Warnings: Noncon (spanking, not Klaine this time, and it's like a sentence or two), starvation, anxiety, noncommunication. Also, Finn is going to be in this story, I'm not sure exactly how big of a part he'll play just yet, but he's going to be in it a fair amount, just so everyone is warned.

A/N: I DID IT! I managed to update when I said I would, yay me! So, for those of you who aren't reading La Pute and didn't seen the note on that one, I'm going to try and update this fic every Saturday, so far so good.

Word Count: ~ 4,500

Blaine wasn't sure how he managed to fall asleep in Kurt's arms, but he did. All the crying and fighting and shaking had left him exhausted, so when Kurt had wrapped him up in a firm and deceptively safe embrace he was out like a light with his face pressed into Kurt's neck, his hands spread out on his chest, and their ankles hooked around each other.

He awoke to cold. It was cold in the bed and it took him a minute to figure out why until he realized that he was no longer tightly intertwined with another body. In fact, there wasn't another body under the blankets or on the bed at all.

He sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes, scanning the room for Kurt who was nowhere to be found, and finally took in Kurt's bedroom. It was quite massive, bigger even than his room at home, which would have been surprising if Kurt were anyone but the prince. The majority of the room was made up of a library, bookshelves stretching floor to ceiling on more than half of two walls, the third opposite the door was made up entirely of windows with a long padded seat stretching along it. There was a grand piano in the middle of the library, with lounge chairs, small tables, and a couch sitting around it, all facing towards it.

More shelves lined the walls, shorter this time, and filled with small trinkets and picture frames. The bed was halfway between the library and the door, and a desk sat in the corner near it. On the wall across from the bed were two doors, one he knew was to the bathroom, and the other he assumed was a closet. A vanity sat to the right of the closet, between it and the bathroom. Large paintings hung around the room, mostly of beautiful landscapes and cities, but there was one directly above Kurt's desk, of a woman with long chestnut hair and eyes of swirling blues and greens, it was smaller than any of the other paintings, small enough to be easily retrieved from the wall and held close, it seemed. Blaine knew, like everyone else in the kingdom, that the queen had died a long time ago, and could only imagine the pain Kurt felt at losing his mother so young.

Blaine climbed out of bed when he saw no sign of Kurt in the main room. He knocked on the bathroom door before cracking it open and peaking in, then did the same on the closet door. Kurt wasn't around. There was, however, a few different sets of clothes, lying on Kurt's side of the bed; a pair of black sweats and a baggy white T-shirt, yoga pants and a more form-fitting t-shirt, and a simple pair of straight leg jeans and a navy blue polo shirt. Assuming Kurt had left them out for him to pick his preference, Blaine tugged on the sweats and T-shirt, hoping baggy clothes would make him less appealing to Kurt.

Blaine explored the room for a bit, looking for a note or something from Kurt but there was nothing to let him know whether he could leave the room or not, or when Kurt would be back, or really just anything to hint at what he should do all day, but there was nothing. He browsed the library for a while, pulling books from the shelf and attempting to read, but nothing was interesting enough to stop his mind from wandering.

He should have seen it coming, hell, he had expected it when he first came out and his parents stopped looking at him. He was living on borrowed time as a free man, because eventually his parents would sell him. That's just what you did with undesirable children in his neighbourhood, he'd seen it happen before.

Quinn had gotten pregnant, by a lower class boy even, to make her situation worse. Her parents kept the baby, and sold her. Blaine wasn't even sure if the father ever knew what happened.

Mike refused to go to medical school because he wanted to be a dancer. Tina spent every night at Blaine's house for almost two months afterward, sobbing into his arms.

The worst were Jeff and Nick who were caught in bed together and promptly sold the next day. Blaine's own parents had applauded the Duvalls and Sterlings on making the right choice, despite them being Blaine's best friends since childhood.

He'd hoped and prayed that his parents wouldn't care about his sexuality and he'd been wrong about that, but after almost two years he thought he was safe, that even if his parents pretended he didn't exist, they wouldn't stoop to selling him.

Neither of his parents even left their room when the collectors had come to get him.

Blaine was dozing on the couch when his stomach grumbled loudly. He groaned and rolled over, trying to ignore it, but his stomach was persistent, continuing to gurgle until he was forced to deal with it.

He rolled off the couch, going into the bathroom to check the state of his hair and immediately regretting falling asleep with it wet. The curls on the side he'd slept on were smashed flat against his head while the other side was a tangled mess of frizz. He knew the only way to make it look good would be to take a shower, but he was sure which, if any, of the products Kurt would be okay with him using. So he would have to settle for attempting to make it less terrible.

After twenty minutes of running a wet comb through it, his hair looked relatively not lopsided and his curls were becoming more springy and left frizzy and with another painful clench of his stomach he decided it was as good as he was going to get and it was time for him to brave the rest of the castle in search of food.

He walked aimlessly through the halls, tensing every time another person passed him even though the majority of them seemed to be other slaves or servants going about their duties. No one paid him any mind.

He'd been meandering for about an hour, finding nothing that looked relatively like a kitchen or a dining room when he ran into the last person he wanted to see. The man who had bought him, the man who had violated him with rough and humiliating touches as he 'examined' Blaine, all while calling both him and Kurt horrible things, before giving him away to him like some pet.

He froze in the middle of the hallway, heart stuttering in the chest at the sight of Carmichael. Blaine turned on his heel, quickly trying to walk away from him but he was too late.

"Hey, boy!" Carmichael shouted and like an idiot he paused in his steps, coming to an abrupt standstill as Carmichael quickly caught up to him. "Where's your master, boy?" he asked and Blaine shuddered, staring intently at the floor.

"I don't know," he said quietly.

"You don't know? So you're wandering about the castle by yourself? Are you trying to escape?"

"N-no," Blaine shook his head quickly, "I'm just looking for something to eat. I-I don't know when Kurt will be-" the slap was sudden and Blaine's head jerked to the side.

"Let's get a few things straight, boy, because I don't think you understand what your life as the prince's personal fuck toy is going to entail. You don't call him by his name, you call him Master, Sir, My Lord, or Your Royal Highness-"

"B-but he-he told me-"

Another slap sent Blaine stumbling backward, losing his balance at hitting his knees as he clutched at his cheek. Carmichael's fingers sunk into his hair, wrenching his head back.

"You will not speak unless given express permission or asked a direct question," he continued, "You will not leave his room unless accompanied by the prince or a guard he charges with your watch. And you will eat what he provides, if he hasn't sent food to the room for you, it's because you don't deserve it, do you understand?"

Blaine nodded weakly, blinking to keep the tears at bay.

Carmichael turned and started walking swiftly back towards Kurt's room, dragging Blaine behind him by his hair, not giving him a chance to get to his feet and forced to awkwardly crawl after him.

When they reached the room, Carmichael pulled him to his feet, pushing his head into the door, landing three swift smacks on his backside. Blaine cried out in pain and humiliation at being punished like a child in the middle of the hallway.

"That's only a taste of what the prince will have in store for you when he finds out you left the room without permission," he growled in his ear before opening the door and shoving him through.

Blaine hit the ground and curled into a ball, he stayed that way even after he heard Carmichael close the door and leave again, but then he let himself cry, great gasping sobs that only intensified as his stomach continued to growl in frustration. He'd done something wrong and he didn't know what it was, and Kurt was starving him because of it. He tried to draw in deep breaths but he couldn't stop the way that they hitched as he cried.

Eventually he managed to calm himself enough to stand on shaky legs and go back to the bed. He looked closely at the clothes Kurt had laid out for him and wondered if that's where he'd gone wrong, by specifically choosing something that would hide all his best assets under layers of baggy fabric. He touched the yoga pants, knowing that be more pleasing, hugging his ass and thighs tight. The shirt would show off his biceps and the muscles of his chest, hopefully it would draw more attention to the V of his hips than the pudge on his stomach that he just couldn't get to go away no matter what he did.

He changed quickly and sat on the other side of the bed, knees drawn to his chest, and waited. Nothing happened, no food came, Kurt didn't come back. If Kurt had a way of knowing he'd picked the wrong clothes he should surely have noticed that Blaine had changed for him into the right clothes… unless there were no right clothes, because Kurt didn't want him to wear anything and the clothes were a test. The most pleasing view for Kurt would be for Blaine to be naked at all times, clothes were a luxury, one Blaine wouldn't have anymore. What was the point of clothing when you were literally a human sex doll.

Blaine stripped out of the clothes, situating them carefully on the bed to try and make it seem like he hadn't touched them at all, before resuming his position against the headboard, chin resting on his knees as he watched the door. Still nothing happened.

Maybe he was in the wrong position, Kurt had seemed to like him on his knees the night before, so he climbed off the bed and kneeled a few feet away from the door, close enough to it that he would be the first thing Kurt saw when he finally came back, but far enough away that he wouldn't be hit by the door when it opened. As more time passed and his knees started to ache on the hardwood floor and Kurt still didn't return or send him some sign that he was doing what he was supposed to, Blaine folded in half, resting his forehead on the ground and clasping his hands behind his back. He'd screwed up a lot that day and if he wanted to not be punished too severely he needed to look like the picture of repentance.

He didn't know how long he waited there, eyes closed and concentrating on not crying again, he must have fallen asleep for a while because the next thing he heard was a sharp gasp from the doorway. He tightened his hands together, but didn't move from his position.

"Omygod, Blaine, how long have you been there?" Kurt asked in a rush, crossing to him quickly and pulling him up on his knees. Blaine's couldn't bite back the groan as his stiff back was straightened suddenly and his neck was jostled, making the crick in it very painfully known. "And where are your clothes? Did you not see what I left out for you to pick from?"

Blaine's mouth opened and closed a few time but he didn't know what to say. He thought he was doing what Kurt wanted, what he was supposed to do, and now with Kurt looking at him like he couldn't understand what Blaine had been thinking, kneeling naked in the doorway, left him not knowing what he'd been thinking either. And then his stomach growled loudly and Blaine remembered why he'd been trying to appease Kurt.

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt sighed, "dinner will be here soon. Get up and get dressed while I run to the bathroom real quick and then we'll eat together, how does that sound?"

Blaine nodded and Kurt walked away. Blaine ended up having to crawl to the bed, legs fast asleep and too stiff to possibly carry his weight. He put on the yoga pants and tight t-shirt.

The next few days went the same way, with Kurt being gone when Blaine woke up and not coming back until late that that evening. They'd eat dinner together, sitting on the couch, a few feet apart, mostly in silence. Then they went to bed, no sex, no kissing, Kurt didn't even cuddle him close, in fact he seemed to stay as far away from him as he could possibly get.

Blaine tried for the first couple of days to figure out what Kurt wanted him to do, but eventually he just started napping with a book on his chest that he'd attempted to read, the continuation of only having one meal a day was leaving him exhausted more often than not and he couldn't even rouse the energy to figure out how to earn more food.

On what Blaine thought was the fifth or sixth day of being with Kurt, the prince rushed into the room, quickly going to his closet in search of an outfit. "I'm so sorry, Blaine, but I have dinner with my father tonight, so I won't be able to eat with you. I shouldn't be out too late, but you don't have to wait up for me," and then he left the room as swiftly as he'd entered and Blaine was alone again.

Blaine foolishly assumed that even if Kurt wasn't eating with him, he would send food up for Blaine. But when it was almost three hours past their normal dinner time and nothing had come, Blaine went to bed ignoring the cramping of his stomach.

Blaine didn't know what was going on, but Kurt had had dinner with his father for four nights in row, which meant that Blaine hadn't eaten anything for four days. He was so hungry that his stomach had even stopped growling, like it too couldn't muster the strength to even make a sound, instead it just seized weakly every once in a while making Blaine let out a quiet whimper of pain.

After four days of constant hunger, Blaine was ready to do anything to be allowed to eat again, and the only thing is hunger addled brain could think of that Kurt was to get Kurt to fuck him. That had to be where he'd gone wrong, begging Kurt to just let him blow him that first night, and since Kurt wasn't making any move to right that wrong, it was up to Blaine to initiate it.

He reached carefully into the bedside table, pulling out the lube he'd found stashed in there a few days prior, and sat it on the bed beside him. He weakly squirmed out of his pants, tossing his shirt to the side as well, before rolling onto all fours and spreading his legs.

Kurt found that sharing a room with Blaine was actually pretty horrible. Not because Blaine was a bad roommate, no, he stayed out of Kurt's way, picked up after himself (if he had anything to pick up, Kurt wasn't actually sure what he did during the day), and he showered often enough that he didn't smell, so those were all plusses.

But sharing, not only a room, but a bed with someone who literally never spoke made everything very awkward, because the silence didn't seem natural, Blaine didn't seem like the kind of person who didn't speak, he just looked like the kind of person that would talk your ear off if you sat next to him on the train, but that's not what he did, instead he sat around with a book on his lap that it didn't look like he was actually reading, until Kurt called him over for dinner. Then he'd offer a polite 'thank you' and eat in silence. Kurt tried to get him to talk about his day the first couple of nights but when all Blaine seemed willing to respond with was a shrug or a noncommittal grunt he eventually gave up and let him be mute.

He was almost grateful that his father kept requesting his presence at dinner, that meant he only saw Blaine when he was asleep, which were reasonable times for the boy to be silent. So when he stepped back into the room and Blaine was very much not asleep, he'd frozen in shock.

He was kneeling on the bed, three fingers buried in his ass as he fucked them in and out, panting and whining quietly.

"Blaine," he choked out, and the boy looked back, startled, like he hadn't hear the door. Seeing Kurt didn't stop his ministrations.

"Kurt," he breathed, giving him an attempt at a smile, but it was strained and made him look more like he wanted to cry, "I-I'm ready," he said softly slipping his fingers out and sliding his hands under the pillow to clutch it close. Kurt was mesmerized by his gaping hole, clenching an fluttering around nothing, waiting to be filled, waiting to be filled by him, but then his eyes travelled down to Blaine's cock, dangling between his legs, completely soft, and then back up his body to the shaking of his shoulders and the way he had buried his face in the pillow to hide what Kurt was almost certain would be heart wrenching sobs as he resigned himself to his fate.

Kurt walked cautiously to the bed and pulled the blankets up over Blaine before walking away again. He expected that to calm him, Kurt's rejection of using him like a piece of meat, but Blaine just collapsed on the bed, sobs coming faster now, and sounding more like despair than relief.

"Please, please," he started gasping through his sobs, "please, please fuck me," and Kurt frowned, turning back to him. Blaine had been terrified of Kurt fucking him, he still looked terrified of Kurt's fucking him, and yet he was begging and pleading for him to do because something had made him more scared of Kurt not fucking him.

Kurt sat gently on the bed and carefully placed a hand in Blaine's hair. Blaine immediately shuffled closer to him. "What's wrong, Blaine?" he asked softly but Blaine just sobbed harder, his pleas for Kurt to fuck him getting more broken. "Blaine," Kurt repeated, "I need you to tell me what's wrong, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled frantically, "I'm sorry I wouldn't let you the first night. I'm sorry, I won't fight now, please, please fuck me, please."

"Blaine, it's okay," he assured quickly, "you were scared, you're still scared, and that's fine, you don't have to do this."

Blaine sat up quickly, struggling his way onto Kurt's lap, "Please, Kurt, I'll-I'll ride you," he said, grinding his ass down against Kurt's crotch and the prince had to fight back a moan at how good that felt. Blaine's arms were shaking almost convulsively around him, his eyes wide and glassy and skin cold to the touch. Something was very wrong with him.

"No," he said resolutely, gently pushing Blaine back onto the bed.

"I don't know what to do," he cried softly.

"You don't have to do anything, just do what you've been doing, I don't mind. I might like it if you talked a bit more but if you really don't want to, I can live with a silent roommate. What brought on this freakout, I thought you were okay."

Blaine was staring at him like he'd suddenly sprouted a second head, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "Roommates, Kurt? Roommates? We're not roommates, I'm your sex slave, I'm not allowed to go anywhere without you, I am stuck in this room all day long, all alone, and I just want you to tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it!"

Kurt's mind was reeling. He's just assumed Blaine was doing okay, that he came and went as he pleased, hung out with the other slaves, found the kitchen. But he hadn't done any of that, because he thought he couldn't leave, and if he didn't leave that meant the only time he ate was when he ate with Kurt and they hadn't eaten together for four days which meant…

"Ohmygod," he breathed, standing quickly and rushing to the closet, "you did nothing wrong, Blaine," he said as he frantically grabbed clothes for Blaine, "and I'm so so sorry, we have to go to the kitchen right now and get you some food, okay?" he tossed the clothes at Blaine, thinking of all the quickest food he knew how to make.

He sat Blaine at the counter with half a loaf of homemade bread that was leftover from dinner and a glass of milk and started about making him an omelet.

"Ham, turkey, bacon, bologna, sausage, chiles, tomatoes, olives, what do you want?"

Blaine shrugged and started buttering a piece of bread.

"What of the ingredients I just listed do you dislike?" Blaine started to lift his shoulders in another shrug, but Kurt stopped him "Blaine, don't you dare shrug, I have been unintentionally starving you for the past two weeks and now I'm trying to fix that, so please, please, help me out by telling me what you like or dislike so I can make you something you'll actually enjoy eating because you deserve it."

Blaine paused, taking a sip of his milk before speaking. "I don't like chiles or bologna," he stopped there and Kurt smiled and started pulling all the other ingredients out of the fridge but Blaine surprised him, "I don't care much for ham or sausage either."

"Thank you, Blaine," he said, putting them back and turning to the stove.

"You don't happen to have any spinach do you?"

"I heard the prince was in here for a midnight snack," a voice came from the door when Blaine was on his last couple of bites of omelet and watching the growing stack of pancakes beside Kurt. Blaine jumped halfway out of his seat, but Kurt just turned and gave her a bright smile.

"Hey, Carole, Blaine was just… hungry," his smile fell a little, turning guilty, but he tried to not let it show "so I'm making him something to eat."

"Oh goody, I'll help and then we can make some warm milk and have our usual lady chat, it's been a while."

Kurt nodded, his smile growing again, "I was just finishing up the pancakes, then I was thinking of doing biscuits and gravy, how does that sound, Blaine?"

Blaine nodded, and Kurt frowned, hating that he had lapsed back into his silence, but he didn't question him on it. He'd figure out how to get Blaine talking later.

Carole watched them, hating how lost both boys looked, but she knew it wasn't her place to help them find their footing, they'd been thrown into a difficult situation and they needed to figure it out on their own.

"I'll start the biscuits then," she said brightly and Kurt gave her a soft smile.

"I'll make the gravy"

Kurt and Carole took up their usual spots at the opposite end of the counter from Blaine, mugs of warm milk sitting in front of them. Kurt stirred his, staring into the mug while Carole sipped on her's.

"So, Blaine's cute," she said quietly, watching as he switched from his half eaten plate of pancakes to the biscuits and gravy. He was slowing down, eyes starting to droop, but he didn't seem to want to stop eating, and Kurt couldn't blame him.

"Yeah," Kurt sighed.

"He's quiet though… and eats almost as much as Finn, which is a bit shocking considering how small he is, must be puberty."

Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat, shaking his head, "No, it's because I've been starving him."

Carole watched him carefully, "Kurt, you've never been cruel to a slave in your life, your father raised you too well."

Kurt sniffed, "I didn't realize I was doing it. God, I just… I couldn't even look at him. I-I raped him, Carole, and I didn't know how to look at him knowing what I'd done, so I didn't. I stayed away and I left him to his own devices. Only he didn't know he could leave the room, which meant he hasn't been eating anything except what I provided him with, and for the past four days that's been nothing," he drew in a shaky breath, "and he thought it was punishment for not letting me…"

Carole put a hand over his and he looked up, tears shining in his eyes.

"I'm a horrible person," he breathed.

"No," Carole shook her head, "you're a boy who's been dealt a difficult hand and you're not sure how to make it a good one."

Kurt laughed wetly, "Any tips?"

Carole smiled, "Don't run. Don't hide from your problems, don't hide from Blaine. Let him know what you expect from him, or don't expect from him, because right now, he's just as confused as you are, and you're the only one that can make things make sense for him."