I met my husband, Ed, at a dance where he asked me for a date. We met the following weekend and drove to an exclusive restaurant for dinner and dancing. He asked me to marry him on that first date. I turned him down and we continued the evening. He drove me home made no advances and walked me to the door of my apartment. He called for another date. I was impressed with his courtesy and politeness. We dated for several months and he was always the gentleman. The atmosphere of his caring for me and about me slowly began to break down the dense barriers that I had erected after years of neglect and physical/mental/emotional control while growing up. I thought he really loved me and wanted to be with me. We married and he took us away on an extravagant honeymoon. The first several months of marriage were wonderful and I began trusting him more and more.

When I turned 21 he told me we were going to his good friend's house for dinner and drinks. We arrived and there were a few other people there that I knew because they worked with him. Then he excused himself and left the room and the others left the room as well. His friend, Gerry, took me by the arm and led me around the living room showing me his hidden closet filled with photography filming equipment. At first it seemed innocent because I knew that he has a photographer, and then I began getting an uneasy feeling and tried to rationalize that away excusing it because they were good friends and worked together. Then suddenly the unspeakable happened. There was a prick in my arm and shortly I began to get dizzy and things became furry. I slumped to the floor and then there was a mattress and a very large dog. I was undressed and tied up, something was smeared on me, and then the dog was on me in a sexual manner. I could barely move, was repositioned a few times and then some of the rope was loosed. Gerry filmed all of what happened with the dog. I was in between being aware of what was going on and slipping into a dazed state. Then it was over and I was regaining awareness. I was alone the cameras and lights were gone. I sat up on the edge of the mattress wrapped myself in a sheet and crawled to the bathroom. I could barely stand but did manage somehow to shower and get dressed still trying to shake off the effects of the drug. Ed pounded on the door and asked what was wrong, I lied and said I was sick to my stomach....the first of many lies. I opened the door and he was looking very pleased to see me. I never told him what happened, he was good friends with Gerry and they worked together. We sat down to dinner and drinks in the same living room (which was now normal) where I had just experienced an indescribable horror. I began to drink water glasses of liquor to deaden the trauma.

Over the next three years this type of filming was to occur over and over, though never the same scenes it was always terror bondage violent pain mixed with sex. There were objects, animals, men used for the rapes, being stretched in painful positions, pinned with safety pins, and other objects of pain just to name a few. I was always given a shot of something that would leave me in various degrees of being able to move or not, and then later learned that he would give another shot to counter the first one. The various filming's took place every 2 - 3 months, I guess to give me time to heal before the next encounter.

All this time my husband was still courteous polite and unbelievably patient when intimacy after a filming was a problem for me. I hid what was happening from him because I honestly did not think he knew what was going on when he left me at Gerry's. During all of that time, as I learned later, he was intimate with the other girls who Gerry brought over from Europe for filming, and he was the editor for all of the films that Gerry made. He edited the films made of me. He was first the spotter, then the groomer, then my pimp and handler.

I was slowly loosing my mind. There was this incomprehensible contrast between the polite considerate man who was my husband and the man who brought me over to the pornographer's house and left me there to suffer and be filmed. The early years of my life where I had been manipulated mentally and emotionally were the backdrop for this polar existence. One day without thinking I simply could not help myself I ran away and escaped. When he followed me and found me he beat me up and left me for dead. That was the first time he ever beat me up. After that the threats, more assaults, and stalking continued for a long time and eventually stopped.... I had never said a word to anyone. At first the numerous threats while being filmed had kept me silent then after years of silence, that silence kept me silent.

Now after all these years I am healing. I am stepping out and speaking up for all the other girls, young women and adult women who are forced into being filmed against their will. There are many more being filmed in this horror and ugliness than the glamorized xxx that most people think of. I speak out for those who can't speak because of the fears the intimidation and the secrecy.

Naideen