Title: Assert Yourself

Chapter Completed: December 30, 2002

Warning! This is when the story becomes R rated!

Lionel grumbled to himself. A whole day in Metropolis wasted. He had become what every Luthor hated; weak and dependant. His son's company had surpassed his own. He was losing power. It hadn't been enough to be weakened by the loss of his sight, but now Lex had to be doing well, without him. The world could not be worse to him. He needed a way to assert himself again. Especially to himself. And fast. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought. Listening to Anna as she poured his brandy. She moved almost silently, just the clinking of glass. Then the answer came to him as her feet shuffled over to him.

"Lionel," Anna stood in front of him, passing the glass to his waiting hand.

"Wait," he said before she released the glass. He pushed himself up from the chair. Ritualistically feeling her face out, then wrapping his hand around the back of her neck. A firm enough grasp to show who had the power and to pull her in. Again he pressed his lips to hers, with more force then the time before. He had something to prove now.

They both released the glass, sending it crashing to the floor. Lionel's now free hand clasped onto Anna's arm. She used hers to push back for air.

"Now," he said once he allowed her the breath, but not releasing her arm, the grasp.

"Wha…what?" she choked out through her tearing eyes, pretending not to understand what he ment. Not wanting to.

His lips curved in a way that made her shutter. Leaning in closer to her, inches away he continued, "Time. To repay. Me." He began caressing her arm.

She swallowed hard, a method of preparation, and squeezing her eyes shut to surpress the sob rising in her.

Tentatively Lionel began feeling the young woman out, using his hands to see her. Mentally damning his weakness for taking away this pleasure from him. And damning the accident. And damning Lex for not letting him die. All making him feel inadequate and frustrated. He was going to assert himself and use her to do it. Now.

"Unbutton your shirt," he ordered.

She obeyed, with shaking hands. She knew she had to. There was not room for her to object.

Again he used his hands as eyes. Mentally visualising the curves and lace he was feeling – desperate to actually see it. Like the women he had had before. The passion and lust they had shown him before. He pulled her in again by the hips, rougher this time, forcing the kiss on her. Determined to have her respond. To have her react. To have her force back. To have her.

Nothing. To him there was no response. No movement.

But tears were spilling out of her eyes.

He manoeuvred them back. Bumping into furniture which only frustrated him farther. Damn this inferiority. He forced her back, against the desk. Now he fumbled with balance. Lifting her skirt, spreading her legs and positioning himself, without making a slip. He settled between her. His hands started creeping up her thighs, reaching for and to remove her panties. His fingers gripping the elastic…

She took her mind away. Dragging it, pulling it to any other place then this, then the movement with her body, the feeling of his body now on hers, moving to be in her. She just wanted to scream, to push him away, to deny him. But all she could do was let the tears fall, silently sobbing. And all she could think of was why she was there, why she had to be there. Her father. He had sacrificed so much for her, became indebted so much because of her. This was a sacrifice she could and was going to make for him. She owed him, and knew it. She didn't blame him, couldn't blame him, wouldn't blame him. Even as she heard Lionel's grunts in her ears. His breath covering her as his beard scratched her exposed skin. And the fact that she knew ultimately he would be spilling himself inside her. With all this and the bile rising in her throat, she would never blame her father. The blame would always lay with the one person who ultimately caused all this…her.

"Say. My. Name." He ordered in a haggard breath, as he slammed her back harder into the desk.

"Li…L…lionel," she had to work herself up to it. Altering her voice to control the emotional rage inside her. Pain on so many levels.

"Louder," he ordered more like a sneer, picking up momentum and force.

Her fingernails gripped the top of the desk, trying to gain a footing, "Lionel." She did as told.

The obedience was enough for him. One last thrust and he had sent himself over, crashing her harder into the desk in the process. He achieved what he wanted. He proved to himself that he could still hold power, have power, take power. Make people bend to his will. Having them reciprocate was nothing…at least he could tell himself that. Even make himself believe it.

He shook his head. Slowly and carefully he pulled himself upright, not bothering to take long to rest. Rest was for the weak, and he just proved that he wasn't.

As he got up and pulled out, Anna slid to the floor. She landed in a heap, like a rag doll a child was finished with and had discarded.

He redressed himself, feeling the room for his cane. "Clean up the mess," was the only thing he said to her before leaving her there in that room. His cane clicked away down the hall.

She fell the rest of the to the floor, curling herself up into a ball and cried. One way or another, this could destroy her.

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A/N: I'm not one to praise herself at all….but I think this chapter turned out rather well if I do say so myself! If you agree…or don't, Please Give me some feedback. I really appreciate the reviews I have been getting. Thanks!