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Fifty Shades of Truth and BS

Exposing abuse under the guise of BDSM & related reflections on self-recovery.

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M was for Master

We did not participate in BDSM casually. To my partner and me at the time, it was our lifestyle and we lived our lives as such. He was my Master and I was his slave. I wore a slave collar on my neck 24/7 to show his ownership over me and I obeyed his every command. I called him Master but in public I shortened his formal title to “M”. I attempted to keep our lifestyle somewhat discreet outside of our home but my Master frequently enjoyed demonstrating his control over me in public which always made me feel ashamed or degraded in some way.

The locked metal collar that I wore 24/7 was sometimes a tip off to strangers as to what kind of relationship my Master “M” and I had. Sometimes in public he would grab my collar and forcefully pull me around with it much like he would a dog in training just because he enjoyed seeing how strangers would react. He basked in the feeling that he had all control over me and that I would do whatever he wished regardless of how it made me feel. I was his slave after all, and he taught me that a good slave does what their Master commands under any circumstance. And I was prepared to do exactly that. Although the thought of following his every wish terrified me, it scared me much less than disobeying his commands out of fear of a severe punishment or reprimand that was sure to come should I transgress.

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My 24/7 slave collar with a fancy pendant attached.

But something changed in me eventually. After years of what I now see as abuse, I started to take into account how the strangers that were subject to my Master’s treatment of me were reacting. They were shocked and astonished. It wasn’t only strangers that were shocked but also our long time friends who had seen more than most strangers could imagine. They started to make comments to my Master that upset him. They did not think our relationship was healthy and some stopped coming around us. And I didn’t blame them. Their absence helped me to realize that my Master’s and my relationship was not healthy.

The little seed of doubt had been planted in me long before I started to notice how other people were reacting to my Master’s and my relationship. But I never trusted myself enough to nourish that seed and allow it to grow. I did not listen to many warnings that various concerned people threw my way. I continued to be the good slave that my Master wanted me to be and ignored how horrible I felt inside. And I now know that this is an unhealthy codependent behavior. Codependency was something I learned as child growing up in an environment filled with drugs, alcohol and abuse. I was simply reverting back to what had been ingrained in me since a young age and it was more than difficult for me to stop. I needed help but I did not know how to pursue it, especially while under my Master’s control.

I eventually began to see a therapist who instantly pinpointed my codependent behaviors. I was honest with my therapist and told her about ho my Master’s and my relationship was ran. He was in control of everything and I had no say. I was surprised that he allowed me to go to therapy but I told my therapist if he told me to stop that I would obey. If I did not, there would be repercussions that I wanted nothing to do with. She was concerned and asked me why I wanted to be with such a man. And at that moment I realized that I no longer felt like I had a choice with my Master. I did not feel that I could simply leave him. I was terrified that he would either kill me or ruin my life in some way. And I was shocked that our relationship had gotten to that point but I did not know what to do about it. My therapist was kind enough to suggest a few ways that I could begin my exit from the relationship but at that time my Master demanded I stop therapy and so I heeded his wishes.

I held onto my seed of doubt but it took a catastrophe that was far beyond my control to end the abusive relationship. M was my Master and I can honestly say that it was he who officially ended our relationship. I am unsure if I would have ever mustered the courage to leave him despite all of the doubt that I had growing inside of me. My slavery was my identity. I had forgotten all other sides of myself and did not believe that I could find them again. M had done a good job beating the true me into oblivion and obscurity. But M also blessed me when he let me go. That was when I was forced to find those parts of me that seemed to be lost. I found that they were not lost but just hidden and to this day I still find parts of myself that had vanished under M’s control.

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His Idea of Polyamory Was One Sided – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


Over the years I have encountered so many different definitions and ways to describe polyamory.  I ran across a definition on the website www.PolyFidelity.org.au that I found to be most accurate;

In 1999, Morning Glory Zell-Ravenheart was asked by the editor of the Oxford English Dictionary to provide a definition of the term (which the dictionary had not previously recognised). Her definition was:

The practice, state or ability of having more than one sexual loving relationship at the same time, with the full knowledge and consent of all partners involved. This term was meant to be inclusive, and in that context, we have never intended to particularly exclude “swinging” per se, if practitioners thereof wished to adopt the term and include themselves… The two essential ingredients of the concept of polyamory are more than one; and loving. That is, it is expected that the people in such relationships have a loving emotional bond, are involved in each other’s lives multi-dimensionally, and care for each other. This term is not intended to apply to merely casual recreational sex, anonymous orgies, one-night stands, pick-ups, prostitution, “cheating,” serial monogamy, or the popular definition of swinging as “mate-swapping” parties.

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Polyamory is a hot topic amongst the BDSM community.  There are many people within the community who engage in Dom/sub relationships and also identify as polyamorous.  I have met many “poly families” who seem quite happy and fulfilled in their lives.  It can happen, but all parties must be fully on board.

However, I personally do not identify as polyamorous.  I believe that there are people who are truly polyamorous and those who are not.  I do not believe that there is an in between or gray area.  You can either accept and live in the poly lifestyle or you can’t.  People who force polyamory on themselves but who are not truly polyamorous cannot be happy in their heart of hearts.  There are countless people who have tried to engage in polyamorous relationships and found that they cannot be content living in such a lifestyle.  Usually the main factor that determines so is jealousy.  Jealousy after all, is a natural human emotion and it rears its ugly head so frequently among people who engage in polyamorous relationships.

Abuser M identified as polyamorous.  There was only one catch.  He demanded that me, his main partner stayed true to him and only him.  He would not allow me to engage in any romantic relationship outside of our own.  He wanted complete control of me in every way and it would have been a threat to him if I shared my love with anyone else.  Conveniently, I did not personally identify as polyamorous and the word “no” was something I never said to abuser M.  Me having another partner would never be an issue because it was something I was not interested in.

About a year and a half into our relationship abuser M revealed to me that he was preparing to move another girl into our home so that he could engage in a polyamorous relationship with her.  What was I to do other than agree?  I was completely submissive to him in every way and whatever he wanted was delivered to him without a fuss.

He knew that I was stressed about the new girl that was about to enter our relationship and to appease my anxiety he offered up a few ground rules that he portrayed as a way to displace my distress.  He told me that I would always be his primary partner – meaning I was his number one or sorts.  He told me he loved me more than her and that I would always be his priority.  He also said that there would be a clear pecking order in our household and that this girl would be made to do whatever I wished.  She would be on the bottom of our kinky totem pole.  I tried to accept these meager offerings but deep inside knew that nothing would make me feel better about what was about to take place.

The other girl arrived and he quickly collared her as his slave.  We both wore the same 24/7 collar only hers was heavier to signify that she was more submissive to him than I was.  I took it as a clear sign that he desired her more than me because he only wanted complete and utter submission from his women.  I now see that this tactic was just another way to put me down and keep me under his thumb.  I could never be quite good enough for him.

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I wore the 1/4 inch collar & she wore the 3/8 inch design to signify our level of submission towards our Master.

We converted our bedroom so that the other girl could sleep on the opposite side of him as me, but we were all to sleep in the same bed.  Abuser M wanted to have both of us at the same time even though her and I wanted nothing to do with each other.  We both had assigned roles within our house which became a great source of tension as I was used to fulfilling all of the roles before she had arrive.  Both of us were treated as slaves, waiting on him hand in foot.  He also physically abused the other girl yet she always asked for more.  I was selfishly thankful that he had someone else to release some of his sadistic tendencies on.  By creating such a household, abuse M set himself up to be the ultimate king of his own delusional castle.

Eventually this girl also became violent and abusive towards me.  I felt like I was literally going crazy due to my living situation and I was torn.  I was being forced to live a life that I wanted nothing to do with but if I chose otherwise, my Master would want nothing to do with me and would release me.  He told me that I had no say in the matter and that if I did not agree with his decision to engage in polyamory I could leave.  In retrospect, I wish that I had left him at that point but I now know that it was impossible for me to do so because I was completely dependent on him in every way.  He had managed to situate my life so that I could never leave and if I did ever try, it would be a horrible mess.  I eventually found this to be very true when I was able to escape his control at a later time.

There is so much more that I can say about this “polyamorous” relationship that I was forced to be on one side of but I feel those words may be better suited for other blog posts.

The reason for this post is to point out that abuser M’s behavior and treatment of me was abusive and he acted solely on his narcissism.  He wasn’t living the poly lifestyle because if he was, he would have also allowed me to do so.  Polyamory is not a one-sided street.

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 After conversing with many true self-proclaimed polyamorists, I found that they were disgusted with his behavior and also classified it as abuse, as I was not truly consenting to such behavior.   He was using the guise of polyamory to disguise the fact that he wanted to engage in a sexual relationship with another woman regardless of what I thought.  I now know that it didn’t matter what I thought, but he titled himself as polyamorous so that he could justify the extra relationship to people who knew us.  Yes, he openly displayed his polyamorous relationship to our mutual friends, family and coworkers.  How else could he possibly explain the extra relationship that he was engaging in?

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Dear Reader; Thank You From the Bottom of My Heart! <3

Dear Reader;

Let’s be honest.  I was terrified to create Fifty Shades Of Truth and BS because I knew it would expose the unflattering truths of the BDSM lifestyle that I used to live. The social stigma and the daily life associated with such a lifestyle are not nearly as glamorous as the elaborate fantasies told in the Fifty Shades Trilogy (by author E. L. James).  Yet, here you are still reading.

Most people cannot begin to fathom the lifestyle that I onced lived as an active member of the BDSM community.  I was once labeled as a slave and I naively assumed the position given my previous life conditioning.  I did not have the ability to say “no” to abuser M nor was I able to recognize that such a relationship was unhealthy and doomed from the get-go.  Did I live the 24/7 BDSM lifestyle by choice?  No.  There was a time when I was in denial and refused to believe or acknowledge that my introduction and entry into the lifestyle was against my will.  However, after quite a bit of recovery work I now see that my apparent complete submission to a self proclaimed sociopath (amongst other things) was nothing more than a product of the combination of circumstance associated with the neglect and abuse that I endured as a child as well as the vulnerabilities associated with such traumas.  My vulnerabilities were completely exposed and apparent to such a man of wit and manipulation.  And he seized the opportunity to his advantage. 

I now also realize that I am not alone in this frequent phenomenon.  BDSM can seem fun and enchanting but it can also be very dangerous and even deadly at times.  And that is one of the many reasons as to why I am ending the silence on my personal experiences with domestic violence and related abuse.

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Let’s be even more honest.  I truly believed that I would be highly stigmatized due to the lifestyle that I engaged in (despite the good intention behind the message that I am trying to exude here).  If only I could easily convey the isolating stigma that I have personally encountered by being an open member of such a community but it is not so easy to comprehend if you have not personally encountered similar stigmatization yourself.  It is an assumed and calculated risk if you openly claim to engage in the BDSM lifestyle.  Yet such a risk healthily provokes the members of the BDSM community to lovingly and loyally support each other as if they are all members of an extended tight knit family.

However… to my great astonishment I have encountered 99% positive feedback on my blog.  I am taken aback!  Yes of course I have encountered a few negative duds along the way, but such is life.  I won’t let words bring me down after all I have endured in life.

Anyways, what I really want to say is…

THANK YOU FOR FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!

For your support.

It means the world to me. 

This letter is intended for everyone and anyone who is reading my blog, despite your opinions or viewpoints.  The purpose of my blog is to spread the word about the dangers associated with BDSM and related domestic abuse while also promoting my recovery from CPTSD.  Your presence here on my blog has accomplished just that.  So, thank you again from the bottom of my heart.

With Love,

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 P.S. I hope you stay tuned in to my future journey!

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The First Munch Was Awkward – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


You may be wondering exactly what a munch is.  A munch is a casual social meeting where participants that attend are interested in or involved in BDSM.  Munches are useful to members of the BDSM community as they are a means and a physical venue to connect.  Mind you munches were popularized well before the era of social media but munches are still widely attended.  Munches act as a source of education and social interaction within local BDSM communities.  You can find a munch in nearly any large city!  Google it and see.  Perhaps you would like to check one out for yourself.

The first official munch that I attended was in 2012.  I am unsure how abuser M found out about said munch but he suggested that we check it out to possibly connect with like minded people.  I was more than happy to speak with other people in similar situations to me.  Abuser M and I did live the BDSM lifestyle 24/7 after all.  There were not many people at that time who were open about living the BDSM lifestyle.  I treasured the idea of making any friends who also lived the lifestyle and who were open to speaking about it with me.  I hungered for other humans to talk to.  I was completely isolated from the real world.  After quite some time of feeling alone in the abuse I endured, I gladly agreed to attend the munch with abuser M, not that I could really say no to him.

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I still have some specific memories about the first munch that I attended although I don’t remember a lot of details because abuser M and I attended quite a few other munches after the first trial run.  I felt completely awkward attending the first munch.  At a munch you are outing yourself to the attendees, the public around you and therefore the world.  You can’t really hide the fact that you are involved in the BDSM community if you are yapping about it with a group of people over fries and beer.  The first munch that we went to was held in downtown Berkeley, CA in a small but popular cafe.  Abuser M put on my old special “bling” collar lock just to show off his property.  This collar lock was only worn at openly BDSM events as abuser M was of the impression that the rhinestones were flashy and not “public appropriate”  since it attracted more attention than my 24/7 collar.

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My old “bling” collar lock – only worn for special BDSM related occasions.

The first munch that we attended was geared towards the younger adults that were involved in the local BDSM community, specifically those who were 30 years of age and under.  At the time of our first munch, abuser M and I both qualified for this only requirement to attend the meeting (I still do).  At the munch we sat around restaurant tables and openly spoke about BDSM topics amongst ourselves.  Attendees came and went as they pleased.  Some people had obviously met before and there was even a munch leader who was in charge of organizing the event each month.  We met a few nice people and exchanged contact information with a various other people that we had met.  Overall the munch felt very awkward and almost forced until I consumed a bit of alcohol and only then was it easier to open up to the other attendees and begin to make connections.

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That wasn’t the last munch that abuser M and I attended but was certainly the first munch that I do remember attending and it marked my memory.  It wasn’t very eventful yet it cemented abuser M’s force over me because he felt even more comfortable displaying me as his property openly in public.  He felt comfortable talking about the subject of BDSM amongst other like-minded people and even confessed to me that he felt like he could fit in a community for once.  Sadly, over time he could not maintain sufficient contact to make many like minded friends in the BDSM community and probably still has not (yet he still claims to actively live the lifestyle).  He is anti-social even in one of the most antisocial communities that I have ever encountered.

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Abuser M once confessed to me that he had always felt alone… after beginning to understand the level of abuser M’s sociopathy, I could not agree with him any more.  People who openly thrive off of the extreme suffering of others such as Abuser M are downright scary.  I rarely encountered people amongst even the BDSM community that I considered as twisted and sadistic as abuser M.  Even amongst extreme sexual sadists, he is a loner and an outcast.

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The Pet/Slave Names Given To Me By Abuser M… – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


I hate my name.  I hate my name. I hate my name.  I hate my name.

My first name is Amber.  Many people tell me that the name is fitting for me especially given that my hair is golden-red.  However, I am not exactly a fan of the name.  I’ve never understood until recently why I dislike my name so much other than the fact that hearing it literally makes my ears buzz and ring.

I’m sure that I am not completely aware of all of the reasons that I loathe my birth name but through my (C)PTSD recovery journey I have begun to recognize that my name conjures up horrific memories from my abusive childhood.  I mistakenly confided this vulnerable information with abuser M when we had first met and I now realize that he immediately seized the moment as a way to take control of me… through my name.

Abuser M instantly took advantage of my vulnerability and suggested that he give me a “pet-name” that only he could call me.  That sounded rather nice to me over repeatedly hearing him call me the name that makes my ears ring.  And so he gave me the first pet-name that I acquired while under his control.  He dubbed me “slutpet”.

SLUTPET - If found call SIR (###) ###-####
My first pet-name & collar: SLUTPET If found call SIR (###) ###-####

He called me my new pet-name lovingly.  I now see the contradiction as a simple oxymoron and one way of many for abuser M to take control of me mentally.  Abuser M created a heart shaped pet tag encrusted with pretty pink swarovski crystals to display my new degrading pet-name for all to see.  The tag was engraved “SLUTPET If FOUND CALL SIR (###) ###-####”.  He attached the tag to a collar that he had obtained on Haight Street in San Francisco and gingerly clasped it on my neck.  I now see how forcing me to wear such a bold and clearly degrading sign on my neck was just another one of abuser M’s manipulative and calculated control tactics.

How original… but I grasped on to the degrading name because I wanted him to love me.  It is now horrifically sad for me to realize that I had prefered to be called slutpet over my birth name of Amber.  After I embraced my first pet-name I knew that I would take on whatever name abuser M would give me.  I now realize that abuser M further used  pet-names as a form of control over myself.

Eventually I was given a second pet-name by abuser M which ultimately became the pet-name that he would regularly call me in private.  At this time I cannot quite remember how or even why he came up with this new pet-name but the name now gives me the shivers.  The second pet-name that abuser M gave to me was “cuntly”.   

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Custom “CUNTLY” collar as well as the first 24/7 collar that abuser M locked on me.

  Of course abuser M called me cuntly as if it were an honor for me to wear his degrading name.  And yet again a custom collar was created for me that clearly spelled out my shameful pet-name CUNTLY.  Abuser M said that this collar was only for “play” and I would rarely have wear it outside.  However, he would often threaten to force me to wear the degrading collar in public as a form of punishment if I had “disobeyed” him in any way…I only wore it in public a few times but those few times were enough to realize that I did not like to disobey abuser M.

I am uncertain why, perhaps it was shame over time but abuser M eventually transformed my pet-name cuntly into a short and less publicly degrading name; he began to call me “c-ree”.  C-ree to abuser M was a more publicly acceptable form of his favorite pet-name cuntly which he would rarely call me in public.  I now see that abuser M realized his horrific treatment of me was rarely accepted in society… unless you are a member of the BDSM community where nearly anything flies.

Another public pet-name that abuser M would frequently call me was “Red”. Yet again, I am uncertain when abuser M began calling me this name but I do know why.  It was my “professional” pet-name.  He believed it was acceptable for him to call me Red in professional situations such as business meetings, events, etc. I even had a personalized email address through his IT consulting business… red@abuserM.com.  Of course his slave, his pet had to also perform as a girlfriend and eventually fiance in public and professional situations.

 I absolutely dislike the pet-name red. Why? Because the name reminds me of Galina Reznikov aka Red from the Netflix Series Orange Is the New Black.

Kate Mulgrew (Galina Reznicov aka Red) from OITNB
Kate Mulgrew (Galina Reznikov aka Red) from OITNB

 After I told abuser M about loathing my birth name, there is only one instance that I can recall where he had called me Amber out loud in public.  The only time that he acknowledged who I really am by calling me by my name was in court where I had taken him at the end of our relationship to obtain a Domestic Violence Restraining Order.  In the court in front of a female judge, he clearly called me Amber. Of course he could not show his true self and call me the names he had always called me so “lovingly” such as slutpet, cunlty, c-ree, or red in front of a female judge.  It almost didn’t even sound real, like I had never heard my name come out of his mouth ever before.  The sound of abuser M saying “Amber” out loud was almost a shock and a blow to my ears… because my name does after all bring up horrific flashbacks.

On the bright side of all of this – because of the abuse that I endured I now have the opportunity to confidentially and legally change my full name to whatever my heart desires. I already have the name picked out but I want to sit with it for a while before I finalize my decision.  It is quite exciting for me to take this opportunity, it will be a chance to renew my sense of self and to become who I want to become without any inhibitions.  I like to tell people that I am simply upgrading my name.  I cannot wait for the day that I am able to accomplish this important step in my recovery.  It gives me something to look forward to, almost as if I have a new future ahead of me.

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