Blaine wasn't going to deny that he'd always wondered what the allure of BDSM was. It seemed like a terrifying thing to do with someone you loved; tie them down, strip them naked forcefully, and then beat them until they screamed? The idea seemed more suited for implantation on the bastards who had bullied him at Westerville High, not his boyfriend.
But regardless, here he was, in Kurt's basement bedroom with a whip in his hands and Kurt obediently kneeled before him. They'd arranged this weeks ago – well, Kurt had, begging for it really – to make sure that Finn was at a sleepover with the other Glee guys and Burt and Carole were out of town on a romantic Midwestern Bed and Breakfast Weekend, as they'd called it. The two boys had the whole house to themselves, and Kurt was determined that something kinky would go down, Blaine's reservations be damned.
Kurt had no sooner cheerily slammed the door on Carole's mother-hen reminders to eat well and not stay up to late than he scampered down to his room, pulling out what looked disturbingly like Chanel fetish wear. Blaine wasn't even going to broach the question, so he just watched quietly as Kurt struggled into the leather and latex contraption with an inordinate amount of enthusiasm.
The countertenor had done his research, that's for sure – covert credit card purchases, the arrangement of a safe word – and Blaine started to feel himself relax and become excited. He was determined to enjoy this, despite his concerns.
He made up an imaginary offense that Kurt had done, and the boy kneeling before him pleadingly disputed the claims. Blaine felt a rush of adrenaline as the first lash struck out, landing almost delicately on Kurt's cheek. The Warbler screamed out, biting his lip, but his face was twisted into the purest form of ecstasy that his boyfriend had ever seen. Encouraged, Blaine struck him again, this time on his back, and relished at the screech that ensued.
Blaine began to lose himself in it, the feeling of power, the sensation of giving his boyfriend both pleasure and pain through the administration of sharp flicks to his latex-clad rear and bare back. His lashings became more severe, leaving lacy red marks across his partner's creamy skin, and he stepped back for a moment to admire the beauty that his sadism had created before Kurt's insistent whimper brought him back to focus. He again struck at the boy until Kurt was keening like a wolf from the overstimulation.
Half an hour later, Kurt whispered the safe word – "Beiste" – and Blaine immediately complied, dropping the whip and coming to his knees beside his boyfriend.
"Are you okay?" The Warbler asked, his chocolate eyes warm with concern.
"More than okay," Kurt murmured. "That was. . . incredible."
"I thought so too," Blaine replied shyly. "I never knew being brutal could be so. . ."
"Yes," Blaine agreed, pressing a kiss to Kurt's temple, "Exactly."