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“Papa?” Sister Imperator knocked upon the door to the second-floor fitting room. It had seen its fair share of new clergy members measured and found wanting of robes, but long had it been since it was graced by a Papa.
“Come in,” she heard him answer, and she stepped through the threshold. She could swear she heard choral music.
“Papa,” she said, nodding to him. The fitting room was a simple affair. A floor-length mirror stood at the center, while cabinets with supplies and fabrics lined the wall. Two tailors fussed around the new Papa as they straightened out his attire, scribbling notes and snipping away loose threads.
“Sister,” Papa Emeritus Zero murmured, his gaze meeting hers through the mirror. His white eye gleamed with unholy understanding, while his green eye – the vestige of his past life - watched her cautiously, reverently – still with the meekness of a lamb freshly led to slaughter. It had only been a week since the “party,” after all, and he was still growing accustomed to his role.
The transformation from layman to Papa Emeritus Zero may have been total and consummate through their Unholy Matrimony, but it wasn’t as though he’d abruptly shed the personality he’d come into the ministry with. He was a gentle soul, curious but unsullied, wary but drawn to the darkness, as that was his home. It was only in the flashes of his smile, in the carnality with which he kissed her, that she felt the wellspring of power that was Papa Emeritus Zero.
As if reading her thoughts – which, he probably was, by virtue of his eye, or was she reading his, by virtue of being his Prime Mover? – his breathing deepened, his jaw clenching, teeth bared with desire.
“What do you think, Sister?” the newly minted Papa Nihil asked, holding his arms out as he turned around to show her his robes. The white and gold brocade showed off his broad shoulders, and the Papal mitre that rested upon his head made him look taller, more imposing. He cut a fine figure, especially with the face markings that signified his position. Even the tailors observed him with adoration and no small amount of lust in their eyes.
The Sister Imperator was silent for a moment, and she found that she was also breathing hard, her chest rising and falling with his as they stared at each other.
“Yes,” she could only whisper, which he also echoed –
“Yes.” A smile finally licked at his lips, and there it was – that wickedness, that promise, that flash of dark power that was Papa Emeritus Zero –
Before she knew it, he was lunging at her, his hands grasping her face as he greedily tilted her head up to receive his kiss. He kissed her hungrily, his mouth devouring hers, his tongue tasting her deep, and Sister let out a guttural moan as she felt fire and brimstone beneath his lips. Shit, she was already wet – just like that. She was aching between her thighs, and her breasts felt constrained in her prim and proper office attire.
She could feel the two tailors watching them raptly, and she momentarily pulled away to gasp for air and to tell them –
“Leave us. Now.”
They knew better than to protest the Sister Imperator’s wishes, and they stepped out of the room silently. Well. It looked like it was going to happen again – right here, right now, like this. Normally Sister Imperator didn’t mind putting on a show, but she was going to be selfish today. She wanted Papa Nihil all to herself, and the Devil, of all entities, wasn’t going to tell her off for being uncharitable.
“Oh, seestor,” he murmured, humbled by how greedy and possessive she was. She didn’t know if he was putting on the accent to amuse her, or because the Dark One somehow wanted all his clergy to have interesting accents – probably both. Goddamn it, for the anti-pope, Nihil was so damn adorable. His occasionally sunshiny nature was one facet of his personality that had come out since his inauguration, and it had taken Sister by surprise. Not that she was complaining – it was tiring to have members of the clergy who were all focused on being edgy and cool all the time, as if they were all still high school kids.
“What do you think?” Papa whispered, bringing her back to the present as he pressed his hard cock against her belly through their clothes. His gaze softened as he asked her silently for permission. The man was simply besotted by her, and the juxtaposition of being asked by such a powerful figure for her approval was a feeling that she could get used to.
“I think… you should keep the robe on,” Sister said, her smile growing when his eyes widened and he actually flushed beneath his white face paint. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it.
“But seestor, won’t that be difficult to wash? I don’t know if these robes are dry clean only…”
“It won’t be the first time you’ll get something on those robes,” Sister told him wickedly. “Besides… We’ll need to bless them, and unholy water just won’t do. It needs to be something… stronger. Harder.”
He swallowed, his breath stuttering as his hips jerked against her. “Can I at least…” His large, dexterous hands – perfect for playing an instrument – slid forward to cup her breasts, not applying any pressure. If only she could keep him this way, meek and eager to please, just for her. Papa Nihil needed to be strong and assertive if he was going to lead their congregation of dark rock, but for now, he was her cute little black sheep.
“You may,” she purred. Immediately he began to unbutton her blazer, pushing it off her shoulders, then the crisp, white blouse underneath. He let out a low groan when he saw that she was wearing black lace, and he kneaded her breasts eagerly through the fabric, fingers ghosting across her aching nipples.
“Yes… Like that,” she sighed, biting down on her lip as her skin began to tingle with electric desire. No one could get her as riled up as Papa Nihil. Sister Imperator had no shortage of admirers, human and non-human alike, and she’d indulged many of them in rituals or simply for fun, but Papa Nihil… he was different. And it wasn’t just because he was a Papa and she was his Prime Mover. Papas and Prime Movers needn’t have had sexual or romantic relationships – in the past, several Papas had had their mothers or biological siblings as their Prime Movers. Some even had antagonistic relationships, held in check only by their loyalty to the Dark One. No, the relationship between a Papa and his Prime Mover was unique to each pair, and it just so happened that hers and Papa Nihil’s was one where they wanted to fuck each other’s brains out.
Sister let out a little gasp when he flicked his nails over the lacy fabric, which she felt him return with a low growl as he kissed her again, swallowing the noises she made. And then he found the clasp behind her back and unhooked it, pushing her bra off of her along with the rest of her clothes. She helped him by pulling her skirt off, leaving her in her lacy panties and stockings. The sight of it only seemed to enflame Papa Nihil; he carefully steered her so that her back was against the wall, and he sank down onto his knees before her, kissing the dip of her stomach and running the hot wetness of his tongue across her navel.
“Fuck,” she ground out. The sight of him kneeling before her, in full Papal regalia, while he looked up at her with hunger and reverence, was oh-so-delicious. No wonder the Devil enjoyed worship. She knew she did.
He took his time kneading her breasts, molding them to his palms, tweaking her pinkened nipples and suckling at them until she was whimpering and shaking. She felt like she was melting into his hands, into a throbbing pool of nothing but pure need, but he held her up, even as he nuzzled and kissed her breasts.
It was almost a welcome reprieve when he finally sank lower, his breath fanning across her oversensitive skin. “Sister?” he whispered, mouthing the band of her stockings as his fingers splayed out across her thighs. She nodded, and he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and tugged the fine black mesh down her hips, her knees, her ankles. She stepped out of her heels and he slid her stockings off completely. Her mouth went dry when he removed his mitre so that he could bend down to kiss her feet in deference. Fucking hell.
He looked up at her again questioningly, and she gave him an indulgent smile as she cupped his cheek, running her thumb across his swollen lips. “Yes,” she told him, and he pulled her panties off and guided her to raise her leg so that she could hook her knee upon his shoulder.
“Oh – ” Her vision actually went white when he parted her lips and dragged the flat of his tongue across her clit. It felt so good, and a rush of wetness came to greet him as he kissed her deep between the cradle of her thighs. “Just like that, Papa Nihil,” Sister whimpered, her fingers grasping his coiffed hair as she held herself steady. She was shivering already, dark fire thrumming through her veins and coiling in the pit of her belly as he sucked and licked at her pleasure, working the swollen pearl, using lips and tongue and teeth to make her come –
It didn’t take long because loathe as she was to admit it, she was already ripe for the picking the moment she’d seen him in his Papal robes. She let out a wail as her whole body seized up, her toes curling and hips rolling and shuddering onto his mouth as her pleasure exploded in a gush of delicious liquid heat. He lapped it all up obediently, keeping his tongue moving against her so that he could prolong the throes of her climax, until every last drop of her was spent.
She came to with a gasp, her chest heaving, her back flush against the wall as he held her up by her hip and by the knee he had placed on his shoulder. He was smiling up at her, his face impish and mischievous with desire, but there was childlike wonder there too – like a young boy on Christmas day (a perfectly commercial holiday) after having received the present that he’d wished for all year.
“Did you like it, seestor?” He was partly teasing, partly sincere, and she favored him with a wry grin. Oh, no – she felt the giggles coming up, as it did after a full-body orgasm, and she leaned back onto the wall with a happy sigh.
“It was a perfect start to our ritual, Papa Nihil,” Sister Imperator said, giving in to the giggles. He laughed joyously too and caught her as she sank down into his arms. He made a sight, his new Papal robes mussed, his hair wild from where she’d gripped him, his face paint smeared around his mouth.
“Kiss me,” she commanded, and he obeyed, pressing his lips to hers with abandon. He pulled her in close so that she was flush against him, the threads of his brocade tickling her skin. Together they fell back onto the floor, but Sister noticed that he kept her atop him so that she wouldn’t be naked on the cold, hard marble. That was sweet of him – not all rituals were on beds, as they were currently proving, but she appreciated the tenderness of the gesture.
It was time for his reward, wasn’t it?
Smiling deviously at him, she guided him to scoot back so that he could lie down as comfortably as he could on the floor, his legs stretched out. She reached for his mitre and placed it back on his head, stroking his face with – dare she say it - affection. He was once again watching her with hooded, gentle eyes, his long lashes visible despite the pitch-black paint surrounding them.
“It’s time to bless your new robes,” Sister murmured with a smile. She tugged the hem of his Papal robes up to expose his knees, this thighs, then his waist – and she then pulled his boxers down to reveal his cock, hard and ready, already slick with precome. She let out a hum of approval, and together they worked to divest him of his underwear, tossing it aside.
As soon as he was ready, Sister moved to Papa Nihil’s side and stretched out beside him. She could see the protest in his expression, not wanting her to be uncomfortable on the floor, but she nodded to tell him that it was alright. She wanted to be able to kiss him.
She held her hand up to his mouth. “Lick it,” she commanded, and he complied without any questions, covering her palm with his saliva. Once she was satisfied, she reached down to grasp Papa’s cock, enjoying the shaky breath that he drew as soon as her fingers went around him.
She knew it also wouldn’t be long for him. He was too hard already, and his body was writhing beneath her touch, try as he might to suppress it. Sister began to stroke him slowly, and his lips parted as he gasped for air, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
“No, Papa. Look at me,” she told him firmly, and he struggled to open his eyes as she increased the pace ever-so-slightly – but he obeyed, forcing himself to look at her, clenching his jaw as moans rumbled in his throat. “Don’t forget, Papa, this is a ritual – you’re supposed to be blessing the robes of your office,” she reminded him, her smile taunting.
He bit down on his lip, nodding in response to her words. “O-Of course, ah – Sister Imperator,” he managed, holding his hands up in benediction. The words came to him, by power of the eye bestowed unto him and his bloodline, despite the prayer never having been taught to him. “O Dark One, send your unholy spirit with a blessing upon these Papal robes… nnnh - and this office… that, fortified by the might and seduction of your darkness, it may help and aid me, Papa Emeritus Zero / Papa Nihil, who shall make use of it. With this seed, I – I spill your blessing into this office!”
He struggled to breathe as soon as he finished the prayer, his hands falling to his sides, gripping his sleeves until his knuckles went white. Sister Imperator never slowed her pace, keeping the carnal tempo even as his hips bucked and his body rippled. He was trying his best to follow her command, to watch her, even as he was overtaken by pleasure.
“So mote it be,” Sister said solemnly, leaning down to kiss him. His breathing was ragged, and the way he kissed her back was feral and starved, but he drank from her lips like a man parched with thirst, his tongue tangling with hers.
“Please, sister, I – fuck – I’m coming,” Papa whimpered against her, pulling back so he could look into her eyes. “Please.”
“Yes,” she said softly, smiling, and his white eye flashed with dark light before rolling into the back of his head as he came hard, spilling his seed onto her hand and onto his new robes. She felt the tingle of black magic swirl around them, and a blast of negative light engulfed his figure.
He cried out as his hips jerked roughly in orgasm, and Sister eased him through it, pumping him until the last of his seed and the last quake of pleasure rumbled into mild aftershocks, and finally, peace.
It took him a while to come to – enough time for Sister to draw the grucifix onto her bare chest with his fluids and to wipe the remainder of it onto the front of his robe. It was her turn to watch him like this, his flushed face cooling from the aftermath of their pleasure. He really was handsome, and Sister found herself gnawing at her lip before chiding herself for not giving in to temptation. She leaned over again and kissed him, and he responded slowly, but surely, his hands finding her face to cup her cheeks.
It probably wouldn’t always be like this. Soon enough, he’d be busy. He had already begun the lessons on unholy scripture, on the history of his predecessors, on music theory, on marketing a band. Then he had to learn some instruments. He’d already signified wanting to learn the guitar and the saxophone. Finally, he’d be performing more dark rituals on stage and bringing delightfully decadent rock music to the masses. Soon enough, he’d be swarmed by people wanting to bear his heirs, as it was foretold; the bloodline must always be secured. But for now, while he was getting ready for the limelight… he was all Sister’s, and she selfishly found herself wanting it to stay that way.
She parted from him, and his eyes finally came back into focus to watch her reverentially, just as she’d earlier commanded him to. Sister smiled as he ran his thumb across her cheek.
“Was I good, seestor?” he asked with a naughty grin, and she found herself laughing as she kissed the pad of his thumb.
“Very good, Papa. You were a very good little lamb.”
He nodded in satisfaction. “I think the Papal robes are perfect.”
Sister allowed him to see her scan him up and down, from the mitre now askew on his head down to the wrinkled, come-smeared silk brocade hiked above his waist.
“I think so too. But you know…” She pursed her lips, looking at him in thought. “My Sister Imperator robes haven’t been blessed… Shall we set a schedule for that?”
His eyes widened as a smile spread across his face, dark and hungry. “Yes, seestor. Anything for you.”
Sister smiled. She’d decided on it. Getting ready for his debut was going to be so much fun.