“Wake up, Sleepyhead.”

The soft voice tugged at Blaine, still lost in a dream where Kurt was with him, warm around him in their bed even though it was Monday morning. Desolate, awful, lonely Monday morning.

He followed that siren's call out of the fog of his dream, and rolled over to snuggle against the hard chest that seemed so real, real because it was real, and his eyes popped open to find Kurt's twinkling only inches away.

“Pupil-free day, remember?” Kurt whispered.

Yes. Pupil-free day. He had to go to school but Kurt didn't.

“What time is it?”

“Six o'clock.”

Blaine groaned. “I don't have to be up for another hour. Let's go back to sleep.” He pushed against Kurt, rolling him onto his back so he could rest his head in the curve of Kurt's shoulder.

“We could do that,” Kurt said. “Or we could …” Kurt's hand touched Blaine's chest then drifted down, lower, to close around his soft dick. Blaine's cock hadn't quite gotten the memo that it was morning yet, but of course at Kurt's touch it remembered its job of waking Blaine up with a prodigious, throbbing, too-long-denied erection.

“If that's your way of asking if I'd rather come than sleep, the answer is absolutely fucking yes.” He rolled off of Kurt so he could spread his legs and offer his boyfriend complete access, sending up a silent thank you to Burt as he did so, for being so flexible about their sleepover rules in situations like this.

“Hmmm.” Kurt pretended to ponder as his fingers teased up and down Blaine's shaft. “How long has it been now?”

“Eight days,” Blaine said without hesitation. He always knew exactly how long his denial had been. Usually to the hour. Especially since Kurt had, for the first time, extended his denial through the previous weekend.

“Nope. Not long enough.”

But even as he said it Kurt sat up and moved to kneel between Blaine's spread legs. Blaine moaned, his brain struggling to reconcile the disappointment of knowing he wasn't going to get to come with the submission that Kurt's control of it always triggered in him and the excitement that just thinking Kurt might be planning to blow him brought.

Excitement won out when Kurt lowered his head and flicked his hot tongue across the head of Blaine's cock, and down his frenulum, over and down, over and down, never enough to make him come, never enough to be more than the hottest tease, but Blaine surrendered himself to it anyway. He loved the way the heat filled his balls, pulled them tight and hard against his body, the way the need built in his cock and radiated out through his belly, up his chest and down his legs, clenching his fists and pressing his feet into the bed as he forced himself to stay still, obedient, and not thrust against the wet perfection of Kurt's tongue.

“More, please, please more,” he begged when Kurt pulled away and sat up between his legs.

“I think that's enough for now. Go take your shower.” He climbed off the bed and pulled open one of the drawers of Blaine's dresser.

Blaine gaped at him. “I thought you woke me up early so we could play?”

“I did,” Kurt said without looking up from rooting through Blaine's underwear drawer. “We play after the shower.”

That made no sense to Blaine, and for a minute he just lay there, cock dancing between his legs, watching the muscles in Kurt's ass bunch and flex as he dug around in the drawer, evaluating and apparently rejecting pair after pair of underwear. Eventually the lack of movement from the bed must have registered with Kurt and he turned around to glare at Blaine.

“I said shower.”

“I can't even make you come first?”

Without even a glance at his own erection, Kurt turned back to the underwear. “Maybe after the shower. Do as you're told.”

That got Blaine moving. He headed for the bathroom, leaving Kurt behind still digging in his drawers and muttering to himself.

When he returned to the bedroom, still naked, of course, but dry, Blaine could see a small pile of clothes folded on the chair next to his dresser. But before he could move toward them Kurt, now clad in a pair of his own underwear – the black ones that Blaine loved – blocked his path.

“What happened here?” Kurt wrapped long fingers around Blaine's now flaccid penis, curling it against his balls and squeezing just enough to make Blaine's breath catch in his throat.

“Water,” Blaine said. “Very cold water.”

“Did I tell you to shower in cold water?” Kurt's dom voice sent shivers down Blaine's spine and his dick twitched against the fingers confining it.

“No.”

“No … what?” Kurt's hand tightened and the first tendrils of pain thickened in Blaine's belly.

“No Master?” he whispered. His cock fought in earnest now against the imprisoning hand and he really hoped Kurt would let him sit down soon because he didn't think his legs were going to hold him up much longer.

“Good boy.” The tight grip on his cock disappeared and Blaine wobbled a little as his cock sprang back to full erection and the impact of Kurt's words hit him. “Now go lay yourself over the end of the bed. Face down. Feet on the floor.”

Blaine was full-on trembling now, this had all happened so suddenly and unexpectedly and he was having the rug pulled out from under him in the best possible way. He bent over the end of the bed as directed, ass out, trying to think about breathing, slow and steady. He turned his head so his cheek rested on the blanket that Kurt must have pulled up while he was showering. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands, so he folded them against the small of his back.

“Spread your legs wider,” Kurt ordered from behind him. “And hands on the bed. I want you to hold yourself up so you can see what I'm doing.”

Blaine complied. He was still trembling, but he was also starting to feel heavier, softer, relaxing under Kurt's control. He barely moved when Kurt's hand reached between his legs and pulled his cock, which had been trapped between his belly and the bed, backwards so that it hung down toward the floor, held in place by the end of the mattress.

Propped on his elbows, he watched as Kurt moved into his line of sight, approaching the bed with Blaine's red polo in his hands and laying it carefully out on top of the duvet. Then he disappeared and returned again with a pair of Blaine's favorite black jeans. Back and forth he went, adding clothes to the pile in front of Blaine. A t-shirt, socks, shoes (placed carefully on the floor next to the bed), Blaine's black bow tie with the little butterflies on it, and finally a pair of black boxer briefs. One of the double-thick ones Blaine had ordered a few months back when Kurt had started ramping up the teasing at school and leaking was becoming a problem. His cock strained against the mattress.

Kurt stood next to the bed, surveying the clothes he'd chosen for Blaine. “I think that's perfect,” he said. “But I feel like I've forgotten something.”

Blaine knew exactly what he'd forgotten. But his throat was too tight for him to attempt words.

“Hmmm … what's missing?” Kurt smiled right at Blaine. “What have I forgotten boy?”

“A belt, Master,” Blaine croaked.

“What was that? I didn't hear you.” Kurt was practically grinning, and the fact that he was loving this so much only made it that much harder for Blaine to speak.

“You forgot my belt, Master,” Blaine said again, forcing the words out louder this time.

“You're right. I did.” Kurt disappeared again, and Blaine heard the closet door open, and the slide of metal on metal as Kurt pulled out the little rack that held his belts and ties. There were more sounds, shufflings and clinkings that put all kinds of images into Blaine's head.

Breathe, he told himself. Just remember to breathe.

Then the closet door closed with what sounded to his over-sensitized ears like a slam, but Kurt didn't reappear by the side of the bed. Blaine could hear the tiny clinking of the belt buckle as Kurt did something, invisible there behind him, and Blaine's head was full of pictures of his master folding that belt into a perfect spanking strap. His ass muscles twitched at the image, and he felt a dribble of precome wet the head of his cock. He was pretty sure he moaned, but his ears were too busy listening for sounds from Kurt to be certain.

If he did moan, Kurt ignored it, and everything else that was happening to Blaine's body. “You know,” he said slowly, his voice as teasing as his tongue had been earlier, “you did sort of disobey me by using cold water in the shower, when it was obvious I wanted you hard.”

“Yes Master. I'm so sorry Master,” Blaine put every ounce of his years of submissive experience into sounding as repentant-boy-in-need-of-punishment as he could. Just the thought of what Kurt might be contemplating was making him light-headed. Breathe.

Then a warm hand rested against his left ass cheek and he forgot how to breathe. He remembered how to move, though; without even thinking he pressed back into Kurt's touch.

Kurt made a little sound that might be a laugh. “Well your ass certainly seems to think it needs punishment.”

“Yes, Master,” Blaine whispered.

“And I do love the idea of giving you something to remember me by while you're sitting in those meetings all day. Since I won't be there in person.”

“Please Master,” Blaine couldn't even pretend any more that this would be punishment. It had been too long since he'd had this, and never from Kurt, and he felt like every nerve in his body was primed, sparking with electricity waiting for the first stroke.

Kurt's fingers left his skin and Blaine whimpered, arching back in silent begging.

"Be still," Kurt commanded and at the very moment Blaine forced himself to relax against the bed the first stroke landed against his left cheek, exactly where Kurt's hand had rested.

He'd been hit harder, much harder, by other doms but that didn't matter because this was Kurt - Kurt beating him with a strap, with his own belt - and it was perfection. The first slap reverberated through his body and the sting had barely faded to that familiar deep heat when the second stroke fell, harder this time, on the opposite side. The third came faster as Kurt warmed to the task; it pushed the air out of Blaine's lungs in a gasp that became a moan as the fourth followed almost immediately.

It stopped then, and Blaine struggled to catch his breath as Kurt touched him again, his hand cool now compared to Blaine's heated flesh. “It's so hot and red,” Kurt said, his voice tinged with awe. “Are you okay?”

"Yes, yes don't stop," Blaine begged. He wiggled his ass under Kurt's hand. "Please don't stop."

"Well since you ask so nicely." The words were barely out of Kurt's mouth before the belt came down again, smacking hard left then right then left again. Blaine lost count - he didn't even try to count. He lost himself to the sting-and-burn perfection of the pain, the surging of his trapped cock, leaking freely now, and the familiar, beautiful sound of leather on flesh, punctuated occasionally by little grunts of effort as Kurt landed a particularly hard blow.

Yes, he'd had harder beatings, but never one so perfect, and when the blows stopped and Kurt ran one finger down his ass Blaine moaned with the intensity of the sensation. Sitting through his meetings was going to be hell. In the most wonderful way.

"Stand up and turn around," Kurt said and Blaine complied, wincing a little as the muscles of his ass flexed with the motion. Kurt still held the belt, and there was an intensity in his eyes that made Blaine's balls ache even more. Kurt had enjoyed it.

"Thank you," Blaine breathed. "That was … I never even imagined …"

"Get dressed," Kurt said.

Blaine reached for Kurt's groin, where it was obvious he was hard in those black briefs.

"Please let me -"

"Get dressed," Kurt said again, more firmly this time.

Blaine obeyed. Moving slowly in deference to his burning ass, he pulled on the t-shirt and polo first, and tied the bow tie tight around his neck, before gingerly pulling his underwear over his tender skin. Then he reluctantly picked up the jeans. Kurt must have picked them deliberately because they were one of his tightest pairs. And his cock, which showed no sign of relaxing, would only make them tighter. He cast Kurt a hopeful, pleading look but Kurt was unmoved.

With a sigh Blaine pulled them on. Wiggling them over his ass was torture and crushing his cock in tight enough to close them made him groan. Kurt just watched it all, lips curved in a tiny smile, still holding the belt and never dropping his air of authority.

When the button was finally buttoned and the zipper zipped Kurt moved at last, letting the belt unfurl, buckle falling toward the floor. He moved close and threaded the end of the belt through the loops in Blaine's jeans, one by one, until he completed the circuit, then he cinched it just a bit tighter than Blaine would have done himself.

"That will remind you of what we did this morning," Kurt said, giving the belt a little tug.

"My ass isn't exactly going to let me forget," Blaine smiled. "Now can I make you come? Please?"

"Don't you think you've had enough excitement for one morning?" Kurt asked, circling slowly around until he was standing behind Blaine, lips at Blaine's ear. One hand slid down to cup Blaine's cock, which struggled against its denim prison, and Kurt pressed his own erection hard against Blaine's aching ass.

"What time is your first meeting? " Kurt asked.

"Eight fifteen."

"So at eight thirty," Kurt whispered, one hand wrapping around Blaine's chest to hold him while the other stroked his cock, "you're going to be sitting in a hard chair, your ass aching, your belt so tight reminding you of how I used it on you this morning, and I'm going to be here, thinking of you squirming on that chair, and I'm going to touch myself -"

Blaine moaned and thrust against Kurt's teasing hand. Kurt slapped him once, sharply, against his cock, then, once he'd stilled, resumed stroking.

”- I'm going to give myself the most incredible orgasm while you sit there and imagine it. And it's going to make you hard again, just thinking about it. Hard in front of everyone and they'll all know. They'll all know how desperate you are. How short a leash I keep you on.”

Kurt must have really been listening when they'd had that kink talk because he was literally pulling the fantasies right out of Blaine's head and whispering them into his ear. “Jesus Kurt! You're killing me!”

The hand kept stroking; the cock kept pushing. Blaine was trapped between sensations, lost in them, and when Kurt turned him around and kissed him hard Blaine's lips parted and he rocked his desperate cock against Kurt's, grateful to at last be able to give Kurt some kind of pleasure in return.

Kurt pulled back from the kiss and smiled. “Don't forget. Eight thirty.”

"I couldn't if I tried."

"And I made you a bagel while you were in the shower. You can take it with you." And with head-spinning perfection the dom fell away and Kurt the boyfriend was left, smiling, young, proud of himself for remembering that Blaine would need to eat. With one more peck he headed out of the room and into the bathroom.

Blaine followed, still in a bit of a daze. His boyfriend/master had beaten his ass with a belt, then buckled that belt tight around his waist so it could remind him, through all his teacher meetings, of how it had started the day. And he'd also made him breakfast.

“Oh!” Kurt's head peeked around the bathroom door. “And keep your phone nearby today. I'll text you when I'm going to do the deed.” His eyebrows bounced suggestively. “And maybe a few other times too. Just to keep you on your toes.” He blew Blaine a kiss and disappeared again behind the closing door.

Blaine leaned back and let the wall hold him up. His ass still felt like it was on fire, his cock too, in a different way. He had no doubt he was going to be thoroughly tortured before the day was over.

Behind the bathroom door the shower started up, and Kurt's voice floated out, singing the opening notes of Defying Gravity.

God he loved his life.