Hi! Welcome to my story! Hope you will enjoy it!

You will recognize some lines from the show. I incorporated them where I felt they fit just right.

Disclaimer: I don't condone violence (unless it's consensual, but that's a whole different story), slavery, nor corporal punishment. Everything you will read about here is fictional, a product of my twisted, perverted, dirty mind which enjoys watching (and reading about) Damon Salvatore suffer. Thank you.

He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

~ Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift

~ Happy Birthday – Here's Your Man ~

I was never one to own slaves. Seriously, one look at me and you could easily tell slavery wasn't my thing. All my so called friends often bragged about things they made their slaves do for them, laughed at the pranks they pulled on them just so they could humiliate their already pitiful lives. But me? I was the exception; the pariah; the girl everyone hung out with just because her parents happened to be two of the wealthiest people in town.

When I think about it, I wouldn't even call those people my friends. They were everything but. They were cruel to people who least deserved it, people who I always felt sorry for whenever they happened to be mentioned in a conversation because I knew their mere existence would be ridiculed only two sentences in.

Yeah, slavery is a thing in my world. A big thing. Everyone, from the poorest to the richest, owns a slave or two. You're a loser if you don't.

And I don't. Not even one.

How is it that I'm one of the popular girls in school then, you might ask? Well, my wealthy parents, of course. If not for them, no one would even look at me. Okay, so there were some people who shared my dislike of slavery and enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed theirs, but those were a minority. Most of the rich, popular kids despised me, and I despised them just as much, if not more.

I was often a target of jokes about my anti-slavery attitude, but I didn't mind it. Not in the slightest. Okay, so maybe I did hate it a little bit, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.

My parents often sided with the bullies, saying my battle against such values was futile and doing their best to shut down every attempt I made at supporting the enslaved. There were many arguments between us, lots of bad words were spoken and plates (and other fragile items) shattered, but nothing they could say ever changed my mind. They even tried taking me to a store to choose a slave for myself, but all their attempts ended with me storming off and sleeping over at a friend's house for a few days, until I felt calm enough to face them without feeling the need to drive a stake into their hearts.

And believe me, I was tempted.

After countless of fights my parents finally agreed to let it go. They were still ashamed to tell people their almost-eighteen year old daughter still owned no slave on her own so they made up lots of bullshit excuses for my "attitude", but at least they stopped bothering me about it. It did slip them at times, but now they had enough decency to apologize and change the subject at the mere sight of my death glare directed at them (even though I know those slips, as they called them, were purely intentional, but whatever).

So imagine my surprise when I walked into my home after a particularly tiresome day at school, only to discover my ever-so-tolerant parents in company of a man who looked like he wanted to be everywhere but here.

"Welcome home, Elena," my mom said in an overly sweet voice, too sweet for my liking. It was the kind of voice she used whenever she did something she knew was against every fiber of my being and wanted me to be happy about it anyways. It used to work when I was six. Now? Not so much.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart!" dad said, his voice as sweet as mom's, if not sweeter. This meant trouble. I didn't like it. Not one bit.

It was finally happening. Today I turned eighteen and entered the world of adults (well, sort of). This meant my parents didn't have a say in what I do anymore, that I didn't have to put up with their bullshit as much as I used to, that I can go wherever I want, whenever I want. I was finally free. Too bad I owned no house nor money, so I was stuck in this stupid household with people I couldn't hate more if I wanted to.

The birthday cake was on the table behind them, looking ever-so-glamourous. It looked more like a wedding cake than a birthday one. Everything for their little princess Elena. God, how I despised them.

"Look what we bought you," mom said, pointing to the back. I looked back to the cake and even allowed myself to smile. True, it looked beyond ridiculous, but there was no doubt it was tasty as hell. My parents maybe enjoyed their wealth a bit too much and bought the most inappropriate birthday cakes ever, but boy, did they make sure they taste the best.

"I can't wait to try it," I said in my most bored tone ever. The truth is, I wanted the cake. I haven't eaten much at school and I was starving.

"Not the cake, sweetheart," said dad. "Him."

"Oh."

Oh, indeed. I finally took a good look at the man they bought for me and I gotta admit, he was gorgeous. He had the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. His mess of a hair was the darkest shade of black, and his body, clad in expensive clothes no doubt my parents bought to make him seem presentable, reeked of sensuality and grace I'd never seen a slave possess. He was, in one word, marvelous. If I was into slavery, I would've totally chosen this one.

Only now he was chosen for me.

"I take it you like him?" mom asked, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"You bought me a man?" I asked, still in awe over the charisma that reeked out this beauty who hadn't even uttered a single word yet, though his looks implied such sweetness and kindness that my heart couldn't help but skip a beat. I was tempted to use the word slave, but I couldn't do that to him. I didn't want to humiliate him more than he clearly already was.

"We bought you a slave, yes," mom stated, not able to resist the urge to correct me.

The slave boy twitched at the title he was referred as, and his beautiful eyes turned to the floor as if searching for comfort. I instantly felt sorry for him. There was just something about him that made me sensitive, the urge to defend him grew stronger and stronger by the second. I've never felt that way for a slave before, especially one I've never even spoken to.

"I can't believe this! You know what I think about this!" I said a bit harsher than I should have.

Mom and dad stared daggers at me, their glares threatening violence. They didn't want me embarrassing them in front of a meaningless slave, especially not over him. But I didn't care. How dare they buy me a slave for my birthday – my eighteenth birthday, the one that was supposed to set me free? I felt as though my freedom cost someone else theirs and it seemed terribly wrong.

Not only that, I was irresponsible as hell. I wouldn't trust myself with a pet, let alone a human being. What were they thinking?

"We know you're not a minor anymore and we remember what we said. This is our last request for you," dad said. "He's your responsibility now. Your name's in the documents. You're his owner. As an adult, we feel you need to learn responsibility. So here you go. Do with him as you like."

"No!" I exclaimed.

They always said I could do whatever I wanted when I turned eighteen and now they're forcing me to accept this? I guess I could see their point. Many people learn how to take care of children by practicing on slaves. That's how my parents learned to raise my brother and me. They trained on those poor individuals and it felt easier to care for us after learning most tricks by messing up countless of slave lives until they felt ready for children.

They thought it was how it should be. I found it disgusting.

"It's wrong."

"If you don't want him, we'll take him for ourselves. Or give him to Jeremy," mom said.

Blackmail. Nice parenting methods, mom and dad. They knew just what to say to get me to do what they wanted. Jeremy was my brother and one of the most irresponsible people I've met. He was even more irresponsible than me, and that's saying something. He'd had many slaves over the years and he managed to mess every single one of them up.

He forced some to sell drugs for him and got them arrested and punished in public for everyone to see, one girl got knocked up and my parents (respective doctors) arranged for her to have an abortion, only for something to go wrong and cost the poor girl her life, he took one to school with him and forced her to help him cheat on tests and thus she ended up fired and whipped in front of the entire school. Needless to say, he owned no slaves at the moment. Mom and dad allowed him to use theirs, but only under their supervision. Giving this poor man to him would equal death sentence. I couldn't let that happen.

"This is low, even for you," I said after a few silent moments and glared at my parents with such intensity that if looks could kill, they'd drop dead in an instant. I looked over to the slave, whose eyes were still glued to the floor, scared to look me in the eye. It would be wrong to abandon him just like that. At least if I took him I'd know he'd be safe. I would never hurt him.

"We just want what's best for you, sweetheart," dad said with a smile. He grabbed the slave boy by the arm and pushed him toward me a bit too roughly for my liking. "This is Damon. Damon, this is Elena, your new owner."

Damon. It was a nice name, rolled off the tongue quite easily. And boy, did it fit him. I forced a smile and extended my hand towards him, waiting for him to shake it. "It's very nice to meet you, Damon." The tone I spoke with was fake, but my words were not. It was nice to meet him. If only it was under better circumstances.

Damon stayed quiet the entire time, not moving a muscle. I could imagine he was scared. I know I would be. Everything was still so new for him and he knew nothing about us, nothing about me. Who knows what he thought of me? Maybe he thought I would abuse him, treat him poorly like most slave owners do. I understood him and didn't mind possible bad thoughts. As soon as he gets to know me, he'll see I'm nothing like those people.

Maybe we could even be friends. I'd like that.

My dad didn't appreciate his silence and pushed him forward again, this time with much more force. Damon fell to his knees, a slight groan he obviously tried to hold back escaping his lips. "Has no one taught you manners, boy?" dad growled and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling at it forcefully. "Can you not greet my daughter? Is that below you?"

Mom let out a slight laugh at the scene, enjoying it a bit too much. I was quick to jump to Damon's defense and push my dad away from him.

"Dad, it's okay. I don't mind. Leave him alone, okay? You said he was mine. I will punish him if necessary." I had to force myself to utter the word punish. It didn't feel right, especially since he hadn't done anything wrong.

My parents smiled at me proudly. "I knew you'd find yourself in an owner's role quickly, sweetheart," mom said, looking over to my dad. "See? I told you she could do it."

"Okay, I admit I was wrong. I shouldn't have doubted her."

Then they both looked at me, now more apologetic than ever. I didn't know if this was a bad thing or a good one. "Sweetness, you wouldn't mind if we left now, would you? The thing is, your dad and I have a meeting at the hospital. It's urgent."

Of course it is. It always is. Everything is more urgent than me and my needs. No wonder my brother turned out the way he did with parents such as them. They were rarely at home, busy with hospital work and overtime hours, leaving Jeremy and I to fend for ourselves for most of the time. I hated it when I was a kid, but as I got older, I found that to be a blessing. The less I see of them, the less arguments there'd be.

It did bother me that they had to leave before we even cut the cake, but at least I wouldn't be alone. I had Damon now.

"Of course!" I said a bit over enthusiastically. I couldn't hide the desire to see them gone as soon as possible. "Just go. I'll be fine."

"Goodie. Thank you for understanding!" mom said. "When Jeremy comes home, can you tell him there's leftovers in the fridge?"

"Sure," I replied. If Jeremy comes home, I thought. For most of the time no one even knew where he was.

"Okay. See you later," dad said. We exchanged one last goodbye and then they were gone.

I felt a bit relieved when they left. Not having to put up with them is always a good thing. I turned to Damon, only to see him still on his knees, looking to be in pain. His position seemed very uncomfortable, no doubt it hurt more than I could imagine.

"It's okay. You can get up now. Sorry for making you uncomfortable," I said, offering my hand to help him up. He slapped it away and got up on his own, dusting off his knees. Rude, I thought. But understandable. If I was him, I wouldn't trust me, either.

I decided to get over this little incident. It wasn't worth mentioning. He obviously didn't like me and wanted to be everywhere but in my very presence, and I wanted him to be somewhere else, too. He deserved to have a better home, someone to treat him right. I may not be a cruel person, but I was inexperienced. And inexperience often equaled mistreatment.

"So, Damon, how are you doing?" Seriously? I cannot believe I just asked that. What the hell was wrong with me? "Are you hungry? I can make you something. What's your favorite?"

He snorted and looked me straight in the eye, a look so arrogant and reckless that would earn him at least ten lashes in any other household. I couldn't help but wonder just where my parents got him from. He was probably on sale if this was his normal attitude.

"Don't play nice, girl. You and I both know you don't want me here, so why don't you just cut the crap?" he said, the tone of his voice menacing, even threatening. If he wasn't a slave, I probably wouldn't dare be alone with him. His glance was still on me, challenging me, testing my limits. He knew well enough I could make him regret his words and yet he never stumbled, never let it show he was afraid, his previous fear completely vanished. He obviously hated being a slave, and hated slave owners, and hated me for daring to own him.

I decided to play it cool. No matter what he said, I wouldn't let his words get to me. He would just have to deal with me even if he hates me. If he sees I'm not like the rest, maybe he'll warm up to me. It could just be my humane side, my tendency to always see the good in people. Whatever it was, I knew I wasn't letting go of this one. I may not be the best owner, but I was probably the best he'd ever have.

"Okay, I can see this it going to be a bit difficult. To tell you the truth, I've never had a… slave before." The word still tasted wrong in my mouth, but if he wanted to play, I was in. "You're kinda my first."

"Lucky me," Damon said sarcastically and I rolled my eyes.

"Listen, Damon." I took a step toward him and he flinched, obviously expecting me to strike him. I instantly froze on the spot, guilt stinging like a bitch. He may be playing tough, but he was still a scared little slave. They all are. I just wanted him to learn to trust me. I would do my best to accomplish that. "I just want this to work, that's all. I don't know who owned you before and, honestly, I don't care. I can promise you one thing: I'm not like the others."

"That's what they all say."

"Maybe, but I mean it. The thing is, I hate slavery. In a perfect world, I would set you free right this instant, but I know it doesn't work like that, so like it or not we're stuck with each other. The least we can do is cooperate."

"Funny how you talk about cooperation. You seem to forget one small detail: I'm the slave, you're the mistress. Cooperation doesn't fit into that equation," Damon pointed out. "You may think yourself better than everyone else, but the truth is, you are all the same. Cruel, merciless, downright evil. Punish me all you want, princess, you know I'm telling the truth."

"I'm not going to punish you," I said. It came out more like a promise than a statement.

He smirked. "We'll see about that."

"I guess we will," I agreed. "I want us to be friends."

Another snort. He seemed to be pretty good at those. "Friends? Do you take me for a fool?"

"No!"

Damon walked over to me and got in my face, our noses almost touching, his lips dangerously close to mine. I could feel his warm breath on my cheeks and neck, a sweet scent of mint (I take it my parents made him brush his teeth before my arrival), not a hint of fear in his breathtaking eyes; there was only challenge, desperation for acceptance, confidence in his actions. It felt weird to be so close to him; it was the good kind of weird, the one I sort of enjoyed. His presence was somehow welcome, his closeness needed.

I didn't know why, but in that moment I was grateful he was mine. There was just something about him that screamed desire, and I desired him. He was mine. I wanted him to be mine. No one else's but mine. He belonged to me, and I wished it would stay that way forever. And I had the power to make that wish come true.

"I've changed many homes, many owners," Damon purred. "None could put up with me. They tried to break me, some almost succeeded. Not one did. I'm not easily tamed, Miss Gilbert. Don't ever forget that. If you want my friendship, you are going to have to earn it. I don't easily give away what little I have."

"I don't… I mean, I…" Damn. It was this easy for him to reduce me to a bumbling mess. Break him? Just what was done to this poor thing? Whatever it was, I wouldn't do that; not ever. If he wanted me to earn his friendship, then fine. I will. "I accept the challenge."

"Good."

"But listen to me very carefully."

Now it was my turn to get in his face. I could see my reaction startled him and sure thing, his defenses were up again, expecting the worst. There was a slight twitch, almost unnoticeable, and he was back to being a scared man all slaves were, no matter his tough interior. Still, he wasn't willing to give up. He was ready to take whatever I'd give, endure any punishment I'd bestow upon him. Instead, I gently took his hand in mine and looked him in the eye, trying to gain at least a little bit of his trust.

"My patience has its limits. At least try to behave."

"Sure thing, mistress," he said with a smirk. It was an obvious lie; I knew he'd do his best to make my life a hell and thus bring himself down with me. I was okay with that. I always liked a good challenge. I was scared for him, though. If he got in trouble and I wasn't there to protect him, who knows what could happen?

"Elena is just fine."

"Whatever you say. Elena." He spat my name like it was poison and I resisted the urge to scream out loud. If he was always this obnoxious, I could see why he's changed so many homes.

"Okay," I said, putting up my best smile. "Since it's my birthday, I was wondering if you wanted to celebrate it with me? As you can see, there's no one else here besides us. We have the house to ourselves."

There was his signature smirk again and I realized I'd said the wrong thing. Stupid me.

"I-I mean, we can celebrate together. What do you say? The cake is quite good."

"I don't have a choice, now do I?" he retorted.

There he goes again, making me feel guilty. "Come on, Damon. I told you I want to be your friend. You can say no if you want to."

His only reply was (again) a smirk. I sighed, defeated. We got ourselves seated and ate the chocolate goodness in silence. He seemed really happy in that short period of time, like he wasn't used to getting treats. He probably wasn't, but it's not like he'd share that with me. I, however, felt good. As long as I got to make someone else happy, I was happy, too.

He being my slave will benefit the both of us.

Nighttime came rather quickly and after taking a shower (and making Damon take one, though it didn't take much persuasion) I confined myself in my room, my new slave boy standing by the window and staring at me, waiting for an answer. He'd asked me where he would be sleeping and I still had no idea where to put him. It seemed wrong to have him sleep in the old shack in the backyard where my parents' slaves slept; that place was old, dirty, and I'm pretty sure I saw rats there the few times I dared to go inside.

I did have an idea of mine, but I wasn't sure Damon would like it. No, I wasn't sure I would like it. He would probably be more than fond of it. I know my parents wouldn't protest since I wasn't a minor anymore and thus they had no say in what I do, and this sort of thing is common in households owning slaves, but I still had my doubts.

Damon wasn't the most obedient slave, but I knew he wouldn't do anything to harm me. My parents, despite not being his owners, still had a right to hurt him is something was to happen to me by his hand, as did everyone else. Slaves were allowed to be punished by everyone who was not one of them – with the master's permission, of course, and mine they'd never get. I knew that. I think a part of him knew that as well. There was nothing to be afraid of.

That didn't mean it wasn't weird as hell.

"How would you like to sleep with me?" I finally said, prompting him to look at me with such gleam in his eyes, as if he's just won a jackpot. He smiled and sat next to me on my bed, but still kept his distance. He may be an ass, but he still respected my boundaries. Well, most of the time.

"I thought you wanted to be friends," he teased, raising an eyebrow.

"You'll be on one side, I'll be on the other," I quickly clarified.

Damon snorted. "You want to get me in trouble, don't you?"

I frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"You're not the first girl proposing these… sleeping arrangements, only to later claim I forced myself on you."

My god, what had they done to him? "You really do have trust issues," I stated.

He rolled his eyes. "It's called experience, Elena."

"Just trust me, okay?"

"Not gonna happen," Damon retorted. He moved over to me, his face once again way too close to mine. "But just so you know, if you try to set me up – as some had in the past – you're gonna wish you didn't."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise."

"Then I promise you I'm being honest."

"I've heard it before."

I didn't bother commenting on that. I didn't feel like arguing, and to be honest, I found it bothersome to have to come up with a retort to his every statement. We got settled and got into bed, each on their respective side, hoping the dreams would take us over as soon as we closed our eyes. Damon was a nuisance; he was mean, daring, and not afraid to speak his mind. If it was anyone else, I would try to get rid of them as soon as possible.

But with him it was different. For some reason, I wanted him to stay. We may not be on best terms, at least not yet, but there was something charming about him, hidden depths I yearned to explore. In a way he consumed me, made me question everything I knew, his every word provoked something in me that I didn't know was there.

He was mine and mine he'll stay. And mine he shall be forever.

I can guarantee you that updates will be frequent. All you have to do is show your support by reviewing and magic of new chapters will happen!

If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I'll answer the best I can.