Chapter Text
I leaned over during Black Mass and whispered to the Sister next to me, “I know he seems like a fussbudget, but I’ll bet he’d fuck like no tomorrow.” I nodded quickly toward Cardinal Copia. She pinched my thigh between her tweezer sharp nails and shushed me.
Papa Emeritus III pranced at the front of Ritual, flamboyant, dramatic, and dastardly delightful leaving the vast part of the congregation spellbound. However, my eyes kept creeping over to the man sitting quietly on an altar chair. His red cassock lay pleated neatly over his legs, tips of black shoes peeking out, and hands encased in black leather quietly folded in his lap. Everything about him was tidy and precise from the biretta perfectly straight on his brow, to the chisel sharp sideburns and the immaculately clipped mustache.
The sermon droned and I slipped into fantasy until I felt an elbow nudge my ribs as the inordinately long Ritual came to a close. Papa sat upon his ecclesial throne as each of the Sisters of Sin paraded past him kissing his foot prior to exiting the temple. I queued up waiting my turn but kept sliding my eyes to black leather shoes peeping out from under red wool. He probably had nice feet with toenails clipped precisely square and buffed. He most likely moisturized his feet, so they were soft and supple. I groaned internally as I shuffled forward. Finally, my turn came, and I knelt before Papa. As I bent to kiss papal slippers my eyes locked with the Cardinal’s. His eyes followed me as I bent until I had to break eye contact or end up kissing the floor.
I tried to focus on my duties and give proper homage to Papa Emeritus, but my mind wasn’t on him. He’d been the center of our congregation's world until Cardinal Copia showed up. Without introduction he’d started to assist at services, passing the wine chalice or the plate of plenty amongst the Sisters of Sin. Instantly I’d been captivated by his quiet strength and precision. Where Papa Emeritus III drew his flock to him through bombastic gyrations and bawdy humor, Cardinal Copia had a razor wit and devilish glint to his eye.
Papa placed his hand on my head and mumbled the requisite, “Sin freely.”
I almost jumped as the pressure of Papa’s hand brought me back to reality but I responded, “For the Earth and below.”
I stood hoping to recapture the Cardinal’s gaze, but his eyes focused on Papa. I headed for the exit then folded myself into a dark corner to watch and wait. The Cardinal sat overseeing the Sisters as they gave obeisance to their Anti-pope. Once everyone had shuffled out of the room, he stood. Gently, he picked up the sacramental chalice, ran his gloved fingers around the rim, uttered a few words, and drank the rest of the wine. Replacing the chalice to its spot on the altar, he covered it with a black cloth uttering “Dark Lord, we thank you for this, your blood.” Placing a hand over the chalice mouth, he lifted it, turned, and brought it to the sacristy.
After quickly looking around and confirming no one was around, I dashed back up to the altar. I felt like a child attempting to sneak a peek at hidden birthday presents slightly giggly yet fearful of getting caught. I quickly started to scan the floor in front of the altar as the Cardinal returned from the sacristy.
“Sister.” He nodded to me as he placed a cloth over the Plate of Plenty. “Have you forgotten something?”
The Cardinal stood ramrod straight, one hand under the plate full of grapes, chocolate, and cheeses, the other gently holding the cloth in place. He presented so formally, but as I looked up at him a minute smile seemed to curl the edge of his lip.
“Yes, Cardinal Copia.” I tried and failed not to stutter. “I… I thought I lost my barrette when I bent my knee.”
“Ah, yes.” He set the Plate of Plenty back on the altar. “Let me help you look.” He stepped down from the dais and knelt where I had knelt before Papa Emeritus III.
Mortified that he’d gotten on his knees for me, I rested my hand on his back. “Cardinal, you mustn’t. I can look for it.”
He turned to look at me, grabbed my hand, and tugged me down onto the carpet with him. “It is of no matter; I am not above the work of any other.” He smiled brightly, causing me to grin in return. He patted around on the floor for a moment. “Tell me sister, did you really lose a barrette, or did you come back for another reason?”
I felt my face pinken, caught in my lie. “No, Cardinal. I didn’t really lose a barrette.” Peeking my eyes at him, my face further flamed as I imagined the naughty things we could do.
The man rested back on his heels and furrowed his brow. “I see. Yes. Well, I suppose, then you must be punished.” His gaze lifted from the floor, and his nonsense pursuit, to lock with mine. “Si. Punishment.”
Levering himself from the floor, Cardinal Copia held his hand out to me and pulled me up. As I reached my feet, I hoped he’d sweep me up in a seductive embrace. I fleetingly imagined his lips pressing against mine, warm, soft. Our chests pressed together as he held me tightly, our breaths aligned. Instead, he turned, waved a hand at the altar.
“Clean this up and bring everything into the sacristy.” He turned sharply on his heel and walked from the room without looking back.
I stood there for a moment, pondering. On the one hand punishment sounded like it could be fun, but on the other in the Satanic Church it could mean crouching on bended knee for hours reciting pater noster to the Dark Lord.
“Nothing risked, nothing gained,” I whispered to myself as I swept up the Plate of Plenty, brushed a few crumbs off the altar, and headed to the sacristy.
I wasn't sure what to expect, but it still wasn’t what I might have expected. Somehow I imagined a bed in there for papal naps, or maybe lounging couches, or at the outside piles of cushions creating a cozy nook. Instead, I walked into a storeroom. Cabinets lined one wall with a counter underneath and a kitchen sink. The back wall had a rolling coat rack filled with vestments. An ironing board hung on the wall. Bits and bobs needed for Ritual were stored away on shelves.
I stood in the doorway taking the room in. I couldn’t decide if disappointment superseded the thrill of being alone with Carnal Copia but I could feel my heart beating staccato. I didn’t know if I should enter, wait for him to invite me but sinful thoughts started to edge everything else from my mind.
Cardinal Copia stood washing out the wine chalice, then polished it swiftly with a dish towel and placed it neatly in a cabinet. “Well, don’t lollygag, bring the plate here.” He waved the towel at the counter. Hours of prayer on my knees looked like the punishment of the day. My step dragged slightly as my lustful thoughts started to curdle.
As I stepped forward and placed the plate on the counter the Cardinal put a hand on my shoulder, gently, turning me to face him. “Punishment and pain bring us closer to the Dark Lord.” His grip tightened as he pressed his thumb deep into my skin, just below my collarbone. “Kneel, sister.”
I winced as I followed his command, unsure of myself. I yearned for his touch but his bruising touch offered punishment without pleasure. When my buttocks rested on my heels, he let go of my shoulder to grasp my chin forcing me to look at him.
“You have a choice, Sorella. You may stay here on your knees and repeat Satan’s Prayer 50 times, or you may face the unknown.”
Kneeling in front of the Cardinal, my face so close to his crotch I could feel his heat. I wanted to glance down and see if there was a hint of tenting to his cassock, but his fingers still bit cruelly into my cheeks. A tingle started between my legs as I imagined what lay below his robes.
“Unknown, please, Cardinal,” I squeaked. Sweet Satan, I hoped the unknown was more fun than repeating prayers on my knees.
His voice softened slightly, and the hint of a mocking smile returned to his otherwise stern face. “You are sure, Sorella? Once you say ‘si’ there is no turning back.” He grimaced and shook his head to emphasize his point.
“I understand, Cardinal.” As a Sister of Sin, I abandoned my rights upon entering the Temple. My life was their life. “I am in your hands,” and I wanted those hands all over me, black gloves and all.
“Bene.” He let go of my face reaching to the top of his robes and began unbuttoning. “Watch my hands, Sorella, but move not.”
One by one he pushed each button through its hole, moving ever lower. My eyes remained glued to his hands and as he pushed each button through its hole I could feel my pussy twitch. I licked my lips, feeling as if all the liquid in my body rushed between my legs. He stopped as he got to his waist and untied his sash.
“Now, it is your turn.”
I paused, not sure if he meant me to move or if it was a trick. I must have made a moue of confusion as the Cardinal put a surprisingly gentle hand against my cheek.
“Ah, but of course,” he began, realizing my conundrum. “You may move your hands for this. How silly of me.” He gave a small chuckle, and raised an eyebrow waiting for me to begin.
I reached up and started unbuttoning. Inch by inch I moved lower, spreading his robes apart. Underneath, he still wore a crisp white shirt tucked into skintight black dress pants. My head brushed against his groin as I leaned to undo the final few buttons and I suppressed a groan. Once all the buttons were released I sat back on my heels, hands in my lap. The Cardinal shrugged out of his cassock, turned, and walked away to hang it on the clothes rack.
Ugh! This was punishment if I were just going to be cock teased. But he returned and stood directly in front of me.
He lifted my chin. “Now you may remove my pants.” He paused for a moment, as if thinking, then continued, “with your teeth.”
I almost smiled. Now this was getting interesting!
I reached up to grab his waist band, but he interrupted me. “No, no. Your hands behind your back. Si? Like so.” He put his arms behind his back for a moment. “Mouth only, per favore.” His small smile grew to a smirk.
I grasped one wrist with the opposite hand and dove into getting his belt undone with my mouth. I bit into the fine leather and attempted to pull the tail from the belt loop. With a deft tongue and teeth, I managed to get the belt undone. As I leaned in to start undoing the pants, his warm, musky scent assailed my senses like ambrosia. I longed to tear his shirt from his pants and lick my way up his belly but didn’t stray from my task. Underneath my habit, I could feel myself growing wet, open, and yearning for Cardinal Copia. As the button escaped its hole, I sighed triumphantly, grabbed the zipper pull between my teeth, and tugged it down.
As my chin scraped against his pants I could feel his erection. Thank all unholy, I thought, as his interest grew, and my confidence swelled. I turned my head to nip at the material encasing his thigh tugging it down. Inching from side to side I managed to work the pants over his hips, noting briefly that he didn’t wear underwear. As I wiggled the pants lower, his cock sprung forth proud and dancing near my face. Quickly, I licked my lips.
“No, fiore mio. I have not offered you a prize,” the Cardinal admonished.
Turning my attention back to the pants, I managed to get them around his ankles. He brushed me aside and stepped out of them, folding them neatly and placing them on the counter.
“Shoes, please,” he demanded in a soft yet firm voice.
Sighing, I bent to my new task of untying his shoes. At least I’d get to test my theory that he had well-manicured feet. Maddeningly, he left his socks on.
“Now, rise. Remove my shirt and get my robe from the rack.”
I stood, clumsily, pushing myself up on shaking legs.
He watched me but didn’t help. Instead, stepping back when it looked like I might put a hand on his hip to steady myself.
I started unbuttoning his shirt, using my tongue to feed the white buttons through their slit, trying to brush my fingers against his chest as I moved lower.
“Non toccare,” he admonished. “I have not given you permission to touch me.”
With my eyes lowered in submission, I whispered, “No, Cardinal.”
My fingers itched to touch the light sprinkling of hair on his chest and smooth my hand across the Cardinal’s pectoral till it rubbed against his nipple. Instead, I completed unbuttoning his shirt, teeth scraping against each button, making sure to hold the fabric away from his skin. The scent of him surrounded me like a cloud of incense, warm, musky, yet clean.
As I finished, he turned, presenting his back, and I helped him shrug out of his shirt, the crisp cotton warm from his heat in my hands. I unconsciously reached a hand up to touch his back, but as if he had eyes in the back of his head, he stepped out of my way, and waved me over to the clothes rack.
As my eyes devoured his lean form the room fell away and I only saw him. A slight sprinkle of gray flecked his hair from his head to his groin, yet his skin smoothed over taught muscles. Each cell in my body jangled, wanting to wrap myself around him yet his dark gaze warned me against it. I took a deep breath, ragged and noisy.
Keenly conscious of his eyes on my back, I took the shirt to the rack and hung it up. A dark red woolen robe hung on the metal bar, and I pulled it from its wooden hanger. I held it up for him and he slid his arms through pulling it from my hands.
As he tied the belt I started to move from the clothes rack, but the Cardinal turned back to me grasping my arm. “And where are you going, fiore mio? Hmmm? No. You must put your hands on the rack, just here.”
He leaned over, pushing the clothes to the ends creating a space in the middle of the bar and revealing a mirror on the back wall.
I looked at him for a moment, unsure, then turned and put both hands on the bar. A chill from the metal caused me to shiver, but it could have also been from anticipation. Arms up slightly over my head, he kicked my legs apart far enough to stretch me out.
The Cardinal ran his hands up my thighs, over my hips, skimming to my waist, then over the sides of my breasts to my arms, each touch sending gooseflesh pebbling over my skin. He caressed my arms, then pressed his hands over mine on the bar.
“Your hands will not leave this bar, will they, Sorella?” His mouth breathed the words close to my ear and a frisson quivered in a direct line to my pussy.
“No, Cardinal,” I promised, though I wanted to let go and wrap my arms around him; wrap my whole being around him as if I were his blanket on a frigid night.
Placing his hands on my hips, he began to draw the hem of my habit up my legs, inching it ever so slowly. I wanted to grab it and rip it over my head to release me from the torment of the anticipation. As the floor length skirt reached my hips, he held it there for a moment.
“Look in the mirror, Sorella, watch yourself. I do not want to see your eyes straying from your face, si?”
I nodded, not sure I trusted my own voice, watching him so close behind me. A sharp smack on the bottom surprised me and I cried out. The crack sounded loud in my ears but the strike landed with a swift stinging pain that faded into warmth.
The Cardinal’s tone deepened. “No, Sorella. I did not say to watch me.”
I flicked my eyes to my face in the mirror and saw my hair spilling from my coif, cheeks flushed, mouth slightly open, and pupils wide. I felt, more than saw, my habit being pushed up over my head, and the Cardinal freeing my hands one at a time to remove the offending garment, and repositioning them back on the cool metal bar. He pulled my veil away from the coif.
He growled behind my ear. “Wear my veil to know you belong to Lucifer. I remove it and you belong to me.” The Cardinal tugged the coif from my head. “I remove your coif to show myself your glory.”
Unbound, my hair slid over my shoulders, and he brushed it to hang on my back, the gentle sway of the ends teasing my skin.
He leaned forward, his body barely grazing my back to place a kiss at the crook of my neck, then down along my shoulder. As his lips touched me all thoughts ceased as the whisper of his breath caressed me. I let my head tip back, reveling in the sensation, but as my eyes closed and I tried to lean into him, he pulled back.
His hand cupped the back of my head as he pushed it forward. “Eyes open, watching yourself.”
He landed a quick smack on my buttock and I moaned. The contact of his hand against my skin ignited my pussy with fire and I melted.
“I do not want to have to remind you again, Sorella. You don’t want me to remind you either, eh?”
A second stinging slap landed on my buttock with a smack.
“No, Cardinal,” I gasped. My eyes blinked and I longed to close my eyes to savor the prickling pleasure pain.
I wanted to rub the burn away, but more I wanted him to rub the burn away, but he let it sit prickling my ass. Dragging my eyes back to my face in the mirror, I blushed at how wanton I looked.
“Please, Cardinal.” I wanted more, of his hands, of his kisses, of him.
Cardinal Copia stepped forward placing one leg between mine and molded against my, eliciting a moan from deep in my core. His hands wrapped around me, starting at my thighs, rubbing then pressing into my muscles, to my belly until each hand rose to grasp a breast.
I arched my back pressing my breasts into his hands, pushing my ass back into his crotch. He pressed himself against me letting his cock twitch between my ass cheeks and he groaned, sending a lurch of desire ripping through me.
The Cardinal removed one hand from my breast, and it gripped my chin in a vice to keep my eyes focused on my reflection. “Watch, fiore, watch yourself bloom.”
My eyes felt like they were going to cross because I wanted him so badly. I longed for his hands to run over me, for his mouth to take my nipple into its warmth. I needed to feel him inside me, filling my slick pussy, sliding in and out with piston-like fierceness.
Once assured I watched myself, he dropped his hand to my mound and my body liquified. He pulled me back into him and I could feel his erection on my ass. His fingers pinched my nipple sending a zing through me that wasn’t quite pain nor quite pleasure. I saw my face squint, unsure of the sensation, yet I let myself lean into it. The pressure on my nipple grew stronger sending electric shocks through me, one moment causing my body to hum, the next to squirm. My eyes didn’t want to remain open, I didn’t want to watch, I wanted to retreat into the delicious feelings and let them encompass me.
He ground his hips into I and I felt his dick engorged against me. His head dropped down to my neck, only kisses were replaced by stinging nips, teeth grazing against my skin.
Without thinking, I let go of the bar to thread my fingers into his hair, crying out and attempted to pull him closer.
His hand shot from my breast to grab my hand and thrust it back onto the bar. “Oh, fiore. You will wish you remained as I asked.”
He positioned my hands on top of each other on the bar and covered them with his hand. He stepped around me so that my body was pinned between his thighs, then four swift strikes landed on my ass. At first a sweet sting coursed through me as his hand made contact. I yipped as the sting became cruel on the fourth crack. He rubbed my butt cheek for a moment, then four more landed in swift succession. I reflexively tried to pull away. When the swatting ended, I felt the gentle touch of his hand rubbing away the pain and it sent sweet warmth straight to my clit, as he breathed against my ear, “you did well, fiore, mio.”
His head dipped down to take my nipple between his pillowy lips, sucking, drawing the stiff nub into his mouth. He nipped down, sending a shot of lust straight through me and I groaned gutturally, hard, in a voice that didn’t seem my own.
I couldn't recognize my reflection. Instead, I saw a succubus being drawn to the height of pleasure.
Dropping his hand from mine, Cardinal Copia, brought his fingers to my pussy, separating my labia, and dipping his fingers deep into me.
I gripped the bar so hard my knuckles went white as I used it to keep from falling to the ground.
His fingers dipped in and out of my slick chasm, then he pulled them out and brought them to my face. “Taste yourself,” he demanded, placing his fingers against my lips.
I watched my mouth open, and his fingers driving into my mouth.
“Close your lips, bella.”
I compiled and he started to fuck my mouth with his fingers, tasting my own sweet saltiness.
His hand dipped to my slit, again, finger fucking me before he sampled my sweet syrup.
“Like honey wine,” he murmured.
Through my pulsing pleasure, I felt him thrusting against my leg. He grabbed my chin and ground his lips into mine, his tongue penetrating my mouth. Our juices blended and I heard a groan. Maybe it was mine. Maybe him. At that moment, I couldn’t tell one from the other.
Releasing me, Cardinal Copia untied his robe and let it fall in a rumpled pile. He stepped behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling my hips toward him. His penis was thick and rigid against my bottom. Dick in hand he used his feet to spread my legs slightly further apart to better position me, and then he entered me.
His cock slid in spreading my walls: slowly, exquisitely. I tried to push back against him to force him deeper, but he held my hip. I shivered as the mind-numbing sensation overwhelmed me. I wanted to wiggle, to slam down on his dick and pound myself against him, but he held the slow pace.
His free hand slipped over my mound to flick my clit. I cried out as I struggled to press against his hand. My mind sailed beyond thought into pure sensation as my body took over.
I panted. “Please, Cardinal.”
“Please what, cara?” His words caressed hot against my ear.
I yowl my plea. “Please, fuck! I want to cum.”
Cardinal Copia drew in a ragged breath, increasing the tempo of his thrusts. “Watch yourself, Sorella. Watch yourself cum.”
His finger circled my clit, around and around spiraling me ever higher as his thick cock pounded into me. I felt his balls slapping my thigh and his vice-like grip around my middle allowed for powerful thrusts.
His voice is ragged and determined. “Cum for me, amore mio. Cum.”
I couldn’t keep my eyes open as I shattered. My body convulsed against Cardinal Copia’s hand. My pussy pulsing around his cock as he shouted.
He held me up as he let himself go, jerking against me as my aftershocks gripped around him, draining him of his seed.
My hands fell from the bar as we both slid to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. He held me close, lips against my hair, murmuring inanities in Italian.
As our bodies cooled, I shivered in the frigid air, and he pulled his robe over me. The two of us remained entwined for a few moments before the Cardinal rose.
He offered a hand to pull me up. I stood on weak legs and struggled back into my habit, smoothing my hair under my coif as well as possible in its tangled state.
The Cardinal pulled his robe back on and then stood behind me. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, and he pressed a kiss against my cheek. “Until next week at Ritual, amore mio?”