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You hadn’t attended mass today.
It was the first thing Copia noticed when he glanced out to the gathering, as you were always the first person he looked for when he delivered his sermons. You were an anchor for him. He had to proceed of course, but hated that he didn’t have you to smirk at him, make lewd gestures out of his words and ease his anxiety a little. He kind of, sort of looked forward to that every day, more so than the actual delivery of his sermon. But don’t tell the past Papas that.
With Copia as Papa now, you had both had to cut down on the little games you liked to play, as more people had eyes on him than they ever did. Still, he would have liked to see your face. He felt especially naked today, as he hadn’t been able to find his chasuble. He had been wearing that thing around everywhere, even to bed—though the costuming ghouls yelled at him not to. He wore it everywhere because he was so proud to have it (and it was something he could huddle into when he felt vulnerable.) Thankfully he had a well-tailored blue velvet suit to wear instead, though he was still bitter about not showing off like the Papa he is.
The other problem presented by the lack of his full vestments to hide under was Copia’s affinity for getting excited at the drop of a hat. If he mentioned something that had to do with promiscuity or anything lustful in nature in his sermon, he was prone to stretching the confines of his pants. When he was a Cardinal, he liked the free attention his junk got from this, but now as a Papa, he wanted to not only be desired, but feared and respected as well. Put plainly, he wanted people to listen to his words without distraction from his tented trousers.
Lo and behold, the sermon today was on the practice of holding orgies in His name for unholy purposes of worship. Copia sighs and shuffles nervously from foot to foot as his eyes run down the notes he had forgotten the subject of.
“Welcome,” he says, glancing up at all the Siblings making their way in and taking their seats. “I have a really rocking sermon for you today!” Ai Copia, shape up. You are Papa now, act like it. “It is very sexy-sexy, eh?” He wiggles his eyebrows, which are no longer visible under the new skull paint. Secondo snickers in the front pew. Copia sighs. No matter how hard he tries, without the BDE of his chasuble, he can’t live up to his title the way the others before him could. With you here, this would be a lot easier to get through. “Si! Let’s get going with a prayer.”
One of Copia’s great talents is, he’s able to speak of one thing while his mind wanders off. Since he delivers his sermon directly from the page, he’s able to read it off as if he’s completely comfortable up there. He starts to come up with scenarios of where you could be. In the past, you had trapped him in hallways, flashed him, teased him, left him sexy notes in his suite with panties of yours. Each reaction of his had been similar to the one he was having now to the material. The hasty onset of a blush, the tightening of his pants and a billion horny thoughts popping into his heads at once, all involving you.
Pants constricted and cheeks blushing under the paint after the sermon, Copia hurries back to his suite to open up some of the buttons on the tight suit. Once he kicks the door open and shut however, he notices someone. You’re sitting on the edge of his bed, legs crossed... with his chasuble decorating your shoulders.
“Cara!” he chastises, “There it is, I was looking for that.” Your eyes are innocent enough to temper his irritation. “Hm. Where were you this morning? You missed mass!” He shuffles in, opening his coat. “You were here all morning, waiting for me? You missed a good sermon today, you know. Pretty good. Well, it was okay.” He pauses, looking at himself in the mirror. “It sort of sucked. Anyway, people still clapped. They were being polite, I think. Prayer went well, but I felt like a bit of an ass. Had an ache in my leg, where I bent it last week taking you against that wall. Nothing a hot bath can’t later fix… perhaps you join me, if you would like?” When you don’t reply right away to his day’s grievances and offer of a luxury bath, he huffs, unbuttoning his pants for some relief. “I ought to discipline you for hiding away here and burrowing into your Papa’s things.”
“How would you discipline me?” You finally speak. Your tone is teasing, and he can tell just what you mean.
“Something not fun,” he tsks, pointing at you, “Something like... paperwork duty. Like ironing The First’s scarf! No spankies.”
“Spankies?”
Copia sighs. “You know what I mean. I am not in my groove today.”
You gesture to yourself with a smirk. “Does this help?”
“What, you stealing my things?” Copia ignores the quickening of his heartbeat at his robes dipping in between your thighs. “It looks nice on you, but give it back, eh?” You shrug in submission, and go to slide it off your shoulders. As you do, it becomes apparent to Copia that you are not in fact wearing anything underneath. His demeanour switches in a minute as he approaches, wide eyed. “I did not realize—” You lean back, out of his way.
“Ah, ah. No touching. Down on your knees.”
“But cara, I am P—”
“Now.”
Copia whines, but promptly does as he’s told. You get up to grab bindings from his closet, to find them right where you had left them. Approaching the bed again, you observe him waiting patiently, not without a squirm or two. You feel inclined because of this to go easy on him, but that didn’t mean you would go completely soft. You gently tie his wrists. Making sure he’s okay with it, he nods quickly and you proceed. You return to your seat, spreading your legs to give him full view of your soaked panties.
“May I taste?” he asks softly, lips parting.
“Kneel first. Keep your hands in front of you.”
“Si,” he groans. “I understand.” He squirms a little and kneels. He looks pretty like this, skull paint pristine and pants only half unbuttoned. The outline of his cock is visible through the blue velvet, and he humps against it, dragging himself as much as he can without any contact.
“Are you trying to get off?” you ask him. His breath hitches.
“Forgive me. I have been hard all morning.” Copia reaches up his bound wrists to suck on his fingers.
“So you wanna cum, huh? You wanna cum from watching me touch my pussy?”
“Cara,” he breathes, eyes half lidded. His tongue darts out to lick along his bottom lip.
“Feels so good,” you sigh, rubbing slowly up to your clit through your panties, tickling the skin there.
Copia moans before you on the ground, one gloved finger in his mouth from where he’d lifted his bound hands. He’s sucking on it as if he’s sucking on a cock, like he has some sort of oral fixation he wants--needs— to satisfy. All the while, his hips are grinding down against the floor in the same rocking motion that teases the screaming crowds at his rituals.
But he’s not at a show, and he has an audience of only one tonight; one who isn’t about to sing his praises until he’s worked for it.
“You know you don’t get to taste me until you finish,” you coo. You’re positioned on a chair in front of him, dragging your fingers up and down yourself. Copia’s eyes are trained like a hawk on the wet spot on your silky panties, the slick dripping down your thighs from your arousal. He wants to taste, but his hands are bound... and there are rules.
“I will be good,” he whispers. “I promise. These pants, cara— I need them for tomorrow night! I can’t spoil them.”
“You can and you will.” He ducks his head, drawing in a breath. He’s found the perfect spot, and you can tell by the way he humps continuously against his heel. “Filthy rat. All you ever want to do is cum.”
“I need you to help me,” he begs, tongue coming out to rest on his bottom lip. “I need you to tell me how to do it.”
“Keep grinding. Don’t stop.” He bites out a groan, and continues to circle his hips down. His cheeks burn at the display he’s putting on, but he can’t worry about his pride now. Shameless in his urgency to get himself off, he lets out the faintest little moans, climbing so high it almost sounds like an exhalation. He finally opens his mouth wider, and his tongue moves further out. He gasps a couple of times and you stand up, walking right over to him. He sees you approach, gasps turning into an attempt to talk. It comes out unintelligible.
Parting his legs, you straddle him just enough to grind your wet panties against the bulge below you. He hisses through his teeth, and just as he’s about to finish, you pull yourself off of him. You stand back up.
Copia’s top lip twitches as he looks up at you, pleading for you to have mercy on him as tears prick his eyes. His cock throbs through his pants as you grind down once more. When you stand back up, you notice the small wet spot just by his right pocket. Copia's hands jerk against the bindings.
"Give me something to taste, eh? Do it for your Papa. Show me how you love me."
"That won't work on me," you reply, "You can beg all you want. All you have is one rule. Don't touch. Are you gonna be good, and listen?" Despite his whining, he bows his head in subservience with a whimper of submission.
To make things even harder on him, you decide to let the robe fall down over your shoulders, exposing the very top of your cleavage. Copia seems to go rabid at the sight as his eyes drift over your collarbone and down your smooth skin, but you intentionally keep your breasts covered up. He whines again as you leave him to stand back up on his chair.
"Is this how you give your sermons in the chapel?" you smirk down at him. "Raising your arms, preaching the Olde One's word? Do you feel powerful in these robes, Papa?" He nods nervously, watches you slowly, teasingly slide your wet panties down to take them off. "I see what you mean. I feel very powerful right now." The man before you visibly shudders. "What if I made you stand up there in front of everyone to deliver mass naked? Only the chasuble to cover your hard cock?" Copia exhales.
"You wouldn't..."
"Next time you wear this, all you'll be able to think of is me doing this..." You rub your hand down to between your legs, rubbing circles through the robe fabric. Copia's chest starts to rise and fall faster as he squirms, cock growing painfully stiff, still restricted. "You'll smell me on your robes. You won't even be able to get through your sermon without having to touch yourself."
"Cara," Copia gasps, hands flying to his crotch. He catches himself before his hands make contact and he closes his eyes, holding his breath to keep control.
"It feels so nice," you whisper, "The material is so soft, Copia. Just like your tongue, softer…"
He looks down again, bites his lip. "Will you— will you use my title?"
"Oh," you coo. "You want me to address you as the leader you are?" You smirk. "Do you feel like a leader right now?"
"No," he mutters, "Of course not. But it makes me feel..."
"Feels good?" you whisper, stroking his chin up to look you in the eye.
"Si," he breathes, freckled cheeks flushing hot under the paint.
“Mm. Do you think you could cum from just me, using your title alone?” You hold up a finger. “Remember; no touching.”
“I need something to grind myself against, Sorella,” he admits.
“I’ve seen how worked up you get,” you coo. “You can do it without a single touch, Papa.” You stroke his hair back out of his face, and his breath hitches. He humps his hips up desperately as if chasing an orgasm just out of reach, then huffs in frustration when he doesn’t quite reach it. “Shhh. You want to fuck me in this robe, Papa?” you go on. “Lay me down and watch how the pretty colours glitter around me?” You moan. “You like it when I take the one thing that gives you power over me away?”
“I have still my papal paint,” Copia mutters, slightly offended. You jerk his chin back up.
“But the robes are what make you into a spectacle. You like to show off, don’t you?”
He nods, pink on his ears only growing. “Si.”
“You love to look good, flaunt yourself in front of people. Look at you now… a Papa on his knees.” Copia’s neck muscles flex as he tries not to fall backward. His hands squirm where they’re flattened against each other, and his hips pump up as if he’s thrusting into something. “Imagining what I would feel like right now?” He nods frantically, lips dropping open. He’s chasing his climax again, and you want to help him finally get there. You stride forward, easing your panties in a ball into his mouth. His eyes roll back as he breathes around them. “I’m so wet, Papa. I wish I could feel your cock filling me up, giving me what I deserve. You want to pleasure me, don’t you?”
He’s right on the edge; he’s about to finish. You lift the robes up, drop them over his head, and press his face right against your cunt, grinding him against it. Copia lets out a muffled cry between your legs, and on his first intake of breath, you feel him jerk, convulse and still.
“Did you cum?” you purr, letting the gorgeous blue robes cascade off him. He looks up at you, hair mussed and moustache unruly. As you pluck your panties from his open mouth, he looks down sourly to the wet patch forming in the pants he would have to get out for tomorrow night’s ritual.
“I find it insulting you even have to ask, eh?”
“Don’t forget your treat, Papa,” you whisper. He looks back up, and you stand over him once more. Like a kid in a candy shop, Copia grabs onto your thighs desperately and dives back in between your legs, tongue licking up and down your pussy lips. He gathers the slick there and digs his tongue between your folds, tasting everything you have to offer. Your breath starts to hitch as he flattens his tongue along your clit, before swirling circles around it with the tip.
“Faster,” you breathe. He listens. You walk backward, and with every step out of his reach he whines. He’s a fast learner however. He crawls on his knees toward you as you strike a regal pose sitting down in the chair, legs wide open for him. He makes a noise of relief as he finally reconnects his lips to you, and suckles your clit until you’re tugging your fingers in his hair.
“Please cum, Sorella,” he whispers, breaking away for breath, “Please, please. I need to taste you. I need to fucking taste you, I want it so bad—” One hand braces on the chair as the other guides his head to stay where he is, and his tongue doesn’t let up. Copia flicks and licks you until your orgasm is raging through you, and once it begins, he rubs his upper lip against you as his tongue slides lower to collect the slick.
When the Papa resurfaces from between your legs, his face looks even worse for wear. His paint that had previously been untouched now runs down his face, smeared along your thighs. He reaches up to dab at it, but you take his hands instead, untying them. “It was good, yeah?” he asks, chest heaving. You look down at his pants, where he’s still got a bulge in them. You beckon, and he stands.
Wrapping his robes around his legs, you get down on your knees to return the favour, unzipping him. You find his hard on slick from his first spending, stiff again from eating you out. Copia lets out a breath as you take him in hand, running your hand up it and back down.
“You get hard just from the taste of my cunt, huh?” you smile. He nods.
“I crave it.”
“Shhh. You took care of me so well, baby.” You smirk up at him. “Papa.” You slide your lips down over his slick cock, and you feel him twitch against the back of your throat. He begins to mumble above you, but you can’t hear over the rustle of his undone pants and jangle of his buckle against your neck. You grab onto his knees, and Copia gets an idea.
“Sister... may I...?” He pulls his belt out just enough, wrapping it gently around the back of your neck. The action draws you closer to him, and you grin.
“Do it.”
He sighs as he pulls the belt tighter, fastening you there to suck his cock. You keep working him and he keeps pulling tighter, until you start to feel the vein along the side throbbing. You pop off, looking up at him.
“Tell me again how good I look in your robes.”
“So fucking good,” he says, biting his lip. “Your legs... your body. When I wear it now, I will only think of this.”
“Have you thought of me in them before?”
“Si. I have thought about it at night. It has popped into my head, when I…” He makes a jerking motion, and a warm thrill runs through you at the thought of Copia jerking off to you. “I think of you dressed in my colours, wearing what I wear. You make everything look so beautiful.” You flush from the compliments, given in the heat of his build-up.
“How do you perform in your robes, when you think of me like that all the time?”
“Heh. At least with the chasuble, nobody sees me get hard.”
“Not until you take it off for costume change,” you giggle. “Then I’m sure everyone’s eyes are drawn to it.” He groans, and pulls you tight to him again with the belt. The motion makes you swallow his cock back down, and you get into it with enthusiasm. He notices after a moment that you’ve started to grind against his shoe. He offers it a little higher so you can get the press of the tip of it against your hole as well as the drag of his laces against your clit, and you cry out around him.
“Suck me,” he begs, “I want to fill your mouth with my seed. I want to—ah, I want to see it!” You mumble something back, but he grabs your head, holding you there and pulling the belt until your nails are digging hard into his thighs. He gazes down to the pooling robes at his feet and barely hiding your naked body, and when they finally drop to reveal you sucking him off like a concubine pleasuring a King, he empties himself down your throat. Some fills your mouth so full it drips down the corner of your lip, but you make a show of licking up all the excess, some dripping down onto your bare thighs and breasts. Copia moans at the sight, as his cock gives one last valiant twitch. When he pulls away from you finally, he bends down to drape the robes around your shoulders, a tired smile on his face.
“They look better on you than they do on me.”
It had been cold waiting for Copia in his robes, when he was at mass.
You had been dying for a shower for about an hour now, and now that you both had been satisfied, you finally had a chance to. Copia had a much nicer bathroom than you had back in your dorm, and you always took advantage of it when you came to spend the night or visit the Papa. Now that he was the leader of the Church, his ensuite had received some upgrades—a new Jacuzzi bathtub installed, beside a waterfall shower with warming stones and a sauna. Of course, all of Copia’s hair products and creams were available to you for use as he had assured many times before, and you had also taken advantage of that luxury. Rubbing your hands up your smooth arms, you come out of the bathroom to find Copia on the bed. He’s bare-chested, got one side of his robes draped over him like a blanket. He’s reading his book with his glasses on, but notices you and puts it down promptly. He pats the space beside him, and gestures to the TV. “Did you shower well?”
“It was nice,” you nod. “Less sticky now.”
“Si, si. I thought we could watch Pretty Woman, eh? Your favourite.”
“You know I’m all for Pretty Woman. And I appreciate the idea of this,” you tell him, looking down in amusement at his chasuble, “But baby, this is a lot more comfortable.” Copia watches in confusion as you drop to your knees and begin to search under his bed.
“What are you looking for?” He thinks for a moment when you don’t answer. “Ehm. The toys are in the closet, you know this.”
“Copia, if we use toys right now after all this, your balls are going to shrivel and my vagina is going to combust.”
He chokes at the bluntness of your response, and nods. “That is true.” You keep digging around, but lift your head up to see him.
“So, the sex good was enough to get you to watch my favourite movie with me?” you joke. Copia chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Each time is better than the last, it seems.” His voice gets a little quieter. “Especially when you took such good care of me this time. I am very lucky to have you, cara.” Your heart immediately aches for him, and you join him on the bed, dragging out what you had been searching for under his large four poster bed. It almost looks exactly like his chasuble, but the colours are a bit duller. Making up for this, the material is far more plush—very soft, like an actual blanket.
You laugh at the confusion still etched into Copia’s face. “You don’t know your own merch, do you?”
“I sign off on stuff, but, eh… what is this, exactly?” he asks.
“Your robe blanket,” you smile, wrapping it around yourself. He smoothes a hand down over it.
“Mm. Nice material. Let me under it.”
“Mine.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Yours?! It is my robe! What makes you think it is yours in any fucking way?!” Collapsing in giggles, you fall back on the bed and open your blanket to him. Copia crawls underneath, and you lay your head on his chest as he puts his arm behind your neck to smoosh you closer to him.
“Why aren’t you naked?” you ask him, as the movie’s titles start. Copia looks under the blanket.
“I guess I can be.” You watch him try to squirm out of his bottoms, and hum appreciatively when his cock pops out, resting against his stomach.
“Glad I didn’t bother getting my pyjamas before coming here.”
“You could used something of mine. My satin pyjamas.”
“Only if you haven’t washed them.”Copia crinkles his nose.
“Why would you want this? It is not pleasant, I assure you.” You devolve into laughter, and Copia huffs. “Maybe you would like to sleep in my robes, as you seem to enjoy them so much.”
“Nah,” you say, snuggling closer to him so your legs are both entwined. “This is much better. As nice as your chasuble is, it’s not very comfortable.”
“That is because you’re supposed to wear it over all the other layers!” Copia exclaims, “You don’t think I wear that alone, nothing underneath!”
“I wish you would.”
He gives you a look. “That is a long and dangerous conversation. Hush now.” You reach underneath the blanket to cup your hand around his dick. He yelps slightly, before reaching up and resting his hand on one of your breasts. You smile at the romance of it all.
With his free hand Copia tucks the blanket around your back, and looks over at his robe draped over the back of one of his Victorian red-velvet upholstered lounge sofas. It truly is a work of art—but the one who he had caught wearing it was even more so.