A/N: This is my very first fanfic. I've been reading fics here for a long time. I had this idea swirling in my head for ages now, and I finally decided it was time to write it down and share it with the world. I hope you like it. Please review, and if you feel so inclined, favorite and/or follow.

This story is going to be on the dark side, at least for the first half or so. It will get lighter eventually. It is Delena-centered, within an alternate universe, and all characters are human. If you have any aversion to forced sex scenes, adult language, violence, abuse, or anything of that nature, then this story is probably not for you. You've been warned.

Thank you! And, enjoy!

Chapter 1: First Impressions

Elena's POV

It feels like we've been driving for hours, but really it's only been about ten minutes. Uncle John could not have possibly been more cryptic this morning. He came into my room, shook me awake, told me to pack a bag, and then he told me to get in the car without giving me any idea of where we're going. I mean, really, I'm not surprised. John and I don't exactly have a great relationship, but he's been my guardian for the past six months.

Six months. It's been six months since the accident. Six months since my world came crumbling down. If it hadn't been for Tyler freaking Lockwood, I would be living the good life. Well, not the good life. But, something better than this. Six months ago is when my brother died. He got impaled by a tree branch. He got impaled by a tree branch, because I was driving under the influence because of Tyler. Freaking. Lockwood.

That's why my uncle is now responsible for me...because my dad felt that he was a sorry excuse for a father. And, I won't lie, he was. But my uncle hates me and anything would be better than the life I've been semi-living for the last six months.

We pull off the street onto a driveway surrounded by oak trees that create a canopy over the pavement. It is seemingly endless, but we soon pull up to a massive black iron gate that has to be at least fifteen feet high. The words above the gate read "The Salvatore Boarding House for Troubled Girls." What is this place?

"Hello. This is John Gilbert. Damon is expecting me." Damon? Who's Damon? And where are we? A million questions are running through my head as the imposing gate in front of us slides open. We drive down the driveway through more lush trees until finally, a house comes into view. No, not a house. A mansion. The place is gargantuan. It looks like the size of a freaking hotel, and it also looks like whoever lives here isn't hurting for money.

The outside is a creamy color stucco. It has two oversized, ebony French doors at the entrance, and tons of windows all around the exterior. I try to peek into the windows as we drive up, but they all seem to be tinted to the point where it's impossible to even catch a glimpse of what's inside. The whole place seems to have this shroud of mystery that both excites and terrifies me at the same time.

We pull up to a circle drive in front of the house that surrounds a beautiful white, granite fountain with a statue of a woman pouring water out of a cistern as it's centerpiece. I'm so busy ogling over the scenery, that I almost miss Uncle John telling me to grab my bag and follow him.

I've learned very quickly, that like my father, Uncle John does not like having to repeat himself. So, I obediently do as he says, even though I'd like to give Uncle John a piece of my mind, grab my bag, and make a run for it. We walk up to the doors, and they are even bigger up close than they seemed from the car.

As Uncle John rings the doorbell, I feel a sudden tremor go through my body. I tell myself that it's just the chill in the air, but I know that my nerves are getting the best of me.

It feels as if we've been standing at the door for half an hour before the door starts to creak open. And I feel like I'm going to throw up out of anticipation of what could possibly behind that door. I've been staring at my feet since we got to the door, but now I decide to look up and see exactly what my uncle has brought me in to.

My heart beats erratically inside of my chest as I see two black leather shoes that probably cost more than my whole wardrobe, a pair of black pants and a weathered black leather jacket over a black v-neck t-shirt. Does this guy own clothes in any other color?

My heart stops as I look into the man's face, and I see eyes the color of the clearest exotic ocean. I can't focus on anything else. I'm probably drooling. I also notice that he has a head full of raven black hair that matches his choice of clothing. The guy screams danger and excitement and my God, he's hot.

"John, my friend. Good to see you. And what is it that you've brought me this fine day?" Holy crap. His voice makes my insides melt. I'm surprised I'm even able to stand up. He has this hypnotic cadence to his voice that I'm sure he's used to his advantage many times. It would be nearly impossible not to fall under his spell.

"Damon, this is my niece, Elena." Ah, so this is Damon. God, even his name is sexy. What am I doing? I'm never like this around guys. Of course, I've never seen a man quite like Damon. "I think she could use your help. She's done some very...bad things." Wait, what? What is this guy, a therapist?

I realize I've been staring at Damon when his eyes suddenly dart to mine, and a devilish smirk appears on his face. I blush profusely and look away. I feel like I can't breathe. My chest is constricting, my lungs are burning...oh my God, oh my God, what's happening to me?

"I'm sure I can help your niece. Elena, get your things and go sit on the couch in the living area to your left." I nearly jump, as his voice has gone from smooth and velvety to strong and dominant. Once the shock of being ordered around by this complete stranger subsides, I pick up my bag, and walk inside. And everything is rich hardwoods and marble and granite and just screams money.

I look to my left and see a living area that is illuminated by the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Even as dark as the windows look from outside, the room is still filled with light. There are two deep red, plush chairs situated around a stone and brick fireplace large enough that I could walk into it. And behind these chairs are an antique oak coffee table, a loveseat that is the same deep red as the chairs, and a sofa that looks like it will swallow me up if I sit on it.

As soon as I finish admiring the decor of the room, I take a seat on the couch. And just as I thought, I start to sink down into the cushion. At the moment, I feel like Thumbelina-small and insignificant.

I hear the rumble of an engine as, through the windows, I see Uncle John's car speeding down the driveway. Um, ok, so I guess I'll be staying here. The front door closes, and I hear the sound Damon's shoes walking towards me on the hardwood.

A few seconds later, Damon is standing in front of me. With my head down, all I see are his feet, but I can feel his eyes staring at me. I shift a little in my seat, as an overwhelming sense of uneasiness settles around me.

Damon's POV

I can't help but smile at how uncomfortable the girl in front of me is. I think I'll just stand here for a little while and wallow in her discomfort. When John told me he was bringing me something today, I had no idea it was going to be this...delectable.

It's definitely not the first time someone's brought me a girl to keep here. Hell, that's what this place is for. My dad started it as a type of reform school for girls who caused trouble at home, in society, or sometimes, just girls whose parents were tired of them and who had the money to fork over for us to be glorified babysitters.

Nowadays, the house is pretty empty. The only girls that have been here for the past year have been Miss Caroline Forbes aka Blondie, and Jenna Sommers. Caroline is dating my angel of a brother, Stefan. And Jenna is dating one of the other two men who help out here, Alaric Saltzman.

But, back to more important business, this girl. Elena? I think that's her name. She's not like the girls I usually see here. She seems innocent, shaken, not rebellious and bitchy. I could be wrong, though. One thing I know is that she is beautiful. Her pencil straight, brunette hair falls over her shoulders and hangs over her two pert, little breasts. Mmmm. OK. Wallowing time is over. Time to get down to the nitty-gritty.

I walk back and sit on the loveseat across from the couch, and I chuckle as she visibly lets a sigh of relief out. I begin to go through the usual round of questions, followed by the rules of the house.

"Name?"

"Elena Gilbert."

"Age?"

"Seventeen."

"Why are you here, Elena?"

"I-I don't know. My Uncle John just told me to pack a bag this morning before we left. He didn't explain anything to me." My eyes widen a little as I realize that she only has one small suitcase with her. This should be interesting. "Damon? What is this place?"

"First of all, you do not get to call me Damon. Second, I ask the questions. You just sit there like a good little girl and answer them." I say with a smile. She's staring at me like I'm the devil. I grin, because, let's face it, I pretty much am.

"Now, where were we? Let's go over the rules of this house. First of all, as we already briefly discussed, calling me Damon...big no no. You will call me Master or Sir." I see her eyes shoot up and she's glaring at me again. She's got some fire behind those innocent eyes. "You will not talk unless spoken to. You will not do anything unless told to do it, and you will never-and I mean ever-try to run away. Believe me, you won't get far. Your uncle has withdrawn you from school, but you will have a tutor who will come each day and give you your schooling here."

I don't think I've ever seen anyone look at me with so much hate. It's like she's trying to set me on fire with her eyes. I like it.

"Your room will be upstairs in the west wing. There are two other girls here, Jenna and Caroline. You will notice that they don't have to comply with the same rules that you do. Let me just say, before it becomes a problem, that jealousy will get you nowhere fast. They belong to the other men here, Alaric Saltzman and Wes Maxfield. The same rules that apply to me, apply to them as well. I think that's enough rules for today. You got all that, cupcake?"

No answer. Just a glare. Hmmm.

"I asked you a question." I say through gritted teeth. This girl doesn't know what she's getting herself into. If she thinks she's going to be here and be stubborn and headstrong, she has another thing coming. I can be just as stubborn, and it ain't pretty.

"Yes. I got it. And my name's not cupcake, it's Elena!" She spits out.

Oh. She did not. I stand up and walk slowly over to her. I see her tremble a little. She knows she screwed up. But if I don't punish her, she'll just keep doing it. My hand slaps her face hard enough that it's stinging, and yet, there's no scream, no whimper, no tears. Just more of that fiery glare and a lot of heavy breathing.

"Get your bag, go upstairs, and go find your room. It's the only one with the door open." I say this lowly and dangerously enough that she knows I mean business.

She grabs her bag, gives me one last hateful glare, and starts heading to the stairs. But not before I hear her mutter, rather sarcastically, "Fine. Damon."

I can't help but grin. This girl is going to be so much fun to break.