I’m North American born and raised. I come from a good middle class family. I’m intelligent, opinionated, kind…

And I was set in the sights of a man who trafficked me in my own backyard.

Article on pimping: http://communities.washingtontimes.com/neighborhood/rights-so-divine/2011/sep/12/missing-piece-us-anti-human-trafficking-effort/

Article on a woman tricked into the sex trade: http://www.nzherald.co.nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10752933

I met my trafficker through a young woman whom I thought was a friend. She told him about me, gave him my email, and told me she would kill me if he fell in love with me.

That set the stage for his attentions to turn off of her and spotlight onto me.

That is now simple and now easy it is to get into the sights of someone who will destroy your soul.

My trafficker did not make any money off of me. He was not that kind of pimp. At least, not for the two years I was with him… But I am convinced that eventually he would have not only taken financial control, but added other women to his harem. I don’t know, but it would not surprise me if there were other women he trafficked at the same time. The man is a psychopath.

My trafficker got off on knowing I was with other men. He was a voyeur with a huge sadistic streak. He would tell me whom and where and when, and if I did not comply I would be punished.

It started with the introduction of BDSM into the relationship. Claiming me as his submissive and “collaring” me. He isolated me from my family and friends, convincing me that they were bad for me. He ended up being the only person in my life.

I did resist. I procrastinated, I made myself sick, I made myself anorexic, I cut, I drank, I did the drugs that were offered me by the men I was forced to sleep with (which of course led me to being re-victimized when I was vulnerable), I made any sort of excuse I could think of to not prostitute. And still he won.

He even “redeemed” himself by allowing me a “break” for about 2 months. I had become so sickened, so disgusted and dead inside that I was on the verge of suicide. I had already previously made unsuccessful overdose attempts, and I guess he realized he would lose control of me if I were no longer living. I had been collecting medications into a stockpile, enough to kill a horse, along with enough alcohol to drink me into oblivion.

That break was another manipulation. It made me thankful he understood, thankful he was letting me off the hook.

To be continued

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