3 Sex trafficked. It's all fun and games 'til someone loses an eye...

The interrogation

by LydiaSalia

Tags: #cw:gore #cw:noncon #cw:protagonist_death #D/s #dom:male #f/f #m/f #multiple_partners #sub:female #bondage #dom:female #humiliation #sadomasochism

"It's all fun and games 'till someone loses an eye, then it's just fun you can't see."

James Hetfield

I contacted Grace Bellaire on the card and got her voicemail. It was 2 weeks before she contacted me, so I guess I wasn’t such a great potential recruit. I told her about Jim and she knew all about it. Grace told me that I would have to go through some pretty rigorous training to see if I qualified. It wasn’t anything like SEAL training, but it was a trip. I aced the I.Q. test, but then came the physical endurance and psychological testing. I can tell you, that shit is fucked up.

I began a conditioning program, and then after 6 weeks I was deemed ready for the ‘hell’ course. It was a 10K endurance run, but I had obstacles along the way and mental challenges I had to solve. We started this after missing a full day of meals and going 24 hours without sleep. I had to climb a wall that had broken glass embedded in the top. I jumped up and down using one of my shoes to break off most of the top glass. I removed my shirt to cover the smaller glass and largely avoided getting cut while I scampered over. Then I had to run up and down hills before swimming across a moat full of snakes. And they bit. They weren’t poisonous... I hoped. At least there were some other plebs to endure the pain with me. We had moving targets to shoot as we neared the end of the course. Hitting a moving target when you are winded is not easy. Finally, we had to identify friend from foe. There was a woman being held by two masked men. I was the only one to correctly identify she was a hostile based on her underwhelming response to being held at knife point. We were not shooting live rounds. The guns were loud and kicked, but it was some kind of laser registered hit. The last part was entering a structure full of smoke. I had to crawl on the floor to make it to the end door to escape. Some plebs passed out from the smoke and had to be extracted by medics. While crawling I brushed up against a live wire that shocked the crap out of me—well, not literally. At the end of the course we were exhausted and starving. My meal was at the bottom of a garbage can. I later learned that it was regular food mixed in with paper plates and other garbage that had been discarded by soldiers. A.I.C. wasn’t military. They were “off books”, but the training was conducted at a military base. How convenient.

The last part of the test was degrading, but I guess necessary. Each person got a different assignment. We had to strip naked and walk to the other end of a shopping mall traversing both levels. Yes, escalator up to the very end and then down and out the door. I imagined some malls were a lot harder than others, I was dropped off at a shopping mall and told to undress at the entrance, then make my way to the farthest entrance without being apprehended by the mall security. I was told a car would be waiting for me. I stripped and began running through the mall. I bolted up the nearest escalator to gawking stares and hoots. Teenagers were whooping and hollering while some older mall walkers just stared in shock. Security never got close, but then when I exited the far end, there was no car. I decided my best course of action was to find some clothes fast. I ventured back into the mall and made a dash for a Banana Republic. I grabbed a shirt and some pants and promised I would return to pay for the items. That is when security showed up. I ran directly at the closest one and bowled him over. Then I was out the door before they could react. Another few hundred yards and I quickly put on the pants and shirt. They were too large for me, but I wasn’t complaining. This got me by so I didn’t draw so much attention. I then began the process of thumbing a ride. I guess if I got kidnapped and murdered that was just par for the course. I arrived back at the barracks near midnight and was allowed in after Grace vouched for me.

“You passed,” she said and dropped me off at the base clinic to get patched up. My feet were scrubbed and bandaged. I had endured broken glass and other road obstacles walking back barefoot.

I asked about the psychological testing. “Well, you passed the ‘mall’ test. We do some other psychological testing with administration of drugs and brain washing, but your file says you’ve already done all of that plus much, much more, so whatever we do to you should be a breeze.

“You know about what I did to prince Abdul and his sex trafficking?”

“Yes mam. You’re a bit of a celebrity if you want to know the truth.” You survived some of the most sophisticated brainwashing known to man.”

“Survived? That is technically true I guess, but I didn’t know left from right after the first few sessions. I doubt there is a person on earth that can resist what they do to these girls.”

“Tomorrow at 0600 you will be debriefed with others on your team about an international sex trafficking ring. We know that certain high-ranking members of the military, government and even the DOD have been infiltrated. The sickest part of this is they are increasingly using children in their perverse acts and even sacrificing them to Satanic figures like Moloch. We need to find out who has been compromised and who is at the top of their command structure. Have you heard of the Bohemian Grove?”

“I’ve heard of it. The powerful and rich go there to party and supposedly plan the future of mankind. Although I thought Davos had replaced the Grove for the up-and-coming place to be seen. Surely there isn’t any truth to these crazy conspiracy theories QAnon puts out. Is there such a thing as the great reset and the New World Order?”

“Yes. World leaders and presidents used to talk about this in various speeches before it became unfashionable. QAnon is an extreme. Probably little of what they say is true, although sex trafficking is real and that includes child sex trafficking. Usually where there are conspiracy theories there is an element of truth. The trick is to know what is real and what’s made up. We hope your unique interrogation skills will make it possible to uncover the real from the imagined.”

I thought about Jim. He was trying to identify these people and apparently was making progress just before he disappeared.

I showed up promptly at 6am for the briefing. I was all in. The briefing was conducted by an impressive looking middle aged man sporting a goatee. He was dressed in a camo uniform and carried a dangerous looking sidearm strapped to his leg. He was clearly ripped. Who are these people?

“I’m major Major. My last name is Major.”

“I tried to suppress a smile, but couldn’t pull it off.”

“Recruit Salia, you find my name humorous?”

“A little, yes.”

“I find it humorous that you will be running a 10k obstacle course after this briefing.”

Ah, aversive conditioning at its finest I thought.

The major resumed the briefing. Known traffickers in Vegas with their names and bios were displayed on the screen. The size of the organization was mind boggling. It spanned every continent and included leaders in the Russian Federation, Europe, the Chinese Communist Party and the United States. The cartels coordinated operations all over the world. Hollywood was also in the mix. Then the major branched off to talk about our own country’s CIA and DOD.

“This is a picture of our CIA station chief in Mexico. We discovered that he is in close contact with Cartel members and is, in fact, involved in not only child sex trafficking, but also black-market organ transplants. This is the picture of evil incarnate.”

I ventured, “Has he been arrested?”

“Ms. Salia, he has been arrested, interrogated and executed by military tribunal. We extracted a great deal of useful information from him before dispatching him. It would have been nice if you had taken Ms. Bellaire’s offer to join us a little sooner. I’m sure we could have used your help.”

“I’m sorry” I offered. Why am I apologizing? I did not understand the scope of the problem before now and I’m a civilian in any case. “Did you know Jim Fellows? He was working on one of these sex rings before he disappeared.”

"Yes. Mr. Fellows was doing freelance work with our department. We believe he was captured and executed by the cartel.”

I covered my mouth and let out an audible gasp. Then I started sobbing. Tears streamed down my cheeks. My mind was racing. No, no, no... not Jim! Does my Mom even know?

“Ms. Salia, he was obviously close to you. I’m sorry for your loss. You see the evil we are dealing with and why we must stop it.”

The rest of the briefing was a blur. A veil of sadness descended over me, paralyzing me. It was all consuming. The anger would come later. I sat in my chair, unmoving, unable to focus on anything. After we adjourned Grace came up to me and put her arm around me. “Lydia, I’m not sure you are cut out for this. Emotions like this will get you killed.”

I started crying again. She was right. I was an emotional wreck.

I composed myself and said “These sick fuckers need to be put to death slowly and cruelly.” I couldn’t believe I just said that.

Grace smiled down at me. “I agree”, she said.

I returned to my room and shortly thereafter received notification that I would not be a field agent. I guess the tears scared them. Grace came by and made another offer. “We think it would be best if we could avail ourselves of your considerable skills, but not working for us. We want you to be an independent contractor. You won’t get your hands dirty, nor face dangerous situations.”

“So.., you just call me in when you need someone interrogated?”


“I am all for that, but I also want to be kept informed of what progress is being made against these asswipes.”

“I will share what I can with you, but you will be denied access to classified information.”

“So, I just wait for you to call me?”

“Yes. That is exactly what you do.”

“What if I decide to do a little freelance field work..., maybe starting in Vegas?”

“Lydia, you have to understand the people we are dealing with are merciless. They would just as soon gut you with a pocketknife as look at you.”

I didn’t like that image. “I can play low key. Avoid the dangerous hombres. I’m actually pretty good at reading people.”

“You can do what you want as a civilian. Just please be careful.”

“I will. I promise.”

I returned home and tried to return to some semblance of normalcy. My admittedly unusual life was anything but normal. I was a hypnodomme, but that life no longer appealed to me. I had thralls that served my beck and call, but I was morally conflicted over this. So called cognitive dissonance. I decided to flip my life upside down. After evaluating the psychological stability of each of my thralls, I began to release them one by one. I made sure that they had support systems in place to help them transition back to an independent life including self-image and independence building audio loops that they would play each night for weeks. If I was going to be combating human trafficking, what business did I have mentally enslaving men and women? The irony was not lost on me.

It was shortly after this that a call arrived from Grace. AIC had raided a private Las Vegas brothel and casino that was the Sinaloa cartel’s base of operations in the western US. Captured was a senior member of the cartel, several of his lieutenants and half a dozen trafficked girls. They were making little progress with the lieutenants or jefe. I asked her for the jefe’s dossier and began studying it, looking for mental weaknesses I could exploit.

The jefe’s name was Carlos Guttierez. He was a graduate from the school of hard knocks. His first confirmed kill was a police officer when he was just 7 years old. He had fathered over a dozen children from the trafficked girls he had raped. He had risen to jefe from the rank of soldado after proving his worth by murdering journalists, judges and politicians. These monsters were being held in a safe house. I boarded the next flight from Colorado and soon arrived at McCarren International Airport. Grace picked me up and drove me to the safe house. I observed el jefe and 5 men through a two-way mirror. They were heavily tatted and kneeling naked on a concrete floor. Their arms were bound behind them and they had black bags over their heads. From this group, a small wiry man was briskly lifted and thrown into a chair. Tight restraints bound him to a chair that faced the kneeling men. The bag was pulled off his head. He blinked in the bright light, then opened his mouth in a wicked smile revealing upper and lower silver teeth. They gave him the appearance of some hellish demon—no doubt replacing his original teeth knocked out from repeated fights. He was a tough looking hombre and, frankly, he intimidated me. “You expect me to hypnotize this dude and get intel from him?” I asked Grace.

“No, I don’t think that would work very well in this case. These men fear very little. Death and a pretty hypnotist don’t make the top ten. Let me show you how we extract intel.”

I watched as the hoods were removed from the naked captives. A pretty young girl, certainly no more than 18 or 19 entered the room holding a menacing looking knife.

“Who is that?” I asked Grace.

“We call her ‘La Chopa’. That doesn’t really translate to anything in English, but I think you get the drift. She was kidnapped as a child and forced to be a sex worker. She was forced into sexual bondage at 10 years old. We rescued her 2 years ago. She does not like cartels. She has certain skills, so we recruited her to work for us.”

La Chopa knelt down in front of the first man, took his junk in her hand and asked him something in Spanish. The man spit on her. She motioned for guards to restrain the man. Two restrained his upper body. An additional guard on each leg pulled them forcefully apart. She looked up at the man and smiled. She looked so sweet and innocent. She calmly took his penis and balls in her hands and pulled them tautly away from his body. “Quizás deberías reconsiderar tu respuesta”

Perhaps you should reconsider your answer

“No way”, I thought to myself.

La Chopa gave the man every opportunity to speak. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. She shrugged, then proceeded to saw his penis and balls off. She was measured and deliberate. He screamed in agony. When she was done, she held the bloody mess up in the air and said, “Quien quiere ser el siguiente?”

Who wants to be next?

She looked at the others. “Nadie voluntaria?”

“¡Cállate!” She shouted at the stricken man.  “¡No puedo oírme pensando!”

Shut up! I can’t hear myself think!

He continued screaming loudly. She then took the knife and in one smooth swipe severed both carotid arteries of the stricken man. The only sound he made then was gurgling.

“Mucho mejor.”

I looked on in horror. Before proceeding, she opened the mouth of the dead man and crammed his severed penis and balls into his mouth. The other men looked on, eyes wide in terror. She proceeded to the next man in line and repeated her questions. These bad hombres were now screaming, terrified of what was to become of them.

She looked at the others. “Nadie voluntaria?”

The tactic didn’t seem to be working. Are you kidding me? I wasn’t going to do any better with hypnosis. Soon three bodies and more blood than I had ever seen lay strewn about the concrete floor. A crimson river and its various tributaries made its way to the central floor drain.

She came to the last man, leaned over and kissed him on the head. “Hijo, por favor no me hagas matarte.”

The last man caved and started blabbering information. The jefe screaming at him as he spoke, “Cállate… Cállate idiota!”

“Tus hijos morirán en frente de su esposa. Voy a chingar tu esposa. Entonces cortaré su garganta!”

Shut up idiot. Shut up! I will kill your children in front of your wife, then I will rape her and cut her throat!

Still blabbering, he was lifted to his feet and removed from the room.

The pretty young girl, now covered in blood, strolled over to the boss.

“Jefe, dis eze your last chance. Ju must see the truth of your evil and pray for salvation”, she said in broken English.

He steadfastly refused to give up any information. I watched as she put her hand behind the man’s head, grabbed his hair firmly and pulled his head back so that he could not easily move. Then she proceeded to slowly push the knife through his eye socket, first the left eye then the right. His screams echoed in my mind. It was an image I could not unsee.

"Do ju see de error of your ways? No, of course not. Ju are blind to your evil ways."

La Chappa let out a wicked laugh. "I am a funny one, no? What ju call a comedian."

Then, with a swift, smooth motion, she severed both of his carotid arteries.

I looked over at Grace. “This can’t be legal.”

The Sinaloa cartel was recently labeled a domestic terror organization. That gives us wide latitude, but you are right, this probably exceeds our charter.

“You won’t tell anyone will you?” she said cavalierly... smiling. The flatness of her affect sent a shiver down my spine.

Grace was a field agent, hardened by the shit she saw every day. She shared with me the recent atrocities the cartels had been committing. The money in human trafficking was far better than drugs. They collected hundreds of billions of dollars every year. More than enough to fund their vast empire. Their clients were fathers and sons, respected doctors, lawyers and clergy. Cohorts in these heinous crimes, they could hardly be forgiven. This was a disease upon the land. A pestilence, an evil that must be eradicated from the face of the earth. After hearing what they did to these young children, I felt what I had just observed was too good for them.

Grace continued, “These are the little fish. We want intel that identifies who in Hollywood is raping these children. Which politicians in DC? Which officers in the DOD? The infestation is widespread.”

I finally understood that this evil had no bounds. Satan lived in the fiends who would exploit these young girls and boys. They were ghouls, no matter how famous or important they were in real life. I would do what I could to bring them to a timely death. We were not going for prison time. AIC’s charter was seek and destroy.

Grace thanked me for coming. “We got some information out of the last man before he was executed. We will take it from here. I will call you if we need you again.”

Well, that sucked. La chopa’s approach was what worked. Maybe I could hypnotize some of these scumbags and create a level of fear that paralleled what La Chopa achieved in real life. I thought about my options on the flight back to Denver. Julie had told me she hated what these traffickers were doing to children and wanted to help. Do I dare ask her to join me for a little side trip to Vegas? That was a big ask. Only if we could do this safely.

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