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The rooms in the west wing of the abbey were all decadent. The library, the chapterhouse, and the offices for all the senior clergy members. But the Papal suites were the most ornate and lavish. I fumbled with the large keys Sister Imperator had given me while I tried to balance the basket of fresh linen I was trying to hold under my other arm. I had only ever been in the previous Papa’s suite once, and that had been to help one of the senior maids, Gabriella, clean up after a particularly lavish celebration held by Emeritus the Third in his rooms because her usual assistant had been too busy elsewhere.
I finally managed to enter the room, the large wooden door closing with a soft click behind me. Unlike the previous Papa, the Fourth’s room was mostly tidy. There were a few errant stacks of books, empty bottles of wine and the stubbed-out ends of cigars in an ashtray. But apart from that, the room was clean. The Third’s room had taken me and Gabriella hours to tidy and clean—something Gabriella had assured me was perfectly normal for the Third. That man had somehow managed to get underwear on the chandelier and what appeared to be whipped cream on the high gilded ceilings. There had been multitudes of empty bottles, used glasses and crushed rose petals scattered everywhere.
All I had to do was neaten up the room, change the sheets and towels, and I would be done. It made me smile knowing I wasn't going to be on my hands and knees scrubbing tiles. I would then be free for the rest of the evening to do as I pleased. I placed the basket on a nearby table and slowly moved around the large space. Each papal suite comprised a sitting room, a small study and a bedroom with a large ensuite. I walked towards the bedroom, pushing the double doors open. The room was similar to the sitting area with its lack of mess, rumpled sheets and half-drawn drapes were the only evidence someone had been in here. I pulled the drapes all the way back, though the sun was already disappearing to the horizon in the distance, and tied them carefully. I pushed some errant strands of hair that had escaped my pins out of my face and turned to the large bed. The dark blue velvet that hung from the four-poster shimmered under the setting rays of the sun. Gabriella had told me most of the Papal suites had very few lamps as they were so old that they had barely any fittings for electric light. They were mostly lit by the high chandeliers and candelabras. She had told me the only suite that had proper electric lighting was the First because he kept a few prized plants in his rooms and they required special lamps.
While it made the rooms difficult to clean without proper lighting, I couldn’t deny how beautiful they were. All of the Papal suites were fitted with antique furniture and upholstered with exquisite fabrics in their own colour. The royal blues and gleaming teals of this room were so calm and inviting. The ocean hues melted with the gold filigree detailing and made me long for the sea. As I approached, I let my fingers trail over the silk sheets. The material was so soft and cool against my fingertips that I couldn’t help but grab a fist full of it and bring it to my cheek. It wasn’t that the rooms provided by the clergy in the south wing for the serving staff were terrible—they were very comfortable—but the worn and warm cotton on my bed paled in comparison to this luxury. I had never known anything so fine in my life.
But it had been a mistake to bring it to my face. The soft slide of silk was divine against my cheek but it was nothing compared to the smell. I was already turning my face and pressing my nose into it to inhale deeply. It smelt like the church after they had concluded their midnight mass. But there was also the memory of cigar smoke, something that might have been patchouli and another scent I couldn’t place. Whatever it was, it seemed to fill my mind and had me inhaling into the fabric as if I were starved and it was nourishment.
I had always tried to keep my distance from the members of the church. I had told myself it was like going to the zoo and getting to pat the tigers. As long as I followed the rules set out by Sister Imperator and did as I was instructed I would be fine. I had heard wild stories. Some of the things I had heard had been a little off-putting. I had dismissed it as nothing more than those strange siblings trying to scare me. They had said that the Papas would come in the night and suck my soul out for Lucifer if I didn’t keep the door locked. That they would sacrifice me if I didn’t make sure to arrange all the items in the sacristy the exact same way when I was returning freshly cleaned vestments and strange polished unholy objects.
I didn’t believe them. They were no different to those that worshipped God. I kept my head down and I did my job and I was thankful for it. It was only a joke, to try and test me I was sure. I had only been here six months, and albeit this place being such a strange one, it had quickly become my home.
However, I did lock my door at night. And I did keep everything exactly how it was expected to be in any room I entered. Those were the rules. That was all. I didn’t believe their taunting words about demons and magick and human sacrifices.
At least not really. Sometimes one of them would catch my eye and maybe I would believe it. But otherwise, I dismissed it.
I was late one evening when it had all changed. On nights I had to clear up after their midnight mass, I would have an afternoon shift and nap before completing the later half. I had slept in and when I had hurried to the huge cathedral I had not found it empty and dark as was usual at this time of night. The candles had been lit and there had been hundreds of them—thousands even. The whole building had been lit up and shadows upon shadows danced and kissed across the spiralling architecture.
That hadn’t been what stopped me in my tracks. It had been the woman bare on the steps, her body bent in a mockery of prayer as His Dark Excellency, Papa Emeritus the Fourth, fucked her face right there in front of everyone. It had been obscene. The sound of him sliding down her throat, her desperate choking moans and his low growls of approval echoed through the building. It had shot down my spine and curled with a burning fire low in my stomach.
The entire scene before me had been mesmerising, I hadn’t been able to tear my eyes away. While I hadn’t been able to see much with the flickering candlelight, his face had been enough. The way he had looked down upon her, those leather gloves curling into her hair, had me nearly dropping my keys to the ground. When he’d finally emptied himself down her throat, the candles had all blown out. A gust of air had brushed against my face like a caress. Before my eyes, I watched as the air seemed to manifest itself into a shape—a ghoul. The shape of its face wisped like smoke—a being clearly not of solid form—before it was pulling one of those eerie masks over its face, the eyes glowing in the sockets.
I had hastily fled to the library then, not wanting to see what they would do next or for someone to notice me. The priest on duty in the library had given me a strange look as I hurried in with my flushed face. It wasn’t my night to clean there but I needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere where I wouldn’t be disturbed. As I lent against a bookshelf in the depths of the cavernous room, the sound of pages turning and the whisper of low voices, I tried to calm the pounding of my heart. I could still see the Fourth in my mind, I could still hear the sounds that had escaped his throat as he had ravaged hers. The heady pull of arousal has curled around me again, making me feel hot and feverish. The feel of my black uniform against my skin had itched. The all-consuming need to let that man take me had felt branded upon my very soul.
Eventually, I had been calm enough to continue with my duties. The feeling had passed. Perhaps it had been the herbs burning in the church that made me feel so feverish and wanting. It has not happened again, every subsequent visit to the cathedral had been met with the cool silence of extinguished candles and empty pews.
After that night I started to pay a little more attention than usual. As a maid, I tended to pass by unnoticed. Nobody really cared who made their beds or cleaned their clothes—as long as it was done. All of the Papas were intimidating, their painted faces were not something you wanted to run into while cleaning a dark hallway. Most of my duties were done at hours when most of the congregation was elsewhere and I had very little interaction with them. I kept odd hours but it didn’t bother me. I spent most of my time in the greenhouse helping the Earth Ghouls tend to the First’s garden and the plants in the conservatory. The ghouls were friendly, and I had witnessed more of their strange magick as they had helped seedlings to grow. I had felt a little safer. While the tales they had told me may have held some truth—the acceptance of true magick and demons was still a little baffling—it was clear they meant me no harm.
Being assigned to clean the Papal suites was usually reserved for the senior maids like Gabriella who had worked there for years. But the one who usually cleaned this room had fallen ill and I had been asked by Sister Imperator to cover. As pathetic as it was to admit, I had felt honoured that she trusted me enough to do so. I was also full of brimming curiosity and a sort of desperate want to see inside his personal chambers.
Now I was completely abusing that trust, lying there on that ornate bed. I rolled onto my stomach and pressed my face into one of the many pillows, my fingers gripping the sheet and pulling it with me. How would it feel to be in this bed with him? The thought sent my body alight with desire, the scent that clung to the sheets was too addictive. I felt like I was right back there in the church. And all I could see was the vision of him in the cathedral, his hips snapping with ferocious lust into that Sister’s eager mouth. I was like a cat, luxuriating on that bed like some heathen. My mind was a pleasant fog. I could feel how wet I was as I buried myself in it.
It was like I was drunk.
“And what are you doing in my bed, dolce?”
The quiet voice shocked me. It should have felt like I had been doused in cold water. But it didn’t shock me in such a way—it startled me—but the sound of that voice send the most delicious burning thrill down my spine and between my legs. I sat bolt upright. My face was surely flushed and now turning red with embarrassment. I hastily tried to remove myself but he was there, a terrifying vision in a neat black suit, as he placed a gloved hand on my shoulder stilling my movements. It left me sitting there precariously on the edge of the bed as he stood before me.
“I am so sorry, Your Dark Excellency,” I said in a breathless rush. How I hated how pathetic I sounded. My voice choked and I tried to clear it, attempting to sound less like some insane woman who had only moments ago been writhing on his bed like a possessed demon. “I don’t know what overcame me.” Was I going to lose my job? I couldn’t go back. The desperation hit, sobering me more than anything else. “Please don’t tell Sister Imperator, I can’t lose this job. Please, I promise I won’t come in here ever again. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“Si, it would be such a shame,” he said with a smile, his voice gentle as his hand still held my shoulder. “Imperator speaks so highly of you.”
She does? My brow furrowed. How would he even know what she said of me? How did he even know who I was?
“I will—”
“You will what?” He interrupted. The pleasantness of before was gone now. “You already clean this place. What could you offer me, hm?”
The words caught in my throat. I had nothing. What was I to offer? The hand on my shoulder suddenly slid up my throat and gripped tight. I could still breathe but the pressure was enough to send adrenaline rioting through my body. I wasn’t sure whether I should have been afraid or aroused and settled for both. There was a delicious feel to the warm leather around my neck, and I still felt strange. The smell of the leather rose up to my nose and mingled with the scent of him. I wanted to lean into it— but I ignored the mad thought. Delirious fantasies were one thing, the man being right there in my face with a grip on my neck was another.
“Let me go.” The words managed to work their way out of my lips, but his only smirked in response.
“I think perhaps not, pet,” the Fourth said. “You seemed to be enjoying my bed, it would only be fair if you let me enjoy you.”
I was stuck staring up at him and felt the fear drop in my gut like a stone. I could see every line on his handsome face. I was so close I could see the greying hairs at his temple and that he had a small scar underneath the right side of his jaw.
There was a tingle at the back of my mind as I stared into his mismatched eyes. I had felt it before in passing. “Don’t look into the white eye”, Gabriella had told me. The siblings and ghouls were not so easily entranced but I was not one of them. I was merely an outsider, not part of their kind—whatever kind that truly was.
“Are you going to bewitch me?” It sounded so ridiculous said aloud. But I was scared.
“I could.” The smirk returned. I felt the tingle again, it wasn’t how I imagined—like a weird hypnosis from some silly vampire film where I would have no memory of what happened after. I could still think quite clearly but I felt him there. His hand left my throat yet I didn't move.
Take off your dress and shoes.
I didn’t question the thought. I just did it. It was somehow more terrifying still being completely aware of what I was doing. I stood, my hands instantly reaching for the apron tied around my waist and untying the knot at the back as I toed off my shoes. It hadn't even hit the floor before I started to undo the buttons of my dress. I was left standing in my underwear and stockings in a matter of seconds. In a corner, there was a large baroque mirror on a wall and I could just make out my glazed blank expression. I tried to blink, to move my head, to frown—to do anything—but I couldn’t.
“However it is more fun if I don’t,” came his voice.
The fog in my mind instantly disappeared. I stumbled with my freedom returned as I was hit all at once with how cold I was.
Wrapping my arms around my middle I stared at him. His expression was smug as he stood there, hands clasped neatly in front of him. I knew he meant it was more fun for him. It would be humiliating for me this way. And that clearly seemed to delight him.
The Fourth took a step toward me, pointing at a circular ornate rug that decorated the floor before his bed.
“Kneel.”
I didn’t move—my eyes darted to the bed. I had thought he would merely fuck me and be done with it.
“You have to earn the bed,” he said, seeing my gaze. “Kneel.”
It would have been idiotic to lie to myself and say I wasn’t wet at the thought of sinking to my knees before him. The thought hadn't left my mind since seeing him in the cathedral that night. The ferocity of it had frightened me that night—more so than the blatant display of magick and supernatural creatures that resided under those ghoul masks. But it had kept me up at night because I had wanted it. Yet being here, before him, I was full of fear.
My knees settled on the rug, the softness of it was welcoming.
“Hands behind your back, pet,” he instructed. I did as I was told, it was surely easier than arguing.
The Fourth came to me then, standing above me, those mismatched eyes devouring every inch of my bare skin. My gaze drifted down and I could see the bulge in his black trousers, my lips parted without any thought. His pleasure of seeing me so willing was written on his face but he didn’t make a move to undress. Instead, he extended a shiny black dress shoe toward me, his eyes never leaving my face. I glanced down at it, my brow furrowing in confusion before I looked back at him once more.
“You are a maid, si?” he said, the smile disappearing from his face.
I swallowed before nodding. “Yes?”
“Clean.” He moved his shoe closer towards me. It was already pristine. The black leather was so shiny I could maybe believe I could see my own shocked face in the reflection.
I sat there, hands behind my back with what I was certain was a dumbstruck look on my face. Was he serious?
The man pulled his foot away and sighed.
“Vedo.” He twisted the papal ring adorned on his finger, the sound loud as it slide across the leather of his gloves. “Che deludente.” He pushed his hair back with a dramatic sigh and moved towards the door. “I will be seeing Sister Imperator now.”
I nearly fell over myself in my haste to stand, my stockinged feet slipping over the soft carpets as I rushed towards him just as he reached the door.
“Papa—Your Dark Excellency—please, wait!” The desperation hit me. I couldn’t leave, I refused to be sent back into the world. This strange place was my home. I had been taken in without question and treated with something akin to kindness. “Please.”
I was aware of how pathetic I sounded. As I stood there, half-naked with my arms wrapped around, watching him with frantic breaths as he appeared to think. The Fourth moved past me and pointed back at the rug with no expression on that painted face. Resigned, I moved back and knelt on the rug and put my hands behind my back.
Again, he extended one shiny shoe toward me. Maybe if I did it quickly it would be fine. I hastily bent down and licked from the tip of his shoe all the way up, my tongue hitting the laces and making me recoil at the unpleasant texture. I sat back and glanced up at him. In the low light of the room, it was hard to see his face clearly but he didn't look impressed.
"You can do better than that," he said as he tilted his foot to get a better look at the glistening wet stripe I'd left there. "Imperator says you are very thorough."
I gritted my teeth. It was worth it for my job, I told myself. And I was never, ever, coming in here again. I leant forward, whisps of hair falling from its pinned confines as I licked the shiny leather again. I tried to ignore the taste as I swept my tongue over every inch of his shoe until it glistened with my spit. I didn't even wait for him to say anything before I moved to his other shoe, and I heard the hum of approval above me. I hated it. I loved it. I wanted to cry.
"Very good, pet." The words sent a grateful rush of arousal through me and as I leant back to look at him, I tried to ignore how damp my knickers were.
I could feel the sting of tears at the corner of my eyes but I kept my gaze forward, trying to blink them away. The man walked away from me then and to a small table adorned with curiosities—one of which was a wooden box that he flicked open. I sat there, silently watching as he pulled a cigar out, cut it and lit it before tossing the lighter back on the table.
It was like I was nothing but another piece of furniture in the room. My tongue itched in my mouth, all I could taste was leather and the horrible tinge of shoe polish. I merely swallowed, trying to rid it from my throat. I shifted on my thighs. He continued to stand there a moment, taking a deep drag of it and then letting the smoke fill the room. Then he turned on his heel and stalked past me to sit in a small armchair by the bed. There was a tiny stand next to it that held an ashtray and the remnant of past cigars I hadn't yet cleared away.
Those eyes found mine and he crooked a gloved finger at me. I moved to stand.
“No, non così.” The words were snapped at me and I stopped moving immediately. He pointed a finger back down at the ground. “Come to Papa like a good pet.”
My knees sank back down to the ground and I let my hands fall forward onto the lush rug. My fingers immediately gripped it as I felt my face flush at the humiliation of it all. More of my hair has fallen out and was swinging in front of my face as I stared at the ornate pattern beneath me.
“Come.”
I crawled over toward him, keeping my head down and just focusing on where I was going. I could feel my body swaying—whether it was due to anticipation or dread I couldn’t decide. Maybe it was both. I was all too aware of how wet I was, I could feel the dampness of my underwear as I finally reached him, those shiny black shoes once more before me.
“Brava, pet.” I felt the warmth of a gloved hand under my chin before he was forcing me to look up at him. Those mismatched eyes were fixed on me. His painted lips quirked at the corners. “Now, do you want a treat?”
I wanted to leave. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to hit him.
I also wanted to stay. And I hated that the most.
“Yes.” The word simply came out and there was no taking it back.
The pleasure at my response was clear on his face as it spread into a smile. I despised how much it pleased me to know I had pleased him. The Fourth let his thighs fall apart and my pussy clenched at the sight before me. The fabric was straining over the bulge and I could see a small wet patch where his cock had already started to leak through. I wet my lips and watched in a trance as he undid the bottom button of his waistcoat with his free hand so he could get it out of the way to undo his belt. With one hand, it was so slow as he worked. I swallowed, only the sound of the belt sliding free and my shallow breaths could be heard in the silence.
The sound of him undoing the zipper of his trousers shot straight down my spine. The man wasn’t wearing underwear and his cock sprang free before me. It was hard and leaking, straining out before me. He took a drag of the cigar and leant back in the chair, his legs opening wider as he moved. I was already moving forward and closing the distance. I shouldn't have been so eager but I stopped caring the moment my tongue touched the head of his cock, drawing out a long moan from him.
I wanted to make him do it again. One hand reached for his thighs to steady myself while the other was gripping him and giving his cock a few lazy pumps before my mouth engulfed him. The sound he made me draw my thighs together as I felt my own arousal flood my already soaked knickers. I heard the sound of him putting the cigar down before those gloved hands were in my hair, sending pins falling to the ground as he buried his fingers in. He wasn't going to let me go at my own pace, it seemed. He was pulling my face forward, my mouth sliding down his length as he growled out something intelligible in Italian. My tongue flicked at the underside of his cock and he bucked into me, sliding in deeper and hitting the back of my throat. I choked but he didn't stop, instead, he started to pump into my open mouth without a care. My hands were now gripping his thighs as I tried to focus on breathing through my nose, tears were already running down my face as he tilted my head up to look at him.
"Such a good little pet for Papa," he growled out.
Despite how uncomfortable it was, I hummed around him and felt his cock pulse in my mouth. His eyes closed, another feral sounding moan leaving those painted lips as he thrust down my throat. I did it again and the grip in my hair tightened, tugging on it painfully. I couldn't help but put a hand between my legs, my fingers touching the sodden fabric of my knickers with desperate urgency. It was glorious relief as I tried to rut against my own hand but I choked out a scream around him when I felt something sting my shoulder. He had grabbed the cigar and brought it against my skin, making ash fall over me.
"I didn't say you could touch yourself," he said as he put it back on the ashtray, a thumb swiping at the tears cascading down my face. "Now keep being a good pet for Papa."
He gripped my face and started to erratically pump in and out of my mouth. My shoulder was smarting and my pussy ached. I needed him. My glassy eyes were fixed on his face as I felt him swell in my mouth before he came, the thick cum hitting the back of my throat. I tried to swallow it but he was already pulling out and making it drip past my swollen lips and down my chin. The Fourth picked the cigar up again and took a drag before letting the smoke fill the room again. I sniffed, feeling the ash over me and his cum dripping down onto my chest as my own arousal ran down my thighs. Surely I had left a stain on the rug.
He stood, and grabbed my dress and shoes before tossing them at me. I stared at them bewildered. I wanted to cry again.
“Sorry, pet,” he said as he leant down, wiping more of the tears and some of his own seed from my face. It was clear he felt no remorse at all. “Papa non si scopa le puttane sporche.” In a daze, I stood up on unstable feets as I put my dress back on and stepped into my shoes. The fabric itched and my sweat was making it stick to my back. The Fourth grabbed my basket full of linen on the table and pushed it into my arms, dropping his soiled gloves on top as he pushed me towards the door.
“You are to serve me, si?” He slammed the door in my face.