Mar 16, 2025
The Reluctant Prime Mover based on this fic
original artwork: The Hesitant Fiancée by Auguste Toulmouche
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The Reluctant Prime Mover based on this fic
original artwork: The Hesitant Fiancée by Auguste Toulmouche
The Cardinal can be a little bit evil as a treat
This is the full version, but for uniformity I added it to AO3, too
find all Ghinktober 2024 drawings here
I have this idea. What if Frater Imperator Copia gets the idea that he is #1, the head honcho, the big boss, just as powerful as his mother (if not for Psaltarian)? And then just breaks out into Twenties Disney villain style?
You know that one meme? I don’t know either but I hear it every time I read about that sadglo bastard! It goes like ‘Cardinal Copia needs to get meaner NOW!!!!!! ‘
Hahaha, you are entirely correct, dear anon!
Don't you worry, he will get meaner...
I don't think he can ultimately resist that innate viciousness which lurks deep inside him, and I rather like him that way! I'm very pleased that you do too!
He’s so dark & evil
I need him so carnally
His Office of Propriety (Papa Emeritus IV x Reader)
+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING
Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x F!Reader
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: All the warnings. Dubcon bordering on Noncon, Knives, Blood, Mention of Torture, Violence, Clothes Cutting, Rough Sex, No Aftercare, Office Sex and Boss/Employee dynamic.
Summary: Furious from a meeting where he is cut off financially by the clergy, Papa Emeritus IV takes his frustrations out on his assistant. He doesn’t know yet that his loyal assistant had more reasons to be loyal than just a paycheck. Too bad loyalty does not soothe anger and a wounded ego. She will have to learn from her mistakes the hard way.
Word Count: 3,470
Notes: READ THE WARNINGS. Translations are at the end.
AO3 Link
"Maledetta puttana del cazzo!" The door slams so hard you thought the bricks around it would come crumbling down. His brow hoods his mismatched eyes as Italian venom continues to pour from his lips. Barreling towards you, he looks like a bull that had been speared by a matador, his jacket as red as the fatal cape.
"Pap-"
"You think you can run your fucking mouth, hm?" Unable to look at him, your pen shakes as you try to go back to underlining an important number—it had to be important, must be important—for his upcoming quarterly meeting with the clergy. He snatches the pen and tosses it across the room. "Run your mouth now. What did you tell Sister Imperator?"
"I didn't-"
"But you did. Do you want to know how I know?"
Your whole body is shaking. Rage tries to escape the heavy paint on his face, reddening a patch of skin on his neck where the paint had rubbed off. His eyes are wild, lit red in the shimmering fire of that jacket. He snatches you by the back of your shirt out of your chair, the stitches on your chiffon blouse ripping barely audible above his ragged breathing. “No, Papa! No!”
“Only you knew! Now I am leashed!” The soft cotton of his glove wraps around your throat and he slams you so fast to the wall that one of his framed accolades falls, glass shattering with a pop. “I trusted you and you violated my trust, dolce.”
The pet name makes you whimper. It’s new and so perfectly wrong with how mad he is. You had fantasized about him calling you all kinds of pet names, but never like this. He would be on the phone, thinking you were too busy logging receipts and making appointments. You would watch his brow knit together as someone told him about plans for the new tour and you'd think of you and him curled up in his bed on a Sunday morning - nowhere to go, nothing to do- just the two of you. You imagined how he’d play with your hair and call you every beautiful diminutive under the sun, kissing and touching and fucking. You'd dream until he hung up the phone.
His lips twitch into a smile that would make Satan himself shiver. “Did you do it to make me mad, dolce?” He drags out the e in a gravelly tone. He slides his hand up to where your jaw meets your neck, pinning you to the wall like one of his accolades.
“P-Please,” you choked under the grip of his glove, “I would never try to make you mad. I'm sorry.” Tears stung your eyes as he pressed harder.
He throws you to the ground, the carpet stinging your palms and knees. Your back arches as you try again to stop thinking about him fucking you, here on all fours, in the middle of his office of propriety. The glass from the frame crunches as he steps around you to search for something in his desk. “Let me tell you about my day, dolce. Maybe it will jog your memory, hm?” You stay silent. “I finished my meeting with Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil at 4 o'clock - you know this, ma certo, you put it in my calendar.” His voice is calmer now, more measured. It's enough to make your bones grow cold. “She called this meeting for a very important reason, dolce. Do you know why?”
You shook your head, not wanting to anger him further with your words. Looking up, you see that he is holding up a pocket knife that he found in the drawer.
He sucked his teeth. “You are a very bad assistant, sending me into traps like this.” He holds the knife up to the sunlight streaming through the windows, watching as the glint glides back and forth. Your stomach churns and your legs beg you to run. Moving only millimeters at a time, you crawl towards the door. “I will tell you,” he says, continuing to search his drawer, knick-knacks knocking about, “Sister says to me ‘Copia, I’m cutting you off.’ This is news, yes? I ask her why. She says, ‘The clergy did not approve your new vestments.’”
Shit. It is starting to come together now. It was a passing conversation you had in the hall with Imperator the day the new vestments came in. You had told her just how regal he looked in them, leaving out how your heart raced when your fingers glided down the silky brocade that felt so good over his solid chest. You had dreamt of him fucking you that night, the fine fabric bunching over the small of your back, him so desperate to finally have his assistant that he couldn't even bother to take the damned thing off. You move more quickly toward the door.
"You see, dolce, that is when I knew. Only you had seen them. Only you had access to my receipts. They were supposed to be a surprise."
The door is within reach when the sole of his boot connects with your back and presses until you crack. Your elbows buckle and the floor comes up to knock the wind from you. He kicks you in the ribs to face up, but it’s the knife that has you scrambling backward, the carpet biting into your rug-burned palms once again. You try to ignore the heat in your core marbling with the fear in your stomach.
“Please, Papa!” “They cut me off. You need to be taught a lesson.”
“No, please Papa. I’m sorry, I’m stupid!" It's coming up and you can't stop it "I kept thinking about how good you looked in them and I was daydreaming.” The tears are pouring down your face. Was he going to cut your tongue out? Was he going to kill you? The room spun and you wanted nothing more than to pass out. Let this nightmare end and go back to the sweet dreams of him and you in that bed on a Sunday morning. “I shouldn’t have opened my mouth,” you sob, “but Sathanas has cursed me to think of you every night and my mind is not sane.”
You see the glint of one of his canines and he laughs.
“The little lamb has developed a crush on her shepherd, has she?” His knee had pushed up your skirt and you realize just how firmly it was pressed against your aching cunt. A nudge is all it takes for you to rock your hips against it like the pathetic infatuated creature you are, cooing in misery. You want to die, but you need him to keep going, and all you can do is whimper.
He presses the blade against your throat. “Use your words, dolce: Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” Sick satisfaction highlights those painted lips. You know the answer, you just can’t say it. The blade presses harder and the pain gushes them forward.
“Yes, Papa! Only you. Every night.” He hums seemingly with pride.
“Good girl. And how do you touch yourself?” The blade prompts you again with a bite.
“Ah! With my hands, Papa. I imagine they’re yours. I think about how good your cock would feel when I fuck myself with my fingers.”
“The assistant dreams of her Papa’s cock, is that right?” His knee grinds into your pussy and you have hope for a brief moment, hope that he wants this too and that he wants to see you writhe in ecstasy. It’s not in his bed, tangled in his arms and the sheets, but he might let you cum if you’re good.
“I can’t stop thinking about it.”
The knife pulls off your throat and you cry as he stands up, your dark desire craving the pressure of his leg. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair and points the knife to your cheek. "Beg."
"What?"
"Beg for my cock. Beg for me to use your worthless pussy."
"Papa-" The knife nicks the apple of your cheek and you yelp.
"Do it."
You swallow hard on your tears. The words that he wants to hear are turning your cheeks redder than the blood blooming forth from the knife. "Please let me have your cock, Papa."
“Do you think you deserve it? Do you think you have earned it when you can’t even keep your mouth shut?” He cracks you hard across the face with his palm, the gloves muting the slap.
Turning your head back to look into his eyes breaks you. You can see the faint glimmer of pain for the first time, how you’ve truly hurt and disappointed him behind all that rage. What good were you, the person he was supposed to be able to trust with his secrets, if you told them to anyone? The disappointment chokes your voice. “Please. Let me earn it. Let me earn you.”
He unlaces his pants, never breaking eye contact, and frees himself from their ripped confines. The knife ghosts down your cheek until it tips your chin up to look up at him. Any warmth in those mismatched eyes is now gone, replaced with sadistic want. “Worship me, troia senza valore.”
His cock is already half hard and looks too big to fit in your mouth. You place a hand on his leg to steady yourself, but he quickly swats it off. “Did I say you could touch me?”
“No, P-”
“Suck.” The knife guides you to the thick head, your lips trembling. You can’t help but to open your mouth as the bead of precum touches your lips, eager for the salt of him. His hand is in your hair quicker than you can realize and Copia is guiding you down the length of him. Your jaw aches as it struggles to wrap around his girth. You give up and relax the muscles, letting yourself drool like a mindless animal. He hisses out a stream of Italian you’d never heard before. In your pitiful heart, you hope that he is praising your mouth. You hope that he is telling you how hot and tight it is, how it's the best mouth he's ever had. Daring a glance up, you see that he isn’t even looking at you.
Steadying your hands behind your back, you take the initiative and hollow your cheeks while looking up at him in defiance. He looks down on you, smug as ever.
“Is my office slut finally ready to behave and cooperate? It is clear that I need to retrain you.” He guides your head faster and harder, occasionally touching the back of your throat. “Would you like that?” You don’t dare nod and break his rhythm, only batting your eyes up at him in agreement.
He pushes further and further until you are gagging on him. "Ah ah. Look at me. You will take it all, capisci?"
Digging your nails into your palm, you push yourself onto him again, trying to angle your head so you wouldn't choke again. That's enough. It will be enough. When you go to pull off he holds you head down on him. You choke and sputter, desperate for air as the pressure in your head pushes you closer and closer to passing out.
“That is a good girl. This is a very important lesson, no? Holding your breath, so you don’t spill my secrets again.”
You’re sure you’re on the precipice of unconsciousness when he finally pulls out. The deep gasps send sharp pangs to your lungs. Each breath hurts so bad, but the high they give you, oh the high. Your thighs tremble to hold yourself up. Something in your arms is begging for you to grab on and cling to his legs. Don't. The smack from earlier still stings under your skin. This is his office. His rules. You’re finally able to look up at him through your watery mascara stained eyes.
His thumb comes down to wipe away a mascara tear track. "So pretty. You are the prettiest when you follow my rules. Obedience looks good on you, dolce."
You lean into his sweet hand. The affection, even after choking you with his cock, is enough to make you cry tears of joy.
"Mi dispiace, Papa. Thank you for the lesson."
"I did not say we were finished." His fingers twist your hair, dragging you up to your feet and over to the red velvet divan. As he guides you to lay down on it, the fabric brushes and cradles your skin with the plush luxury. “A lesson must be permanent.” The knife is at the ready again and you can see the edge stained red with your blood.
The wind is crushed out of you once more in a horrible sob. “Please Papa. I’ve learned my lesson. Please.”
He is quick, slicing through the chiffon and pearl buttons with his knife. It is another cut in the series of slashes he has already made to your ego. You think about how you saved for so long to buy that blouse on your monthly ministry outing and how you’d picked it out just for him. There isn’t even enough time to process the loss before he has cut the straps and the front of your bra open, spilling your breasts out for him. “Ecco. This is much better, no?” You try to cover up, but he nicks a cut into your arm in response. “You will not cover up what is mine. If I wanted you to cover up, I would have told you.”
He slashes through your skirt but leaves your pantyhose untouched. The chill of the office air already has you shivering and your nipples puckering into hardened buds. “This is your new dress code, pet. Since I will be wearing less clothing because of you, so will you. As above, so below.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Why did you do it?”
You hadn’t seen that question coming. Five little words and you can’t look at him. You can feel your slick leaking out to soak the inner thighs of your pantyhose. He tilts your face back to face him with the knife and you can see his cock is leaking precum again. “I did it because I was too busy thinking about wanting to fuck you,” you mumble.
“Maybe I should fuck you with my knife if you want me that bad.” The knife pierces the soft skin of your cheek.
The blood drains from your face and your body screams again to run for the door. If you did that he would shove the blade right through your pantyhose, mangling the soft wet flesh. The thought made your skin crawl and tears burst from your eyes.
“Please, Papa, anything but that. Please don’t hurt me.”
“I must hurt you in some way, pet. It is the only way you’ll learn. Daydreaming has become a bad habit for you.” His face and tone are sympathetic but his words are pure cruelty.
You sob even harder knowing that he can do whatever he wants to you, there is no escaping this room without the consequences.
“You must be a brave pet for your, Papa, d’accordo? I will let you choose where I hurt you if I am satisfied with how you please me.”
You want to please him. If you obey, maybe he will rethink his punishment. “Can I have the knife please?”
You’re so weak he doesn’t think twice. He places the blade in your hand curiously.
“I can be brave.” You slide the knife down the front seam of the hosiery, watching as the threads spring back with eagerness, exposing your soaked panties for him. It is a little more difficult, but you wiggle the blade from hip seam to hip seam across the front of the white soaked cotton. “For you, Papa. I can’t leave now.”
His lips are on yours, as he presses you further into the sofa. It’s real and your heart is beating overtime as he slips his tongue greedily into your mouth. His. His. His. He is claiming you as his. You moan and rock your hips up against him, desperate to feel him take you fully.
He takes his cock and teases it up and down your slit. Once. Twice.
“Papa, please.”
“How long have you wanted this, pet?”
“Since the fir- aah!” He’s sinking so quickly inside you that you can’t help but to clench around him. His eyes burrow into you, speaking to the undeniable fact that you are so thoroughly his and he knows it. He watches you intently, pushing and pushing until he bottoms out.
“Use your words, dolce.” He steadily pulls out again.
“Since the first day, Papa. Since I started working in your office.” He thrusts into you again and you cry in delight as he stretches you fully. It’s better than the daydreams. Little details you hadn’t even thought of like his warm breath against your collarbone, the way the sequins of his jacket lightly scratch their markings into the valley of your breasts, all become the focus of your attention as he fucks you for his pleasure.
“But you never did anything?”
“You’re Papa. I am just a sister of sin.”
“I am Papa.” He wraps his hand around your throat once more. “You are below me and you belong to me.”
The pressure builds in your head again and you drop the knife, the metal clattering on the floor. Your hands break your own rules as they claw at the soft leather of his sleeves. You’re not certain if it’s to pry him off or beg for more. His hips are now snapping into you at such a rapid pace, and occasionally they’ll catch in the right way, bruising your needy clit. The whimpering from you is uncontrollable.
It’s sooner than you want as he spills into you. All it would take is a few more thrusts for you to reach your own high, but he slips out of you and you can feel his unholy seed leaking from the gaping mess that he’s made you. Tears bud in your eyes, but it’s futile to ask.
He picks up the knife from the floor. “You learn quickly and I am satisfied. I will let you choose.”
“I want to make you happy, Papa. I have already upset you.” In truth you wanted it somewhere where it wouldn't hurt so much, like an arm, but you’re aching cunt wanted him to finish what he had started, and that meant making him happy.
His lips quirk up into a smirk. “You want your Papa to choose? Even after all of my punishment?”
You bite your lip, fighting the fear creeping in.
He takes the knife and guides it to the muscle of your thigh, pushing back the ripped edge of your pantyhose. You do your best to fight the pain, but still cry like a wounded animal as it slices through the skin. It’s like a paper cut on steroids, but it is over just as soon as it started. Five lines. The Roman numeral IV.
“You owe me, so now I own you.” He offers no remedy for the bleeding, simply getting up to put his knife away at his desk once more. Cleaning the blade, he collapses it and shuts the wooden drawer. “I expect you to be in the office 30 minutes early every day and you will stay 30 minutes late for the purposes of servicing me.” He tucks himself back into his pants, lacing them up like none of this had ever happened. “Since I now own you, I do not want you touching what is mine. Playing with yourself and fantasizing about me is what got you into this mess. You are only allowed to touch yourself when I tell you to, capisci?”
Your cunt drips at the thought of it belonging to him, contracting around the memory of the stretch of him. “Yes, Papa.”
“I will call for clothes so you can leave the office, but until then, get back to work. I have to make other plans for the tour.” He draws out the chair and is immediately punching buttons on the phone.
You get up in your cut pantyhose and underwear, walking back to your desk, mindful of the broken glass. The cold office air licks against your still hot skin and you almost slip your hands between your legs before you catch yourself. The pout creeps onto your face, but you look over to him, a ghost of how you used to daydream. He did say I would have to stay 30 minutes after. Maybe he’ll let me cum then… if I’m good.
TRANSLATIONS: "Maledetta puttana del cazzo!" - Damn fucking whore! dolce. - Sweet ma certo - But of course troia senza valore - worthless whore capisci? - Do you understand? Mi dispiace - I am sorry Ecco - There. d’accordo - Okay
Don't Tease the Cardinal
Copia x Reader
Feeling teased, Copia enacts a plan to steal his students panties. And then maybe a little more...
18+ ONLY MDNI
TW: non-con somno, panty sniffing, evil copia in general!
2.2k Words
Read it on Ao3
shout out to @sucharide for blessing us with some of her panty sniffing copia head canons 😌
the reader based off my identity (trans masc), so uses some masc terms, but also they wear a skirt and i use words like cunt and pussy for them!
Copia had been watching you in his class for weeks now. It started off innocent enough, you were attractive, but also just a good student. You asked thoughtful questions, worked hard to improve, and you seemed genuinely interested in serving the Dark Lord. It quickly became less innocent as time went on, however. Copia noticed your reactions to being close to him, the way your breath hitched when he touched your shoulder or waist, the way you leaned into him subconsciously. You were interested in him.
He was interested in your cunt.
Copia had been interested in taking you since you first entered his class. It only intensified earlier in the week. It was sweltering and you wore a short skirt and cropped top with a silver Grucifix dangling on your chest. You wore thin lacy panties underneath, and at one point you seemed to forget you were in a skirt as you sat with your legs spread. It drew Copia's eye, and he noticed with glee that you were exposed to him. The lacy thong did nothing to actually hide your pussy, it was more of a decoration in Copia’s mind. And the lace was wet.
Copia had stuttered over his words which seemed to have kick started your brain, and you quickly closed your legs, face burning with embarrassment. Copia chuckled at you, but didn't look to see if you noticed him laughing. Instead, he started forming a nasty little plan.
He ended up having to wait another three days to put his plan in motion. He wanted to make sure you didn't have any scheduled duties after his class, and an early start the next morning. Lucky for Copia, you were busy most mornings while covering for your friend in the library, so you were also extra tired.
The perfect conditions.
Copia got through his lecture like normal, and, like normal, you seemed to squirm slightly whenever Copia gave you attention or praise. He was genuinely impressed with how well he behaved himself in the lecture with the thoughts about you swimming in his head. That was all about to change.
“Ah, caro, please stay behind for a moment?” Copia asked you in the sweet casual tone he practiced so well.
You looked up at him from your desk wide-eyed, “Of course, Cardinal. Is something wrong?”
Copia could hear the small waver in your voice and grinned, “No, no, nothing like that. I actually have a project I'd like your help with.”
As he expected, you quickly agreed. You waved goodbye to your friends, and the two of you waited awkwardly until the classroom emptied.
“So, what's this project?” you asked, keeping a safe distance away from Copia and avoiding eye contact. Copia couldn’t have that.
“Papa has been keeping me busy these days with clerical work,” Copia answered nonchalantly, sitting on your desk slightly so he was leaning over you, “Which has left me less time for my translations in the library. I would like you to help me with those.”
You looked surprised, “Are you sure you want my help?”
Copia chuckled as he answered, “Si, you are one of the best in the class, you are always so… attentive, and I believe we would work well together. On a professional level, of course.”
“I'd be honored to help you, Cardinal,” you responded, that beautiful smile on your face.
Copia grabbed one of your hands in faux excitement and pressed a long kiss to your knuckles, “Magnificent! You are a lifesaver! Can you meet me in the library office at 6 tonight?”
“I can make that work,” you answered quickly, face burning, as you stared at his mouth.
“Perfecto!”
-
Copia put his plan into motion as soon as you arrived. He showed you the system he was using for the translations, and you caught on quickly. It just made Copia’s job easier as he took every opportunity to praise you. He grew bolder as the night went on as well, adding small touches, and closer whispers.
“Cardinal? Can you come check this, I'm… I'm not sure I quite understand,” you called for him, looking over one of the more difficult translations.
Cardinal situated himself as close to your side as he could without actually touching you as he pretended to care about the work.
“Ah, which part is tripping you up, tesoro?”
“I-uh,” you cleared your throat and started over while Copia tried to hide his smirk, “I can't tell the context of this piece here, so I'm not sure why this word is conjugated the way it is.”
Copia looked over the translation and saw you had already written it down correctly. It was almost too easy with you.
“Ah! Caro, you don't need to be doubting yourself,” he said softly into your ear as he casually put his hand on your shoulder, “You're doing such a good job. That is why I asked you, you know? Do not tell the others, but you're my favorite.
You blushed hard and choked on whatever words you were preparing, turning it into a fake cough. He grinned and continued.
“How about I sit here with you, if you need any more guidance, just nudge me, si?” Copia asked, already moving his station next to you.
“Oh! O-Of course,” you stuttered, flustered but smiling softly.
Oh how he wished he could put that mouth to better use. Maybe another day.
“Wonderful!”
Copia spent the rest of the three hours torturing you with small “accidental” touches, sugary sweet praises, and the occasional wink.
By the time the translations were finished, you were literally squirming in your seat. Copia swore if he focused, he could smell you, but he might have also just been desperate. His teasing, while riling you up perfectly, had also left him in need.
You left almost immediately, tripping over some excuse about an early morning, and thanking him for the opportunity once more. Copia gave you one last kiss on the cheek, for good measure, before bidding you farewell.
Now, all he had to do was wait.
Copia finally heard soft snoring coming from your room on his third pass by. He’d stopped by earlier and you were clearly masturbating. You were letting out soft moans and tiny gasps. He had to scurry away when he heard you moan his name, not wanting to spoil the moment with his own needy whine. He was just hoping you were still wearing the panties while cumming.
Copia slowly cracked your door open, just enough for him to slip into the room, closing it behind him. You were splayed out on your back on the bed, on top of the comforter, only dressed in a tank top and the sheer panties you had been wearing in the library. His dick twitched in his pants at the giant wet spot still visible on them.
Copia cursed under his breath, amazed by how delicious you actually looked. He'd been thinking about this moment for a long time, and he was throbbing now that he was here. It was perfect.
Copia had hoped that you would have taken the panties off before passing out, but at least they would be… fresh. Copia took a second to steady his breath, his cock stiff as he looked over your sleeping figure. At least your legs were already spread enough to make getting your panties off a little easier. He crept over to your bed and slowly lowered himself down next to you. You stirred briefly, but just moaned and settled down. Copia reached out carefully and hooked his fingers under the elastic. He slowly but surely inched the fabric down, away from your core and down your legs. Once they were finally free, Copia stuffed them in his face. He inhaled the scent you had left in them after a day of merciless teasing. It had all been worth it, and now he had a momento to keep with him. Copia palmed himself in his slacks, panties still in his face, and looked down at you again. You were still asleep, but seemed to be getting restless, your cunt now exposed to the Cardinal.
Then, in your sleep, you fucking moaned, “Copia!”
Copia couldn't help it, he’d only wanted your panties, but you were literally begging him for it. He shoved your panties in his jacket pocket as he quickly worked his pants open. He let his leaking cock free and carefully positioned himself between your legs. He reached down and ran a finger over your slit, groaning as he collected your wetness to rub your clit. You moaned more purposefully, and Copia decided he couldn't waste any more time.
Copia slowly guided the head of his cock into your cunt, which was wet enough to make the process smooth. You were still tight, but Copia snapped his hips forward, filling your needy cunt immediately regardless. You were about to wake up anyway.
You gasped, eyes fluttering open just in time to see Copia cover your mouth with his hand. You tried to scream or yell, the sudden feeling of Copia’s cock filling your throbbing heat being a lot to take at once. His hand muffled the sounds well, though, and you stopped in favor of whimpering while Copia gently rocked into you, still balls deep in your cunt.
“Shhhh, be a good pet and stay quiet, then I'll take my hand away, si?” Copia growled out, watching your wide eyes take in the scene.
You were clearly scared, who wouldn't be, but Copia also noticed the shift in your demeanor as soon as you recognized him. You wanted him, and he was going to give you what you wanted.
“Can I remove my hand?” Copia asked sadistically.
You nodded, eyes still wide with fear. He removed his hand and you kept your mouth shut, but tried to look away. He chuckled and then grabbed your chin so you had to look at him.
“What an obedient little slut,” Copia groaned out, speeding his hips up, fucking into your cunt harder, “But, this is what you wanted, isn't it?”
You didn't answer, just moaned slightly as Copia’s thrusts sent pleasure through your core. He laughed at you again, feeling the way your body reacted to his words, knowing that he was correct.
He still wanted an answer, though, and you weren't giving it to him. He pulled out suddenly, leaving you empty and whining without warning. He grabbed your hair in a fist as leaned over you dangerously.
“I asked you a question, sibling. This is what you wanted, isn't it, you little whore?”
You were panting and desperate, even though you had been asleep moments ago, but you managed to squeak out, “Y-Yes, Cardinal!”
“Good pet,” Copia growled, shoving his cock back into you, and forcing his mouth over yours in a sloppy kiss. He didn't care if you kissed him back, this wasn't about you, but he found it amusing when you moaned into his mouth as he thrust into you.
“You are such a slut,” he said in a breathy voice as he felt himself getting closer, “Such a slut for your Cardinal, si?”
“Y-Yes, yes Cardinal! I'm a slut, I'm your slut, please, please, please,” you whined in response, lost in the feeling of Copia's cock hitting you perfectly with each roughy thrust.
Copia could feel your walls clenching around him and he laughed at you once again, “Are you going to cum on my cock? While I’m using you? Pathetic.”
His words seemed to send you over the edge as you screamed and started writhing underneath him. Your cunt squeezed his cock perfectly, sending him tumbling over the edge as well.
Copia moaned loudly as he fucked his cum deeper in your cunt, coming down from the climax. He had shoved some fingers in your mouth at some point without realizing it, and he laughed, as you followed them desperately with your mouth when he pulled away.
“Now, now,” Copia said, still rocking into your overstimulated cunt, “Don't be so greedy, whore.”
He pulled out at once and left you gasping under him, overwhelmed and exhausted. For good measure, Copia gathered up the cum spilling out of your cunt and pushed it back in.
“This is what needy little whores get when they tease me,” Copia said in a sickly sweet voice, knowing full well he was the one doing the teasing, “You’d do best to remember that, dolce.”
“I-I understand, sir,” you said breathlessly, eyes glasses over in the afterglow of an intense argument.
“Good pet,” Copia growled. He grabbed your jaw for one last bruising kiss before he left, “Now, sleep well. You have an early morning.”
With that, he slipped out of your room, your used and soaked panties in his pocket still.
Part of Copia expected you to transfer from his class. It wouldn't surprise him (or stop him), but he was delighted when you showed up to his class on Monday with an even shorter skirt. You sat in the front row, and carefully let your legs fall open to expose your already wet lacy thong.
You were going to be a lot of fun.
