Chapter Text
The Vatican Chronicles I
In yon wall shall yawn a breach
Part I
There were secrets that came with the papacy that nobody knows about. For once, unrestricted access to the Vatican’s archives – and boy had she holed up there the first few months of her papacy. Then, for some wild reason, the world’s leaders (at least the few catholic ones there were) practically begged her staff to go to confession with her. And by the lord’s ascension, she had heard things that would fill the tabloids for years.
And finally there were the notes. All of them were anonymous, but each one had been written by another pope. Some of them were your run-of-the-mill advice, nothing special, others were page-long discussions on certain verses and their interpretation (boring, duh).
And then there were the instructions regarding the mirror. On her first night in the papal chambers, they had given her the box and its key, wax sealed by her predecessor before his death.
On the very top of all the documents, there had been a carefully written letter with instructions.
- Each night hence, at quarter past eleven, thou shalt grant a wayward soul his solemn reckoning, where none but thine own ears may bear witness to the lament.
- Thou shalt unshackle the mirror from its hallowed place in thy dressing chamber, lest its reflection betray that which must remain unseen.
- Lo, in yon wall shall yawn a breach, a silent void where secrets pass like specters in the dark.
- From the shadowed side shall the penitent pour forth his sins, unbidden, yet yearning for absolution.
Sure, papal secret number one had to be in Shakespeare’s English, because why not?
She’d gone of course and taken the mirror down, the thing weighed a fucking ton, but behind it wasn’t a confessional window or ‘silent void’ … it looked like a fucking glory hole. Literally at the same height as her groin.
“Your Holiness?” a small voice had asked from the other side. The hole was too small and low to see a face. There was no light coming from the adjacent room either.
“Yes?” she had asked.
“Forgive me Holy Mother for I have sinned badly. It’s been three weeks since my last confession.”
So when the old fart had died.
“Speak then,” she cleared her throat.
Might as well run with it.
Oh and boy had that been a confession. She’d been a cardinal long enough to know that the abstinence they all held so high was just a sham. But she’d only ever heard whispers about the young men and women going in and out of the sacristies and private chambers. She’d never spoken to one. Not until that night.
“Holy Mother, how do I repent for my sins?”
How would she know? Thirty rosaries? Donations?
She scratched her head.
“Would the new Holy Mother permit me to repent in the old ways?”
She looked down at the hole.
Wait.
Wait a fucking second.
“The old ways?”, she asked.
“It’s tradition. The holiest of ways to repent.”
She felt herself getting hard. Her boxers were getting tighter.
Well if they were offering so nicely, who was she to deny them absolution?
She reached for her belt buckle and let her trousers fall to the ground, reaching into her boxers, stroking her cock so that it would stand up nicely through the hole. She was sweating. It’d been a while. With the conclave and the preparations for it, the funeral of the last pope, she’d barely had time to take care of herself.
She stepped closer to the wall to where the breach was and saw tender, rosy lips in the dim light of the lamp. They were slightly agape. The tip of her tongue darted out to lick them and Agatha was done for.
When she positioned herself just in front of the hole, sticking her cock through, they wrapped around her, coated her cock in saliva, and sucked her in.
She saw heaven.
Every prophecy and revelation coming true at once. She felt her tongue then too, flickering over the nerves on the tip of her length, licking off whatever pre-cum was still left there. Agatha moaned and pressed her forehead to the wall. The noises coming from the other side of it were obscene – wet pops and whines, gurgling and smacking. At some point she removed her mouth and quickly replaced it with her hand, rubbing quickly, tightening her grip and spreading her fingers.
Agatha couldn’t stifle the animalistic moaning as she pressed both of her palms against the cool wall, focusing on nothing but the smacking sounds her cock was making within the grip of the other woman’s hand. She imagined long dark hair, a blush on her cheeks, an innocent flutter of her lashes as she worked on her erect length.
“Fuck”, Agatha groaned.
She felt her spit on it again, lubing it up with warm fluid. A singular sigh came from the other side of the wall again as she stroked her, hard and slow, before she used her tongue to lick it from the underside – base to tip, still holding it in place with her hand.
“Be a good girl, and let me fuck your mouth again,” she ordered breathlessly until she felt those lips again, softly taking her in.
If this was her highest duty now, so be it. She’d do it every night.
She thrust harder this time, forcing it in, past the rows of teeth and far into her throat until she felt her tip brush against it. She wished she could grab the woman’s head, push it down on her, keep it there until she painted the walls of her esophagus with her cum. Agatha listened to her mewls, listened to her fight it as she was grunting. Agatha smirked at it, felt her blood seethe inside her as the other woman let go of her, catching her breath.
“Your Holiness is bigger than the last holy father was,” she heard her pant, “I’m so sorry I can barely fit you in my mouth.”
“N-no it’s fine, it’s perfectly fine, keep going, I’m really fucking close,” Agatha moaned.
“Yes, Holy Mother,” she obliged.
Fuck. And with that sweet voice? What angel was on the other side?
This time she wrapped both of her hands around it, moving up and down frantically.
Agatha felt her cock strain, the skin of it stretching deliciously uncomfortably as she was still growing harder against the touch. She was just about to beg her to take it into her mouth yet again, when she heard another whisper.
“I know it isn’t customary, but one day, I’d like to take it in my pussy, if I may.”
She felt how hot spurts of cum shot out of her, her cock twitching in a way that she wasn’t sure it had ever done before, releasing all of her seed in quick, violent pumps. The girl’s hand milked her, she talked her through it, spread it all over her again and kept rubbing.
“Please, please let me lick it all off,” she begged, and Agatha wanted to come again right then and there.
After that came others. Usually someone else each night. They all confessed to her, they all prayed with her, before each night she took off her pants and boxers, letting her cock spring free and into their mouths. Sometimes she came quickly, some nights not at all. Sometimes she spilled herself onto their faces, sometimes they showed her their tongues, all clean from swallowing.
She would always listen for their voices. At first, she wouldn’t even admit it to herself. That she was looking. That she was almost disappointed that it never seemed to be the girl from her very first night. She’d been different. She had talked to her throughout it. She had known what to say. She had stroked her in just the right way. None of the others did.
She brooded over it during her South America tour, sulked when she went to Asia to meet the Dalai Lama and let all of her staff know how moody she was just before Easter. After all. It wasn’t like she could ask anyone about it right?
“Hey, where do all the people come from that want to confess and take my cock in their mouths every night? And can you get me the girl that I fucked the first night of my papacy specifically?”
She became so frustrated she skipped several nights then, grumbled in her bed, rock hard at the thought of her, dry humping her dick into the mattress so she would find comfort, but no release.
And then, one week after Easter, it happened.
She was alone in her apartment, when the maid came in, rolling in her dinner and setting her table. Agatha barely regarded her, looking out of the window and over the city. She listened to the clicking sounds as she was lading in the soup and let out a long breath. She was almost back and out through the door when she said one more thing.
“Goodnight your Holiness.”
Agatha shot around.
That voice.
That was her voice!
Her fucking voice.
She sprinted after her, almost tripping over her robes, slowing down and then looking into the empty hallway. Fuck. She was gone already.
She ate and then she shouted for her chief of staff.
It was already long dark when she heard faint knocking on her bedroom door. Agatha was in her reading chair, glasses on the tip of her nose when she stepped in. She was young, maybe in her late twenties, with sun-fucked skin and dark, brown hair.
“Come on in,” she beckoned her, “shut the door,” she sat down her book on the table and heard how the door closed.
“You asked for me, Holy Mother?”, her voice trembled. But it was hers. Wasn’t it? From all those months ago.
“What is your name?”
“My name is Rio, your Holiness, Rio Vidal.”
“Have you been to confession lately, Rio?”, Agatha ogled her, letting the name roll over her tongue. She looked like she belonged to the kitchen staff. Agatha has seen her before, bringing her an extra egg for breakfast or cleaning up after she had finished. She had never spoken. For obvious reasons probably.
“No, I haven’t, your Holiness,” she looked down to her shoes and crossed her hands over her crotch.
“Would you like to confess right now?”, Agatha offered, rising from her chair.
“I would,” she nodded, blushing like a virgin.
“On your knees then,” Agatha came to stand in front of her and watched her as she got down. She reached for her chin, made her look up. Such a pretty face, “go on.”
“Forgive me Holy Mother, for I have sinned badly. It’s been months since my last confession.”
Agatha sucked in a breath at the tone of her voice.
“Tell me about your sins.”
“I have committed adultery, your Holiness, the worst kind,” she sobbed, “I touch myself thinking of confessing to her Holiness almost every night.”
“Do you now?”, Agatha smirked, “what do you think of?”
“I think of how her Holinesses’ cock would feel inside of me, how much I want to take it in my mouth again just so her Holiness could spurt herself all over my face again,” Rio babbled.
“You want my cum on your face then?”
“I’d rather have it in my pussy, but I’ll take it anywhere you grant it,” she looked up then and Agatha could see tears in her eyes.
She had that girl wrapped around her finger, hadn’t she? But then some girls just like to be put in their rightful place, didn’t they? Stuffed full and up to the brim, begging to be forgiven for their sins. She groaned and felt how she was already rock hard with anticipation.
“Look at what you’ve done,” she jerked her hips forward so the bulge was in front of Rio’s eyes. She watched them go wide.
“W-Would her Holiness allow me to repent again?”
Agatha grinned.
Right where she wanted her.
“Take off your shirt and bend over the bed for me,” she ordered and took off her belt while Rio rose to her feet, slowly walking over into the next room where the pope had her small bed. She placed both of her hands on the sheets and bent over beautifully.
With one swift motion, she lifted Rio’s skirt and looked at her bare ass and sodden white panties. If innocence was a person. She tore them down without warning and shoved two of her fingers in without warning, hearing Rio gasp in shock. But instead of moving them in and out, she left them there for another second and took her belt to Rio’s ass-cheeks, slapping it hard.
“You have sinned terribly.”
She hit her again, watching as Rio tilted forward and moaned lowly.
“You have sinned against your Holy Mother by not repenting sooner.”
She smacked her again, listening to her cries.
“Forgive me Holy Mother, I regret it so much!”, she whimpered.
She slapped her again.
“Fuck, oh my God, yes!”
One more slap.
“You are lucky. Girls that sin so gravely can only repent in a special way.”
“Yes your Holiness,” she nodded, her face still turned towards the wall.
“You will take me into your pussy, and you will let yourself be fucked until I spill myself inside you,” she removed her pants, let them fall to the ground.
“Yes, please, oh, please!” she begged.
“What do you want, Rio?”
“I want your cock so bad, please, I need it!”
She placed the tip of it at Rio’s entrance, collecting the moisture there, slowly circling her clit with it, listening to her labored breaths, watching her shiver.
“Do you regret your sins?”, she taunted.
“Yes, I do! I do!”
She plunged into her then, shoving all of it inside of her, paying little mind to any friction she encountered. She felt warm and tight, and untouched, an … actual virgin for all Agatha could tell.
“Has your hole been put to use before, Rio?”
It took her a second to respond.
“N-no it hasn’t”, she cried as Agatha began to pump steadily, bottoming out each time and pressing herself deep inside of her, groping at her hips, enjoying the feeling of the soft flesh in her hands.
“Fuck you’re so fucking tight baby,” she groaned, pulling out almost entirely.
“I’ve been s-saving myself for you I swear, I do not let anyone t-touch me in this way.”
Fuck.
“What a pious girl you are,” Agatha panted, thrusting hard and listening to the wet slapping sounds as she sped up.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck yes,” she heard Rio yelp.
She pulled out completely then, only to turn her around on the bed.
She was a sight to behold. Her little angel. Small but plump tits with dusky, hard nipples. The mascara on her left eye was running down her cheek, her fringe was all messy and her hair was pouring around her like silk.
Agatha yanked her towards her, bending her legs by the knees and pushing them flush to her body so that her pussy was at the perfect height, offering itself to her like a holy sacrifice. Perhaps it was one.
She loved that she could see her face like that, loved that she could see the gap in her little white teeth in this position.
“So nice and open for me,” she rubbed her cock along Rio’s thighs, leaving her slick mixed pre-cum everywhere.
“Please let me take it again, please!”, and there it was, the fluttering of the lashes, the redness on her cheeks.
Agatha dipped into her, only halfway to enjoy it, to savor it, to watch her face contort.
“It’s been a while since I felt such a nice and tight pussy around my cock,” she pressed out, “I have to be careful not to blow my load too soon.”
“Yes yes yes,” Rio whined below her.
She thrust faster then, harder too, holding Rio’s legs in place as she slammed into her, watching the sweat pool on her forehead, her eyes fixed on Agatha’s.
“Oh God, f-fuck yeah, oh yes,” she mewled taking it all inside of her.
She felt even smaller in this position, like she was gripping onto her, sucking her in towards her cervix.
Agatha loved it. She loved the thought of deflowering her, of being the first inside of her, the first to shoot her seed inside. Girls like that were made for breeding. Girls like that were made for her.
“Fuck, Rio,” she pressed out as she felt that her mind was slowly going foggy. She looked so good like this, so utterly whipped and unbridled, ready for the taking.
“Is this what you wanted? Huh? All of me inside of you? I thought it was too big?”
“N-no, it’s good, it’s so fucking good, I’m so close your Holiness, I’m so close, you feel so good!”, she almost cried.
Agatha reached around her then, flicking her thumb over her clit, once, twice and then a third time before she heard her scream and saw how her eyes rolled back and she went slack like a ragdoll, her body bobbing up and down from Agatha’s thrusts. She felt glorious as she convulsed around Agatha’s, strong tugs momentarily making her even tighter than before.
“Let me rest my cock inside of you, huh? Just a second?”, she whispered and slowed down as Rio hazily nodded. She let out the most vulgar sounds as she came down from her orgasm, low sobs and high pitched cries at every tiny movement.
Just when it seemed like she had fully relaxed from it, Agatha began to pump into her with brutal force, slamming her cock in and out of her, stretching her wide.
“Oh my God, please, please,” Rio screamed.
“C’mon baby you can take it, you can take it alright, let me spill myself inside of you, mhm?”
“Yes, d-do it, do it!”, she croaked, “please I want all of it, pump it all inside of me, please!”
She looked her straight in the eye then and it was that - nothing else, the intensity of it - that made Agatha come. She shot her cum into Rio' cunt, coating every inch with it while still lazily thrusting. She listened to Rio groan in delicious pain every time she pressed their bodies flush together.
“Shhhh, it’s all good,” she soothed her, “you such a good girl, letting me fill you up.”
“Thank you Holy Mother, thank you,” Rio bit her lower lip in pleasure.
“You are absolved of your sins,” Agatha smiled warmly, her cock still half hard inside of her, “but I need you to keep confessing. Your soul is far too precious.”
Rio looked at her with hooded eyes, “I-I could come to the wall tomorrow,” she offered with a small voice, cheeks red again.
Agatha laughed.
“No baby. You’ll come right here again.”