Author´s Forward (Chapter 4) : 05-22-2011

Originally, I was only intending to write an erotic short featuring Damon and Elena with a very general S&M theme, however it is evolving slightly and I find myself unable to think of ending it in just several pages. This chapter is more of a preamble into the next few chapters currently being edited, so I apologize beforehand if it feels too short. Chapter 5 will pick up pace once again and features a little more character establishment...as well as the set up for a very interesting cat and mouse sequence...Hope you enjoy. - L.

Thin filaments of light streamed through an open, corner window, channelling the heat of a mid-morning sun. Elena shifted in her bed, opening her eyes reluctantly and listening to the drone of her alarm clock for longer than usual. Propping herself to one side, she removed the studs from her ears and flopped back onto the mattress.

Elena forced herself to recall the events of the former evening, as one by one a succession of images flooded into her conscious state, mingling with those of her dream and blurring the lines of reality...

Damon Salvatore.

The name fractured any sense of reason in her and even as she lay nestled in the warmth of her sheets, a sudden, involuntary chill made its way down her back; that cocky smile rimmed with its set of glistening, white teeth, the awkward exchanges, the lurid threats...

Elena quickly reached down to feel her thigh, searching for a tender spot, but found nothing. She ran a hand over the other leg just to be sure, but still there was nothing. No marks, no soreness, no dried blood. How was it possible? She had felt the bite of his nails, deep enough to warrant some sort of impression.

Then in a full onslaught of recall, Elena suddenly realized that she had no idea how she had gotten home. She struggled to form some memory of the events that had taken place after Damon had threatened her, but there was nothing she could remember, save for the dream. Further fuelling Elena's confusion and growing alarm were the clothes in which she was now dressed: a purple camisole, one that hadn't made it out of her closet in months, and a simple pair of boyleg briefs.

Elena jerked the camisole down nervously and stood to examine her bedroom. Furtively surveying its contents, she caught a glimpse of her Silver´s haphazardly slung into the laundry hamper, one leg draped over its edge. Elena flew over to the jeans, lifting them up and carefully appraising what she saw.

Five red rimmed holes, each the size of a fingertip, stared back at her as Elena felt her stomach lurch. This had gone far beyond the realm of believability. In fact, it was verging on the paranormal.

After several moments of clutching the fabric to her chest in semi-catatonic state, Elena mustered up the courage to make her way around the rest of the room. Nothing else seemed to be disturbed or out of place. She even inspected the floor for remnants of glass, and to her relief, there were none.

Finally, Elena marched over to her dresser and furiously began brushing her hair in the hopes that some medial task would calm her nerves. She eyed her reflection in the mirror and decided that perhaps a shower was probably the better of options. Her long hair hung moppishly over her shoulders and her smeared makeup had formed a distinct racoon-like pattern around her lids.

With a grimace, Elena turned to enter the adjacent bathroom she shared with her brother Jeremy, but stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of the note posted to its door. It was penned in a messy, old English script, resembling the writing style of no one she knew.

Elena,

I enjoyed our evening together. You're quite a tenacious young thing and I have to admit, I'm rather smitten. That lucid dream took more than a little effort on my part; very feisty mind you have there...and so inventive. Breaking you in may prove to be more of a challenge. I hope you're up for it, though not to imply you have a choice in the matter. Also, loose lips are not a selling feature, so don't go spilling the beans on our little rendezvous... I somehow doubt you'd enjoy the ramifications.

- D.S.

P.S. Indulge me and wear something racy tonight. I may pay a visit.

Elena peeled the note off her door and stared at it for a long moment, disturbed by its overtone of threat and provocative post script. She could no longer deny the fact that Damon had somehow brought her home, entered her room and initiated the dream while she slept, though how he had managed it was beyond Elena's reasoning entirely. Even if she wanted to, how could she possibly explain the circumstance to anyone without seeming mildly delusional? But how would Damon know if she did? And for that matter, how had he managed any of this, short of supernatural powers? Was he even human? Was he a demon? A vampire? Or some other cross-breed of man and monster? Could his existence have anything to do with the legends of the town, the mythos of her childhood, re-circulated year after year?

As all manner of explanations suddenly became viable, Elena genuinely began to question her sanity. She forced herself to shirk off her fears and deal with only those concerning the present moment. If he did come again, she would face it when the time came. Hell, maybe carrying a make-shift stake or a few cloves of garlic weren't such bad ideas.

Elena crumpled the note, balling it up in her fist and throwing it into a corner. Then she opened the door to the bathroom, locking it behind her as she entered.