Blaine was relieved when Kurt gave him an excuse to be alone, and as he turned on the shower (which was a feat of engineering genius), he kept out of the shower, gripping the bathroom counter and looking at himself with eyes that threatened to bloom with tears.

He had tricked himself into thinking everything was okay, that his situation was fine, but that man on the street reminded him that he was just a slave, a “pet” he said.  Kurt owned him and the marks all over his body, in various states of freshness, proved it.  Blaine wasn't free, and he had allowed himself to accept that and the cost had been his body.  He was essentially a whore, serving Kurt for free - and enthusiastically at that.  When he was in the throes of orgasmic bliss his mind left him alone, and he felt so wonderfully wonderful.  Nothing mattered then.  He had been using sex as a way to escape his situation and it had been working.

At least until reality reminded him of what was actually happening just an hour ago.

Blaine had convinced himself that Kurt saw him as more than a slave, but the fact that Kurt didn't stand up for him against that greasy jerk in Times Square meant he didn't.  To Kurt, Blaine was just a slave, to be used and possibly discarded when Kurt tired of him.  

Looking at himself in the mirror, Blaine hated what he saw.  It used to be he had dressed and groomed himself in such a way to try to attract Sebastian, and now he was keeping up those habits along with letting himself be blemished all over by Kurt's lips.  When was the last time his body had really been his own to dress with and do with what he wanted?  Even when he had been free he had been trapped under Sebastian's personality and the need to impress him.  Now on top of letting Kurt have his body he was also functioning as some kind of mafia housewife, turning a blind eye to the evils committed because it paid for all the nice things he had - and he didn't even have the respect a real spouse might have.

Blaine didn't know who he was looking at in that mirror - but he did know that whatever coping strategies he had been employing to make his life more palatable since his family had given him the cold shoulder needed to be stopped.  He needed to find another way out of this situation, and he needed to stand up for himself again.

There was a knock on the door, and Blaine listened as Kurt explained that he was going to go downstairs to buy some condoms and lubricant.  It made Blaine sick - not only because he knew what Kurt's intentions were, but because he knew he had led Kurt to believe that was what would be occurring that evening, and, worse still, because Blaine still reacted to the thought of having sex with Kurt in a positive way.

He wanted to be wanted so badly he was willing to be a free prostitute for it.

When he heard the door to the hotel suite shut, Blaine finally forced himself into the shower, trying to scrub off the hickeys that marred his skin without success, and only making himself red and rough all over.  His ass ached from all the times he had let, no, begged Kurt to take him there, and despite that he scrubbed it with soap too until it felt raw and burnt.  He had the water turned up high, so that even when he wasn't soaping his body up, it still was on fire from the temperature.  Blaine wanted to purge himself of Kurt's touch on his skin, and punish himself for enjoying those touches so much.

Eventually he had to leave the shower, out a lack of places left to scrub, and grimaced as he toweled off his now chapped and sore skin.  He could hear that Kurt was back, rummaging around somewhere outside of the door, and knew he had to come up with either an excuse or a way to explain to Kurt that the deal was off.  He could no longer give up what little self respect he had in exchange for… well, in exchange for feeling better about life in general he guessed.  Blaine wondered if that part of things was really Kurt's fault or his own, but then scolded himself for even thinking of giving Kurt the benefit of the doubt.

There was a knock on the door, and Blaine grumbled to himself before calling out, “I'll be right there!”  Kurt usually gave Blaine whatever time he needed to get himself in order and ready.  Granted that Blaine was taking an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom that evening - but still.

He redressed in his clothing, not wanting to face Kurt in a towel or less and risk giving him the wrong impression.  The fabric itched against his skin, and he cursed at himself for wearing briefs and a tank top that were skin tight, meant to make himself feel more attractive when he put them on originally and now a harsh reminder of how low he had sunk.

Another knock to the door came, more insistent and Blaine hissed, “Just.  One.  Minute.”  before looking back at himself in the fogged over mirror, having to wipe out a patch on it to see himself at all.  He looked less tanned and more red in color, and his curls were tight ringlets that reminded him of the perm his mother used to get to match up better with her curly haired husband and sons.  Blaine didn't have the gel to tame them though, having not planned to stay the night out, and, quite frankly, didn't feel he should have to anyway since, as he kept trying to convince himself, he wasn't there to impress Kurt anyhow.

The door was yanked open then, tearing the frame apart where the bolt had been locked from the force of the motion, and Blaine spun in spot and backed against the counter out of surprise with the ‘Rrrr-ep' noise it screamed out behind him.  

Kurt wasn't there.

Instead, two burly guys, straight out of some muscle building magazine that was pro-steroids, stood before him blocking the way out of the bathroom.  If they had been wearing firemens uniforms or cop uniforms Blaine might have thought he had missed a fire drill or that someone had finally realized he was missing and tracked him down.  However, the pair were in suits and black leather jackets, with dark sunglasses to add to their threatening demeanor.  One had a crowbar, pressed against the door where it had been torn open, while the other had a gun.

Which was pointed at Blaine.

“This the one that he wants?”  The one with the gun asked of his comrade.

“Yeah…”  The other guy muttered, pulling out a piece of paper and looking up and down from it to Blaine, who seemed to be without the ability to vocalize anything out of fear.  “It's him.”

“Good.”

The guy with the crowbar pointed it at Blaine and gestured forward with his other hand.  “You come easy, this won't be a problem.”

Blaine's voice sprouted back up then as he recognized this was probably not a situation he wanted to be in.  “Who the hell are you guys?  What do you want with me?”

“No questions.  You come easy, you don't hurt.”

Well that was a succinct way to put it, however Blaine was already riled up by preparing to give Kurt an earful and he certainly wasn't going to let some nobodies, guns or not, tell him what to do.

“I will not go with you!  You tell me what the hell you want and I- OOF!”

It had only taken a split second, but Blaine found himself on the floor, coughing and sputtering and wishing he had done more in the way of mixed martial arts aside from stage fighting class.  He had been struck in the gut with the crowbar - and he immediately knew it wasn't a hit he wanted to experience again.  Blaine might be called a coward, but he knew when to back down to live another day.

They didn't stop to ask him to go along nicely again though.  One of them shoved a boot down on his back while the other grabbed his hands and secured them with something that felt like hard plastic behind him.  

“Where's Kurt?”  was the first thing to snap out of his mouth when he was lifted up, inwardly raging at how small he was such that they could pick him up like a rag dog, and also cringing from the way his stomach felt like it was all bruised.

“Shut up pet.”  

Duct tape was slapped over his mouth then, taking away his ability to speak, and Blaine began to panic more than he knew was possible, thinking of how these two might have been sent to torture him… or worse.

And the one person that might have gotten him out of this situation, the one person that he had just been wishing wasn't around, was the one person Blaine wanted most right then…. but Kurt wasn't around.