After Kurt finds out that Blaine has been masturbating without permission, he decides to punish his pet with Blaine's favorite toy.
Written for the Klaine Advent 2017 prompt "inch", and dedicated to itallstartedwithharry :) This takes place early in their relationship, when all of Kurt's rules have yet to be cemented xD Warning for bondage, ball torture, e-stim, and punishment.
Kurt strolls around the living room, a radiant smile on his face, flicking randomly the switches of a slim, black remote, his hands moving through the air as if conducting the music around him – the whimpers and moans of his beloved sub, naked except for a mesh jock, tied with arms outstretched to a dormant radiator, gagged with a black nylon stocking, the only part of his body free to roam his legs, kicking in a futile dance as the vibrator locked in his ass whirs indiscriminately under the command of Kurt's sadistic whims.
Kurt isn't watching Blaine, operating the device solely by sound, matching the pressing of the buttons to the symphonic music playing over a single wireless earbud in his left ear – Ravel's Bolero.
"Dahhh, duh-dah-de-dah-dah dah-de-duh dah-de-dahhh," he sings, waltzing and twirling with each high-pitched whine from Blaine's throat. He cranks the vibrator to high for a few, torturous seconds, and chuckles at the guttural scream it produces.
"I've noticed you've become very attached to this new vibrator of yours – pun intended," Kurt jokes, "as much as I've become attached to the noises you make because of it."
He flicks it one more time to high, this time peeking over the sofa to the spot where Blaine squirms on the wood floor, close to tears. It probably doesn't help that Kurt has attached a low voltage shock collar to his testicles - the smallest one he could find, made to fit Chihuahuas - which sparks off every time Blaine shifts position, knocking the locking arm of the vibrator, pressed into his perineum, against it. Blaine has gone completely rigid – head thrown back, digging into the metal boning of the radiator; eyes squeezed shut; chin thrust up; arms straining against his cuffs until his biceps bulge; butt planted into the wood with his knees bent and his heels digging in.
His scream rises in pitch, steadily climbing from rich tenor to thin, reedy countertenor.
Kurt, who lives in that range vocally, is impressed.
He dials the vibrator down to zero, watching Blaine immediately go limp. Kurt chuckles again, pleased. With this set-up, Blaine is his puppet, the speed of his reaction to the power-punch of vibrator and shock collar making Kurt immensely hard. Kurt walks by his exhausted sub - his poor boy's chest heaving with each labored breath, his wrists tugging weakly at his cuffs, trying to pull himself up - contemplating how he can get relief for his own aching hard-on.
"I bet you thought that when I asked you which toy you wanted to play with today, I'd actually let you control it." Kurt tsks. "My dear pet. You should know better by now … the same way you should know that toys are off limits when I'm not home. Hmph … masturbating without permission. Where do you think you are, pet?"
Blaine nods, a single bob of his head disturbing sweaty curls, mumbling something over the nylon stretching his mouth that sounds like an apology.
"You're sorry?" Kurt mocks, slowly bringing the vibrator from zero to one, the tiny increase in vibration causing the muscles in Blaine's arms to twitch. "That's so sweet of you." One goes to two, and the big toe of his right foot begins to tap. "But I'm afraid you're nowhere near sorry yet."
Blaine whimpers, on the brink of sobbing as he submits to the inevitable – two sliding to three, which makes his lower lip wobble; three to four, which tightens the muscles of his neck.
Four to five, and the moaning begins.
"That's right," Kurt coos, switching the settings from six to seven as Blaine's hips stutter, searching for a happy medium between the hum of the vibrator up his ass and the static crackle of the shock collar - which Blaine doesn't necessarily hate. "That doesn't feel too bad now, does it? I bet it's actually kind of nice, huh?"
Blaine gulps hard. He knows from the syrupy sound in Kurt's voice he might be walking into a trap, but, for the moment, he doesn't care. This feels too good – the combination of the vibrator massaging him deep inside and the crystalline spark of the collar spitting across his skin, tantalizing nerves, connecting his balls to his stomach to his nipples to his fingertips, leaving them with a slight numbing sensation. His eyes roll back and his head follows. Step by step the vibrations build in intensity. Blaine rubs is ass on the floor, like the dog he is, moving the vibrator inch by inch away from the shock collar and closer to where he wants it, where it will feel the most sublime.
Blaine's brain short circuits, his hips gyrating, rolling the base of the vibrator along a convenient rut in the floor. He feels the familiar wash of heat from his cheeks to his toes, followed by a secondary wave of cool when that heat bleeds entirely into his stomach, fanning out to his cock and his balls. He feels like his spirit has left his body, hovering on a plane of pure pleasure. He hears Kurt hum again, the climax of the music he's been listening to mirroring Blaine's own blissful completion. Pulse and snap and buzz and crackle meet deep within his groin and he cums hard. He begins to drool, babbling a string of nonsense behind his gag so ridiculous, it makes Kurt laugh out loud.
"Uh-oh, pet. You're in trouble now," Kurt says, and that's when Blaine remembers …
… he wasn't allowed to cum.
Kurt told him that as he tied him up. He repeated it several times.
He was adamant about it.
He said there would be consequences if Blaine did.
That was over an hour ago. But the start and stop of the torment, the constant pulse and hum of the vibrator, it's fluctuating frequency with no real rhyme or pattern, had erased it from his memory.
Blaine's eyes snap open. Ecstasy ebbs away, replaced by a low thrumming panic, his heart pounding in his chest till his sides cramp and his ribs feel sore.
"Oh, Blaine." Kurt approaches his quivering sub staring plaintively up at him. He lifts his socked toe and presses it against the swiftly softening lump in the front of Blaine's jock. When he pulls his toe away, his sock is drenched in Blaine's cum. He shakes his head disapprovingly. "Shame, shame, know your name. Poor Blaine. I'm afraid it's going to be a long afternoon for you now."
Blaine trembles, pleading with his eyes for leniency, mumbling words that trip and fall from his dry tongue and lodge in the folds of the nylon stocking, never to be understood. Kurt smiles.
"Have fun, pet! I'll see you in an hour ... or two …" He slips on his loafers, grabs his keys and his coat. With the sound of Blaine's begging following him, he switches the vibrator to high, tosses the remote on the sofa, and walks out the front door.