A/N: I'm sorry for the delay, but I am in the middle of exams and had to leave writing aside for a couple days. I know this is also shorter than the other chapters, but I felt it was enough for Severus POV, and I really want to go on with the story.
Enjoy!
MY MASTER
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Sunday
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by Saeshmea
It's six on the morning when I wake up and notice I'm alone in bed. Minerva is gone and a strange feeling invades my stomach as I turn around under the sheets and sink my head in the pillows. I wonder what might have pushed her to leave earlier, what I have done wrong. I was gentle, I tried not to push her too far, not to cross a line, not to scare her too early, that's why I wanted her to feel relaxed, to know this was a game after all, that I was still Severus, and she was still Minerva and she shouldn't fear me; and I liked having her on my arms, yesterday, shaking, tearful, exhausted, fragile, broken, mine.
I sit up on the bed and breathe, trying to figure out what went wrong, when I notice her clothes are still on the armchair. She's not gone.
.
She's in the kitchen, cooking, wearing that beautiful silk slip that she brought with her, which only covers half her tights. I feel so relief that she's still here that I push aside my desire to bend her over and spank her ass for leaving the bed without permission. I walk towards her silently and she's startled by my sudden touch, but I don't let her turn around, I place my arms one at each side, trapping her between me and the counter.
"Good morning," I say, placing a soft kiss on the back of her neck.
"Good morning," she replies, and I can't see her face but I feel a smile on her voice.
"What's this?" I ask, looking at the pan she's trying to manage despite me making it more difficult.
"Scrambled eggs," she replies.
"Scrambled eggs don't look like that," I point out, teasing her, but not lying because they are overcooked and even a little burned.
"Cooking is not the best of my skills," she admits.
"Definitely," I agree.
"I just wanted to bring you breakfast to bed," she says, taking the pan out of the fire and somehow, managing to turn around on the little space she has, "like you did yesterday."
"You don't need to do that," I say, "but thank you."
A deep silence surrounds us for a long moment while we're standing close enough to feel each other's heartbeats. Her long hair falls freely on her shoulders, her green eyes sparkle in a way they didn't yesterday, and her thin pink lips seem to be craving for a kiss.
I take her hands and draw her to the center of the room.
"Bend over," I say.
"What?"
"Bend over," I repeat, "with your hands around your knees."
She looks at me, understanding we're back to our game, and does as I say. With her body curved, her slip shows her ass, and I stroke it as I explain what is going to happen.
"I'm going to smack you twenty times, to amuse myself," I say, "you're going to count out loud, and thank me each time, and that is all I want to hear, understood?"
"Yes," she says, completely forgetting about her manners, and I bend down and grab her hair to make her look at me
"Understood?" I ask again.
"Yes, Sir," she says, and I stand up, walk to the counter, grab the wooden spoon and come back.
.
"One," she yells after the loud sound of the wood hitting her skin, "thank you, Sir," she adds, before the second smack and we go on, until the eleventh hit, when she forgets to thank me, so I add twenty more to the punishment.
"Stand up," I command when we're done, and she does so. Her eyes are tearful but she's not crying. She looks at me with a mixture of rage and fear that fail to hide her lust and adrenaline. I run the spoon through the line of her cunt and take it to her lips.
"Taste it," I say, and she grimaces, but then she opens her mouth and takes the spoon in, savoring her own juices, "this is proof of how much you enjoyed it, so I don't you weeping," I say, "now, go sit on the table."
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I go back to the kitchen counter, wash the spoon and finish making breakfast. I come back to the table with the scramble eggs she made, some toasts with butter and tea. She is sitting still on her chair, bearing her sore ass on the wooden seat.
"Are you alright?" I ask, although I know her answer would be the same even if she wasn't.
"I am, Sir," she says.
"Good," I say, and we're back to this silence that has surrounded us during meals this past day and a half, and I try to break it, "How does a single woman survive without cooking skills?"
She raises her eyes from her plate; I guess that analyzing my tone, my eyes, before speaking.
"House elves," she says.
"I mean, when you're not in the school," I clarify, "I bet Dumbledore would love having you at his service the entire year, but you do get holidays, don't you?"
She glares at me and I'm amused by it.
"Of course I do," she replies, "but William cooks for me while I'm home."
William? I repeat in my mind. Her brother? A boyfriend?
"Who is William?" I ask, trying not to sound too interested.
"My family's house elf," she explains.
"Who calls a house elf, William?" I question.
"Someone who doesn't see them like pets," she says, in a defensive tone.
"I thought you had to be high society to own a house elf," I point out.
"I don't own him," she scowls me, "William has been in my family since I was a kid and when my parents past away I couldn't sent him free, so I told him he could stay with me and watch the house while I was away."
"I see," I mutter, for some reason, glad that this William is only a house elf.
"What about you?" she asks.
"What about me?" I reply.
"I told you something about me," she says, "it's only fair that you tell me something about you."
Her voice is playful, her lips are almost smiling and her eyes are sparkling; I know there's no malice in her question, maybe a little curiosity but she's mainly trying to be nice; but even with all this, I am not going to tell her about my lonely family home, about the bad memories it still holds for me, or about anything else previous to the night we met at La Maison.
"I will decide what is or is not fair, Ms. McGonagall," I say, with a stern look and standing up, making it clear that we're back to our game, "now, go to the bedroom and wait for me on all fours facing the door."
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TO BE CONTINUED…
