to comfortably house and care for 250 people. With the slaves, handlers and other staff including her, they were at half their capacity already. The higher ups would likely have to end up building another facility in a year or two. Maxine contemplated this as she opened another email:

I’m interested in checking out your facility. I’m not looking to become a slave. No I’m more of a mistress, or handler if you will. Get back to me and lets see if we can work something out.

Well, they could always use more female handlers. Maxine forwarded the email.

Slave handlers currently ran about 70% male to 30% female. It wasn’t for lack of effort in recruiting dommes. It just so happened that most of the women they recruited were, when push came to shove and their outer personalities were stripped away, submissive on some level. The reason for this was debatable. Submissive didn’t mean not equal or incapable of holding a position of power. Maxine could attest to that. However it did limit the amount of submissive guys and lesbians they could take on. A slave and handler who were both subs generally wouldn’t mesh well, with both waiting for the other to make a decision.

Maxine opened another email:

It’s nice that you help these women instead of abusing them like others might. You treat your slaves very good, like the Romans used to. I’ve had an interest in slavery for awhile, and I’d be interested in seeing what it’s like first hand, if it’s safe.

Another possible recruit. Maxine forwarded her email.

While the public support was encouraging, it was the government that was the big worry now. Congressional debates were usually boring, but when a bunch of tired old men got riled up and demanded action with reddened faces, the results could be frightening. They wanted congressional hearings, they wanted slaves to testify, they wanted the names of released slaves, they wanted this and they wanted that.

But the scariest part was the rest of Washington was remaining mum on the issue. There was very little reporting done on the news outlets, very little comment from the justice department or the FBI. There was not a peep from the CIA or the NSA.

Things were still in a state of disorganization. Maxine was reading and forwarding these emails from a laptop perched on top of a stack of cardboard boxes. A new temporary facility located in the Canadian north had been set up, and plans were in place to evacuate quickly if need be. The main computers and anything else that was important had already been shipped there.

Maxine didn’t like the idea of freezing her ass off just a stone’s throw from the arctic circle. She opened up one more email.

Hi. Hi I’m Caitlin. I’ve been unemployed for three years and I’m looking for a job. This sounds like something I’d be interested in doing. I’m terrible at finding and keeping jobs. Maybe you guys could fix that. ;D

A resume was attached with her name, address, and a string of listed jobs, all of them with short employment durations. Maybe this girl had potential too, despite her rather odd reason for wanting to become a slave. Who in their right mind forwarded their resume to a sex slave facility?

Maxine forwarded that email, then shut down the laptop. She had a couple slaves to meet with, and she wanted some lunch.