young love.

Blaine Devon, Dominant. Muse blog.

[domblainedevons]

Ravenous || Valaine

[domblainedevons]

submissiveval:

Val nods her head around a bite of her lemon poppy salad. It wasn’t a normal occurrence for the pair to grab fast food, Blaine much preferring to take her out to expensive restaurants, but that was usually when she was already away for school. It was the weekend, and outside of homework, Valerie’s concerns lied with her Dad, who was at home alone and unaware that she had company.

“It’s great, Sir, thank you again for treating me,” she looks over at her Professor - her boyfriend - and can’t bite back the smile that spreads across her face when his eyes meet hers. Seeing Blaine outside of class was always a treat, but even more so now that he could freely see her any time he wanted on a Saturday. She was so happy to be sitting there with him, she could almost kiss him, even with the taste of dead animal on his tongue.

“How’s yours?” She scrunches her nose up cute, in distaste, but it’s only playful.

“It’s moovelous,” he teases right back, a dopey smirk on his face.

He paces himself as he eats, timing it so that they’ll finish their meals at about the same time. It takes longer to eat a whole salad than a burger, and Blaine knows better than to not have something to distract himself with while Val’s perfect lips are closing around a fork again and again and again. God, why haven’t they touched his dick yet?

By the time they’ve both finished, Blaine’s hand has wandered all the way to her inner thigh, inching ever upwards between her legs. It’s not full-on groping, but the opportunity is there. She hasn’t grabbed his hand yet to hold it instead - an affectionate form of rejection he’s gotten increasingly accustomed to. 

Blaine pops a mint into his mouth for her sake and leans over the console, free hand coming to rest on the side of her face. He guides her mouth to his and kisses her deeply.

[domblainedevons]

Ravenous || Valaine

Blaine chomps down another bite of his burger, one hand resting on Valerie’s thigh in the passenger’s seat. They’re parked in the back of a shopping center lot, under the only shade tree. He’d just taken his girl out to lunch on a Saturday afternoon.

“Your food good, honey?”

He’s working at her. Bit by bit. His wife is gone, and he’s got Val wrapped around his finger. ...Now if only he could get her wrapped around his dick.

His grip on her leg tightens, possessive. How much longer did he have to wait? He’s given her everything she could want, if only she’d take it.

[domblainedevons]

Pretty Face || Anderlanda

[domblainedevons]

subleahkimberly:

This was the last way El expected this day to end. Her heart beats faster and her breathing is uneven. She doesn’t trust this boy in front of her and he’s probably never owned a slave in his life.

She hates him.

She hates him.

He grabs her hand. El jerks but his grip is strong. He leads her through the market and she looks around frantically through the sea of people - the slaves chained to the makeshift walls in some areas and others in cages. There’s a reason slaves are brought into the market with no sense of where they’ve been, because they’d be like El, looking for their way of escape. Still, she tries to pull away. Maybe she’d be killed. Maybe she’d actually be free.

“No!” The slave frowns and starts throwing a fit, just like any child would. “No! No!!” She slaps his car, more than once, throws her body against the passenger door and yells in annoyance that he won’t let her go.

Blaine is stunned when she starts to fight against him. “Hey!” he shouts, brows furrowed. “Don’t- Don’t hit my car!” He reaches out, grabs at both of her wrists, and pins her bodily against the passenger door she seems so content to slam herself against on her own. He’s plenty strong enough to hold her in place, even if she struggles. She’s face down against it, probably messing up the recently-waxed exterior.

“Listen!” he continues shouting. “You don’t pull this kind of stuff with me. You’re mine. You do what I tell you.” Blaine gives her a shove, then pulls back, one wrist still in his grip. “Open the door. Get in.”

[domblainedevons]

Pretty Face || Anderlanda

[domblainedevons]

subleahkimberly:

The potential buyer follows into the back room and El is put on full display for him. The way he looks at her could only be described as primal, and El feels a chill.

Her arms are pulled away from herself and she has to shut her eyes and squeeze her hands into small fists to stop from raising a finger at him when she grabs at her breast and makes an approved sound.

It was all he needed. She’s ordered by the man - no, her new owner, to put her clothes back on. She was going home with him.

The papers are drawn up and the money is presented to the salesman. It’s quick and easy, and like that, she was somebody else’s responsibility.

Maybe this wouldn’t be a lucky day for El after all.

Everything is done within ten minutes. It’s a quick and painless cash transaction. He gets a folder with a copy of her records, and his own ownership certificate. He’s offered a complimentary leash and collar to lead his new prize with as well. Blaine declines with a shake of his head. “No, thank you. I’ve got her.”

Biting his lip to keep his excited grin under control, Blaine grabs the slave’s hand and holds it tight in his own. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you to the car.” Blaine hurries on his way back out of the market to where he’s parked his sporty vehicle, talking all the way, blind to the rest of the miserable, chained people all around them. “Gotta get you home. You can call me Sir for now. As for you... Well. Eleven isn’t a good name, but I’ll need to think on it. ‘Pretty’ is good in the meantime, don’t you think, Pretty?”

[domblainedevons]

Pretty Face || Anderlanda

[domblainedevons]

subleahkimberly:

The man in front of El frowns and she does everything she can to hide her being pleased with herself. She’s worked up enough of a reputation to be undesirable, discounted even, and it looks like she’s made it to the next day of sales as both men wander the rest of the tent.

That is until her trader comes back only minutes later, and releases her from her shackles. She looks at him with wide eyes and whines, earning her a rough squeeze at the wrist as she’s yanked along to the back room.

There, she’s told to undress and wait, and El holds back tears as she drops the thin piece of clothing she’s been given to cover herself up. It’s not much, and plenty of people have touched her through the thin material, but it’s almost like a shield. Hiding the marks and scars she’s earned herself over the years for being disobedient and some for no reason at all.

She stands there, arms crossed over her breasts, and waits for further instruction.

Blaine follows in behind the pair and watches her strip down. And yeah... Yeah, Blaine can see that she’s had her fair share of prior owners, trouble with them, too. Even if she couldn’t articulate it very well, the scars told the stories perfectly. Rather than push him away, however, the marks only make him more curious. She’d be a challenge - something for him to work on and conquer.

Beyond the scars, she’s beautiful. The curves he couldn’t see before are in full display now, and it takes half a second for him to start to feel aroused. “Lemme see,” he ordered softly, tugging her arms down to her sides. “Mmm,” he hums audibly in approval at the sight of her breasts, cupping one in his hands briefly.

“I’ll take her,” he decides. “Have someone draw up the papers,” he tells the salesman - then to the slave, “Put your clothes back on, pretty.”

His parents will be surprised. A scarred, likely illiterate, discount girl. Blaine wants her, though. And Blaine Anderson gets what he wants.

[domblainedevons]

Pretty Face || Anderlanda

[domblainedevons]

subleahkimberly:

El glares at the man’s shoes. She’s never owned a pair of shoes, but she’s had enough of them jammed into her ribcage and face to know that his were pretty nice. He had money.

El wanted to spit on those shoes.

His hand never stops making contact with her jaw. She could cause another scene, but the way her current owner has his hand ready at his crop stops her. This child wasn’t worth it. And that’s what he was. A child. Couldn’t even be 20. She resists the urge to shake her head and roll her eyes. It’d really be an unlucky day to end up going home with this guy.

Still, she humors him. Each question he asks has her asking herself if a few more lashes are really all that bad, but the moment the crop touches her skin in warning, El finally responds, shaking her head.

“Can’t count.” She holds her hands up, showing her calloused fingers to him, indicating how many owners she knows she’s had already. “More. …Do everythin’ as’ed. Das it.”

Oh. My. God. She couldn’t even speak properly. She wouldn’t really fit in at home; though they spoke very little, the other house slaves were eloquent. What would Mother think? Blaine frowns, thoughtful. In response, seeing that his deal might be slipping away, the salesman speaks quickly: “Eleven here is on a discount price! ...but if this one isn’t to your liking, we have several others that I’m sure are in your budget, Sir.”

Blaine drops his hand from #11′s face and allows the man to touch his shoulder and guide him a few feet away toward the rest of his merchandise. He looks them over while listening to the salesman prattle on about their attributes. “Thank you-” he holds up a hand to silence the man, “but I’d rather take a closer look at this one. Would you bring her inside - and get the clothes off?” Already he feels possessive. He doesn’t want anyone else wandering the market to be looking at her body until he’s had his chance.

[domblainedevons]

Pretty Face || Anderlanda

[domblainedevons]

subleahkimberly:

It’s Sunday. Or maybe it’s Thursday - she doesn’t really know, but she’s pretty sure it’s a holy day based off the amount of bells she hears going off in the city. 

The perfect day to hold a slave market, she thinks bitterly, though with how many times she’s been presented in these last days alone, El (short for Eleven, her slave number) knows that any day is a great day to hold a market.

Her day goes on how it normally does, hers and every other slaves’ shackles are pinned to the ground and they wait. And wait. And wait. Even if the sun is blistering hot on your skin or the snow starts to make it’s way into the tents, you wait. If you’re lucky, you make it to the next day of sale. If you’re unlucky, you get chosen by an owner. El’s had more unlucky days than she can even count - but that’s only because they keep sending her back to get an upgrade.

Today she’s groped and felt up by at least ten potential owners, but she’s always passed up when they get her history. She’s “used” and “had her time” and “probably won’t last much longer.”

El only wished that last one was true as she shuts her eyes and tries to get some rest.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been to herself before she feels her chin being pinched between a man’s fingers. She dares to glance up at him like she does any other potential buyer, almost daring him to purchase her before dropping her gaze in feigned-respect. He lets her get a good look at her and expects him to move on.

He doesn’t. He addresses her, instead. And what he says makes her eyebrows meet together in the middle of her forehead. He recognizes her.

Once again she dares to bring her eyes up to look at him directly in the eye. She doesn’t know him, but she knows she hates him. Hates his face and the way he’s looking at her and speaking to her in such a fake manner.

El growls and shakes her head, thrashing in the spot.

Then she yelps and hunches over in pain when the crop meets her between the shoulders. 

She has spunk. A growl of all things. In response, Blaine giggles, shrugging it off when the man wielding the crop apologizes on the slave’s behalf. It’s fine. She’s amusing.

“That’s not a very nice way to respond,” he teases her. “Let’s try a different question, maybe.”

Blaine taps his foot in the dirt while he pretends to mull over possible questions, all the while keeping his hand on her face. He lets his thumb stroke her jawline absentmindedly. “Oh! Got one,” Blaine looks at her again, “How many owners have you had, Pretty? Men? Women? And what have you been used for?” He shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, you’re pretty, so I bet you’ve been in bed quite a lot - but do you clean? Cook? Tell me about yourself, please.”

He could ask the salesman. He could get access to all of her detailed records at the drop of a hat. But he wants to hear her voice. He wants to hear what she had to say. Maybe he wants to humiliate her a little, too... Maybe. Who could blame him? He’s a 19-year-old boy with power in his hands.

[domblainedevons]

Pretty Face || Anderlanda

There are always slaves for sale if you look in the right places, but Blaine always waited for the main, twice-a-month market to return to town, when salesmen from both local and more distant areas brought their wares to a central location in town. It was easier, and the options were more varied. And seeing as this was Blaine’s first purchase - a gift from his parents for his 19th birthday - Blaine wanted all the options he could get.

It was a big decision.

This is Blaine’s fifth time here. He’s starting to look familiar to the sellers, and they know he’s got money to spend. They call out to him as he walks past their tents, where some slaves are chained outside, some left standing on platforms, and others kept inside. He stops and looks at a few. A handsome man... A young girl... But he ultimately keeps on walking.

Then across the way one woman catches his eye. He’s seen her three times since he’s started browsing several months before - she’s a frequent return. Today there’s a bruise coloring her cheekbone, and who knows what other marks under her thin clothes.

“Can I help you, Sir?” asks a charismatic man, dressed impeccably, a leather crop hanging at his belt.

He points to the woman. “She’s back again. Why?”

“Oh, just trouble fitting in,” the man laughs. “You can take a closer look, if you like.”

Blaine takes the invitation and steps over to her, staring at her body as he approaches. It’s hard to see any curves under the loose-fitting top she’s wearing, but her face is enough to look at for now. He reaches out without warning, completely entitled to touch her, and holds her chin between his fingers, lifting her head to look at him.

“Why does such a pretty face keep coming back here, hm?” he murmurs, his tone sickly sweet.

[domblainedevons]

Age of Consent, Blaine/Val

[domblainedevons]

submissiveval:

Val curls her fingers into themselves, hands still trembling as she pulls them back to her body. He notes her shaking, and she opens a single eye, not catching any traces of teasing. Instead, he’s smiling, and looking at Val in a way he’s never looked at her before. She slowly opens her other eye.

“Pr- Professor..” her words stop.

She has so many questions, but none of them come out. She blinks fast, shaking her head just barely and opening and closing her mouth every time she thinks she’s ready to say something.

Looking into his face, Val searches for answers, but they aren’t there either, and because of what’s just happened between them, how close Mr. Anderson still is, she gets lost. Her bottom lip gets caught between her teeth and her clear blue eyes dart to his mouth again. She shouldn’t, but she wants it against her own again.

She squints one eye open at a time. If Blaine wasn’t resisting the urge to push her harder against the board and all-but shove his tongue down her throat, he’d scoop her up and put her in his pocket. God, she was so fucking adorable.

Blaine watches her eyes. They look at his face. They look at his mouth. They look like they want him just as much as he wants her in return. “What?” he responds, voice soft, affectionate. “What do you wanna say, honey?”

[domblainedevons]

Age of Consent, Blaine/Val

[submissiveval-blog]

domblainedevons:

She was always so polite. Always ‘Sir.’ It wasn’t unique - other girls used the same respectful title. But the way she said it.

“Val…” Blaine touches her face. He’s thought of doing this more than once. It was so much better than he imagined. “Valerie.”

Blaine lifts her head up, holds it up - and presses his face close to hers. He kisses the 17-year-old student Valerie D’Angelo, his wedding ring touching her skin. It’s a gentle kiss. But he lingers, still gauging any reaction.

Valerie allows him to tilt her chin back up and her breath catches once more before her Professor’s lips are pressing to her own. She can’t believe this is her life, only moments ago pretending to erase his husband from his life to this. Her hand trembles as she reaches up, unsure of whether it’d be okay to touch his face in return. Only two fingertips seem to make it to his scruffy jawline as she returns the kiss, messy and embarrassingly inexperienced.

It’s not like she’s never had her first or second or even third kiss before, either, but she definitely lacked the confidence the Dom in front of her seemed to have. When they part, she only blushes more, eyes squeezed shut and hoping it was okay.

[domblainedevons]

She responds with a touch to his face - so very gentle. A fucking butterfly against his chin. And she kisses back. There’s obvious inexperience and shock in her movements. Blaine never wants to stop, but he breaks away from her, and lets out a breathy sigh.

“You’re shaking,” he observes, a soft smile on his face. Her eyes are closed. Her cheeks are pink. God, she’s precious.

[domblainedevons]

Age of Consent, Blaine/Val

[domblainedevons]

submissiveval:

“You’re welcome, Sir-”

His hand is at her back. She looks up, unfamiliar with the touch. He doesn’t say anything though, and before she knows it, her body is gently being spun around to face her Professor. The tray for the chalk digs gently into her spine as she takes a small, reactionary step back and sucks in a breath.

Was this really happening?

She meets Mr. Anderson’s eyes before they follow the wet slide of his tongue across his lips, and her own mouth parts on a breathy whine that she can’t control. Her legs begin to tremble. She feels her heart beating hard against her chest. She wouldn’t be able to place where exactly she was because those eyes are staring at her so intently.

Val ducks her head, face burning.

She was always so polite. Always ‘Sir.’ It wasn’t unique - other girls used the same respectful title. But the way she said it.

“Val...” Blaine touches her face. He’s thought of doing this more than once. It was so much better than he imagined. “Valerie.”

Blaine lifts her head up, holds it up - and presses his face close to hers. He kisses the 17-year-old student Valerie D’Angelo, his wedding ring touching her skin. It’s a gentle kiss. But he lingers, still gauging any reaction.

[domblainedevons]

Age of Consent, Blaine/Val

[domblainedevons]

submissiveval:

One of the charms of Albany, sticking to the basics, and that included chalk boards. Valerie is already agreeing to to clean them up for him just as an onslaught of negative thoughts towards Mr. Anderson’s husband start to swarm in.

How in the world was it difficult to remove chalk from anything? Images of the face of a man she’s never met burn in her head while she picks up an eraser and makes small sweeping motions, the secret to get a nice clean board. As she swipes her hand, ridding the chalk, she imagines the eraser ridding Mr. Anderson’s husband at the same exact time. He deserved better than a sub that couldn’t handle something as mundane and basic as laundry.

A satisfied smirk comes to her lips as she faces the chalkboard, free of the day’s lesson.

“There. All gone.”

Blaine keeps at his desk, biding his time. He can’t just barrel right up into her. He needs to be patient. This is the time he’s going to finally make a move, and he needs to get it right.

He lets her finish the job, then rolls his chair around, giving the board an appraisal. “Looks fantastic. Thank you so much, Miss D’Angelo.” He smiles, gets to his feet, and steps up beside her, setting his hand on the small of her back. Blaine lets things linger for a moment, then in one deft but gentle move, turns her around, settling her back against the clean chalkboard.

Blaine licks his lips, looking down at her, gauging her reaction.

[domblainedevons]

Age of Consent, Blaine/Val

[domblainedevons]

submissiveval:

When Mr. Anderson laughs, Valerie sucks in a breath and holds it, feeling her heart skip a beat. God she loved that laugh, more than she’d ever dare to admit. 

See, there was helping out a professor, but then there was helping out Professor Anderson, the dreamiest instructor at school. Ask nearly any student, Domme or sub to name the hottest teacher, and each Albany girl would probably name him. What small amount of friends she had were insanely jealous of the time she got to spend with him.

She quickly snaps out of whatever trance that chuckle put her in and lets out her breath on a laugh, nodding at his comment.

“Yeah, thank god.”

Those were another thing she had a thing for. But let’s be honest, Val had a lot of things for her professor, which is why she really didn’t mind staying a little longer to staple up some papers - and she swears she didn’t do it on purpose. She takes the stapler and gets to work. Luckily for her, Albany had an amazing student-teacher ratio per classroom, so it wasn’t too much of an effort, but it does occupy her thoughts long enough so she doesn’t bother her professor.

The stapling of the paperwork takes a while. Blaine stays at his desk, calm in his high-backed chair, while the shuffle click shuffle click continues in the background. She works quietly. Blaine steals glances at her sitting at one of the desks in the front row. What a pretty girl.

When she finishes up, he feigns an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry to keep you, but - gosh, the blackboard needs to be erased. Could you maybe-? My husband hates when I get too much chalk dust on my jackets. Tough to clean, apparently.”

[domblainedevons]

Age of Consent, Blaine/Val

[domblainedevons]

submissiveval:

Valerie mentally slaps herself on the forehead. Of course he would’ve wanted those pages stapled. She should’ve known better. She gives him an enthusiastic nod, otherwise, and turns to the filing cabinet, squatting down partially and reaching back with a hand to brush down her school uniform. There was no way anything was showing, the skirts strictly following guidelines, but it was just a habit. She begins rummaging through the drawer but not much is in there.

“No, I don’t think it’s in here, Sir..” She slides a single file - the only file - forward, and nothing else is behind it. “Your staple refills are here in the front,” she says over her shoulder, “but no stapler.” The file drawer clicks when she shuts it, and she stands up straight once again. “Maybe it’s in your office? I can go get it real quick.”

Blaine stared. He stared unashamed as she bent down, ran her hand over her skirt. God, he wanted to do that. He looks away just in time for her to stand back up without being caught.

“Hm.” He wrinkles his brow, then shakes his head with a chuckle. “Oh! Wow, silly me. It’s right here." Blaine grabs it and holds it out to her. “I swear, my eyes get worse every year. Thank god for glasses.”

[domblainedevons]

Age of Consent, Blaine/Val

[domblainedevons]

submissiveval:

The whirring of the copy machine comes to a halt, signaling that Mr. Anderson’s paperwork was done. Valerie watched each blinding flash of light from across the room, like she did every day, just before the final bell would ring and students would be released to enjoy the rest of their day however they may. For Valerie, she enjoyed spending her final period and after hours as Mr. Anderson’s assistant.

She gathers up the paperwork and is careful not to mix them all up before leaving the Faculty room, blending in easily with the rest of the students on her small trek back to his classroom. While other students gabbed about looking forward to the sunshine ahead this weekend, Val thought about looking forward to seeing her pleased professor, having made his day and weekend that much easier. It was really lucky for her to have made this arrangement with him all those months ago. His praise held her over until the time she could see him next, and that made going home each day to take care of her dad not so dim.

She steps into the room, only having a little bit of trouble with the door, and gives a small, accomplished smile when setting down the papers.

“There you go, Mr. Anderson. I went ahead and sorted them all out for you. I was’t sure if you needed them stapled, though, so I didn’t select that option,” she bites her lip. “But I’d be happy to stay a little longer and do that.”

Blaine puts on his flashiest charismatic smile as Val finally arrives. “Thank you, Miss D’Angelo. And yeah - if you’ve got the time, that would be great. I think I put the stapler down in the bottom drawer,” he tosses his hand to point to the filing cabinet in the corner.

A lie. It was on his desk. Right in front of his face.

But the way she always looked when she bent over...

Yeah. Maybe it was a sleazebag move. But could you blame him?

[domblainedevons]

Age of Consent, Blaine/Val

The ring of the final class bell cut through Blaine’s sentence about the latest test review his students were to complete. Everyone stayed in their seats, however. In Mr. Anderson’s class, only he dismissed you - not the bell. So Blaine paused to let the ringing finish, listening as the shuffle of students began outside, and spoke up again: “Test next Monday, so study this weekend, alright? As always, I’m available by email for any questions.” He nodded. “Okay. Go on.”

The students rushed out. Blaine headed back around to his desk and closed out the lecture notes on his computer, checking the time. Valerie would be returning in a few minutes, as usual, with his paperwork for the next class day. Even on Fridays, she stayed to help prepare for Monday. She had always done whatever Blaine had asked of her. Blaine had been uncertain about taking on a block of submissive classes along with his Dominance curriculum at first, but now he’d never trade them for anything.

He’d never trade her for anything - the moments he gets to steal. Glances at her ass, her smile and sparkling eyes when he thanks her, her soft voice when she asks questions. He’d checked her student file early on this school year. He knew her 17th birthday had come and gone a month ago.

Blaine glanced at the doorway then reached out with a hand, setting the framed portrait of his too-perfect husband facedown on the desk.

[domblainedevons]

text :: Pet & Mr. Anderson

Pet: I'm so sorry! You didn't have to reply to me, Sir. I know I'm breaking your rule. I won't do it again! I have my designated time with you and I should be more than happy with that. I /am/ happy with that. Please forgive me. I'll let you get back to your family.

Mr. Anderson: the separation from my family is important to me, and i know you know that. you're forgiven, pet. i know you get lonely. just don't make this a regular thing.

Mr. Anderson: but i've got a few minutes, and i'm not letting you go to bed upset with yourself. so relax. roll your shoulders; get that tension out of your neck (i know it's there, pet), and tell me about your day, hm?