Author note: - I guess this story takes place around season 2. It doesn't matter when. That isn't really important. Just another warning- you may find this upsetting. I'm not going to pull the don't like don't read bullshit, but I found this pretty upsetting to write so consider yourelf warned. If you can't make it all the way through please at least glance at my author note at the end. It explains a few things.
There are times in my memory that are a little fuzzy.
That's the thing about compulsion; you do things but it's not you doing them. You're just a puppet and someone else is pulling the strings.
I'm curled up in the shower. The hot water ran out a while ago and I'm cold. I didn't want to move though.
She cries out his name. She's in ecstasy.
He knows how to make a woman enjoy herself, after all. How to make her like it. How to force her to like it.
Bang, bang, bang.
She screams, he cums.
I have to move now. I can't let mom find me like this again. It was hard enough to explain away last time. What did I say? Something about an argument with Tyler, I think. It was believable; he has disappeared to do what he needs to do.
I move an arm first to turn off the shower. I reach for my towel. It's big and thick and covers my body.
Of course, that doesn't matter to him.
He waves a hand at her clothes.
"Take them off. Slow-ly" His pupils dilate as the last syllable rolls off his tongue and he smiles with satisfaction. She takes off her top, a ridiculously baggy check shirt that annoys him.
"Now, now, why would you wear a thing like this?" He catches it and waves it in front of her face. She can't stop her hands as they move to the camisole she was wearing underneath.
She wants to cry
She wants to scream.
He waits until her pants are off before he starts touching her. He leans in close and presses her against him. "Smile, love. You're enjoying this."
She enjoys it, really. Of course she does.
I walk from the bathroom to my room. I put on my pyjamas- a large t shirt and soft flannel pants- then get into bed. I don't know why I do. It's not like I can sleep anymore.
He's torturing her today. He likes to do that sometimes. He pushes her to the edge then pulls back at the last moment. She is only allowed release when he says so. She isn't allowed it today.
"Please." She begs. "Oh God I'm so close…" Too close. He draws her back again.
"Who do you belong to?" He whispers in her ear.
She hates herself for her reply.
"You!" It's almost a scream. "Please, I'm yours! Please!"
He grants her release.
I lie on my side in the dark. I wish it felt dark- that's the trouble with being a vampire. There's nowhere to hide. There's always light somewhere. Once upon a time, when I was still human, I curled up in bed in the dark and I could hide.
I can't do that now.
He broke her a couple of times. He's stronger and there are moments when he forgets that.
She screams and sobs as her spine shatters.
Luckily he'd got her off the vervain so he ensured she was enjoying it. Even if the tears were of pain, those screams? They were of bliss and pleasure and ecstasy.
He told her to enjoy it so she does.
I hate how broken I am.
I. Hate. It.
I give into the anger. I love these moments of it. They make me feel strong. When I'm angry like this I play a game. It's a fun one.
I think of the things I'd do to him if I could.
I'd castrate him. Take a knife and cut off his dick and burn it in front of him so he'd never get it back. Eternity without a penis- that'd be hell for a guy, right?
I'd break his spine and scream at him "Why aren't you enjoying this? Why?" I want to know if he'd like that as much as I do. It hurts so much but he makes it feel good.
Of course I enjoy it, I don't have a choice.
Then I come back to reality and see the monster he's made me into.
Before all this I was just Caroline who happened to be a vampire. Being a vampire didn't make me a monster- why should it? There's no one way to live your life as a vampire and I was choosing to live mine in a way that didn't hurt others.
Although… does it really count if I'm hurting him?
I'm not the first girl he's done this to.
One time he calls out another girl's name, even as she cries out his. She can't focus on that, though. He told her to only think of him so she does.
The muscles in his shoulders are tight. They feel good under her fingers.
It's just how I'm going to do it, that's the problem.
He won't let me get take vervain so as soon as he turns up I can't do very much at all.
He's stronger than me, a lot stronger.
He's letting her struggle today.
He has her pinned underneath him and is enjoying how helpless she is.
"Let me go!" That fire in her eyes is fun. He likes it every so often, but he always has to remind her who is boss.
That's easy enough to do.
"Stop."
She stops. She lets him pull her skirt up. He strokes the inside of her thigh. She looks down in horror so he positions himself over her and looks deep into her eyes.
"No no no," chides her. "Look up at the ceiling. Don't look at me… but don't think of anything else."
The fire goes and he's able to do what he wants to her.
He kisses the inside of her thigh.
He smiles to himself as her breathing quickens.
He doesn't see that she's crying.
Recently whenever he tells me to think of him I play my game.
I'm thinking of him after all and he doesn't always specify.
Today is even worse than normal, somehow. That's strange because surely a vagina's more intimate than a mouth.
That doesn't make sucking him off any easier.
She likes it of course, even if she wants to gag afterwards, and her lips are oh-so-soft. His hands grip her hair and hold her head in place. They make sure she moves the way he wants her to.
In her mind she bites down hard. Fangs pierce flesh and the blood that pools is good. It's not like the cum that he forgets to make sure she likes. She hates that. The blood, though? That is good. He pulls her away but doesn't realise how deep she has bitten.
She spits out his member and laughs...
If only that had happened.
At least vampires still have a gag reflex and at least her mom had a late shift that night.
Eventually morning comes. I think I dozed off a little but that tends to make me feel even more tired. I get up. I dress. I drink some blood from the fridge and eat some cereal because I feel like it.
I see the big kitchen knife that we occasionally joke is the murderer knife.
I draw it out of the knife block. It's at least twelve inches long.
I drag it down my arm and watch as the skin splits, bleeds a little, then heals again.
A pale line that might once have been a scar.
Smooth skin that never knew a knife blade.
I take it to my room and hide it beneath my mattress.
I find a lighter and hide that, too.
Eventually he'll come to fuck me in my bed.
He likes it when we do that, he likes to think that I sleep thinking about our times together.
That evening he goes over to her house. Her mother was so kind as to give him that invitation. Sure, he may have forced her hand a little but who's counting?
He needs a good fuck tonight. Something a little rough.
He imagines her scratching his back and pulling his hair as he pounds into her.
He might lose control again but what does it matter? She heals, she enjoys, she cries. That's what it's like rough.
He sits on the bed and waits for her.
I know he's in there. I just hope this works. I don't care if he kills me afterwards. At least I'll have done something.
"Evening, love." He stands and walks over to her.
She doesn't reply.
He smirks.
He looks into her eyes and tells her that she's going to enjoy tonight more than ever. He tells her that it will be rough and hot and heavy. He tells her that they are going to take each other's clothes off and she should follow his lead.
He tears her top off first, and she does the same to his.
Soon they are both naked and he holds her close. He kisses her passionately and she can't help but do the same.
He bites her neck so she bites his. He doesn't notice that she burrows her fangs in a little deeper than he does.
He pushes her down onto the bed.
He enters her and it is wonderful. She's such a good pet, such a good toy.
He doesn't realise that I'm getting a bit better at controlling myself while under compulsion. I can't do much- he's far too strong for that- but I can do enough. He's enjoying himself too much to notice me reach one hand under the mattress for the knife. My other hand is scratching at his shoulders and he likes it a lot. I'm too fast for him to really notice that my other hand is elsewhere.
I grip the handle tightly.
Author note: - I am a huge fan of Klaus and Caroline but I have noticed that some readers in this fandom on this site need reminding of what constitutes sexual assault.
Was this good smut? Did you enjoy it?
Maybe I just didn't tell you to.
Or maybe you don't like rape.
Thank you for reading this last author note- I completely understand if you hated the rest of the story.