If you would like to read this on my livejournal instead of the evil ff net, you can find it at

pucktheperv [dot] livejournal [dot] com [slash] tag [slash] bornthisslave

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Summary:Everything is going well for Glee Club until a drop in the economy leaves one of their own in a desperate situation. The bank is foreclosing on Sam and he is about to be sent into a world of legal slavery - a trade that is entirely foreign to everyone except the highest of society. The situation seems helpless until Kurt comes forward with a secret that may save Sam's life-but it may also lose Kurt his friends when they find out that one of their own is, in fact, a slavemaster. And his slave is no other than Dave Karofsky.

Author's Notes: Okay, you guys gotta help me catch up on number of reviews with Tusofsky's Country Slave. We live in the same house and whoever loses gonna get whupped with my lucky crop. Which is still fun, but I prefer to be tho whooper! MUAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH ;P

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Chapter 10: Bound and Determined

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"Kurt, Davey, your friends are here!"

Dave crawled back a few steps so that Kurt could climb off the bed, then it rose to its feet, turning to face the stairs with its head bowed respectfully, hands still clasped behind its back.

Kurt was totally not thinking at all about how the position made his slave's pecs flex.

"Come on in, guys!" Kurt called out and the door opened. Mercedes marched in and Kurt was pretty sure that Sam had trailed in behind her, however, it was hard tell since what she was wearing demanded the full attention of anyone with eyes.

Dave glanced up then made a choking sound, its eyes growing huge.

"Lady Gaga on a piece of toast," Kurt said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You look *fabulous* Mercedes!"

Fabulous hardly covered it. She was definitely the essence of 'big, beautiful woman,' dressed in a low cut, shiny gold top with paired with an androgynous yet somehow still effeminate silk jacket and wide leg silk trousers. Her eyelids were dusted with gold powder and she was wearing a necklace of gold coins that covered her throat and trailed down to rest above her very… prominent breasts. But what really made her look like a queen was the crown upon her head, a wide brimmed black hat decorated with golden roses and large gold feathers that arched a foot into the air above it.

Day-am.

Mercedes grinned widely, putting a hand on her hip and striking a pose. "How do I look? Good enough for an elite mall?"

"Girl, you look good enough to be America's Next Top Model! Doesn't she look lovely, David?"

Dave made a soft choking sound, kind of like it had maybe swallowed a fly, then gave her a tight smile. "You look, ah, very glamorous, Miss Mercedes."

The girl started to grin at it, then seemed to sort of freeze, her eyes widening. "Wow. Whoa… Damn… Uh, did we come in at a bad time?" She glanced back at Sam, who was dressed as conservatively as possible in baggy jeans and a hoodie that came over his hands and hid his face. Someone was obviously not looking forward to the coming day when he would have to strip down. "Maybe we should come back in a few, like, when Karofsky's got a little more clothing on?"

Kurt shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Um, well, actually, this is slave Dave's uniform."

Mercedes' eyes widened, mouth dropping open. "That's his *uniform?* That's not a uniform, Kurt, it's some nail polish on his balls!"

Kurt winced and Sam made a sound that could have been a laugh or a sob. Somehow Kurt didn't think the boy was handling his fate very well. "Actually, it is. Those are his, erm, slave shorts. They make clothing specifically for slaves. In fact, I figured we would pick some up for Sam at the mall so that he wouldn't have to wear what the bank's trainers gave him." Kurt made a face. "I hear a lot of slaves die in those clothes and you don't want any second-hand blood on you."

Mercedes just continued to stare at Dave, mouth hanging open in a very unladylike way. Kurt supposed it was an understandable reaction to his enormous slave standing in the middle of the room wearing nothing but skin-tight spandex shorts so tiny they could be mistaken for a wide belt. He should have thought about the fact that she'd never seen Dave when it wasn't dressed either in jeans and a letterman or its football uniform. Football pants were pretty tight, but they had nothing on the spandex Dave had on. Honestly, wearing nothing at all wouldn't have made much of a difference, except in color.

Dave just stared back, eyes up but head still lowered submissively. It was a slave. It was used to people looking at it in ways that a freeman might consider rude. Though it did have a strange glint in its eye… It really didn't like Mercedes much.

Or maybe… maybe it liked her too much. Kurt blinked at the strange thought. He had never considered… Was it *attracted* to girls? Was it *attracted* to Mercedes? It had made quite the sound when she had first walked into the room in her fabulous gear. Kurt's lips turned down at the thought. It bothered him, for some reason, the idea of David being attracted to Mercedes. Kurt's jaw tightened. He and his slave might just have to have a little talk about what was and wasn't appropriate in the future. Because it thinking those kind of thoughts about Mercedes was totally inappropriate. Because Mercedes was a freewoman, of course. Not because Kurt wanted it all for himself or anything silly like that.

"Are… are you saying that he's going to the mall with us dressed like that?"

Kurt's frown deepened. Was it just his imagination, or did Mercedes' voice sound a little huskier than usual?

"Yes," he said shortly. "That's what slaves wear. Or what David will be wearing, anyway." Because what *his* slave wore was none of *her* business!

"Whoa… do you mean I'm gonna have to walk around in shorts that tight?" Sam's eyes were almost as big as his mouth, which was really saying something. "I can't do that. Everyone will *see* me!"

Kurt laughed, pushing his sour thoughts out of his mind and turning his attention to Sam. "I don't think *you* have anything to hide, sweetie." Hell, he was just surrounded by males with nothing to hide today!

Dave made a little grunting noise, shifting its feet, and Kurt raised an eyebrow in its direction.

"Did you have something you wanted to say, puppy?" Kurt asked, voice a snippier than usual. The strange images he was getting of Mercedes co-opting his slave out from under him were *not* amusing.

"Mmm, no Master. I mean, yes, Master. I just thought Mr. Sam, or soon to be slave Sam, should know that many slave owners require their more… personal slaves… to wear even less than this, even in public, Master. And when I say less, Sir, I mean nothing at all. Completely. Naked." Its words were a little too sweet, a tone Kurt recognized for the jab it was—though he really wasn't sure why Dave was trying to subtly upset Sam. Maybe… maybe it was jealous of Sam for getting to spend time with Mercedes? Kurt's eyes narrowed. He was *not* liking this sudden aggression in his slave. Or its possible fascination with Mercedes. Specifically with certain parts of Mercedes.

Kurt reached out slapped Dave's ass hard enough to make his hand sting, scowling at the slave.

Dave hardly reacted but Mercedes and Sam both jumped about a foot in the air, Mercedes letting out a loud shriek.

"Dammit, Kurt! Don't slap his butt like that! That's just messed up!"

"It's gonna get more than one slap to the butt if it doesn't be a good boy! I'll go the goddamn pancake flipper and take it to its bottom until it looks like a damn cherry!"

By now Dave looked somewhat chastised, but Kurt was still annoyed. And Mercedes was still standing there with her slave-distracting breasts. "I am counting on you to be the well-trained slave here and help Mr. Sam, slave! And so far, you are failing spectacularly."

*Now* the damn slave looked upset, as it damn well should!

It fell to its knees and began to crawl silently to Kurt, stopping about a foot away and dropping to the floor, lifting its face just enough for Kurt to see as it gently touched its lips with one finger. Kurt ignored it. It could kneel for awhile and think about what being a sassy little brat got you.

Sam was watching with what looked like terror while Mercedes made a disgusted face, shaking her head.

"This is so messed up. I cannot believe Karofsky just crawled across the floor to kiss your damn feet. That just seems *wrong.*"

"I… Am I gonna have to do that? How does anyone do that? I can't kneel at somebody's feet!" Sam's face was white and Mercedes reached out, patting his arm comfortingly.

"Don't worry, Sam. We're going to get you out of this, remember? You're not really going to be a slave, we're just buying time, okay?" She turned back to glare at Kurt. "Get him off the floor, dammit! You're freaking out Sam!"

Kurt sighed and reached down to tug at Dave's hair, giving silent permission for it to rise. Sam had better get used to this shit fast, because kneeling was definitely not the worst thing he'd be doing.

Dave climbed to its feet in silence, an ashamed look on its face. It met Kurt's eyes again, pressing a finger to its lips. No doubt it wanted to beg forgiveness. Somehow Kurt didn't think Sam could handle that right now, however, so he shook his head abruptly and gave the slave a shove toward the closet.

"Go get your bindings, Dave, and let's get out of here."

"His bindings?" Mercedes asked, arms still wrapped around a now-hyperventilating Sam. "What the hell are bindings?"

"It's lesson one for Sam, actually," Kurt replied, trying to ignore the way Sam was now looking at Kurt like maybe he was the scariest thing on the planet. Like the Anti-Christ. Or Dolly Parton's left breast. "There are certain protocols when you take a slave to a public venue. Certain attire that is considered appropriate. The first thing is, obviously, the clothing. But slaves don't have to wear clothing unless you want them to, so it's not that important. Other things, however, are required."

Dave returned with the bondage trunk in its arms, shoulders obviously tense and an upset look on its face. Kurt let out a little sigh then gave it a warm smile, gesturing for it to come forward. No reason to ruin the outing by leaving his slave feeling shamed. So it had been a little distracted by Mercedes' boobs. Kurt could forgive that. They were pretty damn distracting, after all. He wasn't sure how big a bra she wore, but it was definitely down there in the alphabet.

"For Master," it murmured as it bent to set down the heavy trunk like it weighed nothing.

Kurt reached out, ruffling its hair in a friendly way, then patted it on the shoulder as it straightened.

"Good boy."

Dave's whole body relaxed at the words and a small smile appeared on its face as it took a polite step backward and stood at attention, head bowed respectfully, hands behind its back. It really was such a good boy. It was hard to stay mad at it.

"Slave, kneel."

Dave obeyed immediately, moving to kneel down next to Kurt on the floor. Mercedes made an uncomfortable sound but Kurt ignored her, reaching down to slip his fingers beneath the thick, metal collar Dave wore. The collar was made out of steel, about a quarter if an inch thick and two inches wide, with a simple ring at the throat for attaching a lead or chain. "This is slave Dave's slave collar. All slaves are required to wear some kind of collar. Some look more like chain necklaces, though males usually wear ones that look like Dave's. Most are metal of some kind, though they are often covered by leather or other materials for decorative purposes."

"How do you get that thing off?" Mercedes questioned as Kurt used his hand to manipulate Dave's head into different positions so they could observe the collar. "I don't see a lock."

"Dave wears a permanent collar. It is what the elite call a prize slave, which means it is my personal slave and that it's with me most of the time. Permanent collars are very expensive, but my grandmother got it for me as a Christmas gift two years ago, after she was pretty sure Dave had mostly finished growing It was welded together on his neck to be one, solid piece."

Sam's mouth dropped open. "It can't come off?"

Kurt shook his head. "Nope. Well, not without some hardcore equipment, anyway. I have a GPS locator that connects to a micro-chip embedded in the collar so that I can always find it. If you don't have your own locator on your slave then you have to call SLAP to track one of the bodily micro-chips and they charge a fee for that. A rather exorbitant fee, in my opinion."

"*Bodily* micro-chips?" Sam asked, looking queasy.

Kurt nodded. "Yes. All slaves have bodily chips. But they *probably* won't put one in you until they register you."

Sam collapsed onto Kurt's bed, a glazed look on his face. "That does *not* make me feel any better." He looked down at Dave. "Does it hurt?"

Dave gave Kurt a quick look, fingertip brushing its lips and Kurt nodded his permission.

"Um, no Mr. Sam. You can't feel it. Them. I'm not even sure where they are. Or how many I have. It's listed in my registration, though, I believe."

Sam made a face. "I actually meant if it hurts when they put them in."

"Oh. Uh, I don't know, Mr. Sam. I was kinda young, I think. I don't remember them being put in at all."

"Didn't it leave, like, a scar?" Mercedes questioned, looking genuinely curious.

Dave's brow furrowed slightly then it shrugged. "I, um, have a lot of scars Miss Mercedes." It glanced down at its chest. "I guess they're hard to see in this light, and with all the hair on my chest and legs…"

"He's covered in scars," Sam said, voice almost robotic. "It's always the talk of the locker room. Puck calls it 'Count the Crackings.' You count as many scars as you can before Karofsky notices you staring and snarls at you. They're on his back, his chest, his legs, his thighs. The back of his neck. Everywhere but his face. Puck says he counted thirty-two once."

Dave made a sound that wasn't unlike a snarl, then it seemed to get hold of itself, glancing over at Kurt, then dropping its head. "Puckerman is nowhere near 'counting the crackings' I've gotten if he's only at thirty-two. I have a hell of a lot more scars than that. And I took plenty of crackings that didn't leave scars, *Mr. Sam.*" Once again Dave sounded *way* too innocent for it to be real. "But don't worry, Mr. Sam. I'm sure no one will need to crack a whip on *you*. Wouldn't want to ruin those perfect abs of yours."

It was all Kurt could do to keep himself from smacking it upside the head. What was up with it today? It was being almost as bad as it had at Mr. Schue's house! David was normally such a perfectly obedient slave… It was intelligent and sometimes made jokes that were slightly inappropriate to its place, but it was never outright *rude.* Maybe it was just having a hard time adjusting to being 'slave Dave' with people it was used to being 'Jock Dave' around. Kurt could understand that.

Sam wrapped his arms around himself like he was cold, looking up at Kurt with wide eyes. "I… I'm not gonna get whipped, am I Kurt?"

Kurt bit his lip, not sure what to say. Sam would be whipped. Learning to take a whipping was part of slave training. Finally he replied, "Well… it may not leave scars, Sam." It was better than nothing, at least.

Sam made a frightened sound, pulling his legs up onto the bed and burying his face in them. Mercedes sat down next to him, making soothing noises.

Kurt glanced over at Dave, giving him a very clear 'Now see what you did?' look. Dave looked appropriately guilty, cheek tinged red as it swallowed nervously.

"I… Please, Mr. Sam, don't be so upset. It… it's not as bad as it seems. I'm sorry, I was trying to be scary, Sir. I've been… acting in an inappropriate way, which I look forward to my punishment for. Whippings seem scary, I know, but… I promise, it's not so bad, okay? It's really not so bad."

Sam sniffled and looked up, though he kept his knees tight against his chest, staring at Dave for a long moment. Finally he spoke, voice quiet. "I don't believe you."

Kurt let out a sigh and patted his slave on the head. It had tried, at least. Nothing was really going to make Sam feel better at this point. He might as well just try and distract him.

"So, as I was saying, your slave must always wear a collar, even in public around common people. It's a mark of what it is. Other bindings are discouraged when your slave will be around common men, unless they have clothing over them, because it tends to make your average middle classers uncomfortable."

"Gee, I wonder what could possibly make us uncomfortable about people walking around in bondage?" Mercedes asked sarcastically, one arm still draped across Sam's shoulders.

Dave shifted at the sound of her voice, but this time is was *definitely* in irritation, not in attraction. Maybe he had been silly to think Dave was distracted by Mercedes' breasts. A little paranoid, perhaps? Dave was Kurt's slave and it was loyal to *him*.

"If the collar is not permanent, like Dave's, then it must be locked on, as well. However, at some elite venues, especially places where many masters will be bringing their prize slaves, other bindings besides collars are required. For elite parties, it is up to the host to decide what minimum bindings are, though you can always bring your slave in heavier bondage if you feel it is necessary or if you simply like to bind your slaves. Bu there are actually laws for some circumstances. For a trader to legally transport slaves in bulk, for example, slaves must have their hands bound, feet shackled, and be gagged. That way no arguments will start up and no physical fights will be possible."

"Is gagging someone really necessary?" Mercedes asked, sounding shocked. "Talk about degrading!"

Kurt sighed. She thought *everything* was degrading. "It's a *safety* issue, Mercedes. It's just about being *safe.* At the elite mall we're going to, privately owned slaves have to be in pretty heavy bondage. They had a few circumstances last year when the House of Julia was feuding politically with the House of Servilia and some of the elite youth decided to use the food court as a gladiator ring. So now male slaves' legs must be fettered in a way that makes it impossible to run, they must wear a choke collar, a shock collar, or a facial harness, and they must be attached to a lead. A female slave has to be collared and leashed but doesn't need its legs bound. All slaves must also have a metal shackle for either their wrist or ankle and be tethered to the table-posts within three feet of their master when they're in the food court." Kurt shook his head. "You wouldn't have *believed* what went down in that food court. Pizza and orange chicken were flying *everywhere,* there was blood in the wishing fountain, and one of the slaves managed to remove the another's nipple with a disposable fork."

"Oh my God," Sam murmured, looking terrified. "That's craziness."

Dave popped open the bondage trunk, looking down at the neatly arranged mass of leather, metal, and chains. "Which would Master like?"

Hm… A good question… Kurt didn't want to make Sam puke, which is where he looked like he was headed, and the look that Mercedes was giving him kind of made him fear for his balls if he pulled out anything too… interesting. But they couldn't go to the mall with Dave in just a collar—they would never get past security. Not after last year when a slave had been thrown through the display window at Victoria's Secret and died in a pile of Miraculous Bras.

Kurt frowned. Oh, screw their delicate sensibilities. He was doing this to help Sam, dammit! They were just going to have to deal. Accept things for the way things were. Because, at this point, Sam had no other choice.

"Well, I hate choke chains," he said, his words forcibly cheerful. "Dave would never run off, it's a good boy, but I have a tendency to get quite excited when I see the perfect sequined scarf and just lunge for it!" Kurt mimicked the movement, laughter dying out when Mercedes just stared at him with a sour look. "Since they are quite powerful choking devices, well, that can make for an interesting experience, can't it, slave Dave?"

Dave nodded seriously, though there was a small smile on its face. "Yeah, you could say that, Master. It certainly hurt to swallow for awhile, Sir."

"We'll go with the face harness then," Kurt said briskly, hoping he wasn't making the wrong choice. He doubted Mercedes would like the harness, but it was much kinder to a slave than a choke or shock collar.

Dave reached into the trunk obediently, rifling through the pieces and pulling out a mess of black straps, offering it to Kurt.

Kurt took the leather. "Put the steel manacles on your ankles and loop the fettering cord through while I try and get this thing untangled," Kurt instructed as he began to fiddle with the soft leather straps.

There was a little bit of clanking, then the quiet sound of padlocks clicking, as Dave put the heavy metal cuffs around its ankles then locked a small chain onto one, reaching down into its shorts to pull the chain beneath the material.

"Whoa!" Mercedes cried out, pushing herself up off the bed to stand with her hand in a 'stop' motion. "Hold up! This turn you on or something, Karofsky? What the hell do you think you're doing, boy? There is a lady present!"

Dave froze, one hand in its pants and a slightly irritated look on its face, and Kurt cleared his throat uncomfortably. "The, um, fettering chain slides through a loop on, um, a device that Dave has under its clothes, Mercedes." Wow. This was fun to explain. Chastity devices would be ever better. Hopefully they could save that one for later. "See, if you just hook the chain from one foot to the other, it has to be really short to prevent running, which makes it hard to walk. But if you, um, well…" Kurt felt his face starting to warm. "How do I explain this?" He looked helplessly at his slave and Dave's lip twitched in obvious amusement before ducking its head respectfully in Mercedes' direction.

"It wraps around my genitalia, Miss Mercedes," it said calmly as it began to fiddle around in those tight shorts again. "That way the chain can be very loose, so that I can easily walk and keep up with Master, but if I ran, it would pull tight at the sudden movement, restricting around my balls, which is very painful." It paused and then added, apparently just for good measure, "Very, very painful."

Two very's. When it came to Dave that meant that jumping out of a plane with no parachute or wearing Crocs in public might hurt less.

"Painful enough that there would definitely be no more running, anyway, Ma'am."

Sam made a little whimpering noise. "They're gonna put one of those on me?" He was starting to look rather panicked. "They can't put one of those one me!"

Dave looked at the boy oddly, one eyebrow lifting. "It's not that big of a deal, Mr. Sam. It only hurts if you run, and I'm not going to run. Definitely not going to run. Forgetting once, when I was in training and tried to catch a butterfly while fettered, left an impression that will last forever."

"You have a *chain* wrapped around your *nuts*, Karofsky!" Sam said in disbelief. "Don't you find that a little disturbing?"

"No, Mr. Sam." It gave a little shrug. "I've had *a lot* of things wrapped around my balls."

Mercedes made an irritated sound. "Yuck, thanks for that image. Now is *not* the time for a manly show of dirty-minded jockish sex jokes, Karofsky."

Dave stared at her for a split second, looking confused, then its mouth dropped open, an annoyed look coming over its face. "I meant restrictive devices, Miss Mercedes! Not *that*!" It snorted. "And you're sure I'm the dirty-minded one, Miss Ford F-150-I mean, Miss Mercedes?"

"Dave!" Kurt cried out as Mercedes practically snarled, trying his best to seem truly upset though he was laughing inside. He landed a hard smack to Dave's chest, then twisted its nipple rather brutally. "Be polite to Miss Mercedes, slave David!"

Its jaw tightened at the pain in its nipple. "Yes, Master Kurt. I'm sorry, Miss Mercedes. I look forward to my punishment." It didn't really sound particularly sorry, but what the hell? Mercedes had it coming for assuming that everything Dave said was related to what was in its pants.

"Okay," Kurt said, trying to redirect the conversation before another word about testicles was spoken. "Get back down so I can put this face harness on," he instructed, holding up the straps he'd finally gotten untangled.

"How come they can't just wear plain collars?" Mercedes questioned, eyeing the leather with obvious disgust as Dave got down on its knees. "Isn't that degrading enough? Do you really have to take it a step further?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's for *safety* reasons, Mercedes?" Kurt asked, exasperated. "It's for *safety* reasons, in case some slave acts up! Dave is very obedient, as are most slaves, but sometimes quarrels start. Hell, most of the time the quarrels start between the masters and the slaves are just stuck fighting it out! The point, though, is to have them in something that will actually restrain them so that no one will get their head stuffed into the ice cream mixer at the Ben & Jerry's stand!"

Mercedes frowned. "But you said some masters put their slaves in more bondage just because they want to."

Kurt let out a loud sigh. "Yeah, well, it's sort of turned into a form of fashion, okay? How crazy/pretty/cool can you wrap up your slave? But at the core it's about safety." He lifted the straps in his hand. "This is actually a bridle, not a plain face harness, but the reins and bit are removable and you can clip a lead under the chin and use it as a face harness, too."

"A bridle?" Sam repeated in disbelief. "What, do you *ride* him or something, Kurt?"

Er… only when he was feeling *very* humorous. Or when he was at an elite party and someone had slipped something in the punch. Not that Sam and Mercedes needed to know about *that* evening… Kurt waved the question away. "It's just one of the binding pieces that are popular with the elite. Like I said, people like to buy fancy bondage equipment, just for show, you know." He snapped his fingers. "Fashion is alive in all classes!"

Kurt reached down, slipping the bridle over Dave's head. It was constructed of soft, black leather with silver buckles and locks. There was a strap that wrapped from the top of the head down the cheeks to fasten under the chin, then another strap that went around the forehead and back of the head. Another strap crossed just under the nose, lying just above the upper lip, and two thin straps came down on either side of the nose from a strap that ran down the center of the forehead to hold it in place. The strap under the nose buckled at the back of the head, then there was another strap just below it that held a gag-like piece with D-rings on either side for the "reins."

Dave opened its mouth to take the bit before being asked and Kurt began to fiddle with the straps that held it in place, finally getting it unhooked from the rest of the harness. Once the little silver buckles came free he tapped his slave on the side of the face and it obediently dropped the "bit" back into its master's hand. Kurt tossed it and the reins back into the bondage chest then began to work at tightening the chin and facial straps.

"So we just tighten this chin strap to help minimize talking…" Kurt murmured as he worked, concentrating. "And make sure it's not too tight so our little slave here doesn't get a headache… Are the straps okay, puppy?"

Dave gave a short nod and Kurt smiled, patting it on the head. It lifted its chin so that Kurt could hook on the lead, returning its master's smile with one of its own.

It was *such* a good boy.

"Oh my God." Kurt looked up sharply at the horrified tone of Mercedes' voice. "That is just… That is…" He didn't even know how to describe the look on her face. She had looked better the day Glee Club had done 'Blame It On the Alcohol' and puked all over the stage. "That is *horrible*, Kurt! *You* are horrible!" Yup, the disgust in her voice was just about as clear as vomit on his face. If vomit was really, really clear, anyway. Kurt flinched a little and took a deep breath, digging his fingers into Dave's hair as he tried to calm his twisting stomach.

"Mercedes," Kurt said quietly. "R-remember what we talked about? You know… about having an open mind? For-for Sam's sake?"

The girl let out a short laugh, shaking her dead in disbelief. "Kurt, this is so degrading, it's not even a little bit funny. I feel sick—literally!—just looking at him. I *never* thought I'd feel bad about Karofsky being humiliated, considering that he's slushied me, like, twenty times, but *damn*! Nobody deserves this! I mean, I can't even *imagine* anything more humiliating that you could do to it!"

Dave glared at her. "I can," it said adamantly. "Lots of things." The comment was obviously meant to be in Kurt's support, but he wasn't sure that declaring that it could think of lot of more humiliating things that Kurt could do to it was really going to help.

"I am not wearing one of those things!" Sam declared as he sat up very straight, sounding panicked. "Not ever!"

"I'm sorry but you won't have a choice, Mishter Sam," Dave said simply, its words a tiny bit slurred due to the chin strap that was holding its mouth mostly shut. "Bondage is one of the first things covered in slave training since it is required in order to go out with your Mashter."

"This junk about needing bondage or whatever for safety reasons is a fat load of crap," Mercedes said, voice venomous. "You need the humiliation of it to degrade them enough that they actually believe they're less than you so that they won't rebel!" She moved forward, putting her hands on her hips as she stared down at Dave. "Karofsky, get up off the floor and take that thing off! You're a big, strong person with a will of your own! If you say no, little Kurt there can't stop you! Are you really just gonna kneel there while a boy half your size puts you in a harness like an animal?"

Dave's face had turned an interesting shade of red. "I'm a slave, Miss Mercedes, and a good one! I will do as my Master pleases—it's my duty!"

Kurt ran a hand lightly through its hair in an attempt to calm it, then scowled at Mercedes. "For the last time, it is not degrading Mercedes! I'm not humiliating it! I care about it, why would I want to hurt it? It's a *slave*! Putting it in a harness doesn't humiliate it! It. Is. Just. A. Slave! There is a practical reason for this! Like you said, it's twice my size! Do you really think elite malls would be safe if all the slaves were just running wild? It's a master's job to keep its slave in check so that it doesn't get in trouble! It's another way of caring for it!"

Mercedes stood there for a moment, clenching and unclenching her fists, face twisted up in fury as she visibly tried to calm herself. After a long moment, she took a deep breath, face clearing somewhat, and moved closer to Dave, squatting down until they were nearly face to face.

"Okay," she said, her voice surprisingly calm as she turned her head to look at Kurt. "You claim that this isn't humiliating for him, right? That it's just practical and he doesn't care?"

Kurt nodded firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's right."

"Okay. And slaves don't lie, right?"

"They shouldn't." What the hell was this all about?

"So can I ask him a question and he tell me the truth? No matter what it is? Will you order him to answer truthfully?"

Kurt stared at her for a moment, lips tight, then gave a short nod, glancing down at his slave. "David, whatever Miss Mercedes asks, I want you to answer her honestly. And I'll know if you don't, okay?"

Dave's eyes widened slightly as it looked back and forth between Mercedes and Kurt, obviously nervous. It flinched a little when Mercedes reached out and gently touched the strap running across its forehead.

"Okay, honest answer. I want to know… Is this humiliating, Karofsky?"

Dave just stared back at her, eyes very wide.

Mercedes gave it a supporting smile. "You don't lie to your master, right? So tell us, honestly. Is it humiliating to have to get down on the ground and sit there while someone ties you up so that they can pull you around like a dog? Is it humiliating to be dragged along, not able to speak, not able to decide where you're going or what you're going to do? To know that, if you're anything less than a good dog, you'll be punished like the animal they treat you as?"

"I… I'm glad to serve my—"

Mercedes cut it off. "I mean, what if your jock friends were here? Puck and Finn? Or Azimio? You like Azimio, right? You two seem tight. If he walked in here right now and saw you like this, how would you feel? Embarrassed? Ashamed? Humiliated?"

Dave's brow furrowed, a troubled look on its face. Its breath was coming a little too fast and sweat was beginning to bead on its forehead. Kurt frowned.

"I am glad to serve my Master in *any* way."

"See?" Kurt said shortly, sick of the way Mercedes always managed to make his pet so upset. She needed to quit upsetting his slave! "What did I tell you?"

Mercedes glanced up at him, her eyes cold. "He still hasn't answered my question, Kurt."

"It just said that it was glad to serve its master!"

"I didn't ask if he was glad to serve you, Kurt!" she said, standing up abruptly. "I asked if this," she gestured vaguely toward its face, "was humiliating for him!"

Kurt let out an irritated sigh. He was getting sick of this. It was getting them nowhere and it *definitely* wasn't helping Sam. "Dave, just answer the damn question!"

There was a long moment of silence and Kurt looked down, frowning when he saw it staring blankly at the floor, its muscles tight and it chest barely moving.

"David?'

His slaver jerked, licking at its lips nervously as it looked up at Kurt. "I… I am not supposed to lie, Master…" The words were almost a question and Kurt's frown deepened. It sounded almost… afraid?

"That's right, David. Answer Miss Mercedes' question. No lies."

It bowed its head, body tipping forward a little, and Kurt's eyes were drawn to the tight way it held its arms behind its back, fingernails digging into its own palms. Why was his slave afraid?

"I… I am here to serve you in every manner and I am very proud to do so… no matter how it makes me feel, Master Kurt. Because disappointing you would bring a thousand times more shame than some stupid piece of diminishing equipment—I mean, binding equipment—ever could."

Mercedes made a superior noise as Kurt stared down at it, eyes wide. What the… "Are you… are you saying that I *humiliate* you, slave David?" His words came out a little shocked. He wasn't entirely sure if the idea angered or hurt him.

Dave looked up sharply, panic coming over its face. "No, Master! I mean, some things in a slave's life are… humiliating is such a strong word… difficult, maybe? Difficult to deal with… on the inside? But learning to overcome and accept it what much of slave training is about!" Its cheeks were a deep red color. "As I said to Mr. Sam, bondage is one of the earliest elements of training. It *is* important because you must be bound to go many places with Master, but… but the real reason bondage is taught so early is because, well, it's a reminder that you are lesser. They call it being dressed in… in diminishing equipment. It is important for a slave to know in its heart of hearts that it's lesser than its master. It is the truth, and a slave needs to understand it and accept it. Having your movements restricted, being able to move only at Master's pleasure is… belittling."

Kurt made a shocked sound and Dave flinched visibly.

"No! No, Master, please don't look at this slave like that! I should not have used that word! That stupid calendar is not helping right now! It… It's *humbling.* Yes, that's the word! Not belittling—humbling! We should be humble before our masters and remember that it is their right to do with us as they please. So I'm grateful for my bindings because they help me remain humble inside! You know that a proud slave is just asking for trouble, Master! A proud slave will be whipped by handlers and mounted by strangers and deserve nothing less! The diminishing equipment reminds us to be humble, and it reminds us that Master's pleasure is the greatest reward and is worth any hardship! Next to Master's pleasure, personal pride is nothing."

Kurt just stared at it in disbelief, feeling a little light headed. *Diminishing* equipment? Is that what trainers called bondage? Was it really saying that it found wearing a harness humiliating? Belittling? Because Word A Day Calendar or no Word A Day Calendar, that 'humble' stuff was a load of crap. What else did it do every single day that it found humiliating, just because that's what it had been trained to do? It had been following Kurt around on a leash like… like the 'puppy' he called it since they were ten years old. Had it felt humiliated, every single time?

Fuck it. He could not deal with this right now. He felt like his head was about to explode.

"Let's get this off of you," Kurt said gruffly, feeling a little ill. It was a *slave.* A slave wasn't supposed to care what you did to it. And it wasn't supposed to matter, even if it did! Why was he worrying about it like it was a person? Kurt didn't know. But he could contemplate it all later. Right now he just felt sick. Slave Dave was his prize. It had been nothing but faithful to him. He didn't want to humiliate it.

Dave, however, flinched back as its master reached for the harness, its eyes wild. "Please, Master, no!" It cried out, looking absolutely panicked. "Miss Mercedes had confused everything!" The look it shot Mercedes was *not* nice. "I *enjoy* being put in my place by Master! Overcoming the difficulties of my duty so that I can please Master is what I *live* for! God dammit!" It broke then, burying its harness-covered face in its hands, big shoulders shaking as it began to cry. "I am proud to be a slave, Master! The other pride? The personal pride? It is fake. Meaningless! I am *glad* when it's taken away and I can focus on serving Master!" It let out a choked sob and Kurt dropped to his knees beside it, wrapping his arms around its shoulders, feeling like absolute shit. He hadn't meant to make his pet cry!

"Please don't take away my bindings, Master! It puts me back to where I can live only for You, which is what makes me happiest! I don't care who sees me dressed in diminishing equipment because what others think isn't important! What Master thinks is important!" It raised its head, looking Kurt soulfully in the eyes, tears running down its cheeks. "Please, please, please don't take away my place in life! I have served you loyally for six years and, in all that time, have I ever protested, Master? Please don't let one naive bitch—I mean naive girl—take away the pleasure of serving my Master!" It buried its head in Kurt's chest and he squeezed it tightly.

"It's okay," Kurt murmured comfortingly, shooting a glare at Mercedes, just for the hell of it. He wasn't sure if he was angry at her or himself, but he did *not* like seeing his slave cry, dammit! "Master isn't going to take anything away, puppy. You're right, you've been mine for six years and I'm not going to just change things out of nowhere." Kurt lifted the edge of his sweater to wipe at its tears. "But you're my prize and I don't want to hurt you. You be strong, we'll get on with out day, then you and I can talk about what happened here later, okay?"

Mercedes let out a sharp bark of laughter. "I cannot believe how brainwashed you have that poor boy, Kurt! Can you believe this, Sam?" There was no response and Mercedes turned toward the bed, frowning. "Sam?" She glanced around, eyes widening. "Where the hell did he go?"

A sobbing sound came from the bathroom and Kurt stood, clenching his fists in annoyance as he glared at Mercedes. Fabulous. Just fabulous. Thirty minutes into 'helping Sam' and the poor boy was already crying in the bathroom.

"You wait here," Kurt said shortly as he pushed past Mercedes, heading for the bathroom. "And try not to make my slave cry anymore today, okay Mercedes?"

o o o

Dave wanted to kill her. He used the back of his hand to wipe the snot off of his face as he glared in her direction. Seriously, Miss Mercedes-Benz-A-Bitch better be damn glad that the ogre-ish bully was just pretend or he'd have gladly ripped her into pieces right there. Go all Shrek-on-steroids on her butt, he would.

How could she have forced him into saying that in front of Master? And then Master had misunderstood *completely* and, in His kind-heartedness, had been ready to take away a major part of his service as a slave. Without bindings, his Master wouldn't be able to take him anywhere. Talk about a worthless slave. He'd be a joke. He couldn't even imagine what his fellow slaves at the estate would say.

Yes, it was sometimes hard on his useless pride to walk a pace behind the small, delicate boy with his face wrapped in leather and his arms chained behind him. Yes, it was difficult to watch as people looked you over and automatically dismissed you as unimportant. Especially since Dave had been spending so much time with the common folk, who worked off this strange concept that everyone was 'special.' And there was nothing worse than common folk seeing you in bondage because they didn't just dismiss you off hand like the elite, they looked at you with anything ranging from amusement to pity to disgust—none of which was fun to see in someone's eyes.

But bondage *did* keep a slave in line. A slave *should* be automatically dismissed. A slave *was* unimportant. And being both wrapped in chains yet left vulnerable by nakedness was very humbling. It reminded a slave of what it was. Any 'humiliation,' as Miss Mercedes insisted on calling it, was a slave's own fault—a slave shouldn't *have* pride to hurt.

Pride just *got* you hurt, after all.

So yeah, maybe Dave felt 'humiliated' sometimes, if you wanted to call it that. Especially when dressed in ways that were obviously *not* just for safety measures. But the bondage—especially the bondage that went beyond simple safety precautions—was about bringing Master pleasure. And any humiliation was worth it if it brought Master pleasure, because that brought *Dave* pleasure—and pride, the *good* kind of pride. Pride that he was such a good slave. The sort of pride a slave could brag about to others. Dave was proud to be Master's slave and if he had to choose between personal pride and pride at his serving abilities, there was no question that he would throw away any personal shame and bow at Master's feet in an instant.

Maybe he should have lied to Him. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, not when Master had told him specifically not to. Besides, his Master deserved to know all of His slave's fault, including Dave's lack of humility at times.

Dave had looked up at his Master expecting to see anger and disappointment at Dave's poor slavemanship. He had expected harsh words and punishment, disgust and disbelief. But instead… instead he had seen hurt. And guilt. And that had cut more deeply than a whip ever could.

His kind Master had misunderstood *completely.* He had taken Dave's words to mean that His slave didn't want to be bound when, really, all Dave wanted was to be punished for his pride. For not being the shameless slave who is proud to be bound for its Master.

Maybe his master's leniency was bad for him. Allowing him to socialize with freemen at McKinley, encouraging him to play sports, and to learn his letters like a freeman… it was all making him proud, and pride was more dangerous than curiosity.

Oh, what did it matter? What had happened, had happened, and now Master was confused and sad, which made Dave want to cry. Why, why, why had that bitch had to do this to him? He hardly had any days left with Master at all! He wanted what days he did have to be their best, not make his last six months with his Master the worst in six years!

"Karofsky?" Dave looked up at the soft voice, glaring at the girl squatting down in front of him, an obviously faked smile on her face. "Look, you don't have to live like this anymore, okay? I'm gonna help you, Kurt be damned. Now take that thing off. We'll find a way to get your collar off, too, and you can be your own person. You don't have to take this kind of abuse anymore."

Abuse? *Abuse?* Had she just implied that his Master *abused* him?

Those words were the last straw. With what could almost be called a roar, Dave sprang forward, grabbing the girl by the arms and throwing her hard onto the bed, pressing down on top of her, teeth bared. "My Master does not ABUSE me, you BITCH!"

The girl let out a shriek, shoving at his chest with her hands, and Dave froze, shocked by what he had just done. He looked over sharply at the bathroom door, holding his breath in terror. Had Master heard? The door didn't open.

Miss Mercedes made a frightened sound from beneath him.

Oh, God, what had he done?

Dave fell back, landing in a heap on the floor, then began to crawl backward as fast as he could, until his back was flush against the wall, his shoulders shaking in fear. He had attacked a freeman. He had *attacked* a *freeman.* Oh, God, what had he done?

"Please," he cried out, voice choked. "I'm sorry, Miss Mercedes. I am so, so sorry. I will be so, so, so grateful to be punished terribly that you can't even imagine. The thought of the pain brings me great pleasure!"

"No," Mercedes said as she pushed herself into a sitting position, her voice a little shaky, but firm. "No. No one is going to kurt you, Karofsky."

…No one was going to hurt him? Panic raced through Dave's chest. Surely she didn't mean…

"No one's going to hurt you because you're not going to belong to anyone anymore!"

Oh, God, it was worse than he could have imagined. So, so, so much worse. He was a rebel. He was a *rebel!*

Dave couldn't help himself, he burst into tears for the second time that afternoon. "Please, please, Miss Mercedes, this slave begs of you! Though I have no right to bed any forgiveness, I am so, so sorry for what I did! I deserve the worst of punishments! And I beg of you—whip the skin off my back and the muscle from my chest! Make me bathe in boiling water! Flog my balls until they bleed! Break my hands into useless pieces! Let a hundred men mount me in a night! But please, please, please don't take me away from Master! I may deserve no less for striking you than to be given to the Discarded and Irreputable Slave Sanctuary and spend the rest of my life living with rebels in the pound, but I've spent my whole life earning my place with my Master! Please don't take away this slave's life by handing it over to the DISS!"

Dave searched Mercedes' face, totally unable to read her at all as she stared at him with wide, bright eyes, her mouth hanging open. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she spoke, her voice shaky and low.

"I-I didn't mean that as a punishment, Karofsky. You… you're not going to be punished for pushing me." She shook her head in disbelief. "I don't understand, Karofsky. You just *said* that being locked up like that is humiliating! Why don't you want it to stop?"

Dave licked his lips nervously, heart pounding. This was his chance to explain himself, to try and get her to understand, and then, maybe, she wouldn't ask Kurt to send him to the pound like the rebel he'd acted as. But how did you explain the mind of a slave to a freeman?

"Please, Miss Mercedes, understand that what you call cruelty, I can a test of my faith. Though slaves may *claim* to have no pride, the truth is that we do! But not like you think. We are incredibly prideful, but we are proud to be *slaves*! When Trainer Karofsky took me to shows and I won awards for my service, other slaves were jealous of me, wishing that they could serve as well as I could! Other Masters looked as me and wished that I was their." He leaned forward a little, staring into her eyes. "My honor and pride is wrapped up in being a slave, Miss Mercedes! I *want* to do the things a slave does, even when they're what you would call humbling… or even humiliating. What *you* would consider humiliating, anyway. Because, if it was easy and there was never any fear or pain or shame to overcome, then everyone would be as good as you are and there would be nothing to be proud of."

He took a steadying breath. "Please, I am begging you, Miss Mercedes, don't ask my Master to take away the things that make me His slave. The things that show everyone that I am His humble possession. Because He is very sweet and innocent and kind-hearted and you might even be able to convince Him to treat me like more than the slave I am. But unless you *want* to punish me to a point that dying would seem better than living, please, please, please don't take my place as His slave away from me!"

There. He had said all he could say. Dave didn't know what else he *could* tell her. He just had to hope and pray that, somehow, she might understand.

Mercedes stared at him for what seemed like hours. She just sat there, staring. And not like people usually stared, with pride or lust or anger or any definable emotion. She stared at him like she was seeing a whole new picture. Like he was a puzzle that she was slowly piecing together in her mind. And finally, *finally* she moved toward him, reaching out and gently laying a hand on his cheek, running a finger along the leather strap of his harness.

Dave gritted his teeth to keep from jerking away. She was a freewoman, a friend of Master's. She had every right to touch him and he had no right to move away, no matter how he felt about her at the moment.

He was a good slave.

"Dave… I… God, I don't know what to do." She pulled her hand back, rubbing it across her own cheek, and Dave realized that she was crying. "It… it just doesn't seem *right* to me!"

Dave's gut wrenched, tears springing up in his eyes anew. It was all over. Even if he wasn't sent to the pound for his rebellious attack, this girl would eventually manage to convince Master that He was better off without Dave and… and… and who knew what would happen to him? Dave wasn't even sure he really cared anymore.

"But obviously… obviously things aren't quite as simple as I thought." Another tear ran down her face, but the words sent a glimmer of hope through Dave's heart. Was she saying…? "I… I hadn't really thought about how slaves would feel if they were just, you know, *freed.* I mean, I whole heartedly believe that all people gotta be free. But I guess I'd just assumed that slaves would be grateful for it. That they'd throw a big party or whatever. I don't want to *hurt* you, I want to help you."

Dave's chest felt so tight. Hope was such a scary thing.

"How… How about this? You and I… maybe we can sort of help each other? You can start coming to SAS and hear what we have to say on slavery—I'm sure Kurt won't mind since He's a member." She let out a little laugh and Dave couldn't help but smile at the thought. "And you and I will talk, too—just us. Maybe you can help explain to me how Born-slaves feel about, well, being slaves. I think that's the kind of thing I need to know before I swoop in and become another person making them do things without bothering to give them a choice of their own. That would be pretty hypocritical of me."

Yeah, it really would.

Dave licked his lips nervously. "And… and if I go to SAS then you'll stop trying to get my Master to throw me away?"

Mercedes winced. "I prefer 'free you' to 'throw you away,' but, yeah. I'll back off encouraging Kurt to let you go until you tell me that *you're* okay with it, all right?"

The relief was so overwhelming that it was almost like a drug. Mercedes' little compromise was good enough for him. Hell, she could lecture him for eternity on the evils of slavery as long as he got to spend this last six months with Master.

"Thank you, Miss Mercedes. And I… I am very sorry for pushing you." Dave glanced over at the door Master Kurt had disappeared behind guiltily. "I will be sure to report to Master for punishment."

Mercedes frowned deeply. "You know what? It's no big deal, Dave, okay? I don't want you to, uh, report to Kurt for, uh, punishment." She grimaced a little, obviously not liking the words. "In fact, I don't want you to even mention it to him, okay?"

Dave nodded obligingly, willing to agree to anything at this point. "Yes, Miss Mercedes."

Mercedes smiled at him, obviously relieved that he wasn't going to run to Master begging to be whipped. Which was fine. He didn't *need* to tell Master about it.

Dave was a good slave and he could damn well punish himself.