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Your legs shook beneath you as you stared at the dark wood of the door in front of you. You were fucked . A brief thought of packing a small bag and fleeing the Abbey flashed in your mind when you turned your head to look at the metal nameplate next to the door. In large, bold letters the name you never wanted to see in this situation was displayed proudly - Papa Emeritus II. You let a shaky breath out and raised a hand to knock softly against the wood. After a few moments pass with no response, you turn on your heels to flee before hearing a deep “come in” from the other side of the door. A sigh escapes you as you run a hand over your face - there was no escaping this situation. With shaky hands you reach out to the door knob, turning it slowly and entering the room.
There he is - the object of all your fears - sitting behind his desk scribbling his pen against some paperwork. He doesn’t even look up at you as you enter, clearly finding whatever task he’s involved in more interesting than whatever inquiry just walked through his door. You watch him as you walk up to stand behind in between chairs in front of his desk, admiring his intimidating paint that spans the entirety of the skin on his head. Your eyes trail to his neck, seeing his paint reach down under the neckline of his robe and you can’t help but wonder just how low it reaches. A low rumble of his voice snaps you out of your entirely inappropriate thoughts.
“Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to speak on whatever brings you to my desk? I am a very busy man.” He still doesn’t look up at you, but you shrink down in your spot nonetheless at his stern tone. He’s still scribbling at his paperwork as you work up the nerves to speak, your voice coming out small and timid.
“Good afternoon, Papa.” You dip your head in a small bow. “Sister Imperator sent me here because I misbehaved in Latin class…” You trailed off, fidgeting in your spot as you failed to find the courage to carry on.
“And what does that have to do with me?” He is always so straight to the point, and he sighs when you don’t answer him right away. He throws his pen down, pushing himself out from his desk slightly as his mismatched gaze finally meets yours. The sudden intensity of the situation has you folding your hands in front of you, looking away from his scrutinizing stare as you continue on with your explanation.
“I… questioned the accuracy of some of the Latin in… certain Ghost songs.” You cursed yourself for sounding like such a wimp, stuttering over your words and your voice carrying a slight tremble. You said a small prayer to Lucifer that he wouldn’t question you past that, but your prayer was not heard as he continued to stare you down.
“Explain.” The short word sent a shiver down your spine.
Despite the complete fear you felt in that moment, you continued your explanation. “Well, you see…” You brought your hands up out of habit, waving them around in the air as you spoke. “I understand that it fits better lyrically to write a certain way, but we can’t really ignore that some of the lyrics aren’t entirely accurate in our classes, which the teachers seem to be doing right now…” Your eyes snapped to him as you watched him prop his elbows up on his desk, leaning his head against them as he watched you. You swallowed before continuing. “So when I questioned the teacher, she got really mad at me.” Certainly that had to have been an acceptable enough answer for him to divvy out whatever punishment he seemed fit.
“And what was the song?”
Ah, that was the question you were dreading.
You let out a shaky breath, shifting in your spot as he continued to stare you down, his gaze darker as you explained your misbehavior to him. “Well… It was a couple songs from your album, Papa.” He doesn’t seem to react to that. “Both Infestissumam and Per Aspera Ad Inferi have Latin that isn’t very accurate…”
The office is silent as you look downward at your feet, embarrassment flooding your every sense making your head hurt. You felt like crying.
“Explain these inaccuracies.” His voice comes out calmer than you expected. It doesn’t help to quell the embarrassment within you but you’re able to steel your nerves a bit to look up at him to meet his intimidating eyes. Fuck it, you’re already here and you’re not escaping this punishment, you might as well show some confidence in the face of death.
“It’s in the grammar, Papa. For example… Per aspera ad inferi isn’t even right in and of itself. It’s supposed to be ‘per aspera ad inferum.’ The way you used the Latin word for hell is all wrong…” That gets a response from him. He lets out a huff before he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, tilting his head to the side. A small smirk pulls at the corners of his mouth, but the smile is nothing if not cruel .
“I take it you know Latin quite well, hmm?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, slight amusement in his voice. It sends a chill through your body - there is absolutely no reason he should be amused and the fact that he is feels like a bad sign. His voice drops in pitch as he challenges you. “Okay, say something else in Latin to me.” Oh God, why does his low voice send a wave of arousal through your body?
You sweat in your spot as he watches you. You hadn’t expected him to ask for so many details, much less challenge you. Your mind blanks as you try to rack through anything you’ve learned since joining the church. There are a million things you could say, but it’s all so overwhelming that you can’t even begin to piece together a good response. You blurt out the first thing your mind grabs onto, an instant pang of regret coursing through your body.
“Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo.”
There’s a beat of silence as he takes in what you just said to him.
Then another beat of silence.
Then another.
Oh, you’re majorly fucked.
The next thing you hear is the screech of his chair legs against the floor as he stands. You watch him creep around his desk, his chasuble flowing behind him as he glides across the floor. His expression is dark as he comes to stand in front of you, looking down his nose and sneering at you.
“Do you even know what you just said to me?” You nod, unable to meet his gaze as you look down at his chest. He brings his hand up to caress your jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle as he tilts your head up to clash his mismatched gaze against yours. His jaw tightens as he looks down at you, a nerve twitching in front of his ear. He looks mad , and it sends heat straight down to your core. You mentally curse yourself for feeling this way as he looks at you - it was entirely inappropriate in the moment but you couldn’t help it.
The moment is short lived as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, reaching further back to grab a fistful of hair and throw you around him into the front of his desk. You let out a small groan as your hips collide with the hardwood, pain shooting through your body as you try to stand back up. Your movements are interrupted by a firm hand on your back, the strength of the man behind you pushing your torso down into the wood.
“Stay.” He leaves no room for arguments. You can spot some movement in your peripherals but you don’t dare to turn your head to look as you hear him grab his Grucifix cane. He glides back behind you, resting the cane against the desk next to you and running his hands over your ass over the cloth of your habit. The caress is short lived as he grabs at the hem, tugging it up and over your hips. There’s a pause before you hear some ruffling of fabric behind you. A pang of excitement runs through your body. Was it really this easy to get into Secondo’s pants? A little bit of disobedience really gets you laid? You smile as you push your hips back, arching your back to put on a small show for him.
Your heart drops and you pause as you hear the sound of a switchblade open behind you. That’s not what you had expected. He runs the knife along your skin, dragging the sharp edge against you and you don’t dare to move lest his grip slips and it causes damage. You can’t help but be slightly annoyed as he runs the edge against your panties, cutting the cloth off of you. Those panties were some of your favorites.
As if he can feel the annoyance in your mood, he mutters out a stern “behave” and sets the knife down on the desk next to you. He grabs the cane, moving behind you before bending down to whisper in your ear.
“You will count. I will not tell you how many I am giving you, but you will take them all and if you don’t then I will give you more .” The sound of his low voice and the feel of his hot breath against your ear sends a shiver down your spine.
He gives you no time to prepare before you hear the movement of his robes from the windup of his swing and the small “whoosh” of air when he brings the Grucifix down against your bare ass and upper thighs. You scream out, white hot pain shooting through you at the collision. You can’t help but drop your head between your elbows, muttering out a small “one” before he brings another smack down on you. You continue like that for three more strikes before you feel your tears break the dam of your eyes and start running down your face. Each strike sends a pang of torturous pain through you, the large Grucifix leaving your entire backside red hot and sensitive. There’s a short pause after his seventh strike before you hear his voice ring out behind you.
“Just a few more. Can you take it?” You nod between your elbows, body convulsing with sobs as you try but fail to focus on anything other than the throbbing pain left in the wake of his cane. He brings his gloved hand down against your ass, not nearly as painful as the cane but still causing you to whine out. “I need a verbal answer. Can you take it ?” His voice is demanding this time, an edge to it warning you that if you don’t follow his orders there will be further, more severe consequences. You whimper out a small “yes” before he hums.
You steel your nerves before the oncoming pain shoots through you again. Nothing could have prepared you for the fact that he turned his cane upside-down in his grasp, now hitting you with the skinny end of the handle. The pain is blinding, your head pounding as you scream out in agony. You sob out the next number, feeling completely pathetic as you wept in front of him. The next two strikes are given in quick succession, not giving you the chance to count between your yelps of pain.
The room is silent apart from the sobs you can’t hold back, your body laying limp against his desk as the pain throbs throughout your entire body. You hear him shift slightly, and feel his hands smooth over your sensitive skin. The stinging feel of his leather gloves makes you cry out, giving you the indication that he definitely broke skin and is admiring his work. One of his arms wraps around you as he brings his fingers up to your lips.
“Open.”
You do as you’re told, opening your lips and allowing him to push the soiled leather against your tongue. The taste of the iron of your blood mixed with the leather as you suck is almost a bit intoxicating, and you can’t help but moan as you clean his gloves of your life essence. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth after he’s satisfied, feeling him shift again to bring those fingers down to run along the crack of your ass. You tense as you feel his fingers circle your tight ring of muscle. He hums behind you thoughtfully before repeating your earlier phrase back to you.
“Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo.”
Your eyes widen before you feel the push of his leather glove, the resistance burning slightly as he sinks his finger deeper into you. It was impossible to not squirm at the uncomfortable feeling of the intrusion. He brings his other hand against your upper back, holding you down as he starts to work his long finger in and out of you, stretching you to prepare you to take another finger. He withdraws his first finger, running two along the ring of muscle before pushing in with both. When you feel the stretch, you drop your head against the wood desk and whine.
“You are doing good for me, dolce.” Oh, that sends a shiver down your spine. You moan quietly as he works his two fingers in and out of you. The uncomfortable sensation fades, turning to pleasure as he reaches his fingers deep within you. Just as it starts to feel really good, he withdraws and you can hear him take his gloves off before reaching beside you to grab an object off of the desk. Your head is cloudy as you tried to recall what he had set down earlier, unable to remember.
Secondo bends forwards once again, trailing the mystery object up your back and bringing it in front of your face. In his hand is the knife he had used earlier to cut your panties off. The sight makes your breath quicken, a small feeling of fear creeping up on you as he turns it over in his hand, now holding the blade between his fingers as he smacks the handle against your mouth.
“Open.”
You do as you’re told, afraid of the consequences if you disobey. The wood and metal of the handle is smooth against your tongue and slightly salty from his previous handlings. You try your best to cover it in spit, the implications of what he was going to be doing with it making you shudder as he withdraws it from your mouth. He doesn’t waste any time, bringing it behind you and rubbing it against your hole.
“This is a dangerous game we play, tesora. Be sure to not falter.” His voice is low, teasing you and you swear you can hear the smirk that’s planted on his face. He pushes the handle of his knife into you, watching as you take it in. He pushes it until the hilt of the knife is just outside of the ring of muscle before beginning to move it in and out of you. You moan at the feel of the cool wood and metal inside you, the drag feeling almost divine if not for the pang of fear that runs through you every time he pushes it back inside, unable to ignore the danger of the act.
It sets you on edge, and you’re surprised when you find much more pleasure in the act than you initially thought you would. You start to moan as he continues his movements, resisting the urge to push back against him and throw off his rhythm. The last thing you expect is to feel his other hand trail downwards along your ass, his fingers trailing against your slit as he reaches your clit and circles it with his bare fingers. It causes you to cry out, the combined sensations sending your head reeling as you tense your legs slightly.
“Tch. Careful, cara mia. Any small movement could lead to a disaster. You do not want that, do you?” His voice was scrutinizing but almost strained as he continued to work your ass and your clit. You nod as you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his fingers against you and the drag of the knife handle inside of you. It’s amazing how he can make something so dangerous , so enticing . You feel yourself nearing your climax, moans turning into whines as he works his fingers in earnest against your clit.
“I’m going to cum, Papa.” You whine out and your words spur him on, his fingers against your clit almost hypnotic as you lose yourself in the pleasure.
“Brava ragazza, vieni per tuo Papa.” He showers you with praises, causing the tension within you to snap and it takes everything to not shake too much against the knife within you as he pushes it inwards, pinching your clit as your climax washes over you. The pain clashes with the pleasure and it only intensifies the sensation, your head hurting as he works you through your orgasm. You fall limp against the desk, breath heavy as you bask in the afterglow of your pleasure, whining as he withdraws the knife from your ass and sets it off to the side.
After a short pause he clears his throat. His voice is low, an edge to it making his mood almost unreadable. “I believe there was a second half to your obscene declaration, tesora.”
You don’t even hesitate as you turn yourself around and kneel before him, the pain of your ass against your heels reminding you of his earlier punishment. You wince slightly and he laughs down at you, reaching one hand down to tangle in your hair as his other worked his robes open to free himself from his confines.
Fuck, his cock almost looked like it had to ache . He moans softly as he takes it into his hand, stroking from the thick base all the way to the dark pink tip, the collection of precum there making your mouth water. His size was intimidating, but it only served to make your mouth water more as you imagine what he’d feel like inside of you.
“Sii buono per me, mia cara.” He pulls your face forward towards him, rubbing his cock past your mouth and up the side of your nose, giving your face a few smacks before positioning himself in front of your mouth. He groans as he pushes into you, your lips stretching around his girth perfectly . He worked himself in and out a few times, using his hand in your hair as leverage to move you up and down on his shaft, wetting his dick to make the stretch easier.
You are caught off guard as he thrusts hard into your mouth, reaching the back of your throat and holding you there for a moment as you gagged around him. He pulls you off of him completely, letting you sputter against a fist a bit as you try to regain your composure in front of him. He reaches down and caresses your jaw once more, bringing your eyes up to his.
“I will take my pleasure from you, dolce, and you will be good for me.” His words are demanding and you nod up at him. He places both of his hands on either side of your head and enters your mouth once more, giving you no time at all to prepare before he grabs your hair in pigtails and starts face-fucking you in earnest. You try your best to breathe around him when you can, gag reflex kicking with every thrust causing tears to spill over and run down your face. He fucks your mouth through it all and the moans that start to spill from him make it all worth the work. You focus on the taste of his length against your tongue as you listen to the obscene squelch of his thrusting, the sound causing you to moan around him.
Your eyes trail upwards to watch him as he uses your mouth to chase his high, and the sight is breathtaking. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he watches you, his mouth slightly agape as he pants and moans. His paint is running slightly at his temples from sweat, the black mixing with the white to make him look downright sloppy .
He pushes himself deeper, each thrust reaching past the resistance in the back of your throat, your nose meeting the graying hairs at the base of his cock as he forces you to deepthroat him. Moans are spilling out of him at this point, low and breathy and it spurs you on to move your tongue against the underside of his cock, pulling out every ounce of pleasure you can milk from him. With a loud groan he pulls you all the way down on him, his dick kicking in your throat as you feel him tighten his grip in your hair and empty himself into you. You do your best to take all of it in, gagging slightly as your head starts to feel light from the lack of oxygen he’s allowing you by being shoved so far down your throat. Once he’s had his fill he lets go of your hair and allows you to pull off of him, landing on your ass and causing you to squeal out in pain from his earlier punishment.
Your lungs ache as you cough into your fist, the taste of him salty on your tongue. It’s hard to see him through the tears in your eyes but you hear him kneel down in front of you. His hands run along your arms, trailing upwards to your jawline to bring your face up to his as he places a long kiss on your forehead.
“You did so well for me, tesora. I do hope you’ve learned your lesson, though.”