He told me that nobody would believe me because we'd done it before and I was KNOWN for being a slut.

During the first week of my Freshman year of high school, I got my first boyfriend. We went to the free movie night that the city park held every weekend during the summer, and neither one of us could tell you what the movie even was because we were making out in the grass, a tangle of arms and legs and lips all mashed together. It was terribly romantic. In retrospect, I feel bad for the horde of friends that were sitting near us having to listen to our sloppy make-out session for two hours. After the movie, he and I went off to find somewhere more private because I wanted him to touch my boobs without people looking at us. He told me that his parents were out of town, so we went to his house. When we got there, we were making out some more, and I let him touch my boobs, and then he asked if we could have sex, and I said that I guessed it was okay, as long as we used condoms because I was way too young to be getting pregnant. He didn't have any, and couldn't find where his parents stashed theirs, so I told him no way. That's when things started to go downhill. He held me down and rubbed his crotch on mine and begged me to let him have sex with me. I kept saying no, and asking him to let me up but he wouldn't. After awhile, it became apparent to me that he had no intention of letting me go until we had sex, so I finally gave in. I knew that what he was doing was rape because he didn't stop when I said to stop, and that I hadn't really consented because he forced me, but unfortunately, many high-schoolers are not so enlightened, including him. 
After it happened, I asked him to please not tell anyone what we did, and he agreed. The next day at school, I walked into the classroom where we shared a class with a lot of our mutual friends, and he was already there talking to a huge crowd of male friends. They were pressing him to find out how far he'd gone with me, and he said, "She made me promise not to tell." They said, "THAT MEANS YOU DID IT! You had SEX!!!" and then he said, "Yeah, we had sex!" Right then, my fate was sealed, and I'd be known as a slut for the rest of the time I went to that school. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die because now he'd told everyone who saw us sucking face all night that we'd had sex, and there was no chance anyone would believe me if I told them I hadn't wanted it. It was then that I resolved that, since "no" couldn't stop a guy from taking advantage, then I just wouldn't say "no" anymore. You can't rape the willing, right?
That philosophy of mine tainted every sexual partner I had from then until I was 18, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our relationship was a rocky one, constantly on and off. When we were "on," he treated me like an afterthought. I was pretty much a warm hole for him to put his dick in. When we were "off," he'd tell all of our friends that I was crazy, slutty, overemotional, and a bitch. Only one or two ever saw through all that bullshit, although they still didn't believe me when I told them that he had raped me. They didn't think that I'd want to get back together with him over and over again if that were true. In reality, his forcibly taking my virginity made me feel like he owned me, or at least a part of me, and I wasn't complete without that part that he had, so I had to be with him so I could be whole. Towards the end of Freshman year, I started dating a senior. Red flag 1: He wanted us to be a "secret." Red flag 2: He didn't like me hanging out with my friends because "they're so immature and I don't like them and you're better than them." Red flag 3: If I got a text message while I was out with him, he would take my cell phone and read it and if it was from someone he didn't like, he'd keep my cell phone until he dropped me back off at my house. A bajillion red flags to top it off: Even though he told me I was "too good" to hang out with MY friends, when we hung out with his friends, I was "the little slut" and the "dick-sucking whore." I laughed along with them when he and they would refer to me as such, and when his friends would ask to touch or see my boobs, HE was the one who gave permission. I wasn't even asked. I went along with it, though, because I thought if I don't say "no" then it's okay, but if I DO say "no" then they'll just ignore me and it will be bad. (Terrible mindset.) After 3 months, he broke it off with me because I was "too clingy." (Of course I was too clingy. He isolated me from all my friends and made it so he was the only person I felt safe around. Ironic, since he was the person who was making me unsafe to begin with.)
My sophomore year was marked by another on-off relationship, but that relationship was actually pretty good. While we were together, he always respected my wishes, and while we were apart, he refrained from trash-talking me or trying to turn my friends against me. The REAL problem in my sophomore year was with the on-again-off-again-boyfriend of my friend, let's call her "Trish," who, during what I THOUGHT was one of their "off" phases, (and during one of my off phases with my Sophomore on-off boyfriend) Trish's boyfriend expressed interest in me. It turned out that they were officially "on," but Trish wasn't putting out because every time she did, they broke up, so she was holding out so that he would respect her more. (LOL riiight.) So, he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride in his car, and I agreed. While he was driving, he asked if I would give him road head, and I didn't see the harm in that (MORON! Talk about distracting the driver!!) so I did. When we got out to.... the middle of freaking nowhere... He asked if I'd ever done anal, which I hadn't. He asked if I wanted to, and I said no. Then he asked if I would. That's when my can't-rape-the-willing-so-always-be-willing mindset kicked in, and I said yes. It hurt REALLY BAD because 1) I'd never done it before. 2) His dick was HUGE. 3) Neither one of us knew enough about anal sex to have any LUBE!!! I started crying almost right away, and he asked if I was okay, and I said "It just hurts," and he asked if I wanted him to stop, and I didn't say anything, so he kept going. The next day at school, Trish slapped me across the face and called me a slut, whore, bitch, etc. Every name in the book. She told me that she new I had cheated with her boyfriend and that I'd let him have anal sex with me and that made me a dirty skank. I tried explaining that I'd thought they were broken up. He TOLD me they were broken up! She told me that they weren't broken up, but even if they were, I knew that Trish loved him, so how could I even think of doing anything with him??? Of course, she forgave him, but she never, ever forgave me. I lost a couple of other friends over that, too, because they agreed with her: You DON'T EVER sleep with a friend's ex. Trish's boyfriend still talked to me. But from then on, that's all we did. We actually got to be quite close friends. Whenever Trish was mad at him, we'd talk about what a bitch she was.
My junior year of high school, I moved back to my hometown to live with my Dad. My reputation didn't travel that far. I kept a low profile there, and didn't have too many boyfriends. My senior year, I got together with a very kind boy in my own grade. I am ashamed to admit it, but I was pretty cruel to him. I like to blame it on the fact that I was so abused in many of my relationships prior, and that was just how I knew to be IN a relationship, but it's also partly because I just didn't respect him. He was taking 11th grade English in one of his elective slots because he'd failed it the previous year. I was a straight-A student without even trying. I never saw him as my equal, but in kindness, heart, and compassion, he outstripped me BY FAR. Anyway, I spent Spring Break back where all the trouble happened. I texted Trish's boyfriend to see what he was up to, and he told me that he and Trish had broken up again and he thought it was for good that time and all he wanted was to have sex with someone else and forget all about her. He wanted me to have sex with him. I told him that I couldn't because I was in a relationship and wouldn't cheat. He kept on asking and asking over and over, just like my Freshman boyfriend, but this time, it was over text messages. He couldn't hurt me, or so I thought. I believed I had the power. Finally he gave up and asked if I would just come hang out with him.
It was around 2 A.M., so I had to sneak out to meet him. I got into his car, he drove out to the middle of nowhere, and he raped me. There wasn't even the illusion of consent that time. Of course, he told me that if I told anyone, he'd tell them I was lying, and nobody would believe me because we'd done it before, I was KNOWN for being a slut, and I snuck out of my house to meet him in the middle of the night of my own free will. I got back to my hometown, and my boyfriend, I couldn't even let him touch me. I felt so awful. I felt used, abused, and I hated what had been done to me, but I also felt GUILTY for letting it happen. What did I expect, sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet someone who I KNEW wanted to have sex with me? I got into his car on my own. I should have known what would happen. My boyfriend found the text messages, which included things from Trish's Boyfriend like, "You liked it last time," and "Come on, we're great together, and nobody has to know." And things from me like, "You know I'm sexually attracted to you, but you also know I have a BOYFRIEND," and "If I were single, it would be different. I would fuck you in a heartbeat." So he drew the only conclusion that made sense to him: I'd cheated. He confronted me. At first, I was just angry that he went through my phone. It was a violation of privacy, and he should have trusted me enough to not do that. When he countered by saying that I wouldn't have a problem with it if I didn't have something to hide, and who was this guy anyway, and was he better than (senior boyfriend) and was that why I hadn't wanted him touching me, because this other guy was so much better than (senior boyfriend)?? That's when I broke down crying and told him the whole story. Before that, he hadn't even known about my freshman year. I never claimed to be a virgin, but I hadn't told him that I wasn't, either. He was SO kind, and SO understanding. He told me OF COURSE a "yes" under coercion didn't count as consent. OF COURSE I had the right to trust a long-time friend, and OF COURSE it was not my fault that my trust, and my body, had been violated. We ended up breaking up after senior year when I went off and joined the military, and he flunked BOTH his English classes, and a history class, and had to repeat senior year. He did help me tremendously, though, in taking back my ability to say "no." Hearing confirmation of what I'd always thought to be true, but still doubted because nobody, not even my own mother, believed me, and FROM a sexual partner, made me realize that I was allowed to say no. And that anyone who ignored the "no" and forced a "yes" was a rapist. I did not deserve to be raped. I did not deserve to be called a slut because I was raped. Nobody deserves to be called a slut.