“But as a Cardinal and a man of God, ranking second only to the Holy Pope himself, you deserve the reverence, Your Eminence. Viktor, you haven’t kissed his ring. Kiss the Holy Eminence’s ring. ”
“Mother, please. You’re embarrassing all of us, including Cardinal Novak.”
“Eliska, your mother is doing her best. It will only be a moment.” His eyes flashed just enough that she swallowed her groan and halted the eye roll that had started to overcome her.
“Viktor, the ring isn’t necessary.” Petr reached out, shaking the man’s hand firmly and slapping his meaty shoulder, only to have her father genuflect awkwardly, struggling to rise again after noisily kissing Petr’s ring.
“Oh, but it is necessary, Your Eminence. You get to leave at the end of the day…I have to stay here.”
“Viktor!”
Everyone but her mother laughed at his comment; none of them doubting for a minute that what he’d said was one hundred percent the truth. She would have made his life hell if he hadn’t kissed Petr’s ring.
Her mother had worn her best Sunday dress, her hair obviously styled at the hairdressers, and, of all things, she had even applied makeup.
Tereza, ever the matriarch, had also required that Viktor wear a suit and tie. Eliska couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him in a suit; more than likely it had been at a funeral. Her father’s face was covered in sweat. The poor man had probably been worked into a lather by his wife shouting out orders for days in preparation for Petr’s visit.
The house smelled of an odd yet pleasing mixture of lemon cleaning supplies, as well as cabbage, sausage, and potatoes, a common scent in most homes in Prague. Eliska could hardly wait to eat her mother’s food. The woman was an excellent cook and spent most of her day in the kitchen.
“Has my little girl been a good assistant to you? She can be some trouble. We spoiled her a little. She was our last child, my baby. I suppose I didn’t spank her like I should have. I apologize for that, Your Eminence.” Her father winked at her, and she swore she wanted nothing more than the floor to swallow her up.
“Daddy! Don’t talk like that. You’re embarrassing me…well, and making yourself sound like a fool. I’m too old for you to humiliate like this. I’m a grown woman, you know.” With her hands on her hips, she stomped her foot, not in a dramatic manner, but enough that the clack of her high heels hitting the marble could be heard.
Her father’s eyebrows furrowed, his lips thinning, opening his mouth to respond.
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Petr’s voice had dropped to a quiet, lethal level, his nostrils flaring and his blue eyes burrowing into her.
Her heart immediately jumped, fluttering wildly within her chest.
Oh shit!
The look on her face must have conveyed the wild emotions and anxiousness running through her veins because he slowly nodded his head, quietly commanding. “Apologize. Now. We’ll discuss how one should honor her father later.”
She swore everyone in the room heard the loud gulp as she attempted to swallow past the growing lump in her throat. “I…I’m sorry, Daddy. Forgive me.”
The heat that began in her neck rose quickly to the top of her head, tears brimming in her eyes. Humiliation was a difficult emotion for everyone; some more than others. Even as a child, any unwanted attention—especially negative attention—mortified her. And this? This was beyond degrading.
“I see you flare up just as quickly as ever.” Her father’s voice rumbled over her. “And it seems you’ve become familiar with how to deal with her bratty behavior, Cardinal. Good for you.”
“It’s a work hazard some days, Sir, but she’s a sweet girl once she’s familiar with the boundaries. Except for moments like this when she forgets what’s required of her.” The tic in his jaw conveyed the ire he felt, and she’d be paying for it later.
Tereza saved them all from any further discussion of her unruly manners, shooing them all to the dining room for dinner.
Eliska stood at the sink wiping her hands after putting the last plate on the drying rack, looking out the window at the backyard of her youth. Her favorite tree, the one she used to climb in with her favorite crook to read a book. White and pink petals floated on the breeze from the various fruit trees. She’d had a full and fortunate childhood.
“Here’s my knife. Cut about a dozen or more pussy willow branches.”
She jumped, startled at the low timbre of his voice close to her ear. Spinning around, she scanned his face, and although he appeared calm and emotionless, she knew that his displeasure roiled just under the surface and the request to cut switches would be the beginning of her punishment.
“But—”
Placing his forefinger over her lips, he shook his head. “No. Do as you’re told. I’ll handle the rest. Now go.”
Placing a hand over her belly, hoping to halt the butterflies, she ran from the kitchen, out the backdoor toward the dreaded pussy willow bush. It’d been in the back corner of her yard for as long as she could remember. The width was larger than most tool sheds and the height had to be close to twenty feet.
Her trembling fingers pulled a long branch down, slicing through the stem, the bright green visible just under the surface of the thin bark. She’d been sent to fetch switches more times than she cared to think about. No one had to give her instruction on how to sift through the hundreds of branches to find the perfect width and length.
And although the temptation to pick the skinniest ones was great, she knew from experience that those were the ones that would break easily, and if they were too small, she’d be sent back to the bush with no panties to pick a bigger one—one that would leave marks and a sting worse than if she’d picked the appropriate ones to begin with. Tossing the twigs to the ground, the pile grew until she’d counted out twenty-four of the long stems with the furry, felt-like, gray and pink catkins.
Deceptive.
The soft tufted buds would lead one to believe that there couldn’t be extreme pain from something so innocuous, but that was the trickery of the willow switches—regardless of the catkins, the pain inflicted by the punisher , in her case, the Cardinal, would have her screeching in pain within a couple of swipes.
Scooping up the bundle, she cradled the two-foot branches in her arms, trudging back to the house, silently reflecting on how her mouth had once again gotten her into hot water.
But she couldn’t help but wonder how he’d do her switching…and where. They had no privacy, not here at her parents’ house, or even at the hotel with its paper-thin walls, the large building occupied by hundreds of guests.
Slowly she climbed the back steps to her old house, the heels making noise on the old, worn out wood that needed a fresh coat of paint, the white paint peeling, leaving weathered brown in its wake.
Tugging on the creaky screen door, the hinge squeaking heralding her entrance and the spring slamming the wood against the frame, assuring that everyone in the house knew she’d returned.
She dumped the branches into the sink, taking the knife to trim the ends evenly, the task keeping her focused.
“Smart girl. You cut more than is required. This way you can keep some here, right?” Without her realizing it, Petr had slipped into the room while she’d been busy.
“Yes, Sir. This way I cut some for not just you.”
“Oh, is that the plan? I thought you were having foresight, knowing that a switch would more than likely be required during your stay here.” He raised his eyebrows at her, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth.
“I should hope not! The days of a b-bare bottom switching are over.”
“Maybe in this house, but not as far as I’m concerned.” He pushed a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “You’ll come to the hotel tomorrow for a meeting and we’ll have our discussion of the commandment to honor your mother and father. It appears you’ve become out of practice. I’m sure a fiery reminder will jog your memory. Ano?”
“Ano, Sir.”
“Look at all the pussy willows!” Her father’s booming voice filled the small kitchen. “What are you doing with all of these?”
She felt her cheeks burn with her blush. “I thought I’d fill a vase of them for the house and then Cardinal Novak asked me to cut some for his hotel room.”
“Well, Your Eminence, is there someone misbehaving over there already?” Her father laughed heartily at his attempt at humor.
“No, Viktor. I just like the spring blooms, reminds me of my home too.” Petr’s voice softened and he stared into the distance.
“I’m sorry, you miss your parents I’m sure.” Eliska ran her hand over his arm. She hated seeing him sad.
“Yes, coming home is difficult.” He shook his head briefly. “But these will bring joy into my room.”
It was then that her nephew came up to Petr, his little forefinger tracing over the red covered buttons on his cassock. “My Menace, why are there so many buttons?”
Everyone, including Petr, laughed at the innocent way the boy said the honorific.
Eliska whispered to the dark-haired seven-year-old. “You say, Your Eminence.”
“That’s what I said! My Menace.”
Petr shook his head toward her, and then skating the pad of his finger over a button, he ruffled the boy’s hair. “These buttons? They’re like birthday buttons for Jesus.”
“I love birthdays!”
“I figured you would. Jesus lived thirty-three years, and I have exactly thirty-three red buttons from my neck to the very bottom of my robe. I’ll count the ones you can’t reach, and then you can count the rest with me, okay?”
“Yes.”
The two of them recited the number of buttons in unison, ending with the small boy on his knees counting the lower ones by himself.
“But you have some on your sleeves too. Are those just buttons?”
“No, they mean something too. You know how at St. Vitus School you have learned that the soldiers whipped and pierced Jesus on the day of his crucifixion?”
The lad’s dark brown eyes widened, nodding solemnly.
“These five buttons are for the five wounds Jesus received from the soldiers before He died.”
“Does it make you sad, Petr, when you do these buttons in the morning and undo them at night?”
Malina, his mother, gasped. “Josef, you don’t call him Petr.”
“Why not? It’s the name my mother and father gave me, and my friends call me by that name.” He smiled at his mother, winking at her before squatting in front of Josef. “It doesn’t make me sad anymore, but I remember the sacrifice made by Jesus when I touch them.”
Nodding only a bit, Josef lightly brushed the red silken button whispering, “I would too.”
Eliska’s eyes filled with tears, noticing that everyone’s eyes brightened with tears. She’d never seen her nephew influenced so deeply before.
“You have a cool jacket, My—Your Eminence.” He stumbled over the words, but the awe in his expression made everyone in the room smile, and made Petr blush.
“Okay, Eliska, it’s time for me to bring my pussy willows back to the hotel. Jakub, have you called the car?”
“Yes, it’s outside waiting for us.” Jakub had joined them in the kitchen, dutifully holding the Cardinal’s mozzetta.
Petr pivoted, grasping the two seams, buttoning the top button. “Now these button, Josef.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“There are twelve of them. Can you guess why?” He continued to button the cape.
The boy bit on his lip, looking up at the ceiling, obviously giving the question serious thought.
“I got it!” He beamed up at Petr. “It’s for the apostles.”
“Yes, splendid! You’re doing very well in religion at school. Is that right?”
“Yes. I have an A+.” He clasped his hands behind him, proud of his accomplishment.
“I thought so. You keep it up and maybe someday you’ll be a cardinal as well.”
Eliska placed the pussy willows into his arms, barely able to keep eye contact.
“I’ll see you at the hotel for the meeting at eleven tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”
“Yes, Your Eminence.” Playing it safe, using his title couldn’t hurt. She needed all the points she could get.
With all the grace and dignity the title required, Cardinal Novak pivoted on his red slippered feet and walked through the kitchen to the back door with Jakub in tow, to the mortification of Eliska’s her mother.
“Oh no, Cardinal!” She sighed as the screen door slammed harshly against the wood. “He went out the back door! What will the neighbors think if they see it? He should have used the front door.” Her hand was covering her mouth, her eyes wide with worry.
“Tereza, who cares about our neighbors? They’re jealous because we’re the family that had a real Cardinal from the Vatican in Rome at our house. For dinner.” With a flick of his wrist, he waved her off and left to sit in the living room.
“Mama, Petr is a normal man. Yes, a Cardinal, but a regular man. He went out the back door because he feels at home here, and he doesn’t want you, Josef, or anyone else who’s watching, to think of him as more than that. He’s very humble.”
“But…the back door!”
“Yes, Mama.” She rolled her eyes knowing that if Petr had been there to see it, she’d be in even more trouble.
Chapter 8
Dressed in his civilian clothes, Petr waited in the foyer for Elinka, his bad girl. She had a white cotton dress with pink, yellow, red, and blue flowers, and white strappy sandals, her golden blonde hair pulled up into a bun on the back of her head.
Petr’s cock stirred, and taking in a deep breath, he thought once again what a lucky man he was as he readied himself for the task at hand.
Once she was close enough, he placed the palm of his hand on the back of her neck, guiding her to the elevator to get to his room. After the door closed and he’d pressed the button to his floor, he leaned toward her ear, asking, “Did you take your panties off?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her cheeks flushed a beautiful pink, and he fought the urge to throw her to the floor after pulling the emergency button and fucking her senseless.
Slipping his hand under the skirt of the dress, he found the plump folds of her sex, slipping his finger between them to flick her clit. “You’re so fucking wet. This cunt is dripping, malý drak.”
“I know, please take me.”
“Shit!” Yanking his fingers from her, he pushed her up against the wall, grinding his concealed cock against her, and even through their clothes, he swore his shaft slipped between her labia.
The elevator dinged, warning them that the doors would be opening. He thrust her in front of him, camouflaging the growing bulge in his pants, pushing her down the hall and quickly opening the door to his room.
He shoved her against the wall, dragging her dress over her head, tossing it to the floor. Her tits bulged, overflowing from the cups of her bra. He wrenched the silken material up and over the peach globes, letting it rest at the top of her breasts, constricting her breasts, her nipples jutting out, pointed and obviously aroused.
Dragging a tip into his mouth, he sucked tightly, her gasp prodding him to bite it. He then devoted the same attention to its twin, drawing it in.
“I need to fuck you. Now.” He walked her backwards to the bed, pushing her roughly to land on her back, her breasts wobbling with the action but restricted by the makeshift harness he’d created with her bra. The only other pieces of clothing were the sandals on her feet. He tossed them to the floor and divested himself of his clothes, quickly throwing them into a nearby chair.
Her pussy, shaved and glistening with her arousal, had his cock bobbing in front of him.
“Put your feet on the bed, knees up, and let them fall to the side. I want to see your cunt and clit. Hands above your head.”
Obediently and silently, she did as commanded. Her hips
moved only slightly, jerking lightly with her spasms. Other than that, she was still, those large blue eyes watching him intently, her cheeks and chest pink with her increased arousal.
“Did you wear your plug all night?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He’d required her to not only bring her pink plug, but to wear it every night while on their trip. He knew that it would remind her to behave, but also heighten her excitement, leaving her ready for an orgasm.
Grabbing the small glass vial from the dresser, he pulled the cork stopper out, pouring the golden liquid liberally over his cock, working it in.
“Wh-what’s that?” Just a hitch of hesitation in her voice clued him unto her nervousness of the visit.
“Holy oil. Today it’s going to help me fuck your ass.” Tipping the glass, the liquid trickled over her anus, his fingers working it into her, continuing to fill her channel, adding fingers until he had three of them sliding in and out, easing the tight muscle. And as he anticipated, the plug had done most of the work for him.
“Are…aren’t you going to flip me over?”
“No, baby. I want to see your face, watch every emotion cross it while I keep you pinned to the bed at my mercy.”
Her small white teeth nibbled on her bottom lip, her eyes wide and unsure. He loved nothing more than pushing her, watching her struggle with being bound—either by rope or his hands—unable to move or hindering his movements.
He covered his cock with a steady stream of the oil before nudging the tip into her, breaching her anus. Leaning over her, he braced her hands onto the mattress, sucking tightly on her nipple, the sound of her plump flesh leaving his mouth, popping, leaving the point wet.
“Is my holy cock too much for your bottomhole, girl?” He eased his penis into her, only a fraction at a time, her hips writhing under him.
“N-no, Sir. Fuck my asshole, Your Eminence.”
He stilled, staring down at her, almost unsure of what he’d just heard. “Oh fuck! Remember that you asked for this, malý drak. Don’t be surprised when my come puts out your fire.”
“Please!”
Cardinal Sinner (Divine Domination Book 2) Page 6
