ghost slut!

An anonymous message? You want to shrug it off, but the darkness of the night elicits a heightened reaction from you. A warmth forms in your belly. Who could possibly be thinking of you at this hour?

And why did they miss you? It's not like you missed your shift. Oh, but you did work the morning shift to cover for another sibling. You usually close the kitchen. Considering that was your shift tomorrow, you were determined to find out who this was.

Your mind immediately goes to delusion, secretly hoping it's him.

The object of your fantasies.

His billowing red cassock and biretta.

Thin mustache and perverted demeanor.

Cardinal Copia.

Everyone thought he was "the creepy rat man," but to you, he was the reason you were failing his Latin lecture. The way he loomed over you when you asked for help, and how his leather gloves creaked when he nervously clasped his hands together. wishing it would make that sound around your throat instead. There was no way you could ever focus on the contents of his lecture when he looked so addicting every day.

You scoffed audibly as you put your phone back on the nightstand, electing to ignore the mysterious message, and pray to the lord below that sleep eventually takes you.

There's no way it's him.

--

The next day, you were about two hours into your evening shift. It had already been incredibly busy dinner rush, as the middle of the week normally was. You had a few moments of reprieve from the prep table, and you go to your locker to check your phone.

Your stomach does somersaults when you receive another anonymous message. This time, a photo, of the daily sandwich special you prepared on a plate; the eggplant parm, with another cryptic message underneath:

"Delicious, cara mia. And a suggestive choice, wouldn't you say?"

You cover your mouth with your hand, hiding your body further into your locker, hoping no one sees you and starts asking questions as to the bewilderment on your face. Your mind becomes dizzy, your heart racing, and an electrifying feeling drops from your stomach to between your legs.

Who, other than those that work in the kitchen, would know that you were the one who made the eggplant parms for tonight? And...'cara mia'?

Oh no.

You were failing Latin, but... you could deduce what that meant...

...and who could have sent it.

Your palms were shaking as you returned your phone to your locker, knowing that despite this revelation, you needed to return to work. You avoided the expo window at all costs, hoping he couldn't see back into the kitchen and find you. Though deep down you were enjoying every second of this, the nature of how he is getting your attention is unnerving.

~~

You painfully endured the rest of your shift, and everyone was finishing up their closing tasks. You got that hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach again, when you realized that you were leaving alone tonight. You had some menu planning tasks to finish up, usually done after the other kitchen staff have left. You didn't want to be weird and ask someone to stay with you, it would raise suspicions.

You check out the kitchen staff, and return to your office, dizzy with fear and anticipation. Things always come in threes, right? You know these two messages will build up to a third. You finalize a few menu plans for next week, when your phone buzzes next to you on the desk. You pause, letting out a nervous breath, knowing it's him. It's gotta be him.

"They forgot to turn off the oven"

Your eyes widened with fear. You hesitantly pushed yourself out of the desk chair and crept out of the tiny kitchen office. Your stomach is completely in knots at this point when you see a silhouette of a man across the dark kitchen, leaning against the prep table. You immediately spot the pointy tips of his infamous biretta.

It's Cardinal fucking Copia.

"H-hello? Can I help y-you?" You nervously tremble towards him, as he stays stoic and rigid at the other end of the kitchen. Your mind is going a mile a minute. Why would he need to send messages anonymously? He's your instructor. What game is he playing? Is he getting some sick thrill out of this?

You finally approach him, his familiar face coming into picture, illuminated by the pilot light from the oven.

"Cardinal? Sir-- what are you? Why are you?" His gloved finger meets your lips, as he closes in on you.

"It would not be wise to ignore my messages any longer. Do you want the building to burn down?"

With that, he presses the OFF button on the oven, and everything goes dark.

~~

You squeal when you feel yourself being lifted onto the prep table behind you, the unforgiving cold steel seeping through your thin habit. You want to be frightened, and for all intents and purposes, you should be. But Satanas, have you dreamed of this...

His hand grab your thighs, yanking you down to the edge of the table, as he lifts your habit over your legs. The smell of arousal surrounding you is undeniably yours, as you instinctively spread wide for him.

"Sorella, not even putting up a fight...and so ready for me." Copia growls.

Your hand clasps over your mouth, stifling back a scream, when you suddenly feel his mustached mouth plunder your folds. He opens them up slowly with his tongue, moving up and down, stopping each time over your sensitive bud to tease and suck. The sound of him grunting and groaning into you has you subconsciously grinding against his face, to which he responds by painfully pinning your thighs down further into the table with his strong hands.

You feel that familiar growing sensation in your core. Your ultimate fantasy is coming to fruition, and it has you teetering on the edge of your climax, but he cruelly pulls away. You jump when he smacks your pussy in admonishment, "Not yet, cara mia."

Your chest heaves in pleasure as you hear fabric rustling in front of you. A spongy texture meets your folds, pushing into your wet and needy entrance. Your hands clamp down on the edge of prep table, knowing you'll need to hold on to something when you feel just how thick he is. He lets out a perverse moan as he pushes deeper into you, his girth filling you up and stretching you wide.

"So...tight..." Copia groans. You arch your back when he finally bottoms out, and his hands grab underneath your ass. He quickly picks up pace, and rails you hard into the table. The sensation is overwhelming, as you both, unashamed, moan and sigh with pleasure through every slam of his hips into you. His balls slap against you deliciously good, the sound of it so carnal and quickly building you back up.

He pulls your legs on his shoulders, your breasts now bouncing salaciously with every thrust. You've become a whimpering mess, as the jackhammering of his perfect cock has you so close. You pray no one finds you, as Copia's moans grow in volume. You clench around his cock, eliciting a pained groan from him. His thumb finds your clit, rolling circles over it in just the right way.

"You'll....pay...for that...cara..."

Copia barely lets out, as he spills into you hard. He fucks you through his orgasm, his seed indecently spilling out around his cock. The warm sensation of it sends you over the edge, as your core fills with that entrancing feeling of the bursting dam. You feel flooded and overwhelmed with pleasure through your legs as he continues to rock his hips into you through your own orgasm.

He removes himself slowly, and pulls your habit back down over your legs, unconcerned with the mess he's made of you. He pins your wrists to the table, and you feel his hot breath suddenly over your ear.

"Tomorrow morning. My office. 7am. You will earn a good grade another way."