Papa Secondo

A figure of elegance and quiet menace, Papa Secondo.

The lights barely rise before his presence is already felt, like he’s been there longer than anyone realizes.

There’s no need for grand gestures; the control is in his stillness, in the way he regards his audience as if they already belong to him. His words feel less like a greeting and more like a reminder of loyalty, of expectation, of something binding. By the time it’s over, it doesn’t feel like an introduction at all… it feels like you’ve been summoned.

My dear little one… first of all, it is Papa, not ‘Papa Papa Papa Papa’ for an entire minute. You will drive the clergy insane.

And your Uncle Primo speaks far too much. I was occupied with important matters… ceremonies, music, meetings… dreadful adult things.

You would not enjoy my kind of fun. It involves paperwork, incense, and listening to people confess nonsense at unreasonable hours.

I read it.

…Eventually.

You must understand, there is a process. Messages are sorted. Reviewed. Set aside. Rediscovered. Considered. Set aside again.

I had intended to send a reply.

Unfortunately, I then forgot.

…huh…

You want the bite that draws blood, the sting that lingers like sin itself. How delightfully depraved.

Did I just hear you correctly?

Look at this one. So bold. So filthy. Fantasizing about your Papa like some cheap, desperate little groupie.

Big strong Secondo, hm? In a thong? You think I, Papa Emeritus the Second, would parade around for your amusement like some brainless stripper ghoul? How precious. How utterly pathetic.

Pathetic little worm.

You stand there, begging for degradation like an animal in heat, and you think this amuses me?

Look at you… trembling already, eyes wide like a lamb led to slaughter. How delightfully desperate.

You want humiliation? Fine. Kneel. Right here. Kiss the ground beneath my boots and thank the Dark One that a miserable creature like you is even allowed to breathe the same air as your Papa.