Trigger trigger trigger.

I'm going to post something that's incredibly intense. Something very heavy, something that will trigger anyone who is a survivor of sexual abuse.

I posted my rape experience on the survivor's thread on PSC. I would like to do it again, and I'll do it here.

I've been struggling with it again recently, for no apparent reason, and facing it head on seems to be the best coping mechanism for me.

I have NEVER actually told anyone about this. The words have never come out of my mouth, and I don't know if they ever will. I don't want my family or my friends to have to deal with it, too. They don't need that burden. No one does. But I need a release, I need to deal with it.

I think this happening to me is also a part of my sexual compulsions; I think it's shaped a large part of my sexuality. So, for better or worse, it's made me who I am. It will explain a lot, I think, and it's another step towards dealing with it and possibly being able to talk about it with someone someday.

This is the entire truth as to what happened. Some of my friends simply know I was raped. Some of them are under the impression that it was one person, my ex boyfriend. Some of them don't know anything. But this, what I am about to write here is the entire, full 100% true story.

If you're easily triggered, please don't read it.














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I was 16 years old. I was a virgin. I had been in an on-off relationship with a guy older than me- he was 27 at the time. It was a physically abusive relationship, but I was 16 and stupid, so I stayed.

I was living away from my mom's house at the time. I came back for a visit for one week, and that guy invited me to a house party. I agreed.

It was one of the biggest parties I've ever been to. Kegs and loud music and hardly enough room to move. There were so many people, so much booze, and it was one of the most...amazing things I'd seen at that point in my life. I was new to the partying scene, and slightly frightened of it, so I had one beer and decided to stop. I didn't want to be like the other girls running around screaming and dancing all over every guy in the place. I was content to stick quietly with one or two people.

I didn't find this out until later, but the guy that I came with, the ex, had told a lot of people at this party that I was a kinky bitch and wanted to roleplay a rape with multiple people. He said that no one should be alarmed if they heard anything, it was part of the act; and that no one should say anything because it was like a game.

He told me at 11:30 that he wanted to take me upstairs and talk to me. I followed him, and he sat down on the bed with me. We bullshitted for a couple of minutes, and then 3 other guys walked in. One of them locked the door, and the other one had a small bag under the coat that he was wearing. I didn't know any of them.

At that point, I panicked a little bit. But I was young and stupid and didn't think anything bad would happen to me.

My ex-boyfriend then pinned me down to the bed and told me that he'd been trying to get in my pants for sooooo fucking long, and I wasn't giving it, so he was going to have to take it. I cried and cried and kicked and tried to get him off of me, but he was just too big.

His friend dumped out the bag and threw a rope to my ex, who then tied my arms to the top of the bed. I started kicking, and he punched me, spit on me, told me to shut the fuck up. I did, and he got off the bed to grab the other thing that had been dumped from the bag: a knife. I have no idea what kind of knife it was: it had a silver handle with a teardrop shaped hole in it, and the actual blade was kind of jagged.

I started kicking again, and he jumped on top of me, held the knife to my throat and told me that if I didn't shut up and stop fighting, that he was going to slit my throat and fuck me, anyway.

He held the knife there and undid his pants. The three other guys followed suit. One came over and shoved his limp dick into my mouth. My ex pushed himself in me, and it hurt so fucking much. I can't even tell you. He fucked me, the other guy facefucked me, and the other two guys stood there, like dogs, like they were just waiting their turn. I cried and tried to scream, but my ex pushed the knife against my throat harder every time I did.

So I just let them.

My ex decided to pull out, and he got off of me and let another one on. My ex then proceeded to run the knife over my breasts and stomach, and I got several scratches from it- not deep cuts, but enough to sting. I don't know if they were intentional or not- it may have just been from everyone else moving on me and him not having a great grip, I don't know.

He then decided to ejaculate all over me- my boobs, my stomach, my arms, anywhere that there was bare skin.

Then the fourth guy traded places with the second, and he began to face fuck me. At that point, I had so much saliva and vomit in my mouth and on my face and started choking. The guy pulled out, let me dribble everything out, and then kept going. (Side note- in a weird, strange, fucked up way, this made me wonder about that person. No one else allowed me a moment to breathe, to get everything out of my mouth, but he did. It was like a random act of kindness, if that makes ANY sense at all. I always questioned why he did it, and I wondered if he questioned himself and the others.)

The guy who was currently fucking me then jizzed, once again, all over me. The second guy fucked me and then jizzed, and the last guy did the same.

My ex told the other three guys that they could leave, and they did. I still, to this day, have no idea who they were.

My ex then grabbed the knife, made a pretty deep cut on my leg (so I would "always remember who the real fucking man in my life" is), and told me that if I ever told ANYONE, he would hunt me down and take every last breath from my body. And he'd do it very slowly.

Then he cut my ropes (I couldn't fucking move, anyway), and threw me his shirt that was on the floor. He told me I looked "like the grossest fucking whore he'd ever seen" and to clean myself up after he left. Then I was to wait for 7 minutes (why 7, I have no idea), and then immediately go home.

And that's what I did.



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I talked to Sean last night about it, briefly. I didn't go into any details, really, but he knows that there were 4 people and that there was rope and a knife and that it seemed too...organized and planned for the other three to have no idea what they were doing.

I also told him that there's a sick part of me that wants to actually re-create this. I want it to happen again, under controlled circumstances. I want it to be exactly the same. I don't know if I think it will help me get over it or cope, or if I'm just some sick bitch. I'm not ruling either option out.


It's so hard to deal with this some days. It's so hard to go through life, to talk to other people. It feels like everyone knows and they're all judging me. It's like every person I see can tell, can read it on my face. They all know, they just aren't saying anything. I know that's crazy, too, but that's what it feels like sometimes.


Anyway. Thanks for reading. I hope it wasn't too horrible for anyone. And despite the fact that none of you regular readers actually KNOW me, I hope that your opinion of me has changed. I'm still the same person, I'm still the same little Nymphy, I'm still me.