[There are several Ashley Brooks who have been in the porn biz. And there’s a lot more to this story, but selected are the parts where this 37 year-old Brooks talks about her time in the industry.]

Brooks writes on her MySpace page: A few months after I stopped stripping, my husband started getting into porn. At first I objected, because that was the last thing I wanted in my life, but he convinced me that because I was inadequate, that was the only way he could get off while we were having sex, so I allowed it. Our sex life was as dull and loveless as ever, and consisted of me pleasing him while he watched porn. That was our sex life, and I HATED having sex. I knew that pleasing him was my wifely duty, though, so I allowed it.

Our sex life never got any better, and he became more and more consumed with porn. When we weren’t having sex, he would go to the bathroom with his porn magazines, and masturbate while I was in the other room. I hated the fact that I couldn’t satisfy my husband, but after a while, I just didn’t care anymore.

Eventually, he started telling me that, because I was so hot, I could make a lot of money doing porn. We could barely make ends meet, and he said that he was doing it for the both of us. He eventually sent my picture in to a number of production companies, and I accrued a lot of interest. He said he’d be my manager, and that he’d take care of everything. At first, I really didn’t take him seriously, but after a while I knew that he was serious. I could never say no to him before, and this was no different. I eventually got tired of hearing the guilt trips, and figured that it couldn’t be much worse than what I’d already done. Boy, was I wrong.

When I agreed, we moved to Southern California, and my first meeting was with a “freelance producer” who was a complete scumbag. I knew nothing about the industry, and he convinced me that I had to “show him how good I was,” so I agreed to let him film me while we “did it” on his bed.

It was filthy and disgusting, just like the rest of his wrecked apartment. At this point, I didn’t care about anything, so I just said yes and got it over with. It was the most humiliating experience of my life. I felt like a complete and total prostitute, but the worst thing of all was knowing that I was so worthless to my husband, that he would agree to whore me out like that. My husband thought it was great, but I didn’t get any work, so he sent my picture to a bunch of producers, and we hooked up with a web designer, who designed a site for me, but I had to have sex with him in order for him to do it for free. Of course, I said yes, and this was my first “movie” experience. I immediately started getting work, and did whatever I could to make money.

All the while I was making movies, I started slipping deeper and deeper into depression. I hated having sex, but thought it was no big deal because it was for purely “professional” reasons.

I didn’t know anything about the porn industry, but I learned quickly.

Most of the videos were filmed in very upscale homes, but the conditions were filthy. Not all of the videos I did were sex videos, but even the fetish videos were gross and unsanitary. If I was doing a peeing video, I’d pee right on the ground. I remember in one video, one girl actually peed on the roof of the house. If the girl couldn’t pee, we’d have to wait around until she could, no matter how bad we had to go. If we urinated before it was our time, the whole shoot was ruined, and we’d forfeit our pay for that day. For masturbation videos, used sex toys were offered as props.

On set, if a girl was having reservations, or second thoughts, the producers would become very belligerent. I remember during one particular production, this girl, who was new to porn, came with her boyfriend. She couldn’t have been any older than 19 or 20. When it was time for her scene, she said she wasn’t sure she wanted to do it. She was very distraught, and nervous, but the producers and her boyfriend just kept egging her on.

They told her how sexy she was, and eventually became very irate, telling her how she shouldn’t be there wasting their time if she wasn’t serious. Most producers have absolutely no patience with the girls, even though being on set is a very traumatizing experience. There is no room for compassion in the porn industry.

Anal scenes were the worst!!! Anal sex is stressful enough, but having to stop and start and switch angles is murder, and it’s not uncommon to lose bowel control. It’s disgusting, and extremely humiliating. All you can do is try to put the experience out of your mind, but you never really can.

Production was murder. I would have to wait for hours on set until it was finally time for my scene. While I was waiting, I would sometimes go outside and get high with the other girls. The porn industry makes a big deal about the performers not using drugs, but it is all a lie.

Marijuana was almost always available on set, either from the other performers, or the crew; not only that, but if I had access to it, before production, I would smoke as much meth as I could because it was easier to tolerate the hardcore sex when I was wired. The porn industry doesn’t require drug tests, so I could pretty much be on whatever I wanted when I was filming. As long as we showed up, the producers didn’t care WHAT we were on.

Everyone in the industry was required to take monthly HIV tests, but we were not tested for anything else. It was not uncommon for me to get a yeast infection, or even a bladder infection. When I told one of the other girls about it, she informed me that it was no big deal, and showed me a way to block the discharge so I could continue working.

I worked several times with yeast infections, but no one knew. It was disgusting and unsafe, but my husband didn’t care, and at this point, neither did I. I figured that if I got an infection, I deserved it. As long as I was bringing in the money, anything was alright with him. Not only that, but when I had a bladder infection, sex hurt like hell!!! Most of the time, I couldn’t urinate without it completely burning.

Every film that I made was a total and complete lie. I put up a real good front, but the truth was, I despised having sex. At this point, though, it was just my job, and I had to perform the best I could in order to get the work. The sluttier I acted, the better. I was a really good actress, though, and acted like I was having the time of my life.

While I pretended to love every minute of having sex with the male performers, all I could think about was getting it over with. I couldn’t wait for the money shot, because that meant that it was almost time to leave. I felt absolutely degraded by being there, but I figured that it would only last for a few hours, and I could be on my way. Every movie I made, my husband was there, chatting with the other performers and the photographers.

They hated him. They would call him my “suitcase pimp,” and make fun of him behind his back. One producer in particular told me that I could make a lot more movies if he wasn’t involved. He was the only reason I was degrading myself in the first place, though, so that wasn’t going to happen.

I would tell people how much I loved having sex, and how much of a slut I was. I told one interviewer that I grew up in a Christian background, yet I had this voracious sexual appetite that just couldn’t be repressed. That was the farthest thing from the truth.

Sex, for me, was something I did because I had to, and I hated EVERY minute of it. I remember being in this big “casting call” with tons of other girls. We would bring our pictures, and tell the producers what we would and wouldn’t do, but because I just didn’t give a crap anymore, I told them I would do anything. I had no reservations. I absolutely HATED myself for doing it, but I figured that I was so far-gone, nothing mattered anymore.

Not only that, but while I was in porn, my sex life with my husband got even worse. Even before porn, we rarely had sex….but it became almost non-existent once I started making videos. On the rare occasions we DID have sex, it was usually anal, and we always had to have a porn video on in order for him to become aroused. It was very cold and impersonal, and I dreaded every moment. I felt like a robot, subhuman, just going through the motions.

I started slipping even deeper into depression, until one day, I just couldn’t take it. I told my husband that I refused to do anymore porn, and that he would have to deal with it. He was furious. He slapped me, and basically told me I was ruining everything. He couldn’t really do anything about it, though, because I refused to do any more work, so he just gave up. He insisted that I do more to please him sexually. I told him that the only way I could get off was to smoke meth and pot. Before this, he was completely opposed to drugs, but because he really wanted me to be a sexual animal, he gave in. He started buying me speed and pot, and I used it whenever I could.

He continued to watch porn, and told me he really wished I would go back into the industry. I thought everything would be okay after I quit porn, but it wasn’t. I remained in my depression, and eventually started cutting myself. I hated who I was, and the life that I’d made for myself. I had reached my lowest point, and told myself how much of a slut I was, and that I deserved every slice of the blade.

I did this for a while, and hid it well, until my husband finally caught me one day. He totally freaked out, and I was admitted into a psychiatric ward. I slept for 2 days straight, and was prescribed everything from wellbutrin to lithium. I was diagnosed as manic-depressive, and was kept for several days. During this time, my husband called my estranged dad and told him what a basket-case his daughter was. After a few days, I was released, but I was still depressed. About a year later, my husband kicked me out of the house, and filed for divorce. I was basically homeless.