Onion submission with rebellion beneath

I was in the kitchen, making dinner. When we are together, it’s part of my duties. At one point Master came into the kitchen and sat at the table. Everyone has their little quirks. One of mine is... A sudden rise of irritation to the level bordering on anger when someone comes into the kitchen while I’m cooking or baking. In my family home, ever since I learned to prepare my first dishes, everyone knew that when I’m preparing something, the kitchen belongs to me. And no one – absolutely no one – has the right to enter it until I’m finished. It’s hard to justify rationally. Nevertheless, it always annoyed me whenever someone appeared in the kitchen, even for a moment, before I finished cooking or baking. This applied to Master as well. He was usually understanding of my intolerance for other's presence in the kitchen when I was preparing something there. But Master is Master, after all, so... He absolutely doesn’t have to worry about that. And this time he didn’t.

So he came in and sat at the table. At first he didn’t speak. He just watched. And yes – that annoyed me too. Let’s be honest. If he weren’t Master, I would have thrown him out the moment he crossed the kitchen threshold...

– Am I supposed to cook as if you weren’t here at all and as if you weren’t looking at me, am I right?

– Not exactly. You are to cook as if you were my…

– But I am, Master.

– Then continue. As if every onion you slice were a prayer.

– You know what, Master? Sometimes you are really unbearable – I say with resignation.

– I know. You, on the other hand, are the one who agreed to put up with me forever – he says, smiling broadly, but there is firmness and severity in his voice. This is no joke. He slowly approaches me, places his hands on my hips and squeezes them tighter. So tightly that I feel pain and for a moment I stop what I’m doing, holding my breath.

– What now, Master?

– Now continue. And think how many times since I came in you thought you wanted me to get out. And then think how many times today you rebelled at all in your head, not as a gesture.

– And then?

– Tonight, when you kneel before me, you will tell me about it in detail. And then either I will forget everything, or you will be punished. It depends on your attitude – he says and walks away.

Damn! Does he always have to read my thoughts? Damn it! I return to the onion soup. But inside? I am already kneeling.