Work Header

Spare the Rod and Spoil The Sister

Work Text:

Cardinal Copia takes measure of the Sister of Sin standing in his office. Brought there by Sister Imperator for “insolence and disrespect towards a high-ranking clergy member”, the young woman hardly looks contrite. Her lips are curled in a defiant smile, and her eyes gleam with mischief. On his desk is the Sister’s file, as thick as a copy of Vogue, bulging with disciplinary reports.

“Sister Serafina is very loyal to the Church,” Sister Imperator had said to him as she deposited the errant junior Sister in his office.
“But she doesn’t know when to keep her damn mouth shut,”

Indeed, nearly every report in her file describes a variety of incidents where the Sister has either mouthed off to a superior member of the Church, or gotten into an altercation with another Sister of Sin. When she is not being sarcastic or savagely roasting someone; Sister Serafina is arriving late to Unholy Mass reeking of Zardoz, or playing a childish prank. She has a reputation for being brutally honest, no matter what kind of discord it causes. All this is clearly evident to Copia as he thumbs through her record. What isn’t so evident to the Cardinal, however, is why half of the reports are signed by Sister Imperator, but the most recent ones are all signed by his predecessor, Papa Emeritus III. How strange! Why would Imperator hand over all disciplinary action over to Papa?

Sister Serafina watches the Cardinal flip through her impressive record. She had managed to stay out of trouble for a while (especially during the Church’s little shift in leadership), but today it seems her luck has run out. Or has it? If Copia is anything like Papa Emeritus was, perhaps she can make things work in her favor. With her arms behind her back and her chest thrust forward, she leans over the desk, and glances at her file to see where he’s at.

“Did you read about the Spaghetti Incident?” She asks cheekily, referring to the time she arrived late to Unholy Mass, stoned out of her mind and eating leftover spaghetti out of a plastic baggie.

Cardinal Copia looks up at the Sister, and clears his throat awkwardly before speaking.

“Ahh, yes,” He says, not telling her that he has been present at that particular mass and had seen the whole thing.
“Yes, it seems you have quite a penchant for getting into…shenanigans. I’ve never seen a record this thick before,”

“I strive to excel,” she giggles, straightening up to give a small bow.

“Do you know why you’re here?” the Cardinal asks, changing the subject.

Sister Serafina ignores the question and continues:
“Did you read about the time I put googly eyes on all the frescoes?”

He remembers that too, but doesn’t answer her. He asks again:
“Do you know why you’re here?”

She snorts back an impertinent giggle, biting her lip to keep it in. She can see a small flush spread across Copia’s freckled cheeks and prominent nose. Oh, she knows exactly why she’s here, but she wants to hear him say it. Her eyes widen in false innocence, and she tilts her head to one side.

“I really don’t know what I said, or did this time. I just always seem to offend Sister Imperator one way or another.” She shrugs.
“Why, I could sneeze and she’d say I was being inso-”

“You called me Rat Boy! And a Goth Burt Reynolds!” he blurts out, his face flushing more deeply now.

She feels a small pang of contrition. She’d been joking around with another Sister of Sin, and the words just slipped out; she can’t help it if she has no verbal filter. She doesn’t have an indoor voice, either; Sister Imperator overheard everything, and before Serafina knew it, she was being dragged down to the Cardinal’s office. Now she’s faced with the subject of her ill-timed jest, and is surprised to find that she actually almost feels bad.

“I’m sorry,” Sister Serafina says softly.
“It’s not true, you don’t look like a Goth Burt Reynolds.”

Cardinal Copia’s stern expression softens, and it looks like perhaps he might accept her apology. Maybe she’ll even get off with a warning. If she can keep her mouth shut, that is. But the Sister of Sin cannot keep her mouth shut, she never could, and probably never will. Her tongue is like quicksilver, and before she knows it, the words slide out:

“Your mustache isn’t thick enough. Not like those thighs, guapo.” She says, with a playful lick of her lips.

Everyone has seen the Cardinal on his evening walks, wearing a sleek white suit with impossibly tight pants that left very little to the imagination. It was surprising, and surprisingly arousing for the Sisters of Sin to learn that Copia hid some very muscular and shapely legs under his cassock, among other finely made parts.

The Cardinal’s face flushes a brilliant shade of scarlet. It’s good fortune on his part that he’s wearing his black cassock today. Had he worn the red vestments, he’d resemble a massive, angry tomato.

“You’re more like a…Goth John Waters,” she continues.

She really doesn’t know when to shut up.

“You insolent brat!” The Cardinal bursts out, standing up. He’s only a few inches taller than Sister Serafina, and she does not look intimidated by him.

“I am your Cardinal! Who do you think you are, talking to me this way! It’s no wonder Sister Imperator stopped handling your discipline, and started sending you to my predecessor!”

At these last words, the Sister breaks into a knowing, sideways grin. It is indeed true that Imperator had gotten so fed up with her shenanigans, that the senior Sister had stopped trying to deal with her altogether, and started sending her to Papa Emeritus III. Just what methods he used to discipline her, are known only to Sister Serafina and Papa. And dead men tell no tales.

“Oh yes. The poor woman was starting to get worried for her health, I think,” Sister Serafina says, still calm in the face of the Cardinal’s wrath.
“High blood pressure, that sort of thing. Her eye would always twitch around me; I’m surprised she didn’t have a stroke or an aneurysm,”

Copia can see how dealing with the miscreant Sister of Sin could have been bad for Imperator’s health. He’s even witnessed the Eye Twitch for himself, during the Spaghetti Incident. He looks the Sister up and down; her arms are still behind her back with her chest thrust out, and she’s smiling to herself. She no longer looks contrite or humble; she looks like a woman with a juicy secret.

“So…how did my predecessor handle you?” The Cardinal asks.

He’s not sure how he should go about punishing her. Early reports show that Sister Imperator used physical labor as a punishment, often making Sister Serafina polish the Church’s silver, or weed the apothecary gardens. But these tasks had been ineffective; otherwise the Sister would not be standing here today. The Third had left no details of his disciplinary methods. Only banal comments like “Sister Serafina has seen the errors of her way,” or “Sister Serafina accepted her punishment with grace, and vows to improve her behavior,”.

The Sister snorts back a giggle. How did Papa ‘handle’ her? She suppresses a pleasurable shudder at the memory of his leather gloves caressing her bare hips and ass as he bent her over his desk. She recalls the sting of his palm against her flesh. How did he handle her?

“Oh he was very firm with me,” she says, wondering if he can pick up on the double entendre she’s making. The Cardinal can be somewhat socially awkward, but he can’t be oblivious, can he?

Copia cocks his head, slightly. Is she hinting at something? Is this some kind of inside joke? She’s even biting back giggles.

“Firm?” he ventures, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Oh yes,” she practically purrs, lowering her eyelashes in false modesty. But really, she’s remembering the sweet sting of a riding crop against her buttocks. The sound of Papa’s accented voice counting each stroke.
“He was incredibly firm with me,”

Now Sister Serafina is remembering Papa Emeritus’ cock rubbing against her heat, teasing her, before thrusting inside. The final and best part of Papa’s disciplinary plan. He would fuck her, and when they were done he’d write some nonsense down about her learning her lesson. If Sister Imperator ever figured out what was going on, she never said anything about it. Considering the senior Sister’s relationship with Papa Nihil, it would have been hypocritical.

“What type of punishment did my predecessor...ah, employ?” Copia asks, genuinely curious now, wanting to know what The Third could have done to make such a bold woman blush like a maid.

“Papa preferred to use corporal punishment with me,” She says, closing her eyes and running her hands down the length of her body.

The Cardinal watches her hands glide over her curves, and he feels a most inconvenient stirring of desire. She’s a voluptuous woman, attractive, even if she is a frustrating brat. A frustrating brat he doesn’t know what to do with.

“Corporal punishment?” He repeats, wondering why she would touch herself like that when saying those words. He’s certain now that he’s hinting at something.

“Oh my, yes, Cardinal,” She says, pausing to wet her lips. Her very soft, plush looking lips…

“He would bend me over this very desk, or over his lap if the mood took him. Then he would raise my skirt, remove my panties and strike my bare ass with either a riding crop or his bare hand. After the Spaghetti Incident he used a willow switch.”

At these words, Copia finds himself hardening underneath his cassock. He just so happens to have a kink for the very thing she’s describing to him. Spanking, flogging, flagellation. Giving or receiving. The Cardinal imagines what it must have been like for The Third Emeritus to bend this delicious, yet frustrating woman over the desk that now belongs to him. He imagines what it must have been like for her. From her tone of voice, to her body language, he suspects she enjoyed being disciplined like this.

“Did…did it work? Did you learn to behave?” He asks, knowing full well she learned absolutely nothing.

Sister Serafina gives a seductive little laugh.

“Oh, it would work for a little while. But soon enough I’d be offending Sister Imperator again, and back to this office, and over this desk I’d go,” she says, reaching out to stroke the smooth mahogany of the aforementioned piece of furniture.

Abruptly, Cardinal Copia snatches up her wrist, making her gasp. He holds it high, and walks himself around to the front of the desk as if he were leading her in a dance. The Sister watches him carefully, not missing the bulge beneath his cassock.

“Perhaps my predecessor wasn’t firm enough with you,” he says in a low voice.
“His hand. A crop. A switch. None of them are enough to keep you in line, are they? I’ve got something better. Something that will teach you a lesson in respect. Bend over the desk, Sister,”

At that, he releases her wrist and Sister Serafina obeys. Slowly, she lowers her upper body onto the desk’s smooth surface with a graceful complacence; as if she belonged there. As if this was her proper place in the Church. She raises her rather cute and plump ass a little, and lifts her habit’s short skirt with a practiced flip. Copia’s breath hitches in desire when he sees what the sister conceals under her habit. Black lace panties. Of course. Of course she’s wearing little black lace panties. The Cardinal stifles a groan, and momentarily grasps his hardness through the layers of his vestments, irritation and lust for the errant Sister of Sin mingling together. Finally, he pulls himself together, and makes his way towards a glass case.

Sister Serafina hears a soft click behind her, then the creak of something opening and closing. Cardinal Copia comes around to face her. He’s holding his cane, the one he takes with him on his evening walks, when he wears The Impossibly Tight White Suit. It’s an elegant thing, topped with a silver handle curling, curving snake that’s inexplicably deep throating the cane’s…shaft. She suppresses a giggle.

“This,” he begins, stroking the cane.
“This will teach you to show respect. You will receive ten strokes, and you will thank me when I’m done. Do you understand?”

She nods, and he holds it out to her, flat in his palms, the shaft less than an inch from her lips.
“Kiss it,” he commands.

She obeys, putting on a humble expression and pressing a kiss to the cane’s shaft. Then, in a moment of boldness, she runs her tongue along it as well. The Cardinal stifles another groan, and shuffles back behind her so he doesn’t have to see her false humility melt into a devious grin. His hand lingers tentatively on the waist band of her panties.

“If I may?” he asks, almost formally, making Sister Serafina smirk.

“Are you sure you’re the one who can teach me a lesson?” She teases, unable as ever to keep her damn mouth shut.

Copia growls at this, outraged and aroused by her bratty teasing all at once. In one swift move, he pulls her panties down roughly, making the Sister gasp in genuine surprise. Now it is his turn to smirk; he even pauses to admire the fleshy curves of her bare ass. It’s an awful cute one, and he can’t resist: he pulls off a glove and gives her a firm smack with the palm of his naked hand. Sister Serafina jumps in surprise and muffles a yelp. She wasn’t expecting that, and now she’s wondering if there’s more to the Cardinal than being the Church’s Latin expert and rat collector. Perhaps he’s more like the Papas than she thought.

“That does not count towards your punishment” Cardinal Copia says.
“That was for me. Remember, ten strokes, then you’ll thank me. Are you ready?”

He doesn’t wait for her answer. The cane whistles through the air and makes contact with a resounding whack!. The Sister cries out in surprise, much to the Cardinal’s satisfaction, and grips the edge of the desk. Maybe she underestimated the Rat Boy.

“One,” Copia says, trying to ignore his twitching erection.
“You’ll count from now on, Sister, and don’t forget to thank me when we’re done!”

The cane cuts through the air again, and hits her ass a little harder this time. This time Sister Serafina bites her lip to muffle herself, determined not to give him anymore satisfaction from her discomfort.

“Two,” she says between gritted teeth.

This definitely hurts more than The Third’s switches or crops ever did. It’s a deeper sting, and she’s not sure how she feels about it. Thwack! A third blow strikes her cheeks.

“Three!” she grunts, gripping the desk edge a little bit harder.

Fourth, fifth and sixth blows from the cane rain down upon Sister Serafina’s increasingly scarlet bottom, and she counts each one. Four more to go. It’s not so bad now that she’s gotten used to it; and mingling with her pain is the familiar throb of desire. It’s just like when Papa used to discipline her.

Whack! Three to go.

“Seven!” The Sister gasps in a tone that suggests lust more than contrition.

The Cardinal’s keen ear picks up on this change, and stops the cane mid-swing in surprise. Is she…? Is she…aroused by all this? His cock twitches at this thought, and he finds himself unsure if he should continue. This isn’t any kind of punishment to her at all, is it? Then it dawns on him fully. The Third wasn’t actually disciplining her, it was all a cover for their pleasure games. Whatever it had started as, it devolved to that. It all adds up, the vague reports, her knowing smile…

“Oh Cardinal?” The Sister Serafina pipes up.
“I thought you were teaching me a lesson?”

She wiggles her ass at him impishly.

“You little snake!” Copia exclaims in a growl.

Thwack! He delivers stroke number eight with gusto, and she yelps in a combination of surprise, pain and delight.

“Eight!” she cries out.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Copia says shaking his head.

He doesn’t allow her to retort. He lands a ninth blow. Almost done. And then…then what?

“Nine,” she gasps.

One more. One more and it’s over. Then what? Will they do more than this? Will he fuck her like Papa Emeritus did?

“Last one. Don’t forget to thank me!” Copia says.

Whack! The final stroke is the hardest of all, but she manages to count it.

“Ten!” she shouts.

Then she’s silent except for some deep breaths. Painfully aroused, Sister Serafina presses her thighs together, longing for some kind of relief. If he’s not going to fuck her, then maybe she can…

Smack! The Cardinal spanks her tender ass with his bare hand.

“What are you forgetting?” He asks sharply.

“Thank you, Cardinal,” She purrs.
“For showing me the error of my wicked ways,”

She raises her hips slightly, presenting her now scarlet buttocks; she waits for his next move. Surely he must realize by now that Papa’s punishments did not end here. Right?

Copia looks her over, from her welted ass, to the sheen of moisture on her thighs left by desire. His breath catches when he sees the latter. Slowly he reaches for her with both hands and softly caresses Sister Serafina’s hips and ass. She makes a soft noise, not quite a gasp and not quite a whimper. It’s an interesting sensation, the leather against her sore flesh on one side, and his bare hand on the other. The leather is a familiar texture, but the Cardinal’s naked hand is surprisingly soft and cool against her heated skin. The Sister thinks of the saying ‘cold hands, warm heart’, and wonders if it applies to Cardinal Copia.

“These punishments did not end with the rod, did they?” He asks in a low voice.

“They ended with…a different kind of rod,” Sister Serafina says cheekily, her smart mouth  hardly repressed by the caning.

“Oh?” The Cardinal purrs, still stroking her ass.
“Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Cardinal,” She says, making her exasperation clear.
“You know exactly what mean,”

Copia growls in irritation, and briefly considers giving her another ten strokes with the cane for her attitude. But his cock is practically throbbing underneath his cassock, demanding attention. He leans over her, pressing his chest and stomach into her back, grinding his erection against her bare ass.

“Is this the kind of rod you mean?” He whispers into her ear.

Sister Serafina shivers at the feeling of his breath on her neck and ear. His body feels delightfully solid and warm on hers, as well.

“Y-yes,” she manages to sigh. Even through the layers of his vestments she can tell his size is…substantial.
“That’s what I mean,”

“And do you want me to…punish you with it?” he whispers again, this time brushing his lips against her ear, and gently nipping the lobe with his teeth.

“Oh yes, Cardinal,” she replies in a sweet vibrato.

Copia groans in desire, and straightens back up, hastily opening his cassock so he can free his length. He takes it in his gloved hand, stroking it a few times, while his other hand reaches between her legs to find that she’s already wet. He cannot help but smirk at this, and at the gasp she produces when he starts to gently stroke her silken folds. His fingers trace lightly from clit to entrance, teasing her a bit before plunging inside her. She moans at this, and it’s music to his ears. He thrusts lightly, wondering if she’ll make that delightful sound again. She does, but this time there’s a desperately whispered “Please” under her breath.

“What was that?” He purrs, curling his fingers inside her, his thumb circling her clit.

“Please!” She gasps a little louder, gripping the desk edge in frustration. Does he have to tease her? Can’t he just fuck her already?

“Please what?” The Cardinal demands, pulling his fingers out of her and taking a moment to taste them.

Sweet Satan, she tastes better than Mana from heaven. Perhaps another time he could savor her fully, but there’s a more urgent need to attend to, now. He presses the tip of his cock against her, rubbing it along her folds and relishing her frustrated whimpers.

“Please discipline me further, Cardinal,” She says at last, biting her lip in anticipation.

Copia smirks, and pushes himself inside of her, filling her in a single hard thrust. Sister Serafina moans deeply as she stretches around him; dear Belial, he’s bigger than Papa was.

“Oh fuck yes,” he mutters under his breath.

She feels amazing, so hot and wet… He doesn’t give her very long to adjust to his size. Eager to have her, the Cardinal grasps her by the hips and starts to move. His thrusts are hard and fast, even though he knows that if he keeps up this pace, he won’t last very long at all.

Sister Serafina braces herself by gripping the desk. She’s no stranger to rough sex; the Ghouls she hooks up with from time to time tend to fuck like this. But right now, she’s remembering Papa’s slow, teasing thrusts. She’s thinking about how he’d pull out almost completely, before slamming back inside her. He’d go at this leisurely, tortuous pace until she begged him to go faster. She wants to be a fucked like that.

“What’s the rush, Cardinal?” She says, turning her head to look back at him.
“Afraid Sister Imperator will barge in?”

Her words make Copia stop thrusting altogether. He hadn’t considered the possibility that Sister Imperator might possibly want to check in and see how he’s doing.

“She wouldn’t…she’s too busy,” He whispers, fearfully.

The Sister gives a little giggle, and thrusts against him a little bit.

“Don’t worry, my Cardinal,” she purrs.
“She won’t be coming in here anytime soon. She’s just glad to be rid of me for a little while. You have all the time you need to teach me a lesson,”

Slowly, she tightens her inner muscles around his length, a trick of hers that used to delight Papa Emeritus so much that he’d beg her for it. Copia gives a choked gasp at the sensation. Sweet Satan, what is this she-devil?

“The Third used to savor me like a glass of fine wine,” she says, still milking him with her walls and slowly thrusting against his hips.
“Took as long as he wan-”

The Cardinal growls at the mention of his predecessor; and in one swift move, snatches up her wrists and pins them behind her back with one hand. His other hand firmly smacks her ass, making her cry out.

“Don’t mention him anymore,” he rasps.

Slowly, he starts to move inside her again. All the time he needs, eh? Well, he needed to slow down at some point, anyway. Satan knows what she would have said if he had come too early.

“All the time I need to teach you a lesson, hmm?” He purrs, keeping his pace easy.

What he wants to teach her is how different he is from The Third, how much better. At everything. Better at running the Church. Better at punishing errant Sisters. And of course, he wants her to know that he’s the better fuck.

His bare hand drifts between her legs, seeking her clit. When he finds it, his touch is light and teasing; but Sister Serafina is so worked up that even the slightest caress of his fingertips makes her buck her hips and writhe desperately underneath him. His thrusts speed up a little bit. A wild and glorious tension is building deep inside her.

“Oh fuck!” she manages to cry out. She’s so close, oh sweet Pazuzu, she’s close.

Abruptly, Copia pulls his hand away from her pussy to deliver a swift smack to her ass.

“Such a foul mouth, Sister,” he scolds, emphasizing each word with a snap of his hips, slamming into her as hard as he can.

“H-hypocrite…” She pants.
“I heard you swear earlier,”

The Cardinal stops moving, snatches up his discarded glove and gags her with it. Serafina can feel the silver Grucifix adorning it click against her teeth, and she growls at him through a mouth full of leather. It’s not the first time she’s been gagged in this office, but he really ought to give her some warning.

“I’m a leader of the Church,” He grunts, starting to thrust again.
“And this is my office. You are a Sister of Sin with a record the size of a phonebook and a reputation for making trouble. I used to wonder, whenever I saw or heard about one of your endless antics…why you weren’t punished more severely, or why you hadn’t been excommunicated like the other troublemakers…”

He reaches between her legs again, his fingers rubbing her clit. He’s pounding into her, not going gentle or slow at all now. He can feel her trembling underneath him, and hear her muffled whimpers. His gloved hand is still pinning her wrists in a death grip.

“But I know why now,” Copia croons, leaning over her to pull down the collar of her habit and bite her neck.
“It’s because of this sweet pussy of yours.”

“You’re damn right it is,” Sister Serafina says, surprising the Cardinal into stillness. He stops thrusting.

Distracted by ranting and fucking, the Cardinal had not noticed the Sister working the glove out of her mouth with her rather talented tongue. He doesn’t know what shocks him more, that she managed to spit out her gag, or her lack of shame.

“But that’s not the only thing that kept me in favor,” She continues.
“I have many charms, Cardinal,”

“Charms,” He repeats, not quite sure what she means. She could be talking about literal witchcraft for all he knew.

“Yes,” She purrs softly, starting the trick with her inner muscles again.

The Cardinal makes soft whimper at this sensation. He’s bedded a couple of Sisters here and there, but none of them ever did anything like this.

“I could please Papa like no other Sister of Sin,” Serafina says, pride in her voice, bragging even as she teases him.
“Do you know why he was so relaxed when he conducted Unholy Mass? Because of my smart mouth.”

The Sister looks back at him and licks her lips slowly, to emphasis her point. When his eyes widen in realization, she grins, and starts thrusting her hips against him, slowly. She never stops milking him with her quim.

It’s true his voice still occasionally wavered during sermons, or his hands shook during communion. Could she really help him with his stage fright by orally pleasing him? Suddenly, he remembers an Unholy Mass that took place last summer, when the Third was still in power. The air conditioning in the unholy chapel had broken down, and everyone was hot and cranky. Only Papa Emeritus seemed unbothered by the heat, going through the steps of mass with an almost supernatural calm. His eyes were hooded and glazed, the pupils dilated. Sister Serafina burst in, late as usual; with her habit askew and dark hair mussed. She was wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, and nervously checking the front of her habit. Papa looked up at the small commotion that was her arrival, and to the Cardinal’s surprise, had smiled at the errant sister. She returned the smile with her own knowing grin. Copia didn’t understand any of it then, but now…now it all adds up. Everything adds up. No matter what their personal opinion of her, everyone agreed that at least Sister Serafina was loyal; devoted to the Church, and to Papa Emeritus III. Now the Cardinal knows some of the depth of her loyalty, and some of the ways she shows it. Lost in his epiphany, his grip on her wrists slackens, and he finds himself absentmindedly pulling away from her.

Feeling only the emptiness between her legs, the Sister groans in annoyance, and rolls onto her side to look up at him. What the fuck is his problem now?

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She asks, exasperated.
“Is this part of my punishment? At least tell me if you’re going to edge me, for fuck’s sake. Papa Emeritus never pulled this bullsh-”

Sister Serafina squeals when Copia grabs her by the legs and flips her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head. He looms over her, his face close enough to kiss or bite. Their eyes meet, and she sees a heady brew of wrath and lust in them.

“I. Am. Not. Him.” He growls, rubbing his cock against her heat, making her bite her lip.
“I am nothing like him! I am better than him!”

She doesn’t challenge him. She wants to come. Instead of arguing, she wraps her legs around his waist, and gives him a slow, sweet smile.

“Then show me,” she says softly.
“Please, Cardinal?”

Copia shudders at the way she says his title, rolling it in her mouth like a sweet. He can hear her desire, her need. She probably hasn’t learned any humility or respect; she’s just desperate to reach her end. His cock twitches as is to say: “Does it matter?”. Perhaps it doesn’t.

“You beg so nicely,” He says, straightening up, and lining himself up with her entrance.
“Very well. But you don’t get to come until I say so,”

At that, he starts to push himself inside her, going slowly, savoring every sweet inch of her. When he’s buried to the hilt, he looks down at her face. The Sister’s eyes are closed, her long lashes brushing her cheeks as her mouth opens in a pleased moan.

“Look at me,” the Cardinal commands.

His ungloved hand flies from her wrist to her face, cupping it gently. When her eyes open to meet his, he starts to move inside her at an easy, almost gentle pace.

“Good girl,” He whispers, running his thumb over her lower lip.

Sister Serafina smiles, and then presses her lips against the pad of his thumb in a soft kiss before taking the digit gently in her mouth. Copia groans at the sight of it between her teeth, and thrusts a little harder, rolling his hips as he does so. This corkscrew movement makes her moan around his thumb. They never take their eyes off each other, even as his thrusts increase in speed and roughness. As they fuck, the Sister finds herself thinking that it wouldn’t be hurt to be to the Cardinal what she was to Papa Emeritus. It would be mutually beneficial; she could help him boost his confidence, and provide the same comfort and companionship she did for Papa. For her, it means good sex, and a little extra protection in a place that really embodies the Deadly, Decadent Court trope sometimes. She decides; he’s tasted her salt, now let him have her sweetness.

In a very bold move, she wriggles one of her wrists free of his grip, and pulls his thumb from her mouth. Then she grasps him by the collar and pulls him in close to her. Copia is shocked, but not dismayed, when she pushes her full lips against his in a soft, almost tentative kiss. He closes his eyes and allows himself to melt into it, deepening the kiss with his tongue. Now he knows, for all her attitude, that there’s a tender quality to her as well. She can be soft.

At last, the Cardinal breaks the kiss to come up for air. His pace has not faltered during this exchange, and the Sister’s pleasure has been growing, the glorious tension returning to her belly. Their eyes meet again, and she can tell by the way he’s looking at her; she has him.

“You can be a good girl, can’t you, Sister Serafina?” he purrs, swirling his hips again.
“I bet you’d like to come, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh yes, my Cardinal,” she gasps, squirming under him.

Something about the way she calls him her Cardinal makes Copia shudder in delight. Just for that, he won’t even make her say please. He straightens back up, and hauls her legs over his shoulders, raising her hips. This new angle allows him to hit her G-spot better, a sensation that makes her wail delightfully. The Cardinal smirks, no longer too concerned with anyone catching them. Then his hand slips between them, and he starts to circle and tease her clit with his thumb.

“T-thank you,” She pants, trembling underneath him.

He only grunts in response, concentrating on rewarding her. His thumb moves faster, and he thrusts all the harder. His own end isn’t very far off, and he bites his lip, hoping he can last just a bit longer.

“Come for your Cardinal,” Copia growls.

Oh, wouldn’t it be marvelous if she could climax at his command? And by sheer luck or coincidence, that’s exactly what happens. As soon as the words slip from his mouth, Sister Serafina comes and comes hard. Her toes curl inside her shoes, and she drenches the front of the Cardinal’s cassock in a rather impressive gush of fluid. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she howls so loudly that he has to muffle her with his hand, lest they actually get caught. It’s easily one of the most intense orgasms she’s ever had, and she never imagined that Cardinal Rat Boy would be the one to give it to her.

Copia keeps thrusting even as she tightens around him like a vise, even as she soaks his vestments in a startling deluge. He swells with pride knowing he was the one to make her come this hard. As the waves of pleasure subside, the Sister sighs his name.


He can hear the satisfaction in her voice, and that’s the final nail in the coffin for him. The Cardinal buries himself in her as deeply as he can, and empties himself into her, shuddering and groaning. A few shallow, final thrusts, and he collapses on top of her. Copia buries his sweating face into her neck, smearing black paint on her habit’s white collar.

Sister Serafina closes her eyes. She probably shouldn't have let him finish inside of her, but she’ll burn that bridge when she gets to it. The Church’s infirmary has an endless stock of the morning after pill.

The Cardinal shakes himself out of his post-orgasmic haze, and pushes himself up and off of her. He remembers that technically, he is supposed to be punishing her.

“Uh, have you learned your lesson?” He asks, tucking himself back into his now damp cassock.

The Sister raises herself on her elbows, the veil of her habit is askew, and loosened dark curls now frame her flushed face. Has she learned her lesson? She’s learned something alright. When she was Papa’s lover, she only knew of Copia as that awkward, ass-kissing Cardinal with the pet rats. Now she knows there’s much more to him than that, so much more.

“I suppose so,” she says, sitting up, trying to avoid the puddle they’ve left on the desk. Where’s her underwear?

The Cardinal moves closer to her, and gently puts his hand on her cheek. His touch is tender, almost caring, but his eyes blaze in triumph.

“And what have you learned?” He asks, huskily.

But before Sister Serafina can answer, there’s a knock on the door. They move fast; straightening out their clothes and fixing their hair. Copia even lets her use his handkerchief to wipe his black paint off her face and lips. Then they are reasonably presentable, The Cardinal pipes up:

Sister Imperator steps into the office, her nose curling at the stench of sex in the small room. It’s a heady and unmistakable miasma that one encounters often in this Church. Then she sees the Sister and the Cardinal. Copia’s biretta and one of his gloves are missing, his fascia is crooked, and Sister Serafina looks like the cat that ate the canary. The Church Elder should have known this would happen. It happened before, with Papa, and she should have known that the Cardinal wouldn’t be able to resist the Sister’s charms. She just didn’t want to go back to having to deal with Sister Serafina’s bullshit. It's easier, less stressful for everyone, if she just sends the younger woman out of her sight for a few hours. And who knows, perhaps it would be good for Copia. Imperator had to admit that in some ways, Sister Serafina had been good for Papa Emeritus; perhaps she could be the same for the Cardinal. Help him with his confidence; maybe he’d finally stop stuttering during sermons. And hopefully, he could be a good influence on the errant Sister of Sin.

“Ah, hello Sister,” Copia says, leaning casually against the desk, hoping Sister Imperator won’t notice the puddle on the desk, or the wet spot on his cassock for that matter.

“I came to see how things were coming along,” Imperator says.
“Sister Serafina is needed for Choir Practice. Is her punishment complete?”

“Ah yes, yes it is,” The Cardinal says with a wave of his hand.
“I believe our dear Sister has learned an important lesson in respect,”

Sister Imperator gives a nod, not wanting to know exactly what kind of lesson. As long as they’re discreet and don’t create drama, she doesn’t really care what the two of them do. And considering her own relationship with the Head of the Church, Papa Zero, she hasn’t got much room to judge.

“But I think to prevent future trouble, I should meet with her several times a week. For uh…guidance...and counseling,” Copia continues.
Sister Serafina’s eyes flick over to Imperator. Will she buy it?

She doesn’t buy it. But Sister Imperator still nods in agreement. Anything to get Serafina out of her hair for a few hours.

“Yes, of course. What a wonderful idea, Cardinal,” she says.
“But right now, Sister Serafina is needed at choir rehearsal.”

“The other sopranos are lost without me,” The Sister quips.

It’s the truth. Besides her loyalty, one of the things that had kept Sister Serafina in the Church was her surprising talent as a vocalist in the Church’s Choir. Even people who hated her had to admit that she had the singing voice of a (fallen) angel.

“Come along, Sister,” Imperator gestures.

Serafina steps forward, but a hand on her shoulder stops her. She turns to look at the Cardinal. What’s he up to? He holds out his gloved hand, glittering with rings.

“Ah-ah, Sister Serafina, before you go…” he says.

He wants her to kiss his ring. Of course. With mostly false humility, she bows over his hand and presses her lips to it. But because she is who she is, she can’t help herself; she looks up at him, winks and licks the piece of jewelry. Then she straightens back up and gives him an angelic smile while he blinks in surprise.

“V-very good,” he says.
“Satan be with you, Sister,”

“And also with you,” She says, glancing around the room one last time, still wondering where her panties got to.

Sister Imperator clears her throat. Time to go. The Cardinal bids them farewell, and the senior sister ushers the younger woman out the door. Choir rehearsal has already started.

As they step out of the office, and into the corridor, Sister Serafina cannot help but glance back into the room. Cardinal Copia is standing there; his eyes still gleaming in pride and triumph. Between his thumb and forefinger are her panties.