Work Header

Disguise Our Bondage

Chapter Text

A submissive's (or submitting Switch's) place is at his/her Dominant's feet. They are to serve their Dominant according to the Domination Constitution and the contract they sign upon collaring. Conversely, the job of a Dominant (or a Dominating Switch) is to cherish their submissive. Good behaviour should be rewarded, while bad is punished. Punishments should never be excessive and should always be within the guidelines set forth by the law. A Dominant that violates this, breaks not only their contract, but the Constitution.

A Dominant that breaks that rule is the party at fault. Not the submissive.

You did nothing wrong.
Dalton Academy Handbook- Introduction

He needed to get up. Master would be up soon and he'd expect to have his breakfast sitting and ready on the table. So Blaine really needed to get up to prepare that. But despite the roughness of the sheets against his black and blue skin, the hardness of the mattress as it presses into the barely scabbed over whip marks, the boy finds that he can not move. Because no matter how uncomfortable he is right now, lying in his chambers, he knows that moving will be even worse.

Because moving means making the skin of his back move. Pulling and tugging on the places where the lashes had dug deep into the skin. Getting up will mean moving his arms that feel heavy like lead, weighed a thousand times by the yellowing marks on his far too pale skin. The pigment long since starting to escape in the face of the lack of sunlight. Which is the least of his concerns when compared to how much trouble he'll be in if he doesn't get his butt up no matter how much it hurts.

Taking a deep breath, Blaine pushes himself into a sitting position. Like everyday, he ignores the pain sprouting up along his abused body Instead, he pushes through it and gets to his feet, using the wall to support himself. In just a moment, he's re-caught his breath and he's able to move. He looks to the left and sees that the other two beds are empty, meaning Cheyenne and Sean have already gotten up to begin their duties. Cheyenne will be in the the bathroom, preparing the bath, while Sean will be in Master's room, already waking him up with his mouth.

Blaine's always been every so thankful that Master prefers Sean in the morning, allowing him just a couple moments to himself at the start of the day. It's not much, but it helps.

Soon, the sixteen year old has dragged himself into the kitchen, where he begins to rhythmically pull out pots and pans from where they're nestled at night. It's Monday, so Master will want his power breakfast, something to help boost his energy before heading to work. Three eggs, four strips of bacon and two pieces of toast. Lightly buttered. Not too dark.

Never too dark.

A phantom pain sprouts up along his cheek from where Master had taught him that lesson his first week here.

The sound of the sizzle of bacon hits Blaine's ears before he knows it, the habit of doing this allowing his mind to check out of the entire thing. With a glance at the clock, he sees that it's ten till seven. Master is always down at seven promptly. Good. He's ahead of schedule. Which means he doesn't have to worry about what he's about to do.

Feeling like a dying man about to find an oasis, Blaine allows himself to drop bodily into empty kitchen table chair. The feel of wood beneath him as never felt so good. If Master sees him, he'll be in trouble, but Blaine just needs a moment. One second to himself to just catch his breath. After last night, the feel of the spiked lash hitting him over and over, each cry earning him just another lashing... He needs a second, to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Just one minute.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Oh no.

Snapping to attention and moving faster than his body really wants him to, Blaine drops to his knees. He keeps his eyes down, not even looking at Master. It'll only make things worse. But that doesn't mean he can't see the shiny shoes walking across the clean linoleum floor, getting ever closer to him.

“Oh, you didn't have to move. You looked so comfortable there, boy. Your eyes closed as you let my breakfast burn on the stove.” Master's voice is closer now, nearly light sounding. Almost pleasant, unless you know how to really listen to the man that's finally right before him. “Were you comfortable?”

Blaine whimpers, not sure of what to do or how to respond. His entire body is tense, just waiting for the blow he knows will come soon. There is no way that Master will let him get away with having the audacity to sit in that chair. It wasn't his place. As a submissive his rightful place is on his knees, bowing before his Master and ready to serve him without a thought about himself. But he just keeps messing that up. Master is never happy with him.

God, he's such a screw up.

“I said,” Master repeated, his voice losing its faux friendliness. A hand grabs his face and pulls it up, making Blaine meet his eye. The look there just makes Blaine shivers, the duel need to submit and look down, warring with the human instinct that tells him to run. “Were you comfortable?”

Before he can answer, Master's hand strikes him across the face. Blaine's body crumples to the floor, head hitting the title with a disorienting crack. He's sure a cry of pain escapes his lips, but he can't hear it over the whistle of Master's belt racing through the air. Blaine wants to run, to escape, but he can only lay there and wait for the pain he knows will come in just a second. New bruises to add on top of the ones he has.


“Blaine. Blaine, come on wake up.”

The sound of his roommate's voice sounds like out of place for a moment. Why would David be in Master's kitchen?

“You're going to be late for class, Blaine. You already missed breakfast.”

The mention of breakfast makes the curly haired boy shake a bit, the dream still so very fresh in his mind. He fixes his eyes on the ceiling to will the images away, wishing that for once he'd just be able to wake up when he has one of his nightmareish memories. Most people have horrible dreams and wake up screaming and crying, but not Blaine. No, his mind keeps him trapped there, reliving each and every moment. His therapist tells him that his mind won't wake him up from those until he accepts that the events were not truly his fault. That he stays asleep because his mind is still convinced that he was to blame. Once he realises that Master was the one in the wrong, he'll be able to wake up from those dreams and then stop them from coming.

In other words, he'll be stuck with them forever because he's a failure.

“You awake yet?”

“Yeah, sorry. Thanks.” Blaine says, finally sitting up. It feels strange that his body doesn't ache all over. That he can move without wincing at every step. Sometimes it still feels like it though. After some dreams, the one where David doesn't wake him up and he's left to his own devices, he isn't always sure what's going on. Some mornings he isn't sure where he is, or how he got there. He wonders why his bed is so much more comfortable and awaits the moment that Master will march into the room and demand his breakfast.

Thank goodness that David is there for him most days.

“Ok. I got you a couple of pieces of toast.” The taller boy said, gesturing towards Blaine's desk without looking up. He's too busy setting up and organising his school papers to stop. If you make David stop once he begins his morning reorganisation ritual, it'll cause a breakdown. And seeing as how it's Monday, that'd mean David would miss one of his favourite classes.

Blaine wishes he didn't have to ever set foot into the Interaction Rooms.

Leaving David to his process, Blaine gets up to take a quick shower before putting on his uniform; the water turned exactly three quarters till the left. His shower gel and shampoo placed immediately on his right, within arms reach. His therapist tells him that routines are helpful. They help to show him that he doesn't have to constantly be on edge, expecting a harsh rebuke for the tiniest of fall ups. His therapist says a lot of things though.

Once he has his hair under the control of massive amounts of hair gel, Blaine double checks his appearance in the mirror. His Dalton tie is straight, the blazer perfectly ironed and resting neatly on his shoulders. Overall he looks dapper and put together. Like a sub that's ready to drop onto his knees at a dominant's feet. He's ready to face the day, even if it's all a lie.

“Hurry up, Blaine!” David calls from the other side of the bathroom door. Clearly he's finished his routine and that means that if they don't leave within the next minute, they'll be late. Blaine is half tempted to tell David to go on without him, that he doesn't feel quite right today. But he knows that will be useless. The teachers will know that he's only faking in order to get out of Reintroduction class. Everyone knows it's his least favourite.

“Ok, I'm ready. Let's go.”

David gives him a strange look for just a moment, with an expression that Blaine can't decipher. He ignores it though, opening the drawer of his desk to grab the final piece to his dapper disguise. The gold chain catches his eye immediately and he grabs it, pulling the pocket watch out almost reverently. As he hooks it onto his pants, Blaine takes just a second to rub the intricate design on the cover, before grabbing his messenger bag and facing the door. David will be right behind him.

The pair walks silently. Both of the usually talkative boys, keeping themselves silent, just as they do every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning. Blaine spends the entire walk from their dorm on the north side of campus, to the main building in the centre, taking deep breaths. If you don't know him, you might just think he's having a hard time waking up for class. But those that pay attention, that know the signs of an abused sub, can see Blaine's anxiety a mile away. The way his hands fidget, choking the strap of his bag. How his steps are overly measured and sure, pacing himself from having to reach his destination too quickly.

But mostly, they notice the way his eyes never quite leave the ground. Even amongst his fellow subs, he can't bring himself to look up. He never meets anyone's eye, especially not on these mornings. It's bad enough they're going to see him as open and exposed as he will be soon. He doesn't need to see the look they must have in their eye.




All too soon, a sign pronouncing that they've reached Interaction Room A, is before Blaine's face. He pauses before entering, his heart already starting to race. Oh how he loathes this class. Honestly, who's bright idea was it to make a bunch of abused submissives watch a Dom with their sub? Oh, it was supposed to 'show a positive example of interaction between a collared pair'.

Right. Well Blaine knows that most Doms aren't abusive. He's seen a positive example of that his entire life thanks to his parents. William Anderson would never think of abusing his sub, the mother of his child and self-proclaimed love of his life. It's not the Dom or what they might do, that's the problem, it's Blaine. It's always Blaine.

The feel of David playing a comforting hand on his shoulder makes the shorter boy jump a bit, but he forces a smile anyway. He knows his friend means well and wants to help. Finally, Blaine takes a deep breath and opens the door. Everyone looks up as he and David enter and take their place in the circle around the room. Last as always. Barely on time. Mrs. Ammers gives them that look, the same look she does every week and it just makes Blaine look at the floor again as quickly as possible.

“Now that everyone is here, let's get started with this week's lesson. Today we have Mistress Kay and her pet Jackson.” Mrs. Ammers tells the group of boys. Blaine blocks out their excited chatter over them having a female Dominant today. As most of the boys here are straight or bisexual, they always get a little more excited when a woman is around.

“Yes, yes. A female Dominant today.” Their teacher says, acknowledging their excitement, but shushing it with a wave of their hands. The boys all listen. They're good at listening. “Please be very polite and respectful, because even more importantly, Jackson is a Dalton graduate. He left the Academy four years ago, and is very happy with Mistress Kay.”

There's no need to tell the boys to be quiet now, because all of them are too busy staring at Mrs. Ammers with wide eyes. A graduate? Someone that actually went through the program and was able to be collared again? No way.

Blaine could already feel his eyes starting to tear up, the pinpricks of hot tears stinging the corner of his eyes. Oh god, not already. Usually he made it a bit further into the lesson before he felt like running away. But already he could feel the twitch in his legs to turn and sprint from the room and feelings that this class always brings up. Dalton teaches that he's not supposed to be forced to do anything he's uncomfortable with without his express consent. Well, why is he required to go to this class three times a week?

“Please provide a warm welcome to Mistress Kay and Jackson.”

All the boys put their hands together, looking around each other towards the door in the corner of the room. It's as if all the boys are holding their breath, holding it until the short blonde woman, and the brunette man are in the centre of the circle. Against his better judgement, Blaine watches the entire entrance. Taking in the comfortable way the pet crawls, beside but just behind his Mistress, his eyes on her feet the entire time. Letting her movements and the gentle pull of the leash guide him. Not paying any attention to the boys staring at them.

Mistress Kay though, she watches all of them. Stands in the middle of the room and takes in each and every face. Though small, with angelic features, her presence is clearly that of a Dom's. Every sub and Switch in this room can feel that. It makes Blaine fidget in his place, hands creating wrinkles on the leather of his bag's strap.

“Jackson.” The pet looks up, taking his feet off the heels on his Dom's feet and instead meeting her eye. “I want you to get that bench from by the door. Crawl over there, but you may walk to carry it to me.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Jackson answers, a tone of reverence in his voice. It's clear that he's completely devoted to the woman that owns him.

Blaine tries not to watch the sure way in which the man crawls over to the door, the leash providing just enough slack to let him move that far without a tug. The sub must feel so safe and owned that way. Knowing that his Dom is just on the other side of that length of leather. Never too far away in case he needs some reassurance.

Soon enough, the young man has the small wooden bench in his arms, facing his Mistress with his head down. “Place it at my feet.”

The pet rushes to fulfil his duty, dropping to his knees beside Mistress Kay as soon as he's able. Jackson can't seem to resist the urge to nuzzle his cheek against the smooth skin of his Dom's leg. Blaine can't help but flinch at the action, expecting to see the strappy heels come up and kick the man in the side. Forcing his face into the ground to sprout apologies for daring to touch, for daring to think that what he wanted mattered.

Instead, Blaine watches as the woman reaches down to pat Jackson on the head, ruffling his hair up a bit as she does so. “Good boy.”

The words make something in Blaine's chest tighten up, rising to his throat and making breathing difficult. As he watches the woman sit down on the bench, then instruct the sub onto her lap, his hands slip off his messenger bag strap. They're so sweaty he can't keep them on the smooth material anymore. He wipes his hands on his pants leg, mindless of the sweat marks he might leave on the grey slacks.

Instead his eyes are glued on the woman's hand as they pull the submissive's leather shorts down. Exposing his bottom. He can't look away from hand that lands harshly on the pale skin, leaving it cherry red in it's wake. His ears can not ignore the way in which the sub moans happily, taking his Mistress for each and every smack. Blaine can't help the way his heart races every time she calls him a good boy, encouraging him to rub himself on her thigh.

With every smack the tears get closer to falling. Every moan makes his heart ache just a bit. The desire to be that sub is almost overwhelming. Blaine isn't even remotely attracted to woman, but he just wishes someone would spank him like that. He wishes that he were worthy of a Dominant that took such good care of their submissive.

But he'll never have that. Because he screwed up. Blaine had a Master, but he just didn't know how to please him. He never listened to instructions well enough, was never good enough to make his Dominant happy. God, he's such a screw up. No one will ever want a broken, pathetic submissive like him. No one will ever put him over his knee, no one will ever take him as he begs for more. Because he'll screw it up.

He's never good enough.

The tears are running down his face before the sob escapes his throat, but he doesn't notice them till then. The boy was too trapped in his own head, in the truths that his teachers and therapist will never tell him. He'll never end up like Jackson.

Like nearly every class, Blaine runs. He arrives late both so he can avoid this room and escape it that much easier. Mr. Brawner, the school nurse, will let him rest on a cot for the rest of the morning, just as he does nearly every time Blaine has to go to D/s Reintroduction. By eleven, the nurse will force the boy to get up and go to lunch with the rest of his classmates, and he'll remind him that he needs to start facing the feelings he's running from. But by that time, Blaine'll have to leave or they'll be no food left for him before afternoon academic classes. He'll tell Mr. Brawner that he'll try harder next class, but they'll both know it's a lie. Blaine will be back next time.


“Are you ok, Blaine?” Thad asks him, as the curly haired boy sits down at their usual lunch table. There aren't assigned seats or anything, but boys tend to sit with their fellow group therapy kids. A sort of unofficial clique.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” The same answer he gives every time this happens. No one ever believes him.

“Ok.” Least they're good enough friends never to call him out on it. Besides, they all have their own demons to haunt them.

“I saved you some mashed potatoes.” Jeff offers, pushing a plate towards Blaine. The shorter boy smiles at his blonde friend, thankful. It's sad that they have a routine now, but it helps him get back on his feet after a breakdown. If he tries to eat anything too heavy, he ends up puking it right back up, but if he doesn't eat at all, he'll pass out. It's touchy.

The boys sit in silence for a few minutes, not needing words as they all try to down their afternoon meal. Finally, once most of them are approaching finished, Thad looks at all of them a bit too excitedly. “We have a new group mate.”

Everyone stops eating immediately to stare at Thad. New member? No way. Blaine had just arrived two months ago, and it was rare to get two people in one semester. Heck, it was rare to get two people in a group in one year. “He's rooming with me. They told me before D/s RI. They moved him in then, but he'll be starting classes with us this afternoon.”

“Wow.” David says, though finally he went back to eating.

“Yeah, and even more so, he's a Switch.”

That caused a bit of an uproar. Another Switch? Abuse was rare enough in their world, but Switch abuse was even rarer. Nick is one, but no one pointed that out just now. Blaine had to do his best to not openly stare at the boy, as if already mentally comparing this new kid to the boy he calls friend.

“Anyway, we better go. Miss Kellye hates when we're late.”

Blaine nodded along, pushing his half eaten mashed potatoes away without another thought. He ate enough to keep his energy up for the day, at the least. It'll have to do, even if he'll need a snack before dinner. Mr. Brawner will probably take pity on him and give him some crackers if he asks.

The boys are quiet as they take their seats in class. The other boys in their history class are already seated, chatting quietly amongst themselves before the bell. Apparently they don't know about the new kid, or they'd be too busy staring at the front door to talk. But Blaine's group knows and they sit quietly, waiting for the bell.

Just as it rings. Miss Kellye walks in, followed by the most beautiful person Blaine has ever seen. His heart quickens as the sight of the angel standing in the front of the room. The boy is tall, well taller than Blaine, with soft looking brown hair that Blaine wishes he could brush. The angel has gorgeous eyes, not quite green or blue, but some mixtures that makes Blaine want to stare at them forever, but he's too afraid to really look into them.

And that body. God, even the plain old Dalton uniform can not hide the strength in those muscles. Blaine can see it in the way that the boy holds himself, tall, straight backed. Clearly in control. He would look so beautiful holding a flail over his head, bringing it down to whip a sub backs. This boy is beautiful, so pretty.

Blaine is too busy staring to hear Miss Kellye say much, but he catches the name. Kurt Hummel. The class is instructed to say hello and it takes everything in Blaine to stay in his seat. Because every muscle in his body is screaming at him to get up and go to the front of the room so he can drop to his knees before this man.