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Marionette (Pt2) | Terzo x Sister of sin Reader

A retired Papa needs a new hobby. One is never too old for playing dress up with their dolls.

Pt 1 here

18+ MDNI

CW: dollification kink, objectification, insecurity/body image issues, soft dom Terzo, oral, backshots, mirror sex, spanking, facials

AO3 Link

Ok not to toot my own horn (heh) usually when I read back my smut I feel mortified but I have possibly cooked here it's getting me FLUSTERED

Leaving this alone for now, might revisit it - maybe have Terzo take his treasure on a little Italian holiday, show her off a bit more.

“So… you just want me to sit here?”

Watching him with a raised brow, you dared to ask a question, in spite of his instruction. If that rule was one he would press you were unsure. He had guided you into his armchair, only to walk away from you when you thought he would finally take you.

He paced, determining which position on the couch would give him the best view of you before he sat.

“For now. I want to admire my work. Here, read your book, relax. Get used to the feeling.”

Of course, you realised, he was not about to undo all his hard work on you so quickly. While it only heightened your anticipation to return to his bedroom, you were not about to miss out on the opportunity to be admired by him, a pleasure in itself.

You settled into the chair, pulling on the hem of the black dress as you crossed your legs, still unused to the length, feeling somewhat exposed.

For a while the room was filled only with the hum of his record player, the sound of you flicking pages in your book, and the scratch of lead against paper while he sketched. You were ever so aware of his every move, how he would stare up at you before returning to his sketch pad.

It made you bashful, knowing he deemed you as something interesting or important enough to be immortalised on paper.

Eventually, you saw him set the pad down from the corner of your eye.

Without meaning to, you held your breath as he stood, taking slow steps towards you.

He knelt at your feet, hands tracing along the zipper of the boots. Your boots, you had to remind yourself. As much as he tried to remind you that everything he bought was a gift for you to keep, you still found it difficult to accept, so unused to being spoiled.

It was hard not to become flustered, seeing him bite at the tips of his gloves to remove them, carefully setting them aside before returning his hands to your legs.

He uncrossed them, moving closer to you. The caress of your thighs moving higher, up, up, up. A finger hooking into purple silk panties to pull them aside.

It earned a gasp from you, as you replaced you bookmark, turning your attention to Terzo, only to be met with a stern shake of his head.

“Good dolls hold their poses, sweet thing.”

Your mouth dried, lips parted as your brain seemed to freeze for a second, the sparks of anticipation in your core having been set alight, now bursting into flame. Giving him an apologetic nod you returned your attention to your book, with great difficulty.

Every move was methodical, allowing him to savour the experience, but torturous for you.

You itched to throw the book aside, to grind yourself against his hand that, aside from exposing you, was yet to touch you in the way that you yearned for.

But you stayed still.

Rereading the same paragraph, over and over in an attempt to actually comprehend it all to no avail.

Giving up and turning the page, to at least give Terzo the impression you were reading, turned out to be rewarding. The hand on your thigh unclenching, your flesh cold where it once was as he slipped his finger into his mouth, gathering saliva.

You were almost giddy, trying so hard to remain composed for him, holding back a gasp as he trailed his finger up and down your core. He teased, touching anywhere but your clit, your breaths shallow, the sensations not enough to be pleasurable in the way you needed.

The words in the novel seemed to blur, all meaningless as you stared at them, eyes fixed so you would not look at Terzo, that you would keep your pose as he insisted.

In a way that was more punishing than the lack of stimulation, not being granted the honour of seeing his face, how neatly he had done his face paints, how perfectly his dark hair fell around his face.

Gradually you adapted to his touch, able to cast your want aside and return your focus to reading.

Evidently, that had been what he was waiting for. The second you thought you were getting somewhere with the page you’d been stuck on for the guts of five minutes, he sank his finger into you slowly, curling it upwards in a way that made it so very difficult not to squirm.

Slowly, slowly, with the occasional swipe of his thumb against your clit causing you to jump, he dragged his finger against the walls of your cunt. With a quick glance you noticed his furrowed brows, the way he was staring you down intently to gauge every reaction.

While you flicked to a new page, not for having read the previous ones, but rather to make a desperate attempt at dispelling some of the energy you wanted to use to grind against him, he inserted another finger, drawing a hum from you.

“Good…. Good.” He murmured, husky enough to set that skip of your heart off again. “Nice and wet for me, my perfect doll.”

By the time he had stretched you to three fingers, his pace still glacier, bordering on infuriating, you had skipped through an entire chapter of pages, with no idea how the story was progressing. In fact, you weren’t even sure you could identify what book you were reading anymore, your mind fixed on the delicious feeling of his fingers curling up within your cunt.

You made a mental note that you should make more efforts to learn Italian as he lauded you with what could have been the most scornful comments heard in all of time for all you knew, but sounded like music to your ears.

Your good behaviour was rewarded with a slight increase in pace, and his thumb staying put on your clit. No longer offering mere teasing swipes but rubbing gentle circles that sent shudders deep within you.

His intense focus was now replaced with a satisfied grin, content with having found the perfect rhythm, seeing how you struggled to stay posed for him. Moans died in your throat only emerging as whimpers, fingertips curling into the pages of the book as he drove you closer and closer to orgasm.

You couldn’t quite believe yourself how well behaved you were. Normally at this point you would have been a writhing mess.

With a whine you titled your head at him, eyes pleading. Asking for permission wasn’t something that was discussed, or ever previously deemed necessary. After all, if anyone was going to encourage an orgasm, it would be Terzo.

But as a soft please came from your lips, he grinned, nodding enthusiastically, a slight bounce in his hair that on any other occasion you might have teased him about.

“Come for me little doll, little treasure…”

A few more slow thrusts of his fingers and you were there, limbs tensing as that pressure washed through you, chased quickly after with the blissful high of release.

“Good girl… so good for me, yes?”

Weakly you nodded, body shaking and drained in the moment. He pulled your panties back into place, the feeling of your wetness feeling somewhat ironic when you considered just how pristine the rest of your appearance was.

Standing before you he leaned over to press a quick kiss to your lips, his unspoiled hand cupping your chin.

Breaking the kiss his thumb glossed across your lip, a smirk on the edge of Terzo’s mouth as he watched how your lipstick smudged. You tasted the waxiness of it against your tongue as he pressed his thumb further into your mouth, as if to pry your mouth open, all the while tilting your head back.

The fingers of his other hand, you realised, were still coated with your own slick, fingers that he brought to your lips with an expectant smirk.

He didn’t need to instruct you. You took them in your mouth, staring up at him innocently as you removed any trace of yourself from them, revelling in the way his own eyes widened, how he bit down on his lower lip, making a mess of his own paints.

Satisfied with your work, he slid his fingers from your mouth, taking a step back from the chair. Having opportunity to pry your eyes away from his face, you noticed the very obvious bulge in his pants.

“Are you going to be good, tesoro?”

You nodded wholeheartedly.

“On your knees.”

Eagerly you obeyed, quickly lowering yourself from the chair onto the plush carpet. You reached forward to the hem of his trousers, only for him to bat your hands away with a tsk.

“Now now… what did I tell you about good dolls?”

“I’m sorry…” You muttered, fighting the urge to hang your head in embarrassment as he casually dismissed you, spinning on his heel.

Standing before his minibar, he paused in thought. There was a few light clinks as he prepared two glasses, filling them from a familiar bottle, half filled with green liquid.

He returned to you, gesturing for you to take one in each hand. You tried to find a comfortable position to wrap your fingers around the thick stems of the two flute glasses, arms held aloft as he tilted your head back.

“Now… stay put… and try not to spill too much. Let’s see just how well you can pose for me tesoro…”

You clenched your thighs at his soft drawl, a small gulp as you stared up at him.

Slow and dramatic, a performance in itself, he exposed himself, trousers undone just enough to free his cock. Spitting into his hand he gave himself a few languid strokes before pressing his tip against your mouth.

You accepted the length of him graciously, staring up at him with doting eyes, batting your lashes at him as he gripped your hair to keep you in place.

Quickly you were salivating around him, eliciting a contented groan as he began to gently fuck your mouth.

While you attempted to make it as satisfying as you could for him within the limit of him holding your head steady, you quickly noticed a small drip onto your hand. You had to focus, attempting to steady your grip, unsure of what punishment awaited you should you spill much more from the glasses.

He had a pattern, using your throat as a fucktoy, his hand holding you in place, the occasional choke when he hit the back of your throat causing another trickle to spill from the glasses as your body jolted.

Then was the hand in your hair guiding your head, giving you time to enthusiastically lick him from base to tip.

Occasionally dispersed between, he would release his grip on you, stroking himself as he hovered his balls by your lips, letting out a shuddering moan as you gladly lapped and sucked on them.

You dared not to glance at the two glasses, your hands sticky from how much had overflowed from the sides.

His breath had became heavier, a small trickle of sweat smudging his paints, barely a trace of lipstick on his bottom lip from how much he had been biting on it between whispering praises to you.

Feeling that familiar twitch, hearing the beginnings of a whine creep into each raspy breath he expelled, you let out a moan yourself in anticipation of how close he was.

Only… he stopped.

There was a growl of frustration while he righted his trousers, one he cut short, since it was caused by his own doing.

It was quickly displaced with an endearing chuckle upon seeing your puzzled expression, paired with the mess of your lipstick, the run of mascara down your cheeks, eyes having welled as you gagged.

“You did very well… but I am not quite ready to finish, tesoro. Now…” Kneeling in front of you he took each flute, one at a time, before gently lowering your arms to your sides. It was a relief, your muscles beginning to burn a little from the lack of support.

“Let’s see how well our drinks faired…”

The damage was not as bad as you had expected, both flutes still retaining at least half of the liquid he had filled them with.

He held one to your lips, encouraging you to tip your head back and allow the liquid to slide down your throat. Upon inspecting how you grimaced at the taste he let out a low grumbling laugh before making quick work of the other glass himself.

Setting the glasses aside he held a hand out to you. Ever the gentleman, pressing a kiss against it before helping you stand upright, pulling you into his arms.

“Colour, tesoro?”

“Green.” You giggled, amused with the irony as you still felt the sting of the absinthe burning your throat.

“Molto bene…”

Terzo took a few moments to flatten your hair that had been tousled from his grasp, tucking out of place strands back where they belonged.

Much to your dismay he released you from the hug, sitting back in the armchair in which you had began this performance.

“Come, tesoro…” He smirked, patting his thighs.

You pouted.

“I thought you said I would get spanked if I didn’t behave? Have I done someth-“

“-Ah…” he hushed you, pressing a finger to his lips.

“You’ve done perfectly well tesoro… but I think it would be appropriate to give you… say, a taster, of what a punishment might entail.”

The second time he patted his thighs it felt more commanding. While trying to maintain some level of seductiveness in spite of how your face burned, you started to lower yourself to rest face down bent over his legs. He stopped you with a hand on your arm, shaking his head which a smirk, one that conveyed he’d just had a new idea.

“Sit.”

You did just that, sitting perpendicular to him on his thighs, only for him to sling his forearm under your knees. He hoisted them to push them back against your chest, your neck cramping as you slid down against the armrest.

“Hold them there, please…” His tone, while sweet and gentle on a surface level, had undercurrents you knew all too well. And in this case you knew, it was not a request but an order. So, you gripped the back of your thighs, keeping your legs tight to your upper body.

“Much better than having you bent over, tesoro… I get to watch that pretty face…”

Your dress had alread pooled around your hips as a result of his manhandling, but as he grasped at you, hands wandering over the curves of your ass, he pushed it up further. Every so often as he rubbed and grasped at you, he would quickly pull his hand away, letting out a hiss of laughter as he watched how you would brace yourself, only for no slap to land.

After a few minutes of him winding you up you couldn’t hold back a petulant moan, an innocent attempt at voicing your frustration.

His hand that had been grasping you let go, a firm line setting in his lips. He didn’t look at you, staring ahead.

It sent a chill down you, just how cold he managed to look, an insidious edge creeping into his voice.

“Did I ask you to make a noise?”

You were sure your heart stopped for a moment, quickly shaking your head, eyes widening apologetically.

With no warning, he jerked his hand away again, this time not giving you the chance to brace yourself.

It landed with a sharp thwack right where your thigh met the curve of your ass, and knocked the wind from you.

It took every bit of will power for you to keep your legs pressed against your chest, wanting to kick, to squirm off his lap and cover the skin that burned so sharply, the sensation making your eyes water.

With his free hand he swiped a thumb over your cheek, softness in his mismatched eyes as he shushed you.

“Tesoro… shh. We will do ten, yes?”

The look he gave you upon seeing your perplexed, almost betrayed expression was one of pure endearment.

“This way, my love, you know what lies ahead if you act out. All the more reason not to.”

His eyes still locked on yours, he landed another smack against you, causing you to cry out, your back arching.

“Good girl… eight to go.” It was almost singsong, the way he rhymed it off.

He didn’t begrudge you your noises, for the rest of his slaps. Your skin hot and raw all over by the time he was finished. Your breaths were shaky, loud and hoarse as tears trickled from your eyes.

“Oh tesoro… look at you…”

Terzo cooed, scooping you up into his arms to hold you against his chest.

“Gonna cry for me doll?”

You mumbled a wordless response, letting the tears fall freely as he stroked your hair, gently rocking you in his arms.

Something seemed to click, your body feeling lighter.

Maybe Terzo had a point about this whole idea, that it could benefit you both. Sure, the absinthe was kicking in, making you feel a little out of it, but it was nothing compared to the rush of endorphins that his spanking had sent through you.

You weren’t quite sure how long you spent sobbing, clinging to his shirt with desperation. When you calmed down, you were in a state of near bliss, as if floating.

If through some rite of devotion you could remain like this for the rest of your life, euphoric, safe in Terzo’s arms, you would sign your soul over in a heartbeat.

“Oh my love…” he whispered, pressing kisses to your temple, “Give me a colour, sweet thing?”

“Green.” Your voice still trembled, but you didn’t hesitate to give him the go ahead to continue.

You pulled back, meeting his gaze, a sparkle in his eyes as he grinned at you with pride.

“You look beautiful…”

His praise made your heart soar. Knowing what state of dishevelment you were in at that moment, to hear him praise you so wholeheartedly felt like an honour.

Lifting you with ease, he rested you across the armchair before leaving you alone again, much to your dismay. Stepping towards the floor length mirror he spun on his heel, giving you a smirk.

“Come here…”

You stood, only for him to shake his head.

“On your knees…”

Legs trembling from his spanking, you lowered yourself, skin burning as you tried to make crawling toward him as alluring as you could manage.

Coming to kneel by his feet you looked at the reflection, seeing how pleased he was with you.

You had assumed, incorrectly, that he was going to use your mouth again as he slid his hand around your throat, tilting your head back.

Only he kept that pressure on your throat, forcing you to clumsily stand up so you could breathe.

With gentle touches to your back and chest he guided you to stand tall, your head held high, softly pinching your cheek when he was satisfied.

“There we go.”

You held the position, watching in the mirror as he stepped behind you, sliding his foot between yours, nudging for you to spread your legs apart.

“Perfetta…”

Mesmerised, you stared, lips parted as he ran his hands over your sides, pressing his lips to your neck.

His hands strayed to your hips, pushing the dress upwards, bunching the skirt around your waist.

You lifted your arms to aid him in removing it, only to be met with a shake of his head in the reflection.

With one hand he reached for yours, guiding it to hold up the fabric. Briefly you mourned the loss of his touch as his hand moved from yours, only to shudder as he ran it over the still reddened skin of your ass.

His fingers slid beneath the hem of your underwear, grasping it one hand on each side for a moment before giving them a sharp tug. You heard the rip of stitching pulling apart, an action he repeated twice more until every stitch had given in, tossing the scraps of fabric aside.

It was incredibly difficult in that moment not to clench your legs together in response, so aroused by him, his roughness uncharacteristic but tantalising at the same time.

He groped at you, rubbing the plump flesh of your ass before administering a few more slaps against it. Less forceful, this time, playful appreciation rather than a display of punishment. Still, the sensation made you jump, ever so slightly, giving him cause you grab you by the hips and shoulder, righting your position.

Needless to say, you were still wet from his earlier ministrations, when he once more pushed two fingers into your cunt. A few teasing strokes to get you ready, whining as he pulled away. Swiftly he undid his pants, coating himself with your slick with a hiss of pleasure.

A hand was on your waist again, while he smiled at you in the reflection, pressing a kiss against your cheek. All the while he had lined himself up with your cunt.

“Tippy toes, sweet doll…” He ordered softly, a breathy laugh escaping him as he noticed how unsteady you were upon complying. Pleased with this angle, he pressed his length into you, slow, slow, much too slow at first, the stretch of his tip against your entrance feeling almost mocking.

If he did it to tease you, or simply could not help himself you were unsure, letting out a yelp as he pulled you back against him, sinking into you fully in one fluid motion. Again you were helpless, unable to stop yourself from clenching on hearing his low growl in your ear.

He didn’t wait for you to adjust as he usually would, after all, you were his plaything now, he set the pace, slowly pumping in and out.

There was an irony in it, you weren’t quite sure how, more concerned with the luscious stretch of your cunt each time he filled you rather than thinking too hard.

How perfect you had both looked together in the mirror earlier. Yet now, so disheveled and warped with lust. Still perfect. In fact, perhaps even more perfect.

Every thrust made you moan as he quickened, his hips slapping against your sensitive flesh, a delicious sting.

His arms held you in place, one splayed across your chest, the other grasping your chin, ensuring you witnessed every second. Should you close your eyes in bliss for a moment too long, he would give your face a quick squeeze, bringing you back into the moment.

“Watch, tesoro…”

You attempted a nod, whimpering as you were just about able to see his cock thrust into you again as he let out a soft grunt.

“Such a pretty sight, yes?”

The only agreement came in the form of an unrestrained, needy moan, so overwhelmed with pleasure, his balls striking against your cunt each time he bottomed out only sending you spiralling to climax more quickly.

You didn’t dare to cry out his name, not without permission, instead your usual pleas and curses being replaced with unintelligible garbled nonsense as you felt your cunt spasm around him as that tension within you snapped. You were given reprieve, for a mere second from his grip on your chin. His hand moving now to thread through your hair, ensuring you didn’t miss a glimpse of the way your body trembled, how your muscles tenses and you flailed to hold onto his arms to steady yourself. How he grinned at you, the state of your face, reddened with pleasure, tarnished with ruined cosmetics as you cried out sobs of pleasure.

His pace never faltered as he fucked you through it, his grunts becoming louder, laden with desire.

“Not far behind you, amore…”

His grip around your chest became rougher, making it harder for you to draw in deep breaths as you would like. Still, given how your legs felt like jelly, how you wanted to sink to the ground in the comedown of your orgasm, his grip was about the only thing keeping you upright.

It caught you off guard when, amidst the overstimulation of feeling his thrusts become more forceful and erratic, he pulled out of you. His grip still firm, he, rather dizzyingly, spun you to face him, before pressing you down to your knees.

You stared up slightly dazed, yet diligent enough to tip your head back, offering your tongue to him as he grasped his cock, working himself to completion, hissing curses between his groans.

“Amore- fuck!”

You flinched ever so slightly, when he neglected to aim for your mouth, instead letting his spend spurt onto your face. He needed two more strokes, thrusting against his palm and adjusting the angle he held himself at, as if to paint you, to mark you as his.

Panting, he grinned. If age was on his side perhaps the sight of his cum sinfully trailing down your face might have had him ready for another round without any respite. Instead he allowed himself to savour the moment, to savour you. So perfect for him, his little treasure.

Slumping onto your side against the plush of the carpet you gazed up at him, seeing his paints, usually so meticulously maintained now smudged. His hair out of place, falling in his eyes. His outfit, usually so pristine, wrinkled, shirt untucked and messy.

Still, in spite of it all, in that moment he was a god to you, benevolent but merciless, firm yet fair. You supposed that was only fitting - you, his faithful marionette, him, your puppeteer.

How blessed you had been for him to invite you into his life, to share these desires, that in spite of your initial hesitation, felt like the exact thing you needed.

There was a trace of concern in his face as he watched your somewhat dazed expression, wondering if perhaps he had pushed you too hard, second guessing whether he had not checked in with you as often as he should have. Catastrophizing, analysing how any one of his behaviours so far might have been enough to push you away.

Graciously, those concerns were pushed aside the second you batted your, now clumped, lashes at him, the slightest of pouts on your lips as you outstretched your arms to him.

Without hesitation he wrapped his own around you as he pulled you into an embrace. There was no end to the praises he could adorn you with, so much so that he found himself getting choked up, eyes stinging, the risk of a sob clawing its way from his chest.

For once, Terzo felt like himself.

Not the flirtatious Papa, not the cocky youngest Emeritus brother, not some poster boy figurehead to be fawned over until he stopped being useful.

But himself, and for once, himself in the presence of another.

Not for the first time, he wondered what he’d done to deserve you.

He was shaken from his thoughts by your tired hum, muttering a question somewhat sheepishly, evidently still unsure of when exactly you were allowed to speak.

“Bath?”

You did need one, Terzo thought, seeing the ruins of your makeup, hair sticking to the back of your neck damp with sweat. But upon noticing his ornate clock on the wall, he raised a brow.

How rare it was that the two of you got to share a whole day together. And there was still so many hours remaining.

Not to mention, there was his old papal robes resting in the closet… What a sight for the lord below, to see you in ruins in his most unholy garb. What poses he could have you maintain for him. His doll, in his robes, following his every command.

He almost felt dizzy as he pulled away from you, standing with a sense of determination as he strode into his bedroom to the closet. To the section he rarely looked in since he had been retired.

Re-entering the living room holding the garment bag he smirked, holding back a laugh at your confusion, an adorable innocence in it. A patronising edge just about noticeable in his voice as he purred.

“You thought I was done? Oh my tesoro… we are just getting started.”

#the band ghost fanfic #terzo x sibling of sin #terzo x reader #papa iii x reader

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