Bloody Mary hangs panting and disheveled from the cross, restrained by chains of holy silver, his robes in such disarray it looks as though he's attempting a seduction even now. He writhed when the holy water touched his skin, cursing the attempt to cleanse the foulness from him, but now he has recovered his composure enough to sneer once more.
"Is that the best you can do?" he asks bitterly. "You think more of your sanctified frigidity will cure me of my hunger? Your church is pathetic. Lifeless."
Pretzel backhands him. Bad enough for him to resist reform, but to mock the very institution that seeks to save him is unforgivable.
A trickle of blood runs from the corner of his mouth and Bloody Mary licks his lips, slow and obscenely sensual. "So you do have a little fire after all, Father." He writhes, pulling against the chains, even though they bite into his fine pale skin and make him wince in pain. "Perhaps you're more like my mistress than you'd like to admit. She enjoyed watching her victims suffer helplessly, too."
"I am nothing like her," Pretzel snaps, though arguing is the wrong course of action; it makes Bloody Mary's eyes brighten and that hateful smile dance on his lips. "We have been too lenient with you, monster."
There are ways to prevent a penitent from speaking. Pretzel should have been using them before now.
He brings up a spare loop of chain, one with a single much larger ring threaded along its length. That ring he pushes between Bloody Mary's lips, ignoring the monster's noise of outrage, and twists the chain so the ring forces his mouth wide, metal lodged just behind his teeth. Once the chain is fastened behind his head, it makes a very serviceable restraint, preventing him from blaspheming and denying him the ability to bite.
He glares, icy blue eyes narrowed, lips spread wide and the lush inside of his mouth visible. He's caused such harm with that mouth, with that appetite. Perhaps his punishment should be more targeted.
Pretzel slips his fingers into Bloody Mary's open mouth, feeling the strange coolness of his flesh, the velvety texture of his tongue. Even the angry sound the monster makes is sensual, another attempt at seduction. Perhaps this is where the holy water should be applied, to cleanse the source of the filth. Or perhaps—Pretzel pushes his fingers deeper, all the way to the knuckle, and Bloody Mary barely struggles—perhaps something warmer is called for. Pretzel's flesh stirs at the thought, but this isn't about him or his desires; it's about reforming a Food Soul who should be an aid to humans instead of a predator to them.
But perhaps the lesson in subservience will do him good. He certainly needs to be reminded of the virtue of restraining his vicious hungers. Pretzel strokes Bloody Mary's tongue, slowly, and the more he considers the idea the more convinced he is that this is the proper course.
"You are here because the Holy See believes there could yet be virtue in you," Pretzel says, withdrawing his hand with an effort. Bloody Mary makes a harsh, disbelieving noise. Pretzel shakes his head. "It's true. We believe you could be saved. That there is more to you than your sinful hungers. But you must learn to submit."
A wave of his hand is enough to make the chains obey, to pull the penitent down to a kneeling position, arms still held behind him around the shaft of the cross. Bloody Mary glares up at Pretzel, then turns his face away as if in disgust when Pretzel parts his robes.
"Hypocrisy doesn't suit you," Pretzel says as he takes out his cock and coaxes it the rest of the way to hardness. There are extensive records of Bloody Mary's deadly seductions and he is at least as likely to prey on men as on women. "Or is it the knowledge that you can't end this encounter in carnage that displeases you?"
He snarls a hand in Bloody Mary's fine silken hair and pulls him into easy reach, rubbing the head of his cock over those stretched, sinful lips. Does the warmth of his flesh make the monster hunger? Is that what prompted the trickle of saliva from the corner of his open mouth?
"You have to learn to submit," Pretzel says as he slides his cock through the ring and into Bloody Mary's mouth. "You have to learn to accept your role." The softness of Bloody Mary's tongue is even more obscene against the shaft of his cock than it was against his fingers. "We are meant to serve, to give succor to those who brought us into being." Bloody Mary tugs against his grip and he tightens it, thrusting deeper. "You can still repent."
It's hard to stay focused on the words. When he thrusts deep, he can feel Bloody Mary's throat clutch at the head of his cock, trying to swallow him down. Pretzel does it again, then again, holds himself there until Bloody Mary starts to truly struggle for air. A Food Soul cannot truly suffocate, but they can suffer; those who have not made themselves too monstrous can fear. By the time Pretzel pulls back there are tears running down Bloody Mary's face—likely mere reflex, but those will do until true penitence can be achieved.
He whines as Pretzel thrusts faster, his tongue moving as if to coax still rougher use: a seducer even now. But it's a step, perhaps, toward true reform. Toward him learning his place. Pretzel uses his mouth without hesitation, as it should be.
And perhaps Pretzel should pull out to finish, rather than give him any of the heat he so clearly craves—but no, showing him some mercy in reward for this cooperation is warranted. Pretzel stays there, thrusting into that wet softness, until he reaches his climax, and spills his seed into Bloody Mary's thirsty mouth.
When Pretzel pulls out afterward, Bloody Mary tips his head back to keep any of the precious fluid from spilling out of his open mouth. His throat works visibly as he swallows, and he moans. Then he looks at Pretzel and makes another incoherent, demanding noise, pulling against the chains.
Pretzel steps back, tucking himself back into his clothes. "I think we may finally be making progress," he says. He makes no move to rearrange the chains; the position seems quite appropriate, humbling and vulnerable. "Spend some time in quiet prayer, meditating on this experience, and we can resume later on."
Bloody Mary makes another animal sound as he turns away, but Pretzel pays it no mind. This was the right approach to take; he's sure of it.
Perhaps he should speak with the others, and see if any of them would like to assist with the rehabilitation as well.