shame is for other people

He reached out to brush an affectionate knuckle against Blaine’s cheek.  How had he ever gotten this lucky?

“Strip.”

Kurt didn’t offer to take the cane, and Blaine didn’t bother asking, instead delicately gripping the wood between his teeth as he unbuttoned his shirt and awkwardly shimmied out of his pants.  He never left his knees, and Kurt couldn’t help but guiltily enjoy the way Blaine’s struggle to keep his balance, struggle to obey, to be good made his cock ache with wanting to make his boyfriend struggle in all other sorts of ways, to see just how much that beautiful boy could take--

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep, deliberate breath, letting himself sink into the familiar (so, so familiar) clarity of mind that came from the heady rush of power that was Blaine submitting to him.

“Bedroom.  Standing, over the end of the bed.  Hands behind your back.”  He heard the rustle of Blaine beginning to move.  “And don’t you dare get off your knees until you get there.”

There was a pause, and Kurt knew without opening his eyes that Blaine had had to take a second to collect himself.  He knew exactly what it did to him, staying on his knees like that, and moreover, Kurt knew exactly what Kurt’s orders to stay on his knees did to him.

Especially when Kurt didn’t even bother watching to see if he was being obeyed.

Kurt waited a while, idly naming every musical Julie Andrews had ever been in.  Finally he judged that enough time had passed for Blaine to not only have gotten into position but to have gotten to that squirm-inducing level of anticipation and rose from his seat.

He paused in the doorway to the bedroom, allowing himself to savor the long lines of Blaine’s legs, the strong muscle of his thighs, the graceful curve of his back.  His chest was flat on the bed, just as Kurt had wanted, hands clasped behind his back and head turned to the side just slightly so that he could breathe.

The cane was on the bed directly in front of him, as much on display as Blaine was himself, that beautiful, beautiful boy, always so trusting and obedient.  He’d laid himself out for Kurt like an offering, like the precious treasure he was, and it was perfect, exactly what Kurt had wanted.

Blaine always did seem to understand Kurt’s artistic vision.  Although -

Kurt moved forward to run a possessive hand down his boyfriend’s back.   The sickening fury from earlier was a distant thing now, replaced with a sharp clarity of purpose.  “Very well done,” he complimented.  (Kurt believed in positive reinforcement of behavior.)  “However,” he added as his hand ran into Blaine’s crossed wrists, “I do believe one adjustment is in order.”

He pulled Blaine’s arms further back, wrists pressed to opposing elbows.  “Can you hold this position?”  Kurt knew very well Blaine could, at least during the normal course of things, but he’d never tried having Blaine in this position during a caning before.  Not that they used the cane very often, anyway - Blaine didn’t particularly like the sting of it or the narrowness of the strikes.  Kurt loved it, on the other hand - the skill it required, the technique; loved the precision of it all and the brilliantly defined stripes it left behind.

It made Blaine’s offer all the sweeter, knowing it was entirely for Kurt’s pleasure.

There was a long pause before Blaine replied.  “I - I think so?”  His voice was hesitant, and Kurt frowned. As much as he liked making Blaine struggle to hold position, he didn’t want to set him up for failure.

“Yes or no, Blaine?”

Another pause.  “Yes,” Blaine said more firmly.  “But -” his voice trailed off.

“But?”  Kurt prompted.

Blaine shook his head, rubbing his face against the duvet.  “Never mind.  It’s not important,” he mumbled, only to yelp a moment later as Kurt forced his arms even further up behind him.

“But?” Kurt asked again, voice scrupulously level.  He kept up the pressure on Blaine’s wrists, not letting him twist out of the painful hold.  He’d learned long ago not to raise his voice if at all possible, to keep as calm a demeanor as he possibly could when discipling Blaine. It generally led to one of two things - either Blaine would react with anger himself, and it’d spiral into a nasty fight, or Blaine would retreat so far into himself and into feelings of shame and inadequacy that it would take hours for Kurt to coax him out again.

Neither were constructive.

Reprimanding Blaine was one thing.  Berating him was another, and one Kurt tried to avoid - tricky at times, given his temper.

Kurt waited another moment, giving Blaine a chance to respond, but Blaine was silent.

Kurt pushed his arms up just the slightest bit higher, causing Blaine to let out another sharp cry of pain.  “I can keep doing this all night,” Kurt said calmly.

“Okay, okay!”  Blaine’s voice was high and frantic.  “I’m sorry, I’ll tell you.”

Kurt released Blaine’s wrists, letting him relax into a more natural position.  “So.  ‘But’?”

Blaine’s answer, when it came, was quiet and shamefacedly delivered.  He could hold the position without help, he knew he could, but if Kurt could - if he didn’t mind, because this wasn’t about Blaine, this was for Kurt and Blaine didn’t want to be selfish and ruin it -

Blaine’s voice was speeding up, getting higher and more anxious as he kept talking, never quite getting to the point, and although Kurt was fairly sure at this point what it was Blaine was trying to ask for, he kept silent, not letting Blaine out of his misery.  Blaine knew the rules.  If he wanted something, he asked for it.

Kurt did, however, deliver a quick swat to the back of Blaine’s thighs.  The sting made Blaine stop sharply mid-stammer to hiss in a quick breath of pain.  “The point, Beautiful.”

He saw Blaine pause to take a deep, calming breath, and allowed it.  Blaine could so easily spin himself up about things, but they’d been working on strategies for him to better control it, and the deep breathing was (so far) one of the most effective ones.

“I would like it if my arms were bound, Sir.”

Kurt couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.  He was proud of Blaine for managing to tell him what he wanted despite his obvious nerves, but it was ridiculously  entertaining that Blaine had somehow thought this a difficult request to ask.  “Don’t you always?”

Blaine’s face flushed a little, and Kurt felt almost ashamed at how much these sorts of small humiliations turned him on.

Almost.

It was a heady feeling, knowing that he’d caused that sickening rush of heat to run through Blaine’s body, that he was the only one Blaine trusted with these terrifyingly naked vulnerabilities.

He grazed a possessive fingernail down Blaine’s naked neck, just to watch him shiver.  “I know what a slut you are for bondage, Beautiful.  You can’t even help yourself, can you?”

“No, Sir,” Blaine agreed in a shaky voice.

“Quiet,” Kurt ordered.  He let himself continue to trace idle patterns across Blaine’s back, scratching so lightly it would be an aching tease.  He could feel Blaine’s muscles tensing and releasing as he tried to stay still, to not make a sound, and it made his fingers itch with the urge to touch Blaine other places as well, to make him shake with need and cry those beautiful tears as he tried so hard to stay obedient, to be good -

But that would come later.

Blaine wanted his hands tied.  That was easy enough, and understandable.  Blaine always wanted to be tied.

The rope he’d need was only a few steps away in their toy chest.

Kurt didn’t want to get it.  All of a sudden, he had an overwhelming cruel urge to deny Blaine this simple request, simply because he could, simply because it pleased him.

It was a dark, cruel desire and it made Kurt’s breath catch on a moan because Blaine would be so beautiful like that, desperate and suffering and taking it because it was what Kurt had chosen to give him-

Kurt wanted that, all of that.  But - he snaked a hand down to tug Blaine’s curls sharply.  “This a want or a need, Beautiful?”

Kurt would always give Blaine what he needed.  Always.  What he wanted, on the other hand …

That Kurt could use his discretion about.

Blaine’s breath hitched, and Kurt fancied he could hear a note of despair in the choked sound.

“Want, Sir.”

His voice was thick with unshed tears (and they hadn’t even begun yet!) and Kurt wanted to hear it breaking, wanted to make those tears fall and breaths turn to sobs, hungered for it in the way he hungered for applause on the stage, as something his due.

Kurt hummed in satisfaction at the answer - he’d thought so, but now he knew, now he could - and leaned down, putting his mouth next to Blaine’s ear.

“No.”