Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: kelly_chambliss
From: songquake

Title: Turnabout
Characters/Pairings: Sprout/McGonagall
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: D/s, bondage, cool magic (I hope!)
Other Warnings/Content: Compulsion Charms, erotic use of plants, genital abuse, orgasm control, Old Lady Smut!
Word Count: ~4k
Summary/Description: All work and no play makes Minerva a terribly dull gay.
Author's Notes: Mystery Recipient, I hope you enjoy this! While I wouldn't necessarily consider this a comedy piece (which I know you didn't want!), Pomona made it perfectly clear that Minerva was not to take herself too seriously. I hope the mix of sternness and tenderness balances the humour for you!



Minerva stretched her neck, listening to her vertebrae pop back into place. She rolled her shoulders, feeling them settle where they were supposed to be as well. Then she shook her right hand briskly.

She would need to ask Severus for an Anti-Arthritic Potion. He would, of course, know that she had just finished supervising detention for Weasley and Malfoy (and really, the two of them were like, well, schoolchildren, with all their pigtail-pulling). Also a Calming Draught and whatever sort of headache draught he was working on.

It had been one of those evenings.

The problem wasn't the young men in detention, though Minerva could have lived—happily—without their sniping and scowls. No, the problem was that with the children present, Minerva had to mark her students' essays by hand. And her hand wasn't getting any younger.

She snorted. The rest of her wasn't getting any younger, either. Minerva grimaced as she stood to gather the book she wanted to read before bed.

That's when she saw it: a tendril of Flitterbloom slowly writhing through her cracked window and across the floor toward her.

The tendril wore a watch.

Minerva frowned and stepped toward it. The watch flashed the word "LATE" where the hand pointed to "Time to Please Your Mistress."

A branch of vine reached out; Minerva snatched her hand back from the plant. "I do hope you aren't planning to carry me to her forcibly," she admonished it. "We are still in my office, and, no matter what either of you may think, I am still the only one in charge in this room."

The plant wilted a little, but only briefly. It raised the watch and shook it in Minerva's face.

She sniffed. "Besides, I wasn't aware we'd made a date. I'd been looking forward to a nice cup of cocoa and a novel, if you must know."

The impertinent plant showed a distinct lack of patience. Despite her warnings, it took hold of her wrist and pulled.

"Oh, for pity's sake," Minerva huffed...before following like a Good Girl. The Flitterbloom led her to the doorway that connected her office to her personal quarters.

Well, she thought, at least Pomona did not lead me through the hallways like a cat on a leash. Her glare was mutinous by the time she arrived in the bedchamber.

"Don't look at me like that, Minerva. I don't know why you should think you have cause to glare at me when you haven't graced me with your presence for six consecutive evenings." Pomona Sprout was nothing if not efficient in her reprimands. "Now, shuck your robes and we'll be on our merry way."

Minerva's retort was sharp. "I would, if your lovely minion here would be so kind as to let go of my hand." Inwardly, she smiled.

Pomona flicked her wand carelessly at the tendril that had made itself a bracelet for Minerva's bony wrist. Rather than collecting itself in the large planter at the foot of the bed, however, it crawled across the floor to wind up the post at the head. With another wave of her wand, Pomona sent another leg of vine to the post on the opposite side of the headboard, then directed her attention back to her lover. "Well? I'm still waiting."

"Yes, Mistress," Minerva said, trying not to huff. As she clumsily (blast her arthritis!) worked the buttons on her robe, she took in the sight of Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff House, Master Herbologist, and Impatient Dominant.

Though Pomona typically wore the most sensible robes, trousers and boots available for her work in the gardens and around the school, she preferred a bit more whimsy in her dress when the two of them got together to play. Tonight she had donned her favourite green leather bustier and what appeared to be a yellow tutu. Minerva admired the sight: she would never tire of seeing her lover in all her round, freckled glory. Pomona's arse and fanny were well-concealed by the yards of crinoline spiralling from her waist, but Minerva didn't doubt that these would be easy to access.

Pomona had bothered with neither shoes nor stockings this evening.

As Minerva pulled off her knickers and brassiere, she realised that what Pomona had bothered with was scheming. The woman had perched on the edge of the mattress with a look on her face that spoke of the sort of anticipation that comes from hours of planning.

Minerva shivered, both from the look on Pomona's face and from the contrast of cool air where her wool robes had recently laid.

"Calficio." Pomona must have noticed the shiver. Minerva let out a small sigh.

"Cold, my dear?"

"Not anymore, thank you." Minerva paused. Discretion was certainly not the better part of valour in this room. "Still a bit achy, though."

Pomona stood and approached her. She took Minerva's wand hand in both of hers and rubbed. "It seems your hand is cold; have you been marking parchments by hand again?"

"Yes, Mistress." Minerva averted her eyes; she did not wish to see her lover and colleague's disapproval. But the warm hands enfolding hers were a balm even better than such balms as Minerva knew her partner could compound or even conjure.

Pomona huffed disapprovingly. "And I suppose it was for a similar reason that you neglected even making plans to spend time with your Mistress."

Finally looking up to meet Pomona's eyes, Minerva said, "Yes, Mistress."

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry, Mistress, but you should have seen the ruckus young Weasley and Malfoy made in their lesson last Thursday! They certainly needed at least a week's detention, and..."

Pomona let out a long-suffering sigh as she absentmindedly massaged Minerva's hand. "And you still haven't learnt to delegate."

"No, Mistress."

Minerva watched as her Mistress stepped back and squared her shoulders. "Right, then," she said, hands on her hips, "up on the bed with you."

As Minerva climbed onto the mattress, she felt the duvet warming beneath her. Nice touch, she thought, appreciating Pomona's consideration. The woman was a remarkable lover...

Smack! A slap to her thigh refocused her on the activities at hand.

"Now," Pomona said briskly, "I find I haven't the patience to vie for your attention this evening; I've been unusually forbearing all week. I'm tired of it. So here's what's going to happen: I will give you a nice spanking now,"—Minerva gasped, pleased and nervous—"and I will cast a slight Compulsion Charm on you. Each time your attention lapses from pleasing me this evening, you will feel a certain sting. When you do, you will beg me quite nicely for another punishment. Whether or not you get one...well, that's up to me, isn't it?"

What a diabolical game! Minerva thought.

"Yes, Mistress," she said.

"Excellent." Pomona smiled, the twinkle in her eye rather more menacing than a twinkle had the right to be. "Present your rump to me, Minerva." Minerva rolled over and folded herself, her back arching to let her breasts rest on the mattress. She let her arms lie to either side of her head but was rather unsurprised when she felt vines twist against each wrist, dragging them together slightly above her head. "What a lovely picture you make, dear," Pomona purred. She leaned over Minerva, burying her fingers briefly in Minerva's tightly-knotted hair before using it to yank the other woman's head up for a kiss.

What most people don't realise about lips, Minerva reflected for what might have been the umpteenth time, is how very muscular the more pillowy-looking ones could be. Much like the rest of her, Pomona's lips were firmer than they looked. She used them to pry Minerva's mouth open, to press for advantage, to overpower any defence Minerva's mouth might have put up. Granted, Minerva didn't want to win such a battle, but she doubted she could even in principle. Parting her own lips in a gasp, Minerva granted access to the even more assertive tongue that followed. Pomona plundered, claimed, possessed Minerva's mouth. And though a large part of Minerva wanted to lie back and experience the plundering, a sterner part remembered that her instructions were to pay attention to pleasing her Mistress.

To follow that instruction, Minerva concentrated on using her own tongue to stroke the underside of Pomona's; she sucked on that tongue as though she couldn't get enough; she made her lips massage the lips against them and the tongue between.

When they broke apart, Pomona was breathing just as hard as Minerva was.

Minerva counted that as a success.

"Good girl," Pomona murmured as she peeled herself off of her lover. She stood back for a moment admiring the view before whispering " Mobilicorpus" and manoeuvring Minerva further down the bed.

Pomona's magic was like a soft, static-y blanket enveloping her; Minerva felt light-headed amid its warmth and familiar fragrance. She basked in it...

The 'sting' Pomona had warned of was less of a sting and more of a painful current of electricity to Minerva's clit. She screamed even as she begged, "Please, Mistress, I need you to punish me more! I'm sorry!"

She could just hear Pomona's raised eyebrows. "Already you got distracted, my Minerva? I'd hoped you would be able to concentrate for at least the duration of your original punishment."

Minerva sniffled. "I'm sorry, Mistress; I will endeavour to do better." It was a bit galling to be caught out daydreaming during sex. Though she mightn't have called her attention to Pomona's magical power daydreaming.

"You better." The retort was accompanied by a near-snort. "I'd planned on a nice spanking—five swats for each night you've been away from me. I reckon that I'll have to add five to that. Do try to pay attention, Minerva; you have all of mine."

Minerva nodded, girding her loins and her arse for the coming rain of spanks—thirty-five of them by her reckoning.

Minerva counted to herself as she felt each smack against her arse. Whenever Pomona took a small break to rest her hand, Minerva would whisper, "Thank you, Mistress," and lay kisses against the bare calf nearest her mouth. She squirmed and occasionally squealed as well, knowing how much Pomona loved knowing how she was affecting her.

After the thirty-fifth spank, Pomona hummed, running the cool back of her hand up and down Minerva's red-hot bottom. "You're a lovely mottled red for me, my Minerva," she murmured. "And you maintained your focus on pleasing me all this time?"

"Yes, Mistress," Minerva responded, a slight whine to her voice.

"And how do you feel now?" asked Pomona.

"Mistress, my rump feels hot and sore...but my cunt is wet for you."

"Hm, it is, is it?" A hand—the top cool, the bottom still warm—reached between Minerva's legs and ran two fingers back and forth between Minerva's hole and her clit. "Indeed! You must have really enjoyed that, hmm?" The delight in Pomona's voice was ill-masked; at their age, natural lubrication was rather a gift when it occurred.

"Yes, Mistress, thank you. I know I don't deserve—"

"Hush," Pomona's voice was harder than was the word she chose to interrupt with. "You most certainly deserve more pleasure than you've been willing to claim lately. But I am afraid that concentrating on what you do or do not deserve is not what I had in mind next."

Minerva winced. "I'm sorry."

Pomona's answering sigh was heavy with frustration. Minerva heard a muttered "Laxe before her lover spoke again. "I want you to sit up and fuck me right good with those lovely fingers of yours."

Minerva shuddered in anticipation. She brought her hands together, rubbing some more blood, some more warmth back into them. She sighed in relief when Pomona intoned "Calefacio manus." It was amazing what benefit a little warmth could cause. Minerva rolled over and sat up, taking in the image of her Mistress.

Pomona Sprout was seated at the edge of the bed, one leg crooked so that its foot pointed at the knee which allowed the rest of the opposite leg to dangle towards the floor. Her bosom was pink with arousal where it blossomed out of the bustier; her cheeks were similarly flushed. The riot of grey curls which were usually tamed by an array of hats and kerchiefs looked ready to burst into dance above her head.

And if Pomona's physical traits had not reminded Minerva so strongly of sunshine, she might have had the memory further triggered by the explosion of yellow tulle at her lover's waist.

"You're stunning," Minerva said. Over the years she'd learnt that a compliment never went amiss.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear," Pomona said with a grin. "Now, Summon some of that lube and let's get busy!"

Minerva laughed at Pomona's use of such crass, American words, the sort of term their students might try to use if trying to prove themselves particularly hip. Or hep. Minerva wasn't quite sure what the term for "modern and trendy" was these days. Likely neither of those terms. Not that it mattered when the only person she cared to impress—

Ouch! "Please Mistress, I need you to correct me again."

"Caught up in your thoughts again, dear?" Pomona paused for a weighty moment. "Oh, and no I will not correct you this time. You have an assignment to complete. And we both know that a detention for missing homework can only be completed after the assignment has been made up."

Minerva nodded. She gave Pomona a look of inquiry, and upon the other's nod of assent, took Pomona's wand and cast. "Accio lubricant!" Conscious of the need to be extra-considerate of her lover's pleasure, she cast a second spell: "Tepefacio collyrium."

"Good girl," murmured Pomona.

"I do want to please you," Minerva said quietly as she coated fingers on both her hands. She smiled at Pomona's answering hum. "Do you want to stay where you are, Mistress?"

"Almost." As Minerva sat back on her heels, Pomona scooted over to the centre of the bed, her head atop a pillow and her knees bent as she pressed her back to the mattress.

Minerva had been correct: Pomona was, indeed, lacking any sort of knickers. The sparse salt-and-pepper curls framing her cunt were on full display now that she had settled in this position. Like a good Gryffindor, Minerva gave in to the impulse to kiss Pomona's dimpled knees one after the other as she let her slick fingers slide up the insides of the other woman's thighs.

This, this was familiar. Not easy, no; orgasms hadn't been simple for either of them in years, if they ever had been. But there was something very luxurious about painting the crepe of Pomona's cunt lips with lubricating potion, about feeling her lover's thigh muscles tremble a bit at the sides of her hands when a thumb grazed over her clit. Minerva rubbed that thumb in circles around it, very rarely brushing back the hood for more direct contact.

Pomona's breathing became sharper, more staccato. "For the love of Circe, get your fingers inside, Minerva!" she cried as she tilted her hips upward, her body demanding even more loudly than her voice.

Minerva complied, of course. She coated her wand hand with another dollop of lubricant and slid a single long, bony finger up and into Pomona's core.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, woman. Stop teasing!"

That drew a chuckle from Minerva. "I wouldn't want to push things too far too fast, Pomona," she said with a smirk.

"I'll show you too far and too fast, young lady...." Both Pomona and Minerva laughed at the way that admonishment tapered into a moan. Minerva withdrew her index finger and eased it back in with the centre finger of the same hand. This likewise drew a barely articulate statement of pleasure. "Oh, yes, that's the ticket!"

"Indeed it is," Minerva muttered, biting her lower lip in concentration. It took a bit of work to keep both hands coordinated and out of each other's way, especially as she was attempting to curl the fingers inside her lover's vagina up to find the somewhat more sensitive spongy area right behind the clit.

When she found it and massaged there, Pomona's repertoire of moans and sighs became marvellously operatic. Minerva found she was rather satisfied by the effect.

Not as satisfied, however, as she was several moments later when Pomona's cunt began to convulse around her fingers, followed by similar contractions of Pomona's entire posture. Her hair flew in a cloud above her head; the breasts, heretofore barely restrained by their leather, popped out and bounced proudly. And the thighs which had splayed wantonly for Minerva's convenience slammed shut around her shoulders.

As she withdrew her fingers and arms from between Pomona's legs, Minerva became aware of her own desire, hot and damp and clamouring for attention. She squirmed, trying to maintain her focus on Pomona's pleasure, but it was difficult; Minerva knew that at the moments after orgasm, Pomona preferred a little distance while her senses quieted.

Ouch! "I'm sorry Mistress, but I've earned another punishment." Even that counts as distraction from my Mistress's pleasure? And it wasn't even as though the pain took the edge off her desire. Damn it; she'd need to try something else. Minerva tugged down the front of Pomona's tutu and pressed a gentle kiss to the soft belly of her lover, licking a light circle against the less-sensitised skin there.

Pomona's hand drifted back into Minerva's topknot, now in a state of dishabille to rival her own hair. Minerva sighed contentedly and rested her head against Pomona's pillowy abdomen.

"Such a good girl for me, my Minerva," she said, despite the recent lapse. Pomona hummed in contentment as Minerva kissed her belly once, twice, three times. "Mm, and still so attentive." Minerva reckoned Pomona could feel her smile as she nodded against the skin between the tutu and the bustier. Pomona sighed once more, and a warm feeling that had nothing to do with a charm spread over and through Minerva.

After another moment, the belly underneath her cheek heaved, and Minerva retreated as Pomona used her elbows to prop herself up.

"I suppose you are a bit frustrated by now, eh?"

"Not frustrated, Mistress. But..." Minerva paused, choosing her words, "I might enjoy a bit of touch."

Pomona chortled. "I bet you would. And I believe you also have earned a bit more punishment, yes?"

Minerva felt the heat in her face rise once more. "Yes, Mistress. I got distracted twice while I was supposed to be pleasuring you."

"But your efforts to regain control and continue pleasing me were admirable," Pomona mused aloud. "So I suppose your punishment shouldn't be quite as severe as it might."

As Pomona continued to ponder her options, Minerva sat. She sat on her hands so as not to reach up and take her own pleasure.

Finally, Pomona spoke. "I want to see you pleasure yourself, my Minerva. I want to watch you as you get worked up. And then I want to cast that nice stinging spell and watch you come."

Of course. Pomona loved the way Minerva got off on a little pain.

"So you mustn't push yourself over the edge, alright, my Minerva?"

"Yes, Mistress." Minerva could already feel the burn of desire travelling throughout her body. "May I begin?"

Pomona nodded benevolently. "Go right ahead, dear."

Minerva sat with one leg hooked over the side of the bed, the other foot tucked under its knee, rather in the same position Pomona had occupied before she stretched herself out to be fucked. Reaching up, Minerva ran her right hand over her left breast, smiling as the skin around her nipple tightened. She massaged that breast, pinching at the nipple a bit before switching sides, so that her left hand tortured her right breast while she used her fingernails to trace light paths from her left knee to her cunt.

"Lovely, Minerva," Pomona purred. "Now let's see how your cunt is doing."

Minerva's cunt was hot, so hot, and swollen, and sadly dry. That, however, was a problem with a simple solution. She sighed in relieved pleasure as she spread the cold lubricant inside her lips and over her clit. The lubrication eased the sting that would have come from rubbing her clit without it, but the coolness of it eased some of her ardour as well.

Of course, Minerva's core being as hot as it was, it did not take long for the lubricant to acclimatise and become a burning vehicle for her quickening fingers. She pinched her hood, forcing the clit out, and tapped it.

Nearly overwhelmed, Minerva pulled the fingers slightly away, tracing around her hole. She didn't enjoy penetration quite as well as Pomona did, but she knew her lover would enjoy seeing one or two fingers slip in and out. Minerva's willingness to open up, physically and emotionally, was the sign of a trust only Pomona held.

"Good girl," Pomona grunted, her fingers moving to play lightly with her own labia. "Fuck yourself slowly for me."

Minerva fucked herself slowly, alternately leaning back to display herself and looking up with hot eyes to appreciate the view of Pomona Sprout tending her own garden. She smiled wickedly at her lover as she pulled her fingers to her mouth for a taste in between thrusts. Pomona's whine had a satisfyingly high pitch to it.

"Pl-ease, Mistress," Minerva's voice cracked as she spoke. "May I touch my clit?"

Pomona's response was likewise choked. "Please do."

Minerva moved her fingers up from her hole to her clit, which was standing out of its hood rather assertively. Her hips, of their own volition, jumped when her index finger pulled over it. She threw her head back and braced the foot that was off the bed more firmly against the carpeting. She grabbed the hood of her clit between two knuckles and massaged; this was her favourite sort of touch when she masturbated, or when Pomona was fingering her. She loved how the molten heat of her lust pulsed outwardly from her clit's base through her cunt and into the rest of her body; she could feel it flowing into her arms and ears. She squeezed, and rubbed harder, her breath quickening as though she were giving chase on a broomstick.

And when Pomona's Stinging Spell hit her clit, her folded leg flung itself outwards, her back arched back, her head hit the bed, and she screamed.

Fuck, but that felt good!

When she looked up, Minerva could see Pomona rubbing herself through a "lesser orgasm," as the two of them liked to call it. She admired the flush that had once again overtaken her lover's breasts, neck, and face, the crinkle of skin around her eyes as she squeezed them shut and around her mouth as she gritted her teeth. Regaining her balance, Minerva crawled up the bed and lay inside the crook of Pomona's arm.

"Thank you, Pomona," she said. "I'm sorry that I've been so inattentive lately."

Pomona rubbed Minerva's arm, a testament to her knowledge of Minerva's particular aches and pains. "I worry about you, dear. You're working too hard again." She paused, then said, "It's not just about missing you and your charms, either. I worry that you shall lose yourself completely again, living for detentions rather than for...well, more noble principles."

Minerva snorted. "I would hardly say that I live for detentions, even if I seem to be spending half my life supervising them."

Pomona pulled back and leant her frame over Minerva's. "Dear. I know that, but I also know that all work and no play makes Minerva a terrible gay."

Minerva's grimace was not one of pleasure. "You know I hate that word," she says. "It's so...Albus. I expect admonitions regarding appropriate level of twinkle to follow."

"And heaven forbid you let any twinkle escape, my love," Pomona chided. "Still, I do rather prefer your company when you've allowed yourself some stress relief."

Minerva hummed and reached up to pull her lover down for a light kiss. "Thank you for the stress relief. Honestly, I don't know what I would do without you."

"We'll draw out a schedule for stress relieving in the morning, then," Pomona said, curling around Minerva once more. "For now, let's sleep."

And so they did.

~Fin~