Kurt decides to play with Sebastian's limits by dressing him up in lingerie and having him put on a show for his customers - accompanied by a female slave on her knees.
I'm jumping all the sharks here. Written for lilinas Bitchmas prompts cane, green, sing, decorate, and probably a couple of others I tossed in there that I'm forgetting, and all of the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts from audience to tacky.
Warnings for Sebastian wearing lingerie and heels, Sebastian with someone else, Kurt and Elliott getting kinky, and oral.
"How do you swing, preppy?" Sitting in his chair in his office, Kurt wiggles the toes of his bare right foot against his sub's crotch while Sebastian massages the left.
"I don't think I understand what you mean, Master?" Sebastian grabs Kurt's bottle of citrus massage oil and squeezes a few more drops in his palm. He presses his hands together to warm it up, then goes back to giving Kurt a massage.
"I mean, how fragile is your masculinity?" Kurt raises his head from where it's resting over the back of his chair to look at his boy when he answers.
"I would like to think not all that fragile, Master." Sebastian leans back a hair when Kurt's right foot goes from wiggling to rubbing.
"Hmm, I wonder …" Kurt's not disbelieving. He's curious. But most of all, he's ready to have some fun. "How about I put that to a test? I'm sure you won't mind, will you?" Kurt says, passing Sebastian a towel from the desk behind him.
"Not at all, Master." Sebastian takes the towel and pats Kurt's feet dry. Then he helps him on with his black patent leather stiletto boots. Kurt hasn't gotten past being amused by this, but he accepts it as part of their dynamic without questioning it, even though the thought of this handsome trust fund baby catering to his every whim so obediently still gives him a tickle.
"There's my good boy, helping me get dressed," Kurt coos, patting Sebastian on the head as more and more ideas flood his brain. "But now, it's my turn to get you dressed, and after that, you'll put a show on for me …" Kurt pauses as a final intriguing idea pops into his brain, a sudden rush of inspiration "… with one of our slaves on the floor."
The end of that sentence rises up like a question, because this is something new. Something they haven't discussed in quite this way before. Kurt and Sebastian have done a lot at Kurt's club in the way of giving Kurt's patrons a show. But having Sebastian interact with another submissive isn't something they've done before. Kurt is planning on pushing Sebastian's limits, but, with the period after his sentence carrying on into silence, he's giving Sebastian the chance to safeword before they do anything if he needs to.
"Whatever makes you happy, Master," Sebastian says.
Kurt grins, proud and devious all rolled together to make Sebastian's stomach flip. "Good," Kurt says, commanding Sebastian to his feet with a tug of his hair. "Because this will definitely make me happy." Kurt strips Sebastian of his Dalton blazer; unties his neck tie and slips it off his neck. When Kurt gets to his dress shirt, reflexively grabbing the buttoned front, he pauses. "What does this make? An even dozen now? How many of these do you have left?"
Sebastian smirks, even though he's not technically supposed to, but Kurt seems to have stopped calling him out on it. If Sebastian had to guess, he'd say that his cocky grin turns Kurt on. "Consider them endless, Master."
"Fantastic!" Kurt yanks it open with an aggressive amount of force causing the buttons to pop, flying in every direction. "Because it's just so damn satisfying ripping these motherfuckers off you."
Sebastian stares at himself in the mirror, at the outfit he's wearing (even though there isn't that much outfit to it) and wonders – what is it with Kurt and playing dress up? He guesses it's part of the BDSM milieu. Most of Kurt's clientele wear clothing that few people would wear outside their house unless they were between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five and worked at Hot Topic. The amount of leather and spikes alone is mindboggling, and, of course, just plain bare skin seems to be the norm. But a fair share of the subs that come to Pavarotti's Prison dress the way Sebastian is now.
In lingerie.
"This is from my personal collection," Kurt remarks, fitting red satin panties over Sebastian's crotch and tying them at the hips. They have fairly full-ass coverage, which Sebastian is thankful for, since he's not too fond of flashing the silver butt plug Kurt has him wear to school. "Had to have it special-ordered. And before you ask, yes, I've worn this before … for very special occasions." Sebastian looks at his reflection in Kurt's full-length mirror, takes in the sight of himself dressed in a sparkly red garter belt, red satin panties, and red-and-white candy cane striped stockings. The set comes with a red bra, but Kurt decided to eschew it, especially when it started to stretch at the seams along the underwire cups. It seems that Sebastian is slightly broader around the chest than Kurt, which earns Sebastian a pinch on the ass. However, Kurt is all for Sebastian wearing the tiny, sheer red skirt, which he fits over the panties with a lot of gratuitous crotch grabbing involved.
Sebastian can't narrow down what exactly he hates about wearing this, because the truly hideous thing about it is he doesn't think he looks half bad. Thank God for lacrosse and puberty, because he can honestly say that otherwise he's not sure he'd have the balls to put this on, knowing that he's expected to go where other people can see. Up on Kurt's stage is about as visible as you can get at his club, unless you want to stand on the bar, which Kurt doesn't normally allow. Apparently it's a health violation.
Sebastian originally found that an ironic rule to have in a place where people cum over surfaces fairly regularly, but Kurt and Elliott are sticklers for ensuring that everyone "cums clean", with Lysol wipes available beside the napkin dispensers on every table.
"May I ask why you have this, Master?" Sebastian asks after trying to determine for himself the advantage of owning something this flimsy and revealing. He's almost afraid to move in it. One wrong squat or knee bend and he's sure he'll shred the fabric.
This outfit may be tacky, but it belongs to Kurt. He doesn't want to risk destroying it.
"Because I like wearing it, preppy," Kurt says with no shame. "It's soft, it's sexy, and I happen to think I look amazing in it." Kurt smiles, tracing the waist of the panties, skirting exposed skin with his fingertips to watch Sebastian's ab muscles twitch. Sebastian is ticklish to light touches just above his hips, and in the dip of his stomach where it borders his pelvis. So Kurt attacks that area as often as possible – with his teeth and his tongue, with his fingertips and his feathers, with his Wartenberg wheel and his Violet Wand.
Kurt wonders if Sebastian knew that he was sensitive to touch there before he met Kurt, or is that a secret that Kurt ferreted out.
Kurt prefers to believe that that secret belongs to him, regardless of how, with the amount of sex Sebastian claims to have had, improbable. It keeps him from wanting to drive down to Dalton and start caning random boys. Kurt doesn't really know Sebastian's type, so that condemns the entire student body.
For one reason or another, they're all on his list.
"Just like you, preppy," he adds, licking his lips when he notices the skirt shift, Sebastian's cock underneath starting to get hard. "You look incredibly sexy in this."
"Thank you, Master." Sebastian feels his cheeks go red. Good, he thinks, trying to come up with something to stop his cock from getting hard without permission – a skill he's failing at mastering every single day. They'll match your panties now.
Kurt circles his sub, looking him over from top to bottom, front and back, cupping his ass, then sliding his hands forward to adjust the satin fabric over Sebastian's package, giving him a hard squeeze to keep him under control.
"Now all I need to do is get you some shoes," he whispers behind Sebastian's ear, "and a little bit of makeup, and we're ready to roll." Kurt locks eyes with his sub watching him in the mirror. "You are ready, aren't you?"
"Green, Master," Sebastian says, knowing that that's what Kurt needs to hear. Beating around the bush, saying anything else, would leave Kurt with doubts.
"Good." Kurt chuckles. It's dark, it's sinful, it's seductive in its cunning. It makes Sebastian long for Kurt to tie him down, no bed required, paddle him, hook him, even burn him with his cloves, as long as he can have Kurt bouncing on his cock afterwards. It wouldn't even matter if Kurt didn't let him cum. Sebastian has learned that denial is not the death sentence he thought it was. It can be release, euphoria, as long as it is in service to his Master … and as long as it comes with Kurt's inescapable heat, his addictive moans, his gasps, where Sebastian's name slips between the cracks of Kurt calling him preppy. Dare to dream … "Because I can't wait for everyone to get a look at you."
Walking in heels is not what it's cracked up to be. The shoes fit, but they pinch his toes, and he can't seem to keep his feet from sliding forward. Plus, why he needs to stand an additional seven inches off the ground when he's already over six feet tall, he can't comprehend. Kurt said that high heels are meant to lengthen the leg and emphasize the ass. Right now, Sebastian feels like his knees are bending backwards and his butt is sticking out. He can't decide how to walk in them either. If he tries to stride along the way he does in his regular shoes, he looks clunky and sounds like a mule, clopping on the hard floor. If he goes for sultry, one foot in front of the other, it throws his center of gravity off. His shoulders pull him back, putting an awkward lean in his spine. A few times, he's even stumbled into reverse. If it hadn't been for the collar around his neck, attached to the silver chain leash Kurt is holding, Sebastian might have hit the deck, breaking an ankle and his neck in the process.
He'll never make fun of a woman running competently in heels again.
The makeup is another thing. Sebastian can't escape it. It makes its presence known nonstop even though it's basically a static entity on his skin. The kohl black liner Kurt put on his eyes makes them water. Sebastian has never had anything that resembles a writing implement that close to his eyeball before. As far as he knows, they're still red. He can feel them burning, the irritation distracting. Blinking alleviates it, but then it comes back, worse than before. The gloss on his lips in ruby red … that's close to driving him insane. It's sticky like honey. It dries out his mouth so his lips feel like they're shrinking. He made the mistake of licking his lips the first time Kurt put it on. Now all he can tastes is silica and sadness.
He would feel ridiculous struggling in this get-up if he weren't getting so many whistles and compliments that sound genuine. No one's making fun of him here, no matter how asinine this would be outside these walls. People want him, and they envy Kurt for having him. And if that isn't a tremendous stroke to his ego, he doesn't know what is. It's a bigger boost than he's felt lately in life with his accomplishments at school, on the lacrosse field, or in competition. The congratulations on a job well done and pats on the back offered by boys who, behind their eyes, are scheming how they'll one up him next time, or the backhanded compliments he gets from the likes of Hunter, are nothing compared to this. Being paraded by Kurt, making Kurt proud, is a high Sebastian craves.
Even with his head bowed, Sebastian can see people clear their path so that they can cut through the crowd and get to the stage. The stairs terrify Sebastian at first, but Kurt turns around and takes Sebastian's hand to help him. Kurt's hand taking his, Kurt leading him, Kurt looking out for his safety, Kurt protecting him – these are things Sebastian has never appreciated before. They're things he didn't think he wanted in a relationship. They were things he made fun of people needing. That may have something to do with how he was raised. His father is a dominant man, not in the way Kurt is, but Sebastian can picture parts of them being interchangeable. Sebastian was raised with love; that has nothing to do with this. He was raised to not need anyone, to be independent. What attracted Sebastian to his ex-boyfriend Jamie was the fact that he seemed like a person who needed to be cared for, and Sebastian had wanted that opportunity. When Jamie betrayed him, Sebastian saw all of those things as weaknesses.
That was the only way he could resolve his own behavior in that scenario … and learn to hate Jamie. If Jamie was weak, then he wasn't worthy of Sebastian. End of story.
But here in Kurt's club, with Kurt's hand in his, those things don't feel like weaknesses. Knowing he has Kurt to lean on, knowing that Kurt has his back - they make Sebastian feel strong.
Knowing that he's Kurt's one and only, for however long it lasts, makes Sebastian feel like he can take on the world.
Being Kurt's submissive has been a journey for Sebastian, one that he could continue to take his entire life and never feel like he's reached an end.
Kurt does one full lap of the stage with Sebastian trailing behind. The audience gathering around them hoot and holler their approval of Sebastian - Sebastian in lingerie, on a leash, about to perform for his Master's amusement, and, consequently, their amusement.
Sebastian had forgotten about that for a moment. When Kurt brings him to front and center stage, Sebastian feels his knees turn to jelly.
Kurt looks into Sebastian's face, searching for signs of distress, and catches a glimpse of apprehension in his eyes.
"Are we still green, preppy?" Kurt asks, only loud enough for Sebastian to hear.
"I am, M-master," Sebastian says, unable to hide his hiccup at the end.
"Have you gone yellow? It's fine if you are. We can negotiate around yellow."
Sebastian takes a breath, counts to three, responds when his voice feels steadier. "No, Master. I'm still green," he says with determination.
"Okay, then." Kurt slaps Sebastian's ass, which earns a laugh from the crowd. "We're just going to lock you down here …" Kurt walks behind Sebastian and attaches the end of the leash to a hook bolted into the stage floor. He adjusts it until it's taut, pulling at to keep Sebastian from toppling forward. Then Kurt stands, brushes off his hands. "And now, we need a volunteer." Kurt steps to the edge of the stage, puts a hand to his mouth, and calls out, "Do I have any slave Owners out there with a bitch I can borrow?"
"Here! Here! Over here!" Sebastian hears several voices call out around the room. "Here! Right here! I've got a bitch here that'll be of service! My bitch here will do you good, Kurt! Over here!"
Kurt searches the room, hand shielding his eyes to see past the bright lights and into the dark club. "Hey!" he yells, then he points, but at whom, Sebastian can't tell. Standing where he is, unable to walk away from this spot, he can't see with the light shining in his eyes. "You!" Kurt calls. "The bitch with the red hair! Ponytail!" He puts his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistles like he's calling a dog. Sebastian hears a man's voice say, "You heard him!" and then the slap of a palm hitting skin.
That impact – it's a noise that Sebastian has embedded in his brain by now.
From between the tables and legs of other Dominants, a woman with flaming red hair tied in a ponytail atop her head makes her way on her hands and knees to the stage. She's wearing black puppy mitts on her hands, and a black rubber tail plug in her ass, the curled end wagging as she crawls. Kurt grabs her by the collar and leads her to Sebastian's feet. "Kneel, bitch," he commands, and she does, high on her knees as if she knows why she's there, what she's expected to do. Kurt tugs down Sebastian's red satin panties, bringing them to his knees. Then Kurt snaps his fingers.
"Bitch. Make him hard for me."
The woman says nothing. She simply does what she's told, putting her mouth over Sebastian's flaccid cock. And as she goes to work, mostly suction, very little in the way of technique, as clinical a blowjob as one can get, Kurt stands close, grinning at his sub, watching his face and measuring his reactions – the twitch of his cheek, the muscles in his lip forcing it not to curl, the set of his jaw.
"Relax, preppy," Kurt commands.
"Yes, Master."
"Does she make you uncomfortable?"
Sebastian swallows when the slave on her knees does, and he shudders. Her mouth on his cock should feel good, physiologically speaking, but it doesn't. He's not uncomfortable, he just never imagined himself in this situation - dressed in lingerie, being blown in front of a crowd, especially not by a woman. He's a bit confused as to how to process it. It doesn't repulse him. She's easy to block out. He'd feel this same way with anyone he wasn't attracted to, gender notwithstanding. This is just sex. And it's not even sex really. In fact, this is the least sexual he's ever felt receiving a blowjob in his whole life. This is service. It's service to his Master. His Master wants to see him dressed in red satin and candy cane stockings. His Master put him in ruby red lipstick and high heels. His Master summoned this slave to suck him off. That's what this is about. Sebastian isn't helpless. He isn't trapped. He has a safeword. He knows he can use it, but there's no need. Not for this.
"No, Master."
"No," Kurt agrees, mouth hovering shy of Sebastian's red lacquered lips, "because it's just a mouth, right? Any mouth on your dick's a good mouth, isn't it?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good boy." Kurt grabs Sebastian's left ass cheek, licks a stripe up his neck. "Now, I'll give you permission to enjoy that mouth on two conditions: one, you don't cum, no matter how good she is, and two, you keep your eyes on me. Constant eye contact. No matter what I do, you look into my eyes. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master."
The slave's teeth rake over his skin. Sebastian tries not to hiss, but he does flinch, lifting his hands an inch and balling them into fists.
"Hand at your sides, preppy," Kurt scolds. "No touching …"
Her Owner, who has moved closer to the stage, watches her perform with obvious pride, nodding his head while she sucks as if giving her his silent approval. Sebastian imagines that her Owner must enjoy her immensely. And she's alright. This isn't the worst blowjob of his life. But Sebastian's been spoiled.
She's not Kurt. She doesn't even hold a candle.
Kurt walks backward off the stage, staring at Sebastian the entire way, and takes a seat at a table up front. Without Kurt there beside him, Sebastian feels naked, vulnerable. It's easier to see him sitting up front than it is to see anybody else, so it feels like Sebastian and this puppy slave are giving him a more-or-less private show, but Sebastian prefers the intimacy of Kurt standing beside him.
Sebastian doesn't know where Elliott comes from. He seems to just appear at Kurt's table in a puff of smoke. He grabs a chair, flips it around, and straddles it, eyes on Sebastian and the slave the whole time, exceedingly amused by the flush of discomfort and arousal on Sebastian's skin.
"Hello, Ells. You're here early," Kurt says as Elliott sits.
"And I'm glad I am." Kurt raises his hand, and Elliott takes it. "I would have never guessed that you'd treat us all to such an outstanding show. Whatever did we do to deserve this?"
"Nothing. But … you know … I'm a giver."
"I saw your boy from across the room. That's … uh … quite the charming outfit he's wearing," Elliott says, but where Sebastian assumes he's taking the opportunity to poke fun at him, Elliott licks his lips, smiling anew with an expression close to desire.
"Isn't it though?" Kurt pulls Elliott closer. "It's one of my favorites."
"I remember. But, I have to say, I think it looks better on you. Sorry, preppy," he adds in a raised voice, and with a wink.
"True, but I have the body for it. Preppy's way more muscular than I've ever been." Kurt shakes his head, clicking his tongue. "God, they look sexy together. Don't they, Elliott?"
"They do, Kurt. Very convincing, too. Don't you think?"
"Yeah. Maybe a little too convincing." Kurt frowns, his right eyebrow quirking sharply. "You know, if I thought he was actually into it, I might be jealous."
"Perish the thought! That's so unlike you, Kurt," Elliott teases with an overdramatic emphasis that leads Sebastian to believe that, at some point in time, that's exactly what Kurt was like.
"I know, right?" Kurt says, mimicking Elliott's tone. The two of them chuckle after, sharing a private joke. "But I know for a fact that my little preppy has a stripe of green running down his middle when it comes to me, too. So why don't we give him something interesting to look at?"
"Yes," Elliott says. "Let's."
With eyes on Sebastian, Kurt takes Elliott's hand and snakes it around his torso. Elliott seems to know what Kurt wants because he scoots up behind him, his other hand winding around to join the first in opening the zipper to Kurt's fly. His right hand sneaks inside Kurt's jeans to wrap around his cock, a grin on his face as he starts kissing Kurt's neck. Kurt stares at Sebastian, motions for him to keep his eyes on him while Elliott starts to stroke him.
And Sebastian watches. He watches the instantaneous expression of ecstasy that spreads across Kurt's face, from his dropped jaw, to his relaxed cheeks, to his eyes, locked on Sebastian's, wide and shimmering.
Elliott knows what he's doing. He knows how to touch Kurt, how to please him. He doesn't have to fumble around, practice with speed and pressure, experiment with twists of his wrist.
Because Elliott has done this countless times before, way more times than Sebastian has.
Elliott touching Kurt, stroking Kurt, wrapping his arms around Kurt possessively while Kurt becomes hard inside Elliott's fist, makes Sebastian jealous as hell. But he's learned a lesson about jealousy, right up here on this very stage, as a matter of fact. He's learned a lot about "relationships" here at Kurt's club, how they can work outside the norms of what even Sebastian practices. It's not cut and dry, not you're together or you're not, you're loyal or you're a cheater. Those exist here, too, but he's also seen how lines blur when it comes to the physical; that when consent is given, anything can go. Sex is to be enjoyed however, whenever, and as often as possible, and that what's going on now, between him and this slave, and between Kurt and Elliott.
This has little to do with emotion, and everything to do with power.
Kurt derives pleasure from the power he wields, and Sebastian is a huge part of that.
And that's what finally makes Sebastian hard, which this slave thinks has everything to do with her, since she becomes more eager with her sucking, more enthusiastic with her licks around his shaft and how often she takes him completely down her throat.
But as far as cumming, he's nowhere near close.
He pictures being where Elliott is, but with Kurt in his lap, riding his cock the way he does in his office.
Kurt tying his arms behind his back and giving him a blow.
Kurt biting every inch of his body until Sebastian cums.
Kurt getting him baked and simply using him to get off.
The way he practically sings with pleasure before he climaxes.
Kurt wrapping his fingers around Sebastian's neck while he fucks him, digging his nails in, leaving marks and claiming him as his own.
It's at the point when Sebastian thinks that Kurt might cum that Kurt puts a hand on Elliott's wrist and stops him. He beckons Elliott forward and whispers something in his ear. Elliott looks disappointed, but he kisses Kurt on the cheek, pats him on the shoulder, and with a sly smile at Sebastian, sits back in his chair and waits.
Without pulling up his jeans, giving absolutely no fucks who sees, Kurt walks back on stage, completely hard.
"You. Go," Kurt barks to the woman on her knees, bumping her head with his hip, his voice gruffer than it was when he commanded her over. She scurries away, back to the arms of her Owner, who rains praise on her, and the promise of a spanking for her good behavior. Kurt steps in front of Sebastian and pulls up his panties, tying them on over Sebastian's wet cock. He puts a hand to his sub's flushed cheek, smiles around his lips, which he comes close to kissing, but not quite. "Come on, preppy." He takes Sebastian's hand and leads it to his erection, lets Sebastian feel it with his open palm. "This is yours. I saved it just for you, for being a good little boy. Why don't you take it?"
Sebastian breathes in, forces air into his lungs like he's been starved for oxygen without Kurt beside him.
"Yes, Master," he replies. It sounds like a whimper. Like a thank you.
Kurt doesn't have to push Sebastian down before he's on his knees.
"And … I don't think you're going to be needing this." Kurt lifts a leg and presses up against Sebastian's cock, crushing it to his body.
"No, Master," Sebastian whispers, scratching at the denim of Kurt's jeans, sucking in quick before he takes Kurt in his mouth, eager to finish his Master off. Sebastian doesn't need his half-hard erection. Being sucked off didn't make him hard enough to matter, and besides, the torture of having it ground away is worth this. This matters. His Master's cock in his mouth matters. Kurt looking down at him with raw lust matters. The hand in his hair - not pushing, just caressing - matters.
Kurt cumming down his throat, filling him up, spilling over his mouth, marking him inside and out – the makeup, the outfit, the shoes, all Kurt's, and Kurt's cum on his lips - matters.
Sebastian is ready to collapse when Kurt pulls out, adrenaline from fear, discomfort, and the strain of standing upright in heels, zapping the energy from his body at a tremendous rate. This sudden fall, combined with a bizarre floating sensation, one of too little blood rationed among too many important parts of his body, narrows his focus, keeps him tuned in to his Dom and only his Dom, so that the other sounds around him – of music and talking, and the crowd erupting in applause – don't register with him. Only Kurt's hands holding his biceps, raising him to his feet; Kurt's arm around his shoulder, propping him upright; Kurt's fingers unclasping the leash from his collar – those are the limits of Sebastian's world right now. Those are the boundaries within which he dwells.
Kurt leads his limp submissive off the stage, holding him up as long as it takes to get him to the table. Kurt sits in his chair and pulls Sebastian onto his leg, letting Sebastian relax against him while he floats, cum decorating his chin and throat, not concerned with wiping it away.
"How are we feeling, preppy?" Kurt asks, positioning Sebastian against him, resting Sebastian's head on his shoulder.
"Green … Master." Sebastian sounds exhausted and slightly drunk, giddy with the warmth of his Dom's body beneath him, his Dom's arms cradling him, safe in Kurt's care.
"Did you want to take this off now?" Kurt asks, curious what Sebastian will say, of how his prep school boy will handle what took place up on that stage. Only time will tell, but for now, Sebastian seems bubbly, chuckling softly, mellow with release.
Not physical release – emotional release.
"Not unless I get to see it on you, Master."
"Hmm … maybe," Kurt says. Sitting on Kurt's lap the way he is, Sebastian's chest is bared, legs spread. Kurt is keeping him on display while making it easier to fondle him. He sneaks his hand underneath the skirt and palms his sub's cock, smiling in triumph when it hardens with barely a touch. The lightest touch, but that touch belongs to Kurt. "But not today."