#sub blaine

“Hey S-sugar D-daddy … mmph!”

“Keep it up, pet. Keep it up. No dropping words or that will be twelve more lashes with the belt.”

“Hansel needs some sugar in his bowl …”

Swack!

“Ah! I'll lay out fine china on the linen

And polish up the chrome …”

Kurt snaps his belt and whips Blaine again, over a welt on his buttock that’s three swats away from splitting. And even though Blaine hops to the right out of rhythm, perched on the balls of his feet by the rope pulling his wrists above his head, he doesn’t miss a beat.

“If you've got some sugar for me

S-sugar D-daddy bring it home …”

Kurt would normally grab Blaine’s hips, right over that angry red stripe, and put him back in place, but for the purposes of this particular scene, dancing is allowed.

It’s even encouraged.

Kurt hadn’t explained this session to Blaine before they’d gotten started. It was spontaneous, prompted on the fly by a newspaper clipping Kurt found among Blaine’s sheet music – a gushing review of Blaine’s opening night performance as Hedwig. Blaine didn’t clip it for himself. It was gifted to him by the producer. (A Post-It fixed to the top corner told Kurt so.) Kurt wasn’t angry at Blaine for having it. He doesn’t begrudge Blaine trophies of his success. In fact, Kurt has plans for the two of them to sit down and scrapbook this milestone in his life – one of many.

Blaine is a humble man. He doesn’t suffer the sin of pride as extensively as other actors and performers that Kurt has met. But Blaine does tend to get overwhelmed by attention – negative and positive. There will be more reviews, people who will call him a rising star, the next it boy, a multi-faceted and charismatic talent the likes of which Broadway rarely sees (direct quote). They’ll lavish praise on him, and that praise will go to his head.

It won’t inflate it. It’ll fill with him anxiety, the need to keep up, the desire to please …

… the fear of failing.

This scene is meant to ground Blaine, remind him what’s important. No matter what people outside their circle say, whether they call him a star or a flop, the most important things he has are the things he called his own before he became a star.

His talent, his family, and his Master’s love.

And the success he’s already achieved? No one can ever take that away from him.

Blaine shudders with each sit-up, doing his best not to pause for too long in between. But his Dom’s instructions guarantee that he does. Sit-up, stay for one count, back down. That one count in between is becoming the death of him. It’s not the sit-ups doing Blaine in; it’s the wand pressing firmly against his prostate – his Aneros vibrating massager. Every time Blaine sits up, he’s overwhelmed by a feeling of utter bliss, one that makes him want to stay upright and rock gently, absorb it all in. He can’t give in to it, but he knows it’s just a matter of time. He can’t fight physiology forever. He can only do his best to put it off as long as possible. And that’s part of what this training is about.

Kurt doesn’t believe for a second that Blaine has love handles. Looking at his sub’s gorgeously naked body as he leads Blaine through this routine, Kurt can see Blaine doesn’t. That’s just an excuse. Not that Kurt needs an excuse, but having one is part of the fun.

“Forty-nine … fifty. Now take a breather, and we’ll move on to your next set.”

Blaine lies on his back, knees bent since lying flat might end him altogether. But Kurt has no intention of letting Blaine relax. He hooks his finger into the looped base of the vibe and moves it around slowly. He unseats it, taking it from pleasant to frustrating, missing the mark, and then twists it, changing the direction and the intensity of the vibrations. Blaine can’t close his eyes to focus on fending those sensations off or concentrate on becoming numb. Kurt won’t let him. Kurt wants Blaine to remain in the moment, not slip away to his comfort zone where he can compartmentalize and deal. So Blaine takes a series of deep breaths in and out, attempting to calm his body’s response to the vibrations which Kurt has, once again, positioned perfectly against his prostate.

Lying still isn’t much better than sitting up if Kurt’s going to manipulate the wand like that. Blaine wishes he could cross over that threshold between building up ecstasy and oversensitivity. Oversensitivity is painful – the constant, relentless throbbing; the twinges of pleasure doing its best to peak a second, third, fourth climax; the relentless pressure - but it’s something he handles better. Blaine can isolate pain to one area and let it pulsate there. But ecstasy is overwhelming. It takes over everything when it hits, from his toes to his head. It strums every muscle, distorts his vision, stirs his brain into pudding.

“Okay,” Kurt says long before Blaine can competently catch his breath. “Fifty more. Let’s start with one. Hold it …” Kurt grabs Blaine’s arm and keeps him upright, staring him in the eyes as the Aneros massager assaults Blaine’s prostate ruthlessly. Blaine tries to remain stoic for as long as he can, but a second longer than usual goes by, and he whimpers. The corners of Kurt’s mouth curl into his cheeks and he lets go. “Another. Two, and hold it …” Kurt grabs Blaine’s arm again, delighting in the way Blaine’s body trembles, his cock twitching, fighting to cum just as hard as Blaine fights to keep it from happening. Kurt lets go. “Three, and hold …” This time, Kurt leans forward and brushes his lips over Blaine’s mouth. He spreads Blaine’s legs and maneuvers between them, teasing Blaine’s tight balls with his thigh.

“Fuck …” Blaine murmurs under his breath, chasing his Dom’s mouth when Kurt starts to back away. Kurt’s fingers wrapping around Blaine’s arm the way they would if he took Blaine’s cock and held it, add fire to his stomach, make him want to go faster, push harder. Kurt staring into Blaine’s eyes, commanding him not to cum without words while he taunts him, tests him, tries to draw it out of him, is almost as intimate as if they were actually making love to one another.

It’s Kurt’s control Blaine chases when he licks his lips in search of Kurt’s mouth; when he sits up again and again, even though each one is steadily defeating him. But Blaine does what Kurt says, even if he thinks he’ll eventually fail, because he’ll take Kurt’s control over an orgasm any day of the week.

And he’ll accept Kurt’s punishment, whatever Kurt chooses, if Blaine happens to have an orgasm without permission.

He’s getting to that point, but he can’t stop himself.

“Maybe later,” Kurt whispers as Blaine sits-up, then sits-up again, and again, Kurt baiting him with the promise of kisses, trying to make Blaine forget himself.

“Thirty-eight … thirty-nine … forty …” Kurt counts off in his most commanding but seductive voice, grabbing Blaine’s arm after each rise and holding him still to let the massager do its work. “If you reach fifty, I might let you have my mouth, pet.”

“Oh, God,” Blaine moans, going through his sit-ups mechanically, on autopilot, so he can reach the end and receive his reward. He’s not thinking at this point, simply feeling, the drive toward the end a double-edged sword. He only has five sit-ups left to go, but he doesn’t see how he can put off cumming much longer. His abs start twitching so violently he’s sure he’s getting a cramp, but that doesn’t matter. He’d tear something loose for the opportunity to have Kurt’s mouth on him.

“Forty-seven …” Kurt counts, holding Blaine longer in between each sit-up. “Forty-eight … forty-nine …” It’s almost precisely timed when it happens. Kurt counts off fifty and Blaine lies down, but before his head reaches the floor, he’s cumming, so rock hard and so turned on that it hits him beneath the chin. His body shudders, blood rushing through his ears, making them ring.

“Well, you did it, pet,” Kurt says, spreading Blaine’s legs open wide and climbing in between. “And a promise is a promise.”

Before Blaine can remember what that promise was, he feels the hot, wet enclosure of Kurt’s mouth clamp around his still aching cock and forcefully suck.

The headache-inducing pain is excruciating and immediate. His cock still hard, but so sensitive from his powerful orgasm, that Kurt’s glorious mouth makes Blaine want to shove away and scream. Another hard suck and Blaine slams his hands to his sides. He growls through his teeth, clenching his entire body to keep from squirming. But it’s a reflex response, his body cringing away from Kurt’s mouth before he can think to stop.

“Now, now, now, settle down, pet,” Kurt purrs. His hands crawl up Blaine’s chest, dry fingertips searching out his equally sensitive nipples and running lightly over the hard nubs. “We don’t want you screaming and ruining your pretty voice, do we?”

“No … Sir,” Blaine answers in a grunt as Kurt latches over his tormented cock and sucks again. Kurt goes all out for this one, agonizing blow, lapping at the sides of Blaine’s shaft inside his mouth, humming as he travels from head to base, tonguing Blaine’s slit with barely there licks that on any other day would be a pathway to rapture, but for now feel like the sharp edge of ice cold glass shaving along his skin.

Kurt nods, a sincere smile lifting his lips as he returns his attention to his Mediterranean salad. Blaine watches Kurt eat, waiting to see if he’ll ask anything else of him … anything more in keeping with their usual evenings out. But aside from a request to pass the pepper, Kurt has done nothing on par. He let Blaine order his own meal (without a single cayenne pepper in sight). He hasn’t dropped his fork for Blaine to pick up, or untied his shoelace for Blaine to tie. He didn’t force Blaine into chastity before they left, or bind him in a harness underneath his shirt.

He even asked Blaine if he wanted to order dessert.

Blaine doesn’t mind making these kinds of decisions. They don’t stress him out. It’s just not often that he gets to.

He doesn’t understand why tonight.

“Sir” - Blaine swallows hard - “may I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Kurt says, reorganizing the contents of his plate to compose the perfect bite on the tines of his fork. “Anything you want. Ask away.”

“I … have I done something wrong, Sir?”

“Not a thing.” Kurt slices a portion of his lamb and holds it out to Blaine on the blade of his knife. When Blaine realizes that Kurt is asking him silently if he wants it, he nods, and Kurt slides it onto the side of Blaine’s plate. “In fact, you’ve gone above and beyond. You’ve been working so hard with the musical while managing to be obedient as ever at home. So, I thought I would reward you.”

“Reward me, Sir?” Blaine takes another look at his dinner – salmon Alfredo that he himself chose. It wouldn’t have been the meal Kurt would have chosen for him, Blaine knows. Unlike their usual haunts, this restaurant in particular tends to be heavy handed with the cream and butter. But Kurt didn’t flinch when Blaine said he wanted it. “This is a reward?”

“Of course. A nice, vanilla dinner. Like the ones we used to have when we first started dating. Remember them?”

“I do, Sir?”

“Do you remember when you said you missed them?” Kurt asks. Blaine’s breathing catches, but there’s no edge in his Dom’s voice. Kurt wasn’t upset by that remark, and he’s not trying to make a point. He wanted to do something for Blaine, something he thought Blaine would like, and this is what he chose. Blaine is touched. He really is. Except …

“I do, Sir. And I’m so humbled that you remembered. But, I have to admit, vanilla dining with you … it’s a little unsettling.”

Kurt examines Blaine’s face over the rim of his wine glass, and for a second, Blaine is afraid he may have offended him. But Kurt values honesty. He always says be honest first, kind second, and respectful always. That doesn’t mean Kurt will always like what Blaine has to say, but communication is key, whether he likes the outcome or not. Kurt puts his glass down, following it with a thoughtful gaze, then picks up his napkin to wipe his mouth.

“Agreed,” Kurt says. “I’m not used to this. Not with you. It feels so … lacking.”

Blaine sighs in relief. “I’d say that’s a good word for it, Sir.”

“So what should we do, pet? Hmm? Do we finish this dinner the way it stands, or do we fix it, so to speak?”

“I say whatever you think is best, Sir, that’s what we should do.”

That, of course, was the right answer.

It barely takes a second for Kurt to decide.

“Give me your underwear, pet,” Kurt commands without lowering his voice.

Blaine tries to remain impassive in his response, but he can’t help a tiny smile slipping with the excitement kick-starting his heart.

“Yes, Sir,” he says, putting down his napkin and preparing to leave his seat. But Kurt grabs his wrist before he can stand.

“No no no, pet,” he says, flashing that devilish grin that makes Blaine’s stomach sick in all the best ways. “Right here.”

“H-here?” Blaine glances left and right, at the crowd of couples and families who chose tonight to have dinner out. It’s nine o’clock, and the dining room is so packed, there’s a line forming at the maître d’s station. “A-at the table, Sir?”

“A-ha.”

Blaine glances around again, and then once down at the fly to his slacks. “H---how, Sir?”

Late, late, late, late.

Blaine checked his pocket watch again. It told him it was 5.15pm already. He and Kurt had agreed to meet at 5pm sharp to go on a date (and maybe play a little bit later on).

Well, Blaine was sure that play would turn into punishment that day. He just hoped Kurt wouldn’t be too mad, and that they hadn’t lost their reservation due to his tardiness.

Once he finally arrived he tried to spot Kurt. They had agreed to meet in front of a coffee shop a couple of blocks from the restaurant and halfway between Blaine’s apartment and Kurt’s job.

Kurt was nowhere to be seen though. He wasn’t out on the street like Blaine expected him to be, he wasn’t inside the shop either. Blaine even checked the little park on the other side of the street, but Kurt was nowhere to be seen.

Normally Blaine was proud of himself for his punctuality and the fact that he could make his Kurt proud of listening to even the smallest requests.

Today he got distracted though. He was writing an essay for one of his classes and when he checked the big clock on his wall, he realised he was running late already.

Now he was panicking. He pulled his phone up to see if Kurt had called. He hadn’t. So Blaine hastily dialled his number only for it to go to voice mail after one ring. He decided to send a text message and sat on a bench on the sidewalk hoping Kurt would show up.

He waited and waited and slowly tears began to gather in his eyes.

He had disappointed Kurt, made him angry.

The November air was freezing and after sitting on the bench for 30 minutes Blaine couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.

He didn’t leave though. Kurt wouldn’t let him suffer this long on purpose. Not his Kurt. Something has to have happened. Even if he was as angry as Blaine thought he was, he wouldn’t just let Blaine sit out in the cold for 45 minutes.

“Oh, hey Blaine. Sorry you had to wait,” Kurt’s voice said from his side.

Blaine looked up with his tear-filled eyes.

“Blaine? Honey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“I’m so sorry,” he bawled. Kurt immediately moved to his side and wrapped his arms around him.

“What would you be sorry for, darling? What happened?,” Kurt spoke softly.

“For being late. I-I promise i-it w-wont happen a-aga-again, Sir,” Blaine sobbed, hiding his face in Kurt’s warm neck.

“What are you even talking about? You are early, Blaine, it’s 4.55.”

Blaine looked up at that. He stopped sobbing for the moment, but looked utterly confused. “No it’s not. It’s 5.55. And I got here 20 minutes to late and I’m sorry.”

Another tear escaped his eye, which Kurt quickly wiped away.

“Oh, honey. Do you know what day it is?”

“November 6th?”

“Yes, and that means we’re back to winter time. Summer time ended. Blaine, honey, you were way too early. I’m so sorry you though you were too late. And I wasn’t even here. Jesus I don’t want to know with what explanation your brain had come up with. Come here.”

He hugged Blaine tight enough for all of his worries of Kurt being mad vanished.

“Let’s go home,” Kurt said after a moment.

“B-but our reservation?”

“I think you deserve a little time to relax, come on we’ll take a bath to warm you up and then you have one wish free, how does that sound?”