Chapter Text
Damon sat on the hard wooden bench, glaring at the bare floor. The cart creaked as it jostled his hands back against his thighs, but he refused to acknowledge the manacles biting harshly into his wrists. He sat ramrod straight in the cramped space, ignoring the chains binding his wrists and ankles to the wall of the cabin. Though he’d been traveling for hours, his posture had never changed. He was Damon Salvatore, dammit! He wasn’t going to slump in his cage like some kind of animal.
The cart jerked to a halt and the back doors opened. A dour looking man grabbed Damon’s chains and yanked him to his feet. He dragged him around to the front of the cart and shoved him toward the porch of a large house. Damon stumbled but caught himself, and finally got a look at his destination. The house was huge, more of a manor. It had at least three stories. The porch had large white columns and a bench swing, and seemed to wrap around the ends of the building. A tall man stood in the doorway. He had messy brown hair and kind eyes. He nodded at the cart driver, who turned back to his cart and drove off. Damon straightened and looked the man in the eye.
“Well?” he challenged. “Are you my new owner?” The man burst into laughter, shaking his head.
“No,” he replied, grabbing Damon’s chains and pulling him up the stairs into the house. “I’m just the guy who brings you to your new owner.”
As the man led him through the house, Damon began to grow increasingly uneasy. He looked around for clues as to who his “master” would be. He understood from the marketplace that he was being sold as a slave. What he didn’t understand was how. The furniture in the manor was cozy, typical of a modern middle class home. The walls were painted in plain colors. As they strode down a hall on the right side of the building, Damon glimpsed a girl in a faded brown dress taking sheets from a closet. She caught Damon watching her and averted her eyes, quickly scurrying away. After a few more turns in the hallway, they finally stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. The man took out a set of keys and unlocked Damon’s chains.
“Be nice,” he warned, pushing the door open. Damon’s eyes widened in surprise the moment he entered.
Behind a somewhat large desk sat a young girl, legs crossed, waiting patiently. Damon was unsure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. For one thing, the girl couldn’t have been older than 19. For another, she was the most beautiful girl Damon had ever seen. The blue tanktop she wore exposed smooth olive skin, and her dark hair cascaded past her shoulders in soft waves. She regarded Damon through shrewd amber eyes, her lips pursed as she looked him up and down.
“Thank you, Ric. That will be all,” she called in an authoritative voice, her narrowed eyes never leaving Damon. The man, Ric, nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind him. The girl stood and walked towards Damon. Her voice and stride displayed a confidence at odds with her apparent age.
“The rules of this house are simple, and I expect you to follow them closely,” she informed him. “You will be ready for the day at six every morning, and you will retire to your room at 11 every night.” She spoke slowly as she circled him. “You have half an hour for each meal, and you will eat what is given to you in the kitchens. Your possessions consist of only what I allow you. You will attend to your responsibilities diligently, quietly, and consistently, you will act with absolute respect to your superiors, mainly myself, Ric, and any guests I may have, and you will complete every task given to you immediately.”
She paused as she came to a stop in front of him. “What is your name?”
“Damon.”
“Very well, Damon. You can refer to me as Master, Mistress, Ma’am, or Ms. Gilbert.”
Oh, can I? Damon thought, rolling his eyes. “Don’t test me, Damon. You will never roll your eyes at me again. You will also stop glaring at me.”
Damon narrowed his eyes. “Or what?” he spat.
A loud crack echoed through the room as Damon’s head whipped to the right. He raised his hand to his jaw, feeling to see if her slap had dislocated it. It hadn't, thankfully, though it certainly felt like it had enough force to.
“Impudence, and any and all transgressions, will be punished swiftly. You should keep your eyes down, unless I instruct you otherwise. Is that understood?”
Damon felt his anger surge. “I’ll take orders from you the day I die, you arrogant bitch.”
He barely had time to register her reaching for him before he was slammed back into the wall, the force snapping his head back so it clipped one of the heavy picture frames. His knees buckled, but the girl’s hold on his neck kept him up. Her slim fingers dug into his throat, closing off his windpipe. Damon grabbed at her hand, gasping for breath, as she leaned close to stare him in the eyes. Her sweet brown eyes were now a glaring blood red, and dark veins blossomed across her cheeks. She bared her fangs at him.
“You will take orders from me until the day you die. I own you, Damon. If you disrespect me again, I will beat you within an inch of your life and you will consider it mercy, because that life is mine, and I could end it instead. It is well within my rights to kill you and buy a replacement. It would be more hassle, so it’s your choice whether or not to make that hassle is worth it. Do you understand?”
Black spots began to swim before Damon’s eyes and he struggled to nod his head. “I understand,” he managed to choke out. She released him and he sank to the ground, greedily gulping air into his burning lungs. His master placed her foot on his shoulder blade, shoving him down face-first into the floor.
“What is it you understand, Damon?” she asked coolly. He was silent, until she ground her sharp heel into his shoulder, pressing him further into the carpet. Tears burned in his eyes. Damon gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride.
“You own me. I will obey you. I will respect you. I will do anything you ask me to. I am yours.”
She nodded, accepting his submission, and reached down to pull Damon to his feet. He staggered up and pushed her away, brushing himself off and holding back tears of shame.
“Ric will lead you to your room. You’ll find your new clothes there. Come to my office tomorrow to receive your list of chores. You may go.” He headed for the door, avoiding her eyes. “And Damon?” He paused for a moment with his hand on the door. “I hope it goes without saying, but if you try to escape, I will make you regret it.”