Title: Training a Dominant
Authors: vkdemon and karomeled
Pairing: Smythofsky
Sidepairings: Kum, Blainchel, Pina
Words: 2 751/?
Warnings: abuse, violence, non-con, mentions of suicide (all in later chapters), BDSM themes
Summary: Elite, handsome, rich and Dominant. Sebastian has everything in life but a sub. He finds one with a fire under his skin and emptiness in his heart. Sebastian finds himself questioning everything because of the fragile but fighting David.
AN: AU where everyone is either a Dom or a sub and submissives are treated as second-class citizen. The side characters will appear gradually.

One. Two. Three. Four...

Dave mind counted out the stripes on his back. He'd been bad again.

Eight. Nine.

He'd been acting above his station again, ordering around other subs like he had any right.

Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.

Dave flinched, tears starting. He never asked to be a submissive. He didn't want it. He'd been afraid, so fucking afraid of being registered as one once it got revealed.

Eighteen.

He was right to be. As soon as they heard he was dropped here. State-run halfway home for unclaimed subs called the Holding Center. It was a good way to throw away your unwanted children. It's where you went when you were unsuitable like him.

Twenty-five. Twenty-six.

Some subs were loved. They threw big parties and planned marriages and contracts with other young Dominants. They had things like collaring ceremonies.

Thirty.

Dave had his own submissive girl his father had been in talks with the family for. Because Dave was going to be a dominant. He came from a long line of them, strong Dominant men.

Thirty-three. Thirty-four.

But Dave was bad. He was wrong and fucked up. He was just another submissive, another useless drain on his father's house. His mother was a Dominant too. She sneered and cursed their household submissive. But Carole was sweet. She was nice to him.

Thirty-six!

Dave screamed, his thoughts scrambling as blood was drawn. Finally he slumped, sobbing. This was his life. He waited for what he knew wouldn't come. The touch, the soft spoken words that could sooth away the worst of pain. He waited as his cuffs were unlatched, waited as his broad body was shoved from the whipping table to fall to the floor. 'Good boy'. He closed his eyes and whispered the words to himself and just tried to breathe.

The building didn't differ from others. The same brick walls were embellished with intricate windows and monumental wooden doors. Sebastian wondered idly if there was some law that restricted Holding Houses from enjoying placements other than dim, old-time assembles. But, in a way, it made sense to keep those buildings unpleasantly void of fine designs. They weren't supposed to provide luxury accommodation, but shape the character and prepare submissives for their service. Nothing would turn an individual into an eager, happy sub than waking in a place as colorless as this, Sebastian supposed.

The young Dominant strode down the hall, taking off his black gloves and a hat. The summer was hot and he wasn't going to keep up with vapid traditions if he could get away with it. Besides, a Holding House was hardly a place to be concerned about looking proper in. He let out a bored sigh and looked around the cell. It took a moment to notice a slouched bulk in the dim corner and Sebastian's irritation only grew. They had online matching systems in Europe already, but Americans had to do everything their own way. Which resulted in tremendous waste of his precious time. "Hey, you," Sebastian said loudly. "#2307? Get your ass here, you don't honestly expect me to go out there for you?"

Dave's ears pricked, hearing the number that was now his name called. He was exhausted, the pain and adrenaline and submissive emotions had been left raw. There were no gentle words here, no sub-space euphoria. There was only 'corrections' and distant cold Doms. He grunted, pulling himself and his back, striped with inflamed skin and lines of blood, into a ramrod stiff posture unseen in submissives. He walked to the pretty rich male calling him. "Sir."

"On your knees," fell the command. Sebastian's nose wrinkled. The sub might be a use in bakery or foundry or whatever. But he did not presented himself like personals subs ought to. The young Dom sighed. He was tired of searching already, but he didn't look forward to being mocked by his friends for having a whale for a toy.

Despite the inflamed back, despite his size and despite his raising as only a Dom; Dave slid to the floor silently, a grace that came naturally. He kept his head down. This Dominant would pass him over. He knew he would be chosen for hard labour, something you didn't live long doing. This man looked like someone who would enjoy the smaller more delicate of submissives. So Dave waited.

Sebastian took a step and closed the distance between them. He combed his hand through the sub's hair, reveling in his dominating instincts humming approvingly, as they always did when he got to such close proximity with an unclaimed sub. Too bad this one wasn't his type. Sebastian's fingers slipped from the sub's hair and traced his thick neck. "There isn't much to be said about you, is there?"

Dave startled. He flinched before forcing himself to calm. The Dominants never touched him. Oh, there was nothing stopping them. The holding center encouraged the Doms to 'test out' the potential submissives. But they didn't touch Dave. He could feel the pressure of his own throat, tightening, aching for a thick band about his neck, heavy and possessive. He had been too long without proper care and he could not stop. He'd just endured punishment, this hand, this tiny pet triggered the subspace he'd been denied for so many years. He nuzzled.

Sebastian's eyebrows raised in confusion when the sub's lips brushed his wrist. His hand acted on its own accord and cupped the somewhat chubby cheek.

Dave followed the hand, his glazed eyes looked up without permission to Sebastian. They begged, pleaded with a long denied need. Dave had pushed it away, pushed himself to not accept Dominant touch since he'd first followed his best friend around at the unintended orders Azimio would throw around. His Adam's apple bobbed and without permission he spoke. "I was good. Thirty-six. I counted." Dave needed the affirmation of a Dom's pride. He was bleeding and he was still kneeling. He'd been good!

"Thirty-six what?" Sebastian asked quietly, the moment suddenly turned more informal than he intended. Some part of his mind screamed in frustration. Why was he indulging that random with a conversation? He was supposed to do this thing as quick as possible so he wouldn't be late for the courtesy dinner with Hummel. Sebastian's hand fell from the sub's face as the boy frowned.

Dave hated the lack of contact. Hated that the comfort was gone. He hated that he wanted it back. He leaned forward, his arms extended on either side of Sebastian's feet to support his bulk as he showed the expanse of his thick back to Sebastian. There were so many lines of flaming red it would be hard to verify his count. The man holding the lick leather had not been too caring about placement. There were blossoms of purple along his lower ribs, blooming blue over the back of David's neck and in three sloppy rows was slowly trickling lines of blood.

Sebastian sucked in a breath. That was the ugliest shit he'd seen since that god awful horror Jeff and Nick made him watch. "Okay, enough," the boy winced. He heard about disciplining defiant subs, of course he did. But never really thought of the hows, they had a special man to do it at his house. Sebastian thought for a moment. "So, you must be quite the rebel, yes?" He asked not seeing any other explanation of a sub being beaten so badly. He could work with that, actually. Maybe it wasn't as beautiful and graceful as he always wanted, but not one of his friends deliberately owned a rioter.

Dave straightened back up, taking it from the Dom's eyes. The bowing had steadied him, the time ticking by was bringing him step by step out of his vulnerable need. He'd got more gentle touch than he'd been given since he sat in his parent's submissive's lap for stories as a child. It would be enough to last him a little longer. "Very much. You best move to the next, Sir."

Sebastian smiled, amused by the creature's tone. It did seem like he was setting himself up for a challenge. "I'll do whatever I please, Mug," he said and pressed two fingers of his right hand on the sub's chin, trying to expose its teeth with the other hand. He would not stand having defective toy and who knows what kind of hygiene they let subs keep in a place like this.

The Dom was still touching him? He opened his mouth, showing the lean Sir his rows of perfectly expensive white teeth. His parents had health care and being two Doms brought in far more money then a Dom/submissive couple could. The only defect was a missing molar in the left bottom side that had been the victim of a particularly brutal hockey game. Dave was rather proud of it.

"Could've been worse," Sebastian murmured. His hands fell of the sub finally and he crossed them on his chest. He mused for a moment over the possibility of taking this one home. He was actually more keen to it. Sebastian's eyes swept over the muscles of his future toy approvingly. Even if it turns out unsuitable, he could still sell it to the labor and he'd get part of the money back.

Although it was considered undignified to talk openly about it, everyone was well aware that personal subs had finer role than just the official one, of an assistant. Having personal subs was a privilege every dom in their circle acquired after their 18 birthday. Sebastian rolled his eyes at the unfair age requirement. He was sure that if they still lived in Paris he would be able to bother a sub out of his parents before he ended 16. But here, in America, they stayed unsubjected to his fits and followed the traditional rules, although even some of the native aristocratic houses were already more liberal, like Thad's. He supposed his family was already under harsher judgement for the lack of roots in the country. He sighed putting on his black gloves. Sebastian understood his parents' reasoning, but it did annoy him, as any obstacle between him and getting laid always did. So far he was forced to use his mother's subs and that was... gross. They were other ways to get what he wanted, but every time Blaine bragged about tugging unclaimed sub straight from the streets and ordering them to his car, Sebastian felt icky, even if he couldn't point a finger at why.

Dave's eyes flicked up at the words. He took in the man, looking his fill for as long as the Dom tolerated his defiance. The man above him was... elegant. He wasn't sure how to describe the Dom by looks. His back was straight, every tilt of his limbs projecting easy Dominance. It made all of Dave's senses ache for orders, for the scent of leather and the burn of a well punished body. Dave could easily see why his fellow subs would consider him lucky. He wasn't lucky. He was in hell.

Sebastian was everything that Dave's long hours practicing and mimicking Dominants had never been able to touch. He had watched men and women with that easy air of control and craved it. He didn't want to bow to them, well he did, but more he wanted to be them. To not have to analyse every movement, every word to make sure it was just Dominant enough to fool the world. Dave had been unable to trick the world. This man had it so very easy. He hoped the man only found sickly subs, ones that would fail by being unable to serve and leave the man blue-balled forever.

Sebastian allowed himself one last pat on the sub's head. He wasn't overly touchy-feely person, but it felt good in sub's presence. He turned his back and threw over his shoulder. "I suppose you should come with me to the office."

Wait... Dave's eyes went wide for a flashed moment of inescapable hope. A Dom chose him, a rich, high-class dom actually wanted him. It passed swiftly as he realized he'd been bought. Like a beast, like a pet, like a fucking sub. His brown eyes narrowed, centering on the shoulder blades of his soon to be Dom. He hated the man. He followed.

"I do hope the formalities won't take long," Sebastian said more to himself than the sub as he walked out of the cell's door and down the narrow corridor. He was not known for his patience. And he was certainly not going to stand waiting after the sub-hunting took so long already. The hour of obligatory dinner with his "neighbour" was coming close and he'd rather not be late. Hummel was annoying enough without being given extra ammunition. The prissy fashionista got on his nerve ever since Sebastian moved here with his parents. Sebastian's family was doing everything they could to be in aristocracy's good grace, when the little shit had a guaranteed position since the start and seemed to be determined to throw it away. There was a car company waiting for him to manage, but Hummel prefered to draft skirts and dresses. He had an highly profitable marriage already arranged, but no, he was going to marry a sub. A fucking sub! While imbalanced marriages were fairly popular among mob, people like them were expected to marry equals. Hundreds of years old fortunes couldn't just be trusted to one Dominant.

Sebastian could definitely see the appeal of the blonde Hummel bought. Fuck what religious devotees say, those lips were an irrefutable proof Gods were okay with cocksucking. Otherwise why would they waste time on craving such perfection on sub's face? But if Sebastian knew the first thing about Hummel, he was sure the princess fell for the sweet as fucking pie personality instead of appreciating the looks. "Weirdo," Sebastian murmured knocking on the registry door.

"Come iiiiin!" The fabulous pink paisley themed registration office screamed monetary mis-appropriation and social climbing. A balding Dom in a pastel cardigan was buffing his nails at a faux marble top desk. It seemed to be the only location in the sub center that attempted color. A simpering smile greeted the young elite Smythe. "Oooh what have we chosen? Please, please have a seat while I pull his forms. Sub, what is your number? I'm Mr. Ryerson." The man never glanced at the sub who had sunk to his knees.

"2307, Sir." Dave was coming down from the comfort of his sub-space and the still open wounds were throbbing. He couldn't focus on the conversation as he tried to work through the pain. In Hockey he would have walked it off, he could have just gone to the nurse... he could do things of his own free will. Fuck, he hated being a sub.

"Well then let's take a look-see at that file. It's quite a big sub, isn't it? Good for lifting things and holding up couches. I once had a sub about its size spend all day with a set of wrist shackles that weighed over 70 pounds. You should have seen the sweat it gave off."

"Intriguing. Can you fill the papers now?" Sebastian gave a short nod toward the desk. He didn't know what made people think he cared about their lives. Maybe he smiled too much.

"Here they are." He slid over a thin manilla folder with Dave's number written in overly flowery and clearly bored handwriting. Within was a bill of health showing Dave to be carrying no known diseases and to have been under health care and dental until arriving at the center. On the top was a simple transaction stating his price and ownership transference. It was the same for used for turning over the title on a car and the manager had neglected to check the box that indicated 'submissive' or 'automobile'.

Sebastian took a vividly pink pen from the desk and scratched the right box. His finger slid down the form until it stopped in a place designed for his signature. His money will be on the firm's account by evening but the signing was what legally mattered, so in a moment he'd be an owner of what looked like 200 pounds of trouble. Sebastian smiled and left his autograph on the paper. The plain David became David of house Smythe, formally known as David Karofsky.