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i-ate-the-whole-entire-pie · 2 years ago

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Worthy

Pss pss pss!!! Here Secondhoes!

Just a little shameless Secondo smut to help me cope with some stuff I’m going through. It’s always old-man-loving-hours in this house.

TW——-

Unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamic, verbal degradation, safe wording, rope play, impact play with riding crop, blindfolding, biting

I raised my fist hesitantly to the door. He’s always so busy. He won’t have time for you. Why would he want to give you his time anyhow? You’re nothing. I took a step back, but then shook the thoughts from my head.

The worst he can say is “no.” I sighed, wringing my hands nervously. Raising my fist again, I summoned all of my courage, and rapped my knuckles against the door three times. Here we go.

The door opened slowly, and the sight behind it left me breathless. It appeared as if I had interrupted him undressing. Secondo was wearing his slacks, a white collared shirt, unbuttoned to mid chest. He still wore his papal paint and robe, but the robe was undone as well. From under the collared shirt, his chest was visible, sparsely littered with salt-and-pepper hair. A lump rose in my rose as I wondered what it would be like to rest my head there.

“Sister? What brings you here? Have you been crying?” Papa asked. I was surprised, and somewhat relieved to hear a note of concern in his voice.

“May I come in?” I asked, my voice just barely above a whisper. He stepped aside, and held the door open for me, holding an arm out to welcome me in.

“But of course, Tesoro.” I walked in, and took a look around. So many books, and many jars of varied dried goods and wet specimens. His dedication to the Craft had always been admirable. The tell-tale sound of a kettle’s shrill shriek assaulted my ears, causing me to jump and clap my hands over my ears. Papa chuckled, and ran to the hob.

“I do apologize, Sister. I was just about to make a cup of tea. Would you care for a cup? It’s rose and mint from Primo’s garden,” he said, gesturing to the jar he now held. I nodded, and smiled, to show my agreement. He turned back to the hob, after flashing me one of his rare smiles.

“Bene. Honey?” Papa prompted. Honey? Me? I looked up at him, confused. He smiled again. It seemed I had a knack for pulling them out of him.

“Pardon?” I said, trying not to choke. He gave me a warm chuckle. Heat crept up into my face, painting my visage scarlet.

“Le mie scuse, Sister. Would you like honey with your tea? Once again, courtesy of Primo. He is an excellent beekeeper,” Papa explained, holding out a jar of amber, cloudy honey.

“Oh, I see now. Yes please,” I said. Secondo smiled yet again. I did my best to hide my blush.

“Please, have a seat. What brings you to my office this late, my dear Sister?” Papa gestures to the table, bringing our tea and saucers with him. I sat, and graciously accepted the cup. He held up a hand, stopping me from taking the first sip.

“It needs to steep, Tesoro. Good things take time,” he said. Taking my cup from me, he showed me how to steep the loose tea by placing the saucer over the cup. Despite his usual terrifying disposition and mannerisms, here in his chambers, Secondo seemed almost gentle.

He gestured at me, and passed me the tin of tea cakes that sat on the table. “Continue, per favore.” I looked down at the table, unable to make eye contact, wringing my hands once again.

“Um… I was told by the Siblings that you have very s-s-specific tastes. Particularly in the bedroom,” I started. He nodded, and laced his fingers together, gazing back at me with… amusement? Curiosity?

“Si, it is no secret, or news, for that matter. Why does this concern you at this hour, Sister?” Papa asked, cocking his head to the side. My face began to feel hot, and I dipped my head low again.

“Look at me, Sister,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. I could see now the more terrifying, Papa Emeritus II. I looked up at him, trying not to cry. My bottom lip jutted out, quivering with my efforts. You’re wasting his time.

“Is it those tastes you seek?” He asked. I was fighting back the tears now. Papa’s mismatched eyes gazed back at me, softening as he saw the struggle on my face. I finally nodded. He took the saucer off of his cup and took a long, quiet sip. He waited a moment, gauging the taste, and finally gave a nod of satisfied approval.

“It’s ready, Tesoro,” he said softly. I nodded, and with shaking hands, tried to remove the saucer. After nearly dropping it, Papa grabbed it from me, and placed it under my cup.

“I feel so useless,” I said, choking on a sob. Papa gave a tiny, comforting cluck, shaking his head.

“Now that won’t do.” He stood up, pushing in his chair, and held out his hand to me. “Come along.” I took his hand, following him as he brought me into the next room.

It was dark, but fragrant, smelling of sandalwood and musk. The smell instantly put me at ease. Papa dropped my hand, and reached into his robe pocket. I heard the sound of a match being struck, and saw the sudden illumination. He started towards a standing candelabra at the center of the room, and began lighting the many pillar candles resting on its branches.

As I waited for Papa to finish, I familiarized myself with the room. Various furniture littered the room. Some of it was familiar to me. A Saint Andrew’s cross stood in the corner; a spanking bench at the foot of the latex-sheeted bed. A stocks bench was placed off to the side, obviously less popular than the spanking bench. There was even a suspension frame for arial work. A shiver went down my spine as I imagined Papa binding me in copious amounts of rope.

Once Papa was finished lighting his many candles, he waved the match out, and turned towards me. The flickering candlelight made his paint look even more dramatic.

“You have read the Lesser Keys of Solomon, I assume?” Papa asked. I nodded.

“I would prefer verbal confirmation, for future reference Tesoro,” Papa said, as he inched closer to me. My cheeks felt hot.

“Yes, Papa, I have read the Lesser Keys of Solomon.” A sly smile spread across his face.

“Molto bene!” He exclaimed. “Then you must know the name of the President of Hell who cures all infirmities, do you not?” Papa looked at me, obviously expecting an answer. I fought the urge to just nod, and instead bit my lip as I pondered for a moment.

“The President you refer to is Buer, Papa. He can be summoned when the sun is in Sagittarius, and even appears in Sagittarian form, as a centaur wielding a bow and arrow,” I said, elaborating with a confidence I rarely ever had within me. Papa nodded, smiling at me. He took my hand, and led me to a wall filled with various tools.

“He was also depicted by Jarrault as having a lion’s head, and possessed the feet of a goat. But I do not expect you to know that, Sister,” he said. I was feeling more confident. The Goetia were one of my favorite subjects when I first moved to the Clergy, and I had studied the subject extensively.

“He had five feet, allowing him to move in every direction,” I said, causing Papa to smile.

“Ah, so you do know! Sister Imperator had told me you excelled in Demonology.” Papa gestured to the wall of tools. “Please choose,” he said. Any confidence I had before vanished, and my stomach dropped into my ass. I looked up at the many tools, slowly becoming overwhelmed. My gaze shifted, as I became unable to look him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry Papa, I can’t,” I whispered. From my peripheral vision, I could see him cock his head ever so slightly to the side.

“And why is that, Tesoro?” Papa asked. He reached out to me, bringing my face up to meet his gaze. It was almost painful. Every part of me yearned to look away.

“I’m not… worthy,” I whispered. He let go of my chin with a tsk. He turned to the wall, his hand grazing across various whips, floggers, canes, paddles, and crops. He finally came across a long, thick crop, made of deep maroon leather.

“Go to the bench. Undress, and kneel on it. Wait there for me,” he said. I did as he said, proceeding to the bench.

From a mirror in the corner, I watched him putter around the room as I carried out his solemn command. I slowly undressed, distracted by his billowing robes. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his sinewy arms. Despite his age, he was well fit. I couldn’t help the dull ache that blossomed deep within me as I imagined Papa manhandling me.

Papa’s tsk-ing broke my spell-binding train of thought. In the mirror, I could see him behind me, holding the crop in one hand, annoyedly tapping the end fold in his other hand. My face flushed, as I realized I was still wearing my underwear and veil. You couldn’t even do the one thing he asked. You’re so goddamn useless.

“I’m sorry Papa, I was distracted,” I squeaked. Hurriedly, I removed my veil, letting my hair tumble down over my shoulders. My bra came next, the cold air whipping my nipples into stiff peaks. Last came my panties. I tossed them aside, hoping the dampness in them wouldn’t reveal my desperation to Papa.

“Bene,” Papa said, placing the crop on the end of the bench. “Now me.” He held out his arms, beckoning me forward. I gulped.

“Where should I put your robes, Papa?” I asked softly, looking for somewhere to set them. The floor didn’t seem appropriate for the Papal Robes. He smirked.

“The same as your vestments, Tesoro. It’s only a robe. Now undress me. My patience is waning,” he growled. The sound went straight to my pussy, but failed to quell my shame. I began with his robes, standing on my tip toes to reach his shoulders. From the mirror, I could see his amusement. My hands skated over his shoulders, bringing the robe down to drop to the floor. He brought his arms up, gesturing to his shirt. Quickly, I followed his direction, undoing the buttons carefully. His eyes never once left my face, observing my features as I worked.

He held out a hand to guide me to the floor. As I knelt, he placed his foot in my lap. I untied the expensive Italian leather loafers one after the other, taking great care not to cause Papa to lose his balance as I removed them.

My hands trembled as I finally reached for his belt, pulling the leather strap through the metal ring. His trousers fell easily, and I held his hand as he kicked them aside. Papa, now in only his underwear and socks, pulled me back up, guiding me to the bench.

Both of us remained silent as I knelt. Only the sound of the leather shifting under the weight of my knees could be heard.

“I would like to blind you. This is okay? It may help with your nerves,” Papa said, picking up a blindfold from the bench. I nodded, earning a frown.

“I would like that, Papa,” I murmured, trying to fix my mistake. You’re an embarrassment. Papa nodded, seemingly appeased. Next, he held up a bundle of rope. My pussy throbbed as I thought about him tying me.

“I would like to bind your arms and hands. This is okay?” I knew better than to nod this time.

“Yes Papa,” I answered. He smirked devilishly.

“Good girl. Let us begin. At any time, if something becomes unbearable, simply call upon our President Buer. We stop immediately, si?” Papa explained calmly.

“Yes Papa, I understand,” I said, bringing my arms being my back. Papa growled, but this time it sounded less threatening, almost akin to a purr. I blushed scarlet.

“Such a good girl, Sister. You will tell me if it is too tight, si?” Papa asked, as he knelt behind me with his rope.

“Of course, Papa,” I said, looking over my shoulder at him. He rubbed my arms, and began his work. His work was swift, as if he were a spider snaring me in it’s web. My skin tingled, goosebumps causing me to shiver. Papa chuckled.

“Nearly there, piccolina,” he said, tying my hands off. I rested my chin on the leather rest in front of me, relishing the squeeze of the rope. It made me feel safe, secure. My anxiety was finally subsiding. I leaned into Papa’s hand as he placed the blind fold on me. Everything went dark. My mind was going fuzzy as I felt the submission take over.

“Now, tell Papa why you are really here, Tesoro,” he said, bringing me back to reality. I felt him sit next to me, and heard him reach for the crop.

“I feel useless. I want to be used,” I said softly. He began tracing my curves with the crop, causing me to shiver.

“Nobody in the Clergy is useless, besides perhaps my brothers,” Papa chuckled, “But even relics have their moments. Everyone here serves a purpose, piccolina. Even you.”

“Then why do I feel so useless, Papa? I contribute nothing. I can’t even do simple tasks… I’m worthless.” My voice broke as I fought back the tears. Back to square one. Papa tsk-ed.

“Useless… Worthless… what do you normally do when you feel this, cara mia?” Papa asked. I swallowed hard, and bit my lip. “Answer me, piccolina.”

“I… use my hairbrush to… punish myself,” I said, barely able to get the words out. My senses were already peaking. The rope on my skin, the heat in my face, the ache in my shoulders and knees… and the embarrassment. The vulnerability. I was laid bare in front of my Papa, in every way. The crop traced my thighs.

“These bruises are from your hairbrush?” Papa asked, his voice tinged with dissatisfaction. I was suddenly grateful for the blind fold. There would have been no way I could look at him after that.

“Yes Papa, they are. Nobody sees them, and they eventually fade,” I said, hoping to make the situation better.

“How many spanks do you normally give yourself?” Papa asked. I bit my lip.

“As many as it takes to feel better, Papa.”

“And how many do you think you need tonight, piccolina?” He asked, tracing the swell of my ass.

“Until you tire, please Papa” I answered. He inhaled sharply.

“You will count aloud. Adjust now,” he directed. I sat up, bringing my chest up to the leather rest. Papa rested his hand on my back, guiding my forward until I was bent over the leather rest. My heart was pounding in anticipation of the first strike. Finally, there was the whistle, and the crack of the crop across my skin. White hot, stinging pain bloomed across my ass.

“One,” I called. Papa hummed in approval.

Smack! “Two!”

Smack! “Three!”

Smack! “Four!” The deep ache I felt before returned to me, the heat growing between my legs. My legs parted, as I tried to get more comfortable.

Smack! “Five!” The impact of the crop reverberated in my pussy. I was practically dripping now.

Smack! His pace was relentless. With each lick, he grunted, putting all of his force behind the crop. I was getting lost in the feeling. This is what being used is. It felt like an eternity, and I was relishing every second. On and on he went.

Smack! “Thirty eight!”

Smack! “Thirty nine!” I could feel my slick pooling and dripping down my legs. My sobs had broken through around the tenth stroke, and my tears now flowed freely.

Smack! “FORTY! PAPA!” I moaned out. Suddenly, I was yanked up further onto the rest by the ropes on my arms. A hiss escaped me. I heard the rustle of fabric, the sound of Papa spitting, skin on skin.

“Do you still feel useless?” Papa growled. I continued sobbing, trying to catch my breath. My hips were yanked roughly. He plunged into me roughly, his cock practically splitting me. I gasped, trying to adjust to him.

He wasted no time, grabbing onto the ropes and setting a violent pace. His grunts and growls were absolutely delicious. It made my pussy clench around him. My moans were distorted by the sheer force of his thrusts. We sounded like a primal machine, the cacophony of skin slapping skin accompanying our symphony beautifully.

“You love being used by your Papa, don’t you cara?” Papa fisted one hand in my hair, the other gripping the rope.

“Yes, Papa!” I screamed, his pace never once faltering. A hand snaked between my legs, forcefully rubbing my clit. My orgasm was getting close. I could feel it barreling towards me.

“Papa, I can’t— I’m gonna- cum,” I cried. He snapped his hips into me, and leaned into my ear.

“You cum when I say, whore,” Papa growled. My pussy clenched and quivered around him, my release threatening to spill over. I was so overwhelmed, all I could do was sob as I pathetically grinded on his cock. He slapped my ass.

“Sit still and take it, piccolina. Let your Papa use you,” he growled. I nodded, still sobbing.

His pace finally began to falter, as he leaned into me. At last, with a long growl, his cock kicked inside of me. His seed filled me in long, hot spurts. His arms wrapped around my torso, holding me against him while he filled me, his chest heaving against my back with the effort of each breath.

Frustrated, I pushed back against him, desperate for my release. With one last slap on my ass, he stood up, unsheathing himself from my heat. The blindfold was ripped from my head. I blinked in the dim light, whimpering and whining.

“Please Papa, I need-“

“You need what?” He asked petulantly, cutting me off. I whined.

“I need to cum Papa! Please,” I begged. Tears streamed down my face. He shook his head.

“I thought you said you were worthless? I don’t waste my time making worthless girls cum, Sister,” he said, walking away. I sobbed, choking on my tears.

“Please! Papa, I need it!” I begged again. He whipped back around and grabbed my chin.

“Still think you are worthless, piccolina?” He growled. My lip trembled, chin aching in his grasp. “ANSWER YOUR PAPA!”

“P-p-please,” I choked out.

“Are. You. Worthless?

“BUER!” I screamed. He dropped my chin, hurriedly untying me. My body shook with my sobbing. Papa scooped me up, tossing his robe around me. He sat on the bed, pulling me deep into his chest. I rested my head under his chin, still sobbing.

We sat like that for a while. He petted my hair, my back, occasionally patted me in a comforting manner. It took a while for me to stop crying.

“You are not worthless, Sister. Not to me, not to the Clergy or the Abbey. And certainly not to the Dark Lord,” he said. I sniffled softly, nodding.

“Lie down here. Let Papa take care of you,” he said. I didn’t even have the strength to nod. I was too exhausted.

He began to lather me in lotion, which smelled faintly of almond and amber. His strong, deft hands began rubbing out every ache and kink, from the tops of my shoulders, down to my thighs and calves. Every movement was done with expertise and care, his lips even dancing over the many bruises of my own making. I held back my tears, quietly watching him work.

His lips stretched into a devious grin as he began massaging lotion into my tired feet. I let out a sigh of relief too soon, as he began to softly tickle and nip at my toes. Shrieks and giggles erupted from my mouth, eliciting dark chuckles from Papa as he continued his relentless assault on my feet. Papa finally dropped my feet when I began to kick at him, and crawled back on the bed to hover over me.

Feeling dauntless, and even a bit duplicitous, I wrapped my arms around him, and pulled him in for a kiss. I was surprised when he didn’t jerk away, and even more so when he deepened the kiss. Amorously, he began to grope at my thighs, wrapping one around his hip to grind into me.

A soft breathy moan left my lips as Papa reached in between us to guide his now throbbing member inside me. He nipped at my bottom lip, and my tongue found his. His hips set a slow, delicious pace, as his thumb found my overeager clit. Like a cat, my back arched as his thumb glided from side to side. My orgasm came barreling toward me, the pressure building in my belly and pelvis. I bucked against him, desperate for the relief my release would bring. Papa leaned into my ear, giving the shell a gentle lick that nearly threatened to send me over the edge.

“I can feel you are close, Tesoro. Would you like to cum?” Papa whispered. My nails dug into his shoulders.

“Please Papa, I need it,” I begged in a broken sob. He kissed my temple and found my ear again. He picked up the pace on my clit, and I had to fight not to lose it then.

“Then cum for your Papa,” he growled. I let go of my will, and in three strokes, the wall broke. My toes curled as I screamed his name, and the bed became soaked with my release. Papa continued to fuck me through my orgasm, prolonging it. His hand found my cheek, caressing it softly. I opened my mouth to catch his thumb, laving my tongue over it, causing him to groan and bite his lip. His hips stuttered, and he dropped to his elbows, still inside me.

Desperate to please my Papa, I pushed him over, climbing on top to mount him quickly. He growled again, animalistically as he grabbed my hips to help me set a brutal pace. His head lolled back as I rolled my hips, hands planted on his chest. Every moan was like music, and I watched the symphony pour from his lips.

Oh Principessa, oh Sister,” he praised me. My heart swelled in my chest, spurring me forward. Spurred on by my rhythmic pace, he finally let out a sharp moan, and snapped his hips up into me. I smiled hazily as I felt the warmth of his release flood me. His chest heaved, and he opened his eyes to look at me. A smile spread across his face.

“Do you feel better now, Tesoro? Or will I need to reinforce this lesson?” Papa asked, his hand stroking my cheek. I smiled, leaning into his touch.

“I don’t know… I might need a refresher, Papa,” I said, earning a devious smirk from him. He reached up for my throat, using his grasp to roll me back onto the bed into my rightful place.

Hell, it’s cheaper than therapy, and twice as good.

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