Page 79 of Dulce


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He tenses but keeps his mouth shut.

I pick up the salt and pour a handful of it into my palm before smearing it into one of his wounds. I repeat it with the other and curse when he passes out again.

“Fucking hell. What a goddamn pussy. I remember a time, you know, when men were real men and could handle being flayed alive before passing out,” I complain, reaching for my next tool.

I’m not exactly spoiled for choice. I opt for the nutcracker and chuckle. I wonder if it would be any good on human nuts. One way to find out, I guess.

Getting to my knees, I nudge his knees apart and take hold of his flaccid dick. I’m oddly happy that he isn’t getting off on his torture. I once tortured a guy who died orgasming. Not because I fucked him to death but because he got off on the pain. The more things I did to him, the more aroused he got. It was both fascinating and disturbing.

Moving his dick out of the way, I lift one of his balls and slip it into the opening of the nutcracker and crack down on it.

He wakes up with a gasp, which is a little underwhelming, but it seems his balls are a little too small to be squeezed properly.

“What the hell are you doing? Get away from me.” His panic makes my girly bits tingle.

“There you are. I thought you were going to nap through the whole thing.”

Biting my lip, I open the nutcracker, pull both nuts inside, and squeeze. This time he gives a high-pitched, pain-filled scream. It’s better than before, but still not as awesome as I had hoped.

“I won’t lie. I had hoped these would have worked better. It would have made an awesome story to tell my girls about.”

Tears roll down his face as I give one more squeeze, then toss the nutcracker aside.

“You know, I’ll stop if you just answer my questions. It’s not like I don’t have better places to be.”

I give him a few minutes, but when he still isn’t forthcoming, I sigh and pick up my next tool. Pushing his knees back together, I straddle his lap and run my fingers down the side of his face.

“I know you think you’re being noble keeping your mouth shut, but there is nobody here to impress. I mean, I couldn’t think less of you if I tried. There is no saving face here. You don’t have to worry about your boss killing you for talking because you’ll already be dead by that point. The man or woman you are trying to protect won’t lose a minute of sleep over it.

“So, here are your options. You tell me everything I want to know, and I’ll end you quickly. You lie or keep your mouth shut, and I’ll kill you slowly. I’ll call our team doctor in to keep you alive just so I can slowly kill you some more.”

He stares at me in what I think is supposed to be defiance, but I see the wall he erected beginning to crumble.

“Where are the girls?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

I lift the utensil in my hand so he can see what it is and hold it to his eye.

“I watched a movie once where a corkscrew was plunged into the bad guy’s eye. With a twist and a yank, the whole eyeball came out. I’ve been curious ever since to see if that shit would actually work.”

“I don’t know where they are!” he screams, his whole body shaking. “Once I drop them off, I have no clue where they end up. They are taken out of the country as soon as possible.”

“Who picks them up and where from?”

“There is a cave system in the rocks at the bluff big enough for a truck to drive into. It’s mostly hidden unless you know what you’re looking for.”

“How are they getting them out of the country?” There is no way they are just driving them out. Perhaps once or twice, but not as often as he’s implying.

“I don’t know. Each of us is only aware of our job. That way, we can’t spill anything if we are captured.”

“Huh, smart and annoying. So you have no idea where the final destinations of these girls are?”

He shakes his head. “Most are destined for Europe or farther afield.”

Makes sense, and it also makes them ten times harder to find. Motherfucker. I’m pissed off now because I know the girls I had hoped to bring home are likely lost forever.

“Tell me about Cassandra.”

He snorts, “She’s a cock slut.”

I slap his face. I do it before I’ve even realized I’ve lifted my hand.

“Oops. Guess I’m a little touchy when it comes to the whole slut-shaming thing. Carry on.”

His eyes widen comically, but he takes a deep breath and continues.

“She’s a recruiter.”

Dammit. I mean I kinda figured that out, but still. Nothing worse than a sister betraying a sister like that. Like women don’t have it hard enough without us turning on ourselves too.

“She’s as prickly as a porcupine, so how the fuck does that work?” I snap, even though my anger is at Cassandra right now, not him.

“It’s the angle she plays. Take a girl who has issues and turn her into a victim. Make her an outcast, make her feel small and alone, and then—”

“Dangle her a carrot called friendship.”

He nods. “She plays it off as a type of initiation thing. Those who survive are told they are now worthy of joining a secret society that few make it into. After being ostracized for so long, they crave the comradery of friendship, or at least the feeling of being accepted. She gives them a pin and makes them a pledge, letting them know they each have to pass one more test to be taken into the fold. She comes across as an airhead, but don’t let her fool you. That girl is a master manipulator. She could make a person buy air if she wanted to. What she doesn’t tell them is that the pins are purely so we can identify the girls who have been sold that need to be….”

“Kidnapped?” I snarl.

“Collected.” He answers warily.

So if all those headshots were a fucked up type of catalog for rapists to browse; the pins are proof of purchase.

“So that’s what the pins are for,” I mumble. At least this way, I now have an easy way of tracking the actual victims.

He nods. “She came up with that one herself. Like I said, she’s smarter than she lets on.”

“If she’s such an asset, why get rid of her?”

He frowns. “I couldn’t contain her ambition. She always wanted more and more. Started taking more risks and wanted to know who the other players were. I suspect she thought she’d work her way up the organization with the prospect of one day being in charge.” He laughs cruelly. “A pussy in power? Not in my lifetime. A woman’s place is on her knees.”

I tap his face a little harder than necessary.

“Wow, you must really hate this, then. Me having all the power and you having…well, none.”

He doesn’t reply, but a muscle ticks in his jaw.

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