Cardinal Sinner (Divine Domination Book 2)

by Megan Michaels

  “Is that…are you threatening me?”

  Stepan swore he could see the old Cardinal’s eyebrows raise through the phone, the incredulity obvious in his tone. “I would never threaten you, Your Eminence. It’s just…the President and I work in the same building. How often does he see the Vatican Cardinals? Once a year, maybe even every two years?”

  “Allegiance is not to any man or even Cardinal, Stepan. The allegiance should be to the Church and the Holy Pope. And it would be your job to remind them of that.”

  “Interesting. I would think that our allegiance is to Christ first, Your Eminence. And I’m well aware of my duties as a Cardinal to Praha. If you have any problems with my performance, please invite me to a meeting with yourself and His Holiness to discuss it. Don’t decide to make cloaked statements over the telephone, or usurp my jurisdiction in my assigned area. On that note, I think we need to end this conversation before it deteriorates any further.”

  “I’ll keep in mind a future meeting. It appears it may be necessary at this time. Good day, and God speed to you, Cardinal Danek.”

  Stepan slammed the phone down into the cradle, his heart racing and his breathing rapidly increasing.

  The audacity of Rome. He shouldn’t be surprised; he’s been overlooked before. He had watched the Prime Minister give Cardinal Petr Novak a medal for his efforts and work in Prague.

  The politics were exhausting and many days he found the priesthood exhausting. It is the same in any job—the further up the corporate ladder you go, the deeper the politics and darker the deeds. Often, it was assumed that the Roman Catholic Church was different, but in many respects, Stepan wondered if it was much worse than people ever anticipated.

  He’d stay clear of the Cardinal and his entourage. If Petr wanted to see him, he knew where to find him. Having voiced his opinions countless times in the past, he saw no need to discuss them further with Petr. As the Bible says, “Don’t cast your pearls before swine, lest they be trampled under their feet.” His wisdom was not appreciated by these people, and he’d no longer present it to them either.

  Chapter 5

  He walked into her bedroom to find her quietly lying over the spanking bench where he’d left her. Eliska’s bottom was only a light pink from the small spanking he’d given her to warm her up for the real task of the evening.

  After the hot sauce and plug punishment almost two weeks ago, she’d been a very good girl and tonight would be her reward—and stress relief—for holding her tongue for two weeks, preparing all their flight and hotel arrangements, and packing and organizing all the files and equipment they’d need for their trip to Prague.

  Her apartment wasn’t big, but she lived outside of the Vatican City walls in a small house. They met there often and kept all their BDSM equipment there. Petr loved her place, the comfortableness of it. Even though it was much smaller and not as ornately decorated as his, it felt like home and smelled of good cooking and cabbage, just like the house of his childhood.

  “Have you been thinking, Elinka?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her hips squirmed over the wood and leather bar, the puffy, wet lips of her sex peeking from between her thighs. She’d been thinking all right, but what about? Looking at her pussy dripping with need, it made him think she’d been thinking about sex more than her behavior. Which, in reality, was okay with him.

  He walked around her, grasping a pointed nipple between his fingers and pinching it roughly. Her gasp brought a smile to his lips. He cupped a full globe, the heft of it resting on his palm, and he lightly brushed his thumb over the now red tip. Dropping it, he watched it swing slightly before dangling alongside its pair.

  His cock pressed uncomfortably against his clothes, reminding him that he’d be much more comfortable and ready to play if he were naked. Shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs, he stepped out of the tangled mess at his feet, tossing them to an empty bench at the foot of the bed. Standing within her view, he saw her eyes skitter over to him, watching him stroke his long shaft.

  Her pretty pink tongue came out to lick her lips and a drop of pre-come beaded on the head of his cock, aching for her to lick him. His ball sac was heavy between his legs as he sauntered up to her, fondling his penis until pressing the broad purple head between her lips. “Suck.”

  “Yes, Your Eminence.” Shuttering those beautiful blue eyes, her cheeks hollowed with the forceful pull on him. Easing herself off, she lolled her tongue around his girth, paying particular attention to the dripping slit. She flattened her tongue over the head, fluttering over the sensitive tissue.

  His eyes rolled, his head involuntarily tipping back as he fought the urge to shove himself down the back of her throat.

  Not yet.

  “You’ll be the undoing of me yet, girl.” Pulling away, he kissed her warm, soft lips before gliding his hand down her creamy back, his forefinger bumping along the bones of her spine while his other hand toyed with her clit.

  Once his hand skated to the crest of her bottom, he slapped each cheek sharply, which echoed off the wall of the room.

  “Ow!” She shifted on her knees, unable to resist or clench over the bench, only able to submit and accept it.

  “So what were you thinking about while I was gone?” His finger continued to roam, pressing, pinching and squeezing.

  “I…well, I thought about how I have to behave on the plane and hotel. No sassy comments, no hissy fits, minding what you say. Uhm…oh God, that’s nice.” The skin on her bottom goose bumped when he slipped a finger into her anus while the other hand toyed with her sex, slipping between the moist sheath of her pussy. “And then…oh, I, uhm…and that I need to keep my temper guarded while staying with my family. I’m hoping my father won’t upset me. He always makes me angry.”

  “Yes, you do.” He slapped her sit spots and upper thighs harder than she anticipated judging by the keening cries and the ensuing dance on her knees. The last trip they took to the homeland, she’d thrown a ranting tirade in a temper tantrum of epic proportions. Petr had never seen anything quite like it—at least not from someone this age. And although she was only twenty-four now, and the fit of rage had occurred when she was twenty-two, he’d paddled her in the hotel room, but that session was nothing in comparison to the spanking he’d given her once back in Rome.

  Eliska reached back with her hands hoping to cover her bottom, only to find them pressed roughly to the small of her back with harsher slaps to her lower thighs in response to the disobedience.

  “It looks like we’ll be tying your hands and legs to the bench. You know better than this. You’ll be given swipes of the switch for trying to cover yourself. As a grown woman, you’re expected to control your emotions and your body better than this.”

  Running his hand over her very red thighs, they were warm to his touch. Adding the willow switch to them would be a reminder at her parents’ house on how to behave—he had no doubt. Grasping her left hand, he buckled the cuff around her small wrist and waited patiently for her to swipe at her eyes and nose with her right before cuffing that one as well.

  “Such a naughty girl. You know you aren’t supposed to get your hands in the way or try to cover.”

  He grasped her shapely leg, lining her knee up the cuff on the bench, her whine making him raise his eyes up to her. “Is that commentary from you, girl?”

  “N-no, Sir…I just…I don’t like not being able to move my legs.”

  He dropped the cuff, standing straight, looking down at her blue eyes glistening with her tears. “I know you don’t, but I’m not going to risk you moving so an implement hits the wrong spot. Your choice was taken when you disobeyed the rule, right?”

  Her response came as a low growl with the furrowing of her eyebrows—she at least had the sense to not look him in the eye as she did it. Defiance of this order would never be tolerated. Being unhappy, crying, and even pleading, were acceptable—but growling? No.

  His hand pressed against her lower back to keep her in place
while he marched his other hand up and down her bottom, leaving angry red splotches in his wake. “Growling isn’t a response. Is it?”

  “No, Sir!”

  “Growling isn’t how adults communicate. Is it?”

  “No, Sir!”

  What had started out as a nice evening of fun had deteriorated into a spontaneous punishment. It wasn’t how he had planned this evening, but with his little Elinka, he’d learned to expect the unexpected.

  “I didn’t think so.” He finished up with a hard, fast flurry of slaps to her very red backside, speaking above the cracks of his hand and her cries of pain. “I understand that you don’t like it, but you will not communicate as a petulant three year old. Ever.”

  “I know. I’m s-sorry! Daddy. So sorry.”

  It always shocked him that when punishment was harsh, like now, she reverted to sweetly calling him Daddy. It wasn’t part of their dynamic, and not something they did on a regular basis. He wasn’t even sure it was something he wanted. But at times like this, she slipped easily into the role and he found himself thinking it was absolutely adorable.

  He wasn’t actually much younger than her father. Along with a spanking that had her sobbing, she naturally found herself mentally and physically going back in time to a punishment during her childhood.

  “Daddy! I’m sorry. S-so, so sorry.”

  He stopped smacking her bottom and thighs, letting go of her back and watching her waggle her ass along the leather covered bar, unable to hold still at all.

  “I know, baby. Let me get you out of this bench.” He undid her cuffs, helping her to stand briefly, picking up her slight frame into his arms and sitting on the bed with her in his lap. Her bottom was very hot, and no doubt sore. He tilted her up on her hip, lightly stroking her buttocks, easing the burning sting.

  The room was almost completely silent, except for the occasional hiccup from his girl. They rocked and swayed on the bed, his hands lightly brushing along her back and bottom. He knew he shouldn’t react at a time like this and felt almost bad about it, but his cock had turned to steel and he swore he felt like he’d tear in two.

  The power and control, dominating his girl, hearing her beg for mercy between her sobs and cries all spoke to him—spoke to the inner man. He’d pushed down his male tendencies for years, doing his best to be celibate, but he was a man. As a Cardinal, a man who had risen through the ranks of the church to a place of authority, he enjoyed the control that came with the position. He enjoyed having people confess their sins, kneel to kiss his ring, bowing in respect to him, and on top of it all, being called His Eminence added to the dominance he felt.

  So when he had fallen for Eliska, and given her young age, it only seemed natural to start D/s with her, reinforcing their roles and setting rules and boundaries with a domestic discipline flair to it. It made sense—to the both of them.

  What he didn’t expect was to find it impossible to separate his love for the Church and his love for this woman. He hadn’t anticipated that he’d enjoy her crying out Daddy to him, that he’d feel a manly and paternal love for her—caring for her every need, watching out for her health, feelings, behavior, moods, and sexual gratification. He took responsibility for all aspects of her well-being, or so it seemed.

  Pulling in a shivery breath, her body shuddered. “I’m sorry, Sir. I ruined our play.” She leaned back, looking at him with a pout on her red puffy lips, her eyes and nose just as red.

  Petr couldn’t resist, he kissed her on the nose lightly, finishing with a forehead kiss before responding, “You didn’t ruin anything. The spanking was harder and longer than you would have liked, and I’m betting your little ass will be much sorer tomorrow than either of us anticipated, but the night is far from over.”

  “Okay.” She placed her head in his neck, sitting quietly, her hiccups almost gone now.

  “I do think after the display of anger you just had, some corner time would be appropriate. You’re never allowed to disrespect me in such a manner, and thinking on that will be a good thing. I’ll forego the switch tonight. I think you’ve had enough, but you’ll be cutting one once we get to Prague. It’s springtime; there are willow switches just waiting to roast someone’s rump.”

  She murmured quietly into his chest.

  Tilting her chin up, he said, “What?”

  “I hate switches and the corner…Sir. But, I’ll go.”

  “Good girl. My Elinka.”

  With a hand to her bottom, he pushed her into the corner, stroking himself, watching her bottom clench and unclench with nerves, her hands twisting in front of her.

  “Hands on your head. When I retrieve you, I want an explanation of what you learned from your spanking and why you were such a bad girl.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She laced her hands on top of her head and stood obediently.

  Chapter 6

  When Petr left the room, Eliska let out a breath she’d been holding. She had friends that loved—even looked forward to—spankings from their lovers or husbands. Although she loved when they played, and even took delight in most of the implements they had, when it came to a punishment session, she froze.

  She didn’t crave the pain like some of her friends, and just keeping her hands off her scorched bottom was taking more effort than seemed humanely possible. It burned, stung, and even itched. The man had a lethal heavy hand. She’d told him before that many of her paddles and belts didn’t hurt like his hand did.

  A hiccup racked her body, the muscles in her diaphragm aching from the spasms. She hated them. Even when a spanking was over, her nose dried and tears gone, her hiccups would alert everyone in the room that she’d recently been spanked. The tremors seemed to have a direct connection to her feelings, reminding her every time that she’d been bad and a disappointment, causing a loneliness that only Petr’s lap and caress could heal.

  As a child, the hiccups had made her siblings giggle, always quietly teasing her after a punishment. Desperately, she tried to prevent herself from crying, hoping to avoid the humiliation of her sobs, and later the hiccups, but it never worked; she always ended up wailing in agony and begging for mercy.

  It seemed not much had changed. She’d cried pitifully today, pleading and howling with despair. And then, to add to the embarrassment of it all, she called him Daddy.

  Again! Why do I do that?

  She understood that he was much older than she was, but she didn’t have the urge to call him that at any other time. Could it really be some Freudian slip? Some Daddy issues that were latent in her that had been lying dormant waiting for discovery?

  They didn’t discuss it tonight because it’d occurred a few times before and been discussed at the time. Petr always said he didn’t mind and understood the psychology behind it, but he was always quick to add that he had no desire for her to call him Daddy and didn’t want it to occur purposefully.

  By mistake in the throes of the moment was something entirely different and not something she could really control. Yet she knew by the look on his face and the gentleness he’d exhibit after that part of him fondly favored it. He’d murmur sweetly, rocking her, stroking her softly until her cries and hiccups subsided. And again, even though they had discussed it previously, he’d never bring it up knowing that it was an issue of embarrassment to her, one she could barely discuss with him.

  But it always made her wonder if she really saw him as a daddy figure, someone who could give her what her father couldn’t. Her father had been a good man, hard-working and diligent. Having six kids and working in an auto factory wasn’t easy. He’d come home tired with waning patience, not wanting to deal with squabbles or stories from their day, and he definitely didn’t have the tolerance for bedtime whining, fighting, or shenanigans.

  Her father had been stern and, at times, harsh. But his children were obedient and polite, never embarrassing him either at school or in public. There were days when the expectations for Eliska and her siblings seemed above and beyond what other children in t
heir community were held to, which made her jealous and wistful, wishing she had someone who played ball or read bedtime stories at night.

  So when she met Petr, and he cared about her feelings and daily activities, either in spite of, or because of his age, she found herself even more intrigued by this man.

  If he ever changed his mind and said she could call him Daddy as a term of endearment, she had no doubt in her mind that she’d leap at the opportunity, having that void she’d been unaware of prior to him finally filled.

  The door creaked noisily as Petr entered the room. She didn’t look over her shoulder, knowing that it pleased him when she stayed perfectly still, waiting for direction.

  “Come here, Elinka.”

  The nickname made her smile every time. He loved the childish name he’d given her and he’d been careful to only use it in private, not wanting to sully it with others knowing and using it—or even worse, teasing her with the name.

  She shivered as she pivoted, both from the cool room and a little from nerves at not knowing what he’d do. When she lifted her gaze, she saw he had his red Cardinal skullcap on, the flush that arose on her face quickly moving to her chest. She knew what he expected her to do with that—later.

  “Hello, pretty girl.”

  She stood between his legs, his cock jutting straight up. She fought the urge to run her forefinger lightly along the bulging vein, clearly visible on the engorged length. “I’ve been crying and I’m sure I look awful.”

  “Not to me. Ever.” He rested his hands on her hips, his fingers stroking and squeezing her inflamed backside. “Tell me first why you were a bad girl. Why did you reach back and then why did you growl at me?” He furrowed his eyebrows at her, shaking his head while tsking loudly.