Chapter 2:

The door slammed behind him and Kurt sunk to his knees, buckling under the horror of the situation he had just locked himself in to. He blinked back tears, trying to clear his head and take in the room he had been imprisoned in. It was as grand as the rest of the house, high vertiginous ceilings and exotic patterned flock wallpaper encased him as he buried his face in the plush velvet of the red cushions piled high on the decoratively carved wooden bed. He sobbed uncontrollably, staining the material with his hopeless despair.

***

The moment he'd agreed to the contract, Blaine Anderson had picked up the telephone and calmly instructed whoever was on the other end of the line to release Burt Hummel without further delay and to return him home. They were to inform him that his son had made an exchange of his own services for the immediate freedom of his father and that he would be living at the Anderson residence from now on. He'd neither looked at Kurt nor made any further comment on the expectations of the arrangement. Instead, he'd simply replaced the receiver, picked up a stack of papers on the desk and said that someone would be in shortly to show Kurt to his new living quarters.   

"I need to speak to my father. I need to explain this to him. I need to know he's ok." Kurt appealed to the retreating back of the other man. Lord Anderson stiffened slightly and paused by the open doorway.

"Your father is no longer your concern. You will no longer speak to him unless I allow it. The deal was you remain with me and I will see to it that your father is protected. Uphold your end and I will do the same." He spoke without turning around, the words biting through the air between them and freezing Kurt's already numbed heart. He flinched as the door clicked shut behind him, leaving him sagged against the desk in surrender.

He'd waited twelve minutes in the office before a man had appeared at the door. He was significantly older than Kurt, with wisps of silver streaking the black hair around his temples. He was dressed entirely in black with a leather tie knotted securely around his neck and he appraised Kurt with a slight smirk as he quirked his eyebrow.

"I'm to show you to your room." He said with an obvious sneer and fixing his cold eyes on the pale, delicate figure before him. Kurt's face blazed with his contempt but he pulled himself up to his full height and locked eyes with the older man.

"Take me then" he said trying to keep his voice equally cold and indifferent.

Seth Schoen let his eyes wonder again slowly over the slight man standing oh so defiantly in front of him and felt his lips curl in understanding. When Blaine had informed him of the new agreement, Seth had wondered at why the usually so insular young Anderson had concocted such a punishment, but now, standing before this kid with the fire burning in his eyes, it all made very twisted sense to him.

Seth had been advisor to the elder Anderson for the last thirty-five years; a job that afforded him unquestionable power and considerable wealth in a city that was gradually sinking into the ground. Together, he and Richard had corrupted, exploited and leeched every last shred of money and control from the upper echelons of the Lord's Council and had wallowed distastefully in their luxury and privileges. When Blaine's mother had suffered the ‘unfortunate accident' two Christmases ago, discovered at the foot of the stairs, blood pooling across the marble, it was Seth that the remaining Anderson men had turned to for support. Blaine's adolescent upbringing had fallen on Schoen with the senior Anderson taken away for business so often, and the trusted advisor had spent the last two years moulding the young Blaine into an exact replica of his father: cruel, ruthless and devoid of mercy.

He'd known Blaine had different tendencies; he'd watched him at functions and noticed his eyes lingering on the men in the room. Seth couldn't have cared less where his perversions lay; as long as Blaine Anderson remained callously focussed on upholding his father's legacy, he could fuck whoever the hell he wanted. He'd even encouraged it at times, offering a delectable selection of young men willing to lay themselves open for Blaine for the right price but Blaine had steadfastly refused. He'd looked of course, allowed his eyes to rake over the exposed flesh as it was paraded before him, but had flicked each one away with a careless twitch of his hand. Seth had approved of the cold manner with which the young man had managed to control his desire. It was the final proof of his ultimate success with his protégée.

But this young man before him was a different creature entirely. He was slightly effeminate in Seth's eyes but clearly beautiful and fragile. His features held a delicacy and almost elfin quality that Blaine would enjoy breaking but what was most striking about the boy was his absolute purity. It radiated out of him from every angle; untouched, virgin flesh as stainless as the white snow that had heralded his arrival. His smile spread wider as he watched the passion simmering beneath the boy's skin. Yes he could see exactly why Blaine had chosen this one.   

***

Blaine glared at his reflection in the filigree mirror hung ostentatiously above the fireplace in his bedroom. He noticed the tightness to his jaw, the clenched muscles straining in his neck and watched his own dead eyes regarding him back challengingly.

Why had he done it?

He'd spent his entire life closeted in the museum of a house without needing anyone else. His father had spent most of his teenage years away, even more so since Blaine's mother‘s accident, and the young man had become accustomed to the solitude the bleak place afforded him. Had he ever found himself in need of conversation, Seth, his father's advisor, had always been around, skulking in corners of the many wings of the building, ready and willing to teach Blaine the ways of dealing with people. The ways of the world.

So why had he taken one look at the pathetic, pale ghost of a boy on his stairs and allowed his carefully constructed life to be invaded?

He'd been unflinching in his cruelty; had watched the delicate face as it crumpled and surrendered and felt excitement coursing through him. He'd done that. Had the power to completely destroy this innocent man before him and take away everything he knew.

He was so beautiful.

His startlingly pale eyes had sparked with anger and fury and had burned in defiance and Blaine had felt something stirring in himself at the boy's unwillingness to be broken. He'd stared challengingly at Blaine and the young Lord had felt moved for the first time into feeling something other than bland indifference. The deal had come out of his mouth before he'd had time to even check himself.

And now Kurt was his. Belonged to him.

Blaine, allowed his eyes to rake lower over his naked body as he felt something uncoiling in his stomach and watched his eyes flash with an unfamiliar flame.

***

Kurt wasn't sure how long he'd cried into the pillows but felt groggy when he eventually raised his head, a sensation indicating he must have slept fitfully at some point. The light had started to appear over the valley and he could see the stunning pristine shroud of snow suffocating the landscape outside the windows when he turned his head. Sliding off the bed, weary and without purpose, Kurt moved towards the en-suit bathroom.

He stood in the middle of the marbled floor, limp and dejected. The gold taps and claw footed bath barely registered with him as he stared wanly around the space that was significantly bigger than his bedroom at home. Thick plush towels hung over the side of the tub and someone had placed a pair of deep navy slippers beside a matching robe folded neatly on an armchair in the corner. Kurt's stomach twisted as he realised someone had been in his room while he'd slept. The bile rose before he had time to even acknowledge it and without warning he clutched his stomach and collapsed to his knees over the toilet. He emptied his stomach violently; body wracked with convulsions as he vomited every bitter, hideous truth out of his mouth and watched it disappear down the gleaming enamel of the bowl. Sagging, exhausted, Kurt rested his sweaty cheek against the soothing cool tiles, curled tightly into a ball and stared ahead of him. There were no more tears now. Kurt Hummel was nothing if not determined and if this was his new reality then he needed to start facing it.

Gripping the edge of the sink, he dragged himself to his feet, taking in his blotched and swollen face in the mirror before him. His eyes flashed harder as he steeled himself, drawing in a deep breath and clenching his lips together.

Kurt Hummel would not be broken.