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When she returned home, her mother sent her away for stints in two other brothels, including one kilometers away on the Thai border.

When she learned her mother was planning to sell her again, this time for a six-month stretch, she realized she needed to flee her home.

Karaoke bars are a common front for child prostitution. Mira Sorvino details going behind the scenes of this illicit trade.

Like other local mothers CNN spoke to, she blames poverty for her decision to sell her daughter, saying a financial crisis drove her into the clutches of the traffickers who make their livelihoods preying on Cambodian children.

It is this aspect of Cambodia's appalling child sex trade that Don Brewster, a year-old American resident of the neighborhood, finds most difficult to countenance.

Brewster, a former pastor, moved from California to Cambodia with wife Bridget in , after a harrowing investigative mission trip to the neighborhood where Kieu grew up -- Svay Pak, the epicenter of child trafficking in the Southeast Asian nation.

In recent decades, he says, this impoverished fishing village — where a daughter's virginity is too often seen as a valuable asset for the family — has become a notorious child sex hotspot.

The local sex industry sweeps up both children from the neighborhood -- sold, like Kieu, by their parents — as well as children trafficked in from the countryside, or across the border from Vietnam.

Weak law enforcement, corruption, grinding poverty and the fractured social institutions left by the country's turbulent recent history have helped earn Cambodia an unwelcome reputation for child trafficking, say experts.

UNICEF estimates that children account for a third of the 40,, people in the country's sex industry. Svay Pak, a dusty shantytown on the outskirts of the Cambodian capital Phnom Penh, is at the heart of this exploitative trade.

The residents are mostly undocumented Vietnamese migrants, many of whom live in ramshackle houseboats on the murky Tonle Sap River, eking out a living farming fish in nets tethered to their homes.

It's a precarious existence. The river is fickle, the tarp-covered houseboats fragile. Most families here scrape by on less than a dollar a day, leaving no safety net for when things go wrong — such as when Kieu's father fell seriously ill with tuberculosis, too sick to maintain the nets that contained their livelihood.

The family fell behind on repayments of a debt. In desperation, Kieu's mother, Neoung, sold her virginity to a Cambodian man of "maybe more than 50," who had three children of his own, Kieu says.

Don Brewster, a former pastor from California, is the founder and director of Agape International Missions, an organization dedicated to rescuing and rehabilitating the victims of child trafficking in Cambodia and smashing the networks that exploit them.

He moved to Cambodia with his wife in after a harrowing investigative mission trip to the neighborhood. The men who abuse the children of Svay Pak fit a number of profiles.

They include pedophile sex tourists, who actively seek out sex with prepubescent children, and more opportunistic "situational" offenders, who take advantage of opportunities in brothels to have sex with adolescents.

Sex tourists tend to hail from affluent countries, including the West, South Korea, Japan and China, but research suggests Cambodian men remain the main exploiters of child prostitutes in their country.

Mark Capaldi is a senior researcher for Ecpat International, an organization committed to combating the sexual exploitation of children. But the majority of sexual exploitation of children is of adolescents, and that's taking place in commercial sex venues.

The abusers would often be local, situational offenders, he says. Research suggests some of the Asian perpetrators are "virginity seekers," for whom health-related beliefs around the supposedly restorative or protective qualities of virgins factor into their interest in child sex.

Whatever the profile of the perpetrator, the abuse they inflict on their victims, both girls and boys, is horrific.

Trafficked children in Cambodia have been subjected to rape by multiple offenders, filmed performing sex acts and left with physical injuries -- not to mention psychological trauma -- from their ordeals, according to research.

In recent years, various crackdowns in Svay Pak have dented the trade, but also pushed it underground. Today, Brewster says, there are more than a dozen karaoke bars operating as brothels along the road to the neighborhood, where two years ago there was none.

Even today, he estimates a majority of girls in Svay Park are being trafficked. Kieu's relative, Sephak, who lives nearby, is another survivor.

CNN is naming the victims in this case at the request of the girls themselves, as they want to speak out against the practice of child sex trafficking.

Sephak was 13 when she was taken to a hospital, issued a certificate confirming her virginity, and delivered to a Chinese man in a Phnom Penh hotel room.

She was returned after three nights. I hurt and I felt very weak," she says. I thought about why I was doing this and why my mom did this to me.

Toha listens to her mother explain how she came to sell her to sex traffickers. She no longer lives with her family, opting instead to live in a residence for trafficking survivors run by Brewster's organization -- but still provides her family some financial support from her new job.

Not far away from Sephak's family home, connected to the shore via a haphazard walkway of planks that dip beneath the water with each footfall, is the houseboat where Toha grew up.

The second of eight children, none of whom attend school, Toha was sold for sex by her mother when she was The transaction followed the same routine: medical certificate, hotel, rape.

About two weeks after she returned to Svay Pak, she says, the man who had bought her virginity began calling, requesting to see her again.

Her mother urged her to go. The pressure drove her to despair. I cut my wrists because I wanted to kill myself," Toha says. A friend broke down the door to the bathroom and came to her aid.

CNN met with the mothers of Kieu, Sephak and Toha in Svay Pak to hear their accounts of why they chose to expose their daughters to sexual exploitation.

Kieu's mother, Neoung, had come to Svay Pak from the south of the country in search of a better life when Kieu was just a baby.

But life in Svay Pak, she would learn, wasn't easy. How has this Southeast Asian nation become a hotspot for pedophiles? Poverty, corruption and a brutal reign of terror have all played a part in making Cambodian children vulnerable to adult predators.

Sephak's mother, Ann, has a similar story. Ann moved to Svay Pak when her father came to work as a fish farmer.

She and her husband have serious health problems. The family fell on hard times. When a storm roared through the region, their house was badly damaged, their fish got away, and they could no longer afford to eat.

With money-lenders coming to her home and threatening her, Ann made the decision to take up an offer from a woman who approached her promising big money for her daughter's virginity.

On her houseboat, as squalls of rain lash the river, Toha's mother Ngao sits barefoot before the television taking pride of place in the main living area, and expresses similar regrets.

On the wall hangs a row of digitally enhanced portraits of her husband and eight children. They are dressed in smart suits and dresses, superimposed before an array of fantasy backdrops: an expensive motorcycle, a tropical beach, an American-style McMansion.

Life with so many children is hard, she says, so she asked her daughter to go with the men. She would not do the same again, she says, as she now has access to better support; Agape International Missions offers interest-free loan refinancing to get families out of the debt trap, and factory jobs for rescued daughters and their mothers.

Mira Sorvino details her week spent in Cambodia with the CNN Freedom Project meeting victims, government officials and activists working to end child sex trafficking.

The news of Ngao's betrayal of her daughter has drawn mixed responses from others in the neighborhood, she says. Some mock her for offering up her daughter, others sympathize with her plight.

Some see nothing wrong with she did at all. Not long after her suicide attempt, Toha was sent to a brothel in southern Cambodia. She endured more than 20 days there, before she managed to get access to a phone, and called a friend.

She told the friend to contact Brewster's group, who arranged for a raid on the establishment. Although children can be found in many brothels across Cambodia -- a survey of 80 Cambodian commercial sex premises found three-quarters offering children for sex — raids to free them are infrequent.

You really are too awful for words. Raddick was desperate, just desperate. She was "wild" to go back with Mrs.

MacEwen, but at the same time I seized my courage. That's just what I wanted, isn't it, darling? I'll be back here in an hour So we three were left.

But really it wasn't my fault. Hennie looked crushed to the earth, too. When the car was there she wrapped her dark coat round her - to escape contamination.

Even her little feet looked as though they scorned to carry her down the steps to us. Who would - if they were seventeen! It's" - and she gave a faint shudder - "the stupidity I loathe, and being stared at by old fat men.

We drew up before an immense palace of pink-and-white marble with orange-trees outside the doors in gold-and-black tubs.

She hesitated, glanced, bit her lip, and resigned herself. I went first - to find the table, of course - she followed. But the worst of it was having her little brother, who was only twelve, with us.

That was the last, final straw - having that child, trailing at her heels. There was one table. It had pink carnations and pink plates with little blue tea-napkins for sails.

Hennie squeezed past her and wriggled on to a stool at the end. He felt awfully out of it. She didn't even take her gloves off. She lowered her eyes and drummed on the table.

When a faint violin sounded she winced and bit her lip again. The waitress appeared. I hardly dared to ask her.

China tea - or iced tea with lemon? Really she didn't mind. It was all the same to her. She didn't really want anything.

Hennie whispered, "Chocolate! But just as the waitress turned away she cried out carelessly, "Oh, you may as well bring me a chocolate, too.

While we waited she took out a little, gold powder-box with a mirror in the lid, shook the poor little puff as though she loathed it, and dabbed her lovely nose.

The waitress came back with the chocolate and the tea. She put the big, frothing cups before them and pushed across my clear glass. Hennie buried his nose, emerged, with, for one dreadful moment, a little trembling blob of cream on the tip.

But he hastily wiped it off like a little gentleman. I wondered if I should dare draw her attention to her cup.

She didn't notice it - didn't see it - until suddenly, quite by chance, she took a sip. I watched anxiously; she faintly shuddered. A tiny boy with a head like a raisin and a chocolate body came round with a tray of pastries - row upon row of little freaks, little inspirations, little melting dreams.

He offered them to her. Take them away. He offered them to Hennie. Hennie gave me a swift look - it must have been satisfactory - for he took a chocolate cream, a coffee eclair, a meringue stuffed with chestnut and a tiny horn filled with fresh strawberries.

She could hardly bear to watch him. But just as the boy swerved away she held up her plate. The silver tongs dropped one, two, three - and a cherry tartlet.

I felt much more comfortable. I sipped my tea, leaned back, and even asked if I might smoke. At that she paused, the fork in her hand, opened her eyes, and really did smile.

But at that moment a tragedy happened to Hennie. He speared his pastry horn too hard, and it flew in two, and one half spilled on the table.

Ghastly affair! He turned crimson. Even his ears flared, and one ashamed hand crept across the table to take what was left of the body away.

Good heavens! I had to fly to the rescue. I cried hastily, "Will you be abroad long? But she had already forgotten Hennie. I was forgotten, too.

She was trying to remember something She was miles away. When I didn't go on she came back and looked at me, very puzzled.

But that took a whole cake to consider. Even then, "Oh well, that depends! I seized the butterfly list off the table.

What about tangerine and ginger? No, something cooler. What about a fresh pineapple cream? Hennie strongly approved. The waitress had her eye on us.

The order was taken when she looked up from her crumbs. I like ginger. You can bring me one. We were dancing to that all last Christmas.

It's too sickening! Hennie said: "Ripping! This place? For the first time she stared about her, trying to see what there was She blinked; her lovely eyes wondered.

A very good-looking elderly man stared back at her through a monocle on a black ribbon. But him she simply couldn't see.

There was a hole in the air where he was. She looked through and through him. Finally the little flat spoons lay still on the glass plates.

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When the car was there she wrapped her dark coat round her - to escape contamination. Even her little feet looked as though they scorned to carry her down the steps to us.

Who would - if they were seventeen! It's" - and she gave a faint shudder - "the stupidity I loathe, and being stared at by old fat men.

We drew up before an immense palace of pink-and-white marble with orange-trees outside the doors in gold-and-black tubs. She hesitated, glanced, bit her lip, and resigned herself.

I went first - to find the table, of course - she followed. But the worst of it was having her little brother, who was only twelve, with us. That was the last, final straw - having that child, trailing at her heels.

There was one table. It had pink carnations and pink plates with little blue tea-napkins for sails.

Hennie squeezed past her and wriggled on to a stool at the end. He felt awfully out of it. She didn't even take her gloves off. She lowered her eyes and drummed on the table.

When a faint violin sounded she winced and bit her lip again. The waitress appeared. I hardly dared to ask her. China tea - or iced tea with lemon?

Really she didn't mind. It was all the same to her. She didn't really want anything. Hennie whispered, "Chocolate! But just as the waitress turned away she cried out carelessly, "Oh, you may as well bring me a chocolate, too.

While we waited she took out a little, gold powder-box with a mirror in the lid, shook the poor little puff as though she loathed it, and dabbed her lovely nose.

The waitress came back with the chocolate and the tea. She put the big, frothing cups before them and pushed across my clear glass.

Hennie buried his nose, emerged, with, for one dreadful moment, a little trembling blob of cream on the tip.

But he hastily wiped it off like a little gentleman. I wondered if I should dare draw her attention to her cup. She didn't notice it - didn't see it - until suddenly, quite by chance, she took a sip.

I watched anxiously; she faintly shuddered. A tiny boy with a head like a raisin and a chocolate body came round with a tray of pastries - row upon row of little freaks, little inspirations, little melting dreams.

He offered them to her. Take them away. He offered them to Hennie. Hennie gave me a swift look - it must have been satisfactory - for he took a chocolate cream, a coffee eclair, a meringue stuffed with chestnut and a tiny horn filled with fresh strawberries.

She could hardly bear to watch him. But just as the boy swerved away she held up her plate. The silver tongs dropped one, two, three - and a cherry tartlet.

I felt much more comfortable. I sipped my tea, leaned back, and even asked if I might smoke. At that she paused, the fork in her hand, opened her eyes, and really did smile.

But at that moment a tragedy happened to Hennie. He speared his pastry horn too hard, and it flew in two, and one half spilled on the table.

Ghastly affair! He turned crimson. Even his ears flared, and one ashamed hand crept across the table to take what was left of the body away. Good heavens!

I had to fly to the rescue. I cried hastily, "Will you be abroad long? But she had already forgotten Hennie. I was forgotten, too.

She was trying to remember something She was miles away. When I didn't go on she came back and looked at me, very puzzled. But that took a whole cake to consider.

Even then, "Oh well, that depends! I seized the butterfly list off the table. Archived from the original on 10 June Retrieved 3 March Legal Information Institute.

Retrieved 13 June Ars Technica. Retrieved 10 February NBC News. Retrieved 25 January Tor onion services.

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