A/N: Trigger warnings of rape/dub-con. Dark Graphic Content. Optional if you want to read. Don't say I didn't warn you. You will not be missing any plot content because this chapter is pure PWP.
REMEMBER LAST CHAPTER, FIRST SCENE? Well, this is just an extension of that but in Elena's pov in her re-compelled state. Fulfilling one last request from those who want submissive Elena smut. Well… you've got it. ;)
Revised with beta's input.
Everything is blurry. Slowly and reluctantly, Elena blinks awake to the white ceiling of her bedroom. Streaks of sunlight penetrate the window, blinding her for a moment as she sits up and rubs her knuckles onto her eyes. Arms stretch above her head, she yawns and drags her feet off the bed. She stares curiously at a vast sheet of white smoke creeping out from under her bed and spreading throughout her room.
She stands and hears a pair of muffled voices coming from beside her. She turns to find nothing but white wisps of smoke enveloping her like a blanket. She tilts her head curiously and holds out her hand in front of her. The wisps follow her every hand movement acting like some kind of shield. Every attempt to reach out for this strange wisp only resulted in it eluding her grasp.
Her head feels heavy and her feet takes her to her wardrobe. Her arms move on their own accord. Elena stares into the mirror reflection at her nakedness. Reddened, erect nipples and scattered bite marks on the side of her neck, under her left breast, and another prominent mark on her right hipbone.
Was Katherine here last night? She can't quite recall the vampire sleeping over. Maybe she did. How else could the marks appear all over her body? The wisps linger around her being, looming in their whitened haze like images from some half-forgotten dream.
She gets dressed as quickly as she can, choosing a fleece turtleneck and jeans. The smoke squeezes through the tiny horizontal crack between her bedroom door and carpeted floor. She follows it, not quite sure what is going on. It leads her down the stairs and towards the front door. The wisp has thickened into a vast blanket of white, swooping in and skirting around the houses and trees, like a giant eraser moving indiscriminately to eradicate what was once there turning it into something that was not. Elena stands in a pocket of smoke, but it only seems like a pocket to her.
It clears the path to a sky-blue Ford Sedan and the passenger car door swings open on its accord. Elena startles and ducks her head down, peeking inside. In the driver's seat sits a shrouded person wearing a white veil obscuring her face. All Elena knows for sure is that it's a woman. The woman beckons and Elena settles down, hand pulling the car door shut.
She leans forward a little, meeting the woman in the middle. Lips open and a tongue darts out to swipe at her bottom lip. Elena leans back, catching her breath, and turns her attention to the moving scenery.
By the time, the vehicle rolls up to a stop in the carpark. Thick tendrils of wisps have thickened and surrounded the school building and all the trees around her. She can't call it wisp-like, for they have evolved into white smog. It swallows every distant object engulfing everything in white nothingness. It creeps around the oblivious students chattering by the buses, silent footsteps tiptoe around the wooden benches wafting towards the entrance doors. Elena stands in the still silence of the carpark, her only comfort being the cold white blanket curving around her shoulders and grabbing at the bottom of her jeans legs.
They push her down the hallways, pressure building in her lower back, leading her past partially empty classrooms one after the next, until she reaches the infirmary. Confusion rises when Nurse Beckett, a plump woman with reddish curly hair beckons her to the furthest corner of the room with a kind smile and a glassy look.
What is she doing here? She has class with- Her mind draws a blank and her head turns to find that the smog blocking the door was virtually filling the room with its smothering presence.
"Up on the bed. Quickly now. Wouldn't want your friends wondering where you've run off to and coming here to find you," the nurse offhandedly comments, tugging at her winter coat. "We don't need this."
Who's we? It's just them... and the smog.
Elena sits on the edge of the bed, frowning at the coat draped carelessly on the back of the chair. The nurse moves closer and goes for the bottom of her turtleneck as though to lift it up without her consent. She protests, "What are you doing? I-I… not sick. Shouldn't be… here."
The nurse gives her that withering look. "Nonsense," she says. "Didn't she tell you? You have a morning appointment with me." At Elena's blank expression, the nurse gestures away. "No matter, it will just be a quick inspection. Arms up."
She blinks confused as her arms respond to the quick instruction and marvels in horrid fascination when her limbs move and her body shifts to accommodate the next set of instructions until Elena finds herself on her hands and knees in nothing but her birthday suit. Her clothes are haphazardly thrown onto the chair without a care. Her panties have been pulled down hanging at her thighs.
Her face grows hot and her body shivers, whether it's from pure mortification or to suddenly exposed to a complete stranger, she knows not. Every fiber of her body radiates embarrassment and the sense to pull away and grab the blanket resting innocuously beside her becomes nonexistent. The nurse pushes the back of her head down onto the pillow and Elena hears the snapping of latex gloves against skin. She shudders, shoulders hunched, and all but screams into the pillow. Her jaw clenches tight against the shoulder and the tears refuse to fall from the ducts in her eyes.
Every desperate signal sent out from her brain to its respective limb goes ignored. Her body betrays her at each agonizing second. A burst of heat coils up in her gut and shoots fireworks into her loins.
"Wider," Nurse Beckett encourages and her legs spread even more.
Hapless in her own predicament, she presses herself further into the bed, hoping - wishing - a wormhole would open up and swallow her whole. She feels pressure building up between her legs and in the silence of the room, she hears wet schleching noises coming from her pussy as foreign fingers prod, exploring.
Elena turns her cheek to face away from the wall to find her only silent companion - smog - filling up the infirmary with nothing but white. It hurts her eyes. She stares at it and tries not to think too much of the nurse's fingers spreading her juices around her center, inching towards her ass, all the while hearing distant laughter and innocent chatter coming from outside.
All the staring at too much white somehow makes her feel like she was staring at herself, staring at nothing. Her brain fights valiantly to drum up a thousand different descriptions to plaster across her blank canvass mind, but there was nothing that could truly describe nothing.
A thin shadow of a veiled silhouette catches the corner of her eye and her head lifts slowly from the pillow to watch the smog part obediently until said silhouette reaches the threshold of the bed and where Nurse Beckett stands. She holds her breath and tries to move her head so she could follow the dark outline of the shade but the nurse is there by her side, effectively blocking her.
Elena lets out a sharp hiss as the nurse's fingers caress her swollen nipples, paying each one much dedication. She speaks at the same time as she rolls them around her fingers, twisting and pulling cruelly.
"You must have enjoyed a delightful night," Nurse Beckett comments.
If I could remember who I had sex with, sure… now get your hands off of me, Elena wants to scream but glue seems to hold her teeth together, that the only noise she can manage is a half-strangled whimper.
Another set of hands have arrived landing on her traitorous body. Open palms rest against the fullness of her buttocks; they knead and push firmly, opening her up so far and wide that Elena is pretty sure anyone else would be blind not to see all her private parts exposed and dripping.
A slender finger dips into the folds and glides easily into her center, causing her back to arch in response. A sharp pinch to her exposed nub nips Elena back to reality. Her head snaps up and her arms tremble in anticipation. A trickle of her shame runs down her left inner thigh and Elena finds herself peeking through the blinds, watching the outside world.
An odd but sweet-sounding cadence of a soulful Irish lilting voice speaks and Elena grimaces at the way it purrs into her needy pussy filling it with hot wanton shame. Its tongue darts out to lick a thin swipe along the edge of her folds before dipping in for a taste.
"I see my assistant has done a number on you. I heard you could barely walk after." the voice teases.
She gasps. Not because of the teeth toying with her exposed clit, its sharp bluntness grazing at her sensitive region.
She knows that voice.
She has heard it a couple of months back.
The once haunting memory she'd once seared into the deepest trenches of her brain, now swims lazily to the surface, daring her to scoop it out.
To own up to it.
Acknowledgement.
She doesn't want to. She wants to be in a denial for a little longer, because she doesn't want to think of their past relation. It hurt too much. She squints into the morning sunlight and refocuses her attention to her friends scattered across the school lawn. She sees Matt surrounded by the football team with boyish grins with Tyler's contradicting troubled expression and his head turns and she almost ducks down.
However, he doesn't look in her direction but towards the school benches… and there stands a familiar blonde just standing there. It's too far away to make out the expression on her face and all Elena can do is watch her walk away and into a damn familiar red Porsche.
Katherine's car to be exact.
Is it simply coincidence that Katherine and her to show up at the same time or just horrible timing?
Her thoughts don't wander far enough when something harsh and biting cold clips at the folds of her pussy and Elena lets loose a pained moan. Her head feels achingly heavy and the pillow feels so soft that she allows herself a moment of respite. She can see a pair of matching gold clips pinching both sides of her lips, and a third dangling loose in the middle.
She feels the foreign metal teeth biting at the sheath of her clit and the cool sensation of the air. Each time those hands tighten the leash tugging at the end, shivers of sharp ecstasy send shockwaves into her belly and thighs. Every graze caused by her fingernail causes a light and fleeting sensation. Her anus responding delightfully only adds to her increasing horror.
A dark chuckle flitters over from behind and then a thumb presses into her tighter channel. She squeezes her eyes shut. She has nothing. She has no one. Each thought seems too loud and exposed, like every movement she made in the silence has been eviscerated by the smog around her.
She heaves a sigh, broken and fractured. Maybe the smog is somehow in her, just as she is in it.
Line break
The smog is merciless and cruel. It fills her mind, erases her thoughts, and forces Elena into frightening white spaces and tight corners. She doesn't know how much time has passed, only that she is currently in the girl's bathroom. Numb and empty, she lets their hands guide glide down until her hips are straddling one of the porcelain sinks.
A sneer hisses as hands position her, tugging onto the short clit leash that was once attached on one of her belt loops. "Grind down on it, doppelganger."
Naked from waist down, Elena acquiesces silently. Biting back a moan, she hovers until her exposed sheathed clit is touching just the end of the tap. She stares at the mirror… or is her reflection self staring back?
"I can't… yo-you have to…" Please don't make me say it.
"Oh right. I forget I haffa remove this first," Ashley Clarke from Literature grumbles. The sound of chains hitting brass echoes in the toilet. Elena jerks upwards from the sudden release of unrelenting teeth on her clit, causing a pained groan as the action sends her crashing forward into the mirror; her swollen clit banging into the faucet.
She grinds down on the cold brass and rides it through the scathing remarks and glees in the background.
"Gosh, look at her go. Have some self-control, Gilbert," one comments.
The other remarks, "Bet she misses Donovan. Do you miss him, Gilbert?"
She doesn't answer. Can't. Her mouth won't let her form words except the necessities like removing the clamps or needing to pee.
It's always two classmates, Elena begins to notice despite her haze-induced state. Random ones- they grope her butt on the way to classes in the crowd. No one notices. No one cares. In the shower, they pinch her ass cheeks apart. Something cold and slick slides into her, filling her up. The smog willingly parts for them and each of them have this glassy expression- the same expression Nurse Beckett wore. She takes comfort in these miniscule moments, that she isn't the only one forced. But it still hurts all the same.
To be used and played like a fiddle.
Two fingers shove into her pussy and Elena doesn't stop. Can't. Those were her orders. Oh how she hates her.
Her own biological mother. Isobel.
And so she clings onto the memory of their faces, etching their names into the blank canvass of her mind. It's the only thing the smog allows her to keep.
Line break
She avoids the cafeteria during recess in hopes that no one else will approach her with ill intentions. It was relatively easy to find a more secluded spot outside, towards the side of the school. Very few cars pass by this side road, so it could be considered a perfect hideaway.
She's halfway into her pizza when Tyler Lockwood swings his leg over the wooden picnic bench, interrupting the interlude Elena had thought she had. He grins at her with a semi-glassed eye expression to which Elena pales.
"She's got you, didn't she?"
He scoots closer, one hand slipping under the bench towards the silver chain peeking out through the crack of her jeans fly. Slowly, Tyler unzips and unbuckles the button at the front of her jeans. She can feel her heart pounding and heat pools in her stomach.
"Tyler, please…" Elena croaks.
"I always thought you were vanilla. Never knew you enjoyed kink."
His hand strokes her thigh, fingers slipping past the hem of her pants. The other hand spreads her thighs. He hums approvingly into her ear. "Nice. No panties."
Elena fights back a whimper as his thumb seeks out her tender flesh. "You don't have to-"
"Shh," Tyler smiles. "Would you rather a stranger or someone you already know? You know that I know you're soaking wet, Elena."
He unclips the clit leash that has been pinching her swollen nub since morning. She sighs in relief. "Thank you."
Her heart drops into her guts. "I do have one request though." A beat. "You used to give Matt quickies all the time. What do you say? Just one, and she promises she will leave you alone for the rest of the day."
Elena freezes. "Somebody could just walk out here, and then what?! I can't do it. It's too risky."
Tyler just grins impishly. "You sure, 'Lena? Besides, a little birdie tells me you like love the idea of getting caught. No one's going to find us here."
She stares at the side door exit. "Yeah, what if someone comes through there for a smoke break?"
He shrugs. "If you want, we could have a go under the bleachers."
She doesn't answer, opting to stare into the distance. Her ears pick up the rustling noises and turns to see Tyler shoving off his jeans and rummaging in his wallet for a condom. He breaks the seal, rolls the condom down his cock and strokes it, slowly. He leans back and she gets to her feet on the bench, hovering over and positioning herself cowboy style.
He breathes in a sigh as Elena lowers herself down in the small space between him and the table. She feels his fingers in between her legs, slipping in easily as she widens her knees. As he curls his fingers to rub against her G-spot, she falls forward, gasping and clinging to the table desperately.
Thighs already twitching in anticipation, Elena moans with every exhale every time his fingers slip out of her. In one smooth move, he hitches her up a little higher and guides her down onto his cock.
"Fuck," Tyler groans at her rocking her hips, hard, grinding her clit against his pubic bone.
Barely a minute later, she's coming, trying and failing to muffle her scream by biting her lip. She might have tasted blood, but any concern for that is lost in the blinding waves of pleasure.
"Good fuck," Tyler says as she scoots off him, bending to pick up her jeans.