The First Time I Was Taken

The following is a completely true story. It is as close of an authentic retelling as you would ever be able to get. I’ve processed, I’ve healed, I’ve grown stronger, and I’ve discovered an amazing life from it…

This was a couple years ago back in high school. I had been talking to this guy who was a year older than me for about two weeks, Dylan. Well, Dylan and I both ended up seeing each other at a massive bonfire one Friday night. It was huge and there were a lot of people there. I went with a group of my friends and he went with a couple of his friends. 
An important piece of information: I was wearing a green long sleeve top that was kind of thin and I didn’t have a bra on. It was March. Outside. At night. So yes, my nipples were poking through my shirt. I didn’t think most people noticed but apparently a lot did. One of his friends cracked a joke about it and Dylan actually stood up for me. He told off his friend and I felt like I could trust him. 
We ended up hanging out throughout most of the night and I drank a couple of Trulys and had a puff from someone’s joint. My tolerance for alcohol was still pretty low back then but this was the first time I’d ever smoked weed before. I was pretty crossed and I think he knew and took advantage of it.
Dylan offered to drive me home and I pounced at the opportunity. I told my friends to leave without me and he walked me over to his truck. We hung out just talking for about twenty minutes as everybody left and then it was just his truck in the empty field. He started to kiss me and I kissed him back, and before I knew it we were making out. After a minute he slid his hand down my shorts and I pulled back, telling him that I didn’t want to do anything like that. He took his hand away and apologized. I believed him. We kept making out and then a few minutes later he started his truck up and began to drive. 
With his hand on my thigh we drove for about ten minutes before he pulled into an empty lot in our town that was overgrown with weeds and plants. My heart was beating a little fast and I gave him a sort of what are we doing here? look. He stared back at me and told me I was beautiful. He told me that he was falling for me and that we had to be together. He was basically lovebombing me and my stupid high school self fell for it. I was all over him, kissing and hugging him in his seat. Before I knew it we were making out again. His hands slid under my top and I slid back once more, kind of heartbroken that he tried it again. Before I could even say anything he asked me “Oh so you can put out those baby tits for everyone to see but I can’t even touch them?” I pulled back and defensively threw my arms up over my chest. I remember asking him what he was saying and he pulled me into him and whispered “I need you, Claire.” 
I told him to stop twice, but he didn’t. He began to kiss me as he slid his hand back under my top, fondling my nipple. He squeezed my breast and then pulled his hand out and placed it on my cheek. “I need you” he said again pushing my chin up so he could kiss me down my neck and onto my chest. He tugged at my top and it slid past my shoulders and came off over my head. With the other hand he pushed me back onto the seat so I was laying kind of on my side. After playing with my tits for a moment, he brought his hand down to the top of my shorts and started to mess with the button. I told him to stop again. He unzipped them and slid them down a couple inches to expose my panties. I was wearing a thong that was made of a thin material and he simply pulled it to the side and put his cold fingers on my bare pussy. I remember them being cold and rough. He started to rub my lips as his other hand fondled my tits while also holding my chest down on the seat. 
I turned my head into the nook of the seat cushion to hide my face and the tears that came as his fingers went inside me. He played with me like that for almost five minutes. I felt myself getting wetter the more he fingered me, which only made me cry more. I think Dylan thought I was moaning, he didn’t stop. He didn’t even check with me. Not even a You like that? or a This feel good? I had gotten so used to the feeling of his fingers inside me that when he suddenly slid his dick inside me I jumped. I literally squirmed in the seat and yelped. Dylan chuckled and started to fuck my pussy. He had one hand on my tits and the other pushing my face into the nook of the cushion. I know he heard me crying too, I think he liked it. He fucked me for about five minutes like this before turning me around and pulling my waist up a little bit. I was pinned down on my stomach and he kept fucking me. I stopped crying when I saw all of my mascara pooling on the seat. I remember getting really sweaty on the leather and eventually drooling on it. 
A couple minutes later he spun me over and turned me to the side so I was half sitting up on the middle seat and he was on his knees fucking me. When he saw my face with the dry tears and runny mascara he laughed. He kept fondling my tits while he fucked me. I was starting to dissociate by this point and just looked out the windshield at the trees and the night sky. I didn’t even notice him finishing until he pulled out and I felt a warm sensation on my stomach. I looked down and saw a pool of cum leaking down into my crotch. I started to pull myself back and try to wipe it with my hands but Dylan used one of his hands to push mine up. With his other hand, he wiped the cum off of me with my top and then threw it at my face. He told me to wipe the tears and mascara away, that I looked like a mess.
He didn’t talk to me as he drove me home from there. I just kind of sat in his backseat processing. When he pulled into my neighborhood I pulled my damp top back on and tried to gather my things. I couldn’t find my phone and began to look frantically. I guess Dylan noticed and so he said “Here’s your phone by the way,” reaching his arm back so I could grab it from him. I immediately had a lump in my throat and my eyes got blurry again. He had my phone the entire time, and he was making sure I didn’t have access to it. That realization terrified me. I snatched the phone and started to cry harder.
When he came to stop in front of my house I climbed out of the backseat and slammed his truck door shut, running into my house. A lot of the rest of the night is hazy, but I remember very quickly ripping off all the clothes I was wearing and throwing them into the back of my closet. I remember taking a really really really hot shower and scrubbing my skin hard until it was raw and red. I remember falling asleep wrapped up in a lot of blankets, bawling. 
He didn’t talk to me anymore at school after that. I didn't talk to him or any of his friends after either. He knew what he did to me. I cried a lot, and I was depressed for a couple weeks. I lost a lot of energy, and had no interest in anything sex-related anymore. I stopped talking to guys, I stopped dressing provocatively, I couldn’t even masturbate for over a month. And then something happened…
I can’t recall what exactly sparked it, but one night I was starting to feel a little horny, but I couldn’t get wet. So somehow I got the idea to put back on the clothes I was raped in. I don’t remember why, but it seemed like it would work. I dug through my closet and found the thong I had on, the shorts, and the top. The dried cum had made the shirt all crusty and the panties were all wrinkled up. I put them all on and laid down on my bed and started to rub myself. I got wet within seconds. I don’t know why it worked (and part of me still doesn’t), but I had one of the best orgasms I had ever had. I still own the panties to this day.

I’m totally fine now by the way! I’ve processed this in my own ways and it’s really opened up a whole new world for me. It’s been a long development, as I would eventually go on to be raped one more time in college and groped and harrassed a couple dozen times, but all those are stories for a different time…