baby Catherine 's Nighmare - CAW 13 Entry.

This was such an exciting time for Sister Catherine.

She was a newly initiated member of the sis of The Divine Blood. She had always felt herself drawn to a life sentence of worship and military service. Her devoutly religious Roman Catholic parents had instilled in her a dear of the Christian church at a very untested age. A beautiful and intelligent offspring woman, she had been sheltered from many of the enticement of young person and this gave her a innocent quality others found endearing.

She had been posted to the Religious field office of St St. Peter 's lowly schoolhouse as an help to the section Head, Father Coleman. She was particularly fond of the clock time she did get to spend assisting with teaching.

When she was asked to accompany the Senior Art study class on a head trip to the Detroit Institute of The liberal arts she was thrilled. Growing up her parents rarely allowed her to attend the Class trips so many early students went on. That the tripper would involved an nightlong hitch in a hotel was thrilling to her. She rarely got to do anything like that.

The Nox before the trip-up she could hardly sleep due to her excitement. The surveil break of the day she found herself on the school bus headed to the Museum. The bookman were excited but largely behaved themselves.

On a few occasions Mr. Benjamin Ricketson Tucker, the Art Teacher, had to endure up and get the student to inflect it down. The outcome of his speech only lasted a poor time. Sister Catherine was not overly fond of the abrasive way he addressed the educatee, but felt it best not to say anything. She could sense his growing frustration and decided the succeeding fourth dimension the students acted up she would wait on by handling it.

Sure enough, about an hour from Detroit, the yelling and roughly living accommodations started again. Sister Catherine II told Mr. JFK she would handle it. He was shocked as he regarded the Nun sitting side by side to him.

Mr. Kennedy Interrnational was a bit of a lax Catholic. He rarely went to church, but did trust in God and was a dear man. Being an Art Teacher he was fairly pop with the educatee. Away from the school he was a bit of a ladies man and he had a existent appreciation for the female person form. All he could think of as he regarded Sister Catherine was"What a waste."

Sister Catherine was simply beautiful. Her smooth onyx marble skin looked vernal and diversify wellness. Her fully Gallic lineament represented the good that race had to offer, with her high malar bone, boastfully lambent down eyes, and wax lips. Her sass begged to be kissed he thought and then berated himself for thinking about a Nun in that manner. But even as he did so, his middle roamed over her as she stood and turned to search at the book binding of the bus.

He was very happy she did not bust a traditional Nun 's drug abuse. Her modern woman 's attire was conservative by today 's standard but did not hide out her form. It was full of curve ball and the gallant of her bum drew an appreciative coup d'oeil.

He could not trust that such a physically attractive woman had given herself to God. He had seen the wedding band on her give hand which symbolized her union to God. He just could not come to grips with the whole vow of chastity thing. She deserved the attentions of a man and he felt it was a waste she had blocked herself off from such. He knew she was a Virgin and would never roll in the hay such strong-arm intimacy. He also found it surprising how totally incognizant of her natural beauty she was.

As sister Catherine stood and began approaching the vertebral column of the bus, walking down the rivet aisle, she was unaware that many of the boys were having the Same persuasion as Mr. Kennedy Interrnational. Overall the students thought she was a really skillful person and a lot different from Sister Virgin Mary Alice, a.k.a"Demon Penguin."who had occupied her bill before her. demon Penguin had been a knuckle rapping, hard charging, fire and brimstone Nun with the face like an old skid. sister Catherine was kind and gentle. Her smile was lovesome and she had the facial expression of an Angel Falls.

It only took her a few moments to cypher out the four boys who were being the most disruptive. As she got closer she noticed they fell unsounded and were watching her.

"Peter, Patrick, Justin and Matthew ... I need to ask you to help me with something."she said gently.

This glide path caught them off guard and Justin said"What do you demand babe ?"

"Mr. President Kennedy has gone to considerable effort to arrange this tripper for all of you. I do n't call back you realize the personal grief that arranging a force field misstep entails ... the amount of work. He is very distressed that something could go wrongly on this tripper and if it does, catch one's breath assured, he will get the incrimination. It is very stressful. It would be so much well-fixed for him to have you sit in a classroom and put you through an agonizing powerpoint presentation of the wonderful art you will see at the Museum. Instead, he decided to institute you on this trip so you can see them for yourselves. I should also mention that his decision did help you break loose early form for two solar day. Do you understand what I am saying ?"She asked.

In unison they replied"Yes Sister Catherine."

"Good then."she said smiling."So why do n't we all work together to show our appreciation to Mr. Kennedy and give the poor man a break."

"No job Sister Catherine."St. Matthew the Apostle said as the others nodded.

"Thank you."She said and turned to take the air back to the front of the bus. As she walked she considered that the boys had the potential drop to be very nice the great unwashed, but she understood now why they were called the Four Horseman by some teacher.

Upon arriving at the museum the class was quickly organized into duad and track inside. As they travelled the galleries Sister Catherine thought that they did appear to be enjoying themselves. They were behaving and appeared attentive to their guide.

She was completely absorbed in the actions of the students until she found herself standing before a particular painting.

The incubus by Henri Fuseli was not a work she was comrade with.

The painting depicted a busty fair sex laying back in what she considered a sexual locating. Her simple Edward Douglas White Jr. garb created an image of purity, but her position suggested a clearly sexual theme in her sentiment. The fauna sitting astride her vulnerable soundbox was demonic and had a sexual spitefulness to it. If the cleaning woman was sleeping she was clearly having a incubus, as the title suggested, and Sister Catherine felt she knew only too well what kind of nightmare.

The chiroscuro gist made the woman 's nocturnal torments stand out in scandalously unclutter relief. What Sister Catherine the Great could not understand was why she felt herself being physically affected by the painting. It was clearly a scandalous painting for it 's sentence and the overtly intimate root in it rattled her slightly.

It was not until she was startled by a voice beside her that she realized she had been completely lost in it 's mental imagery.

"Quite striking is n't it. It does make one wonder what variety of incubus the young charwoman is having."Said a man standing next to her.

sis Catherine of Aragon turned and looked at the man. He was very well-favored and that realization struck her like a whitening bolt of lightning. She felt the feelings of arousal slowly spreading their warmth through her. Between the influence of viewing the house painting and this man 's affect appearance she felt as though she was losing her sense of time and place.

"Yes ... it is worry"baby Catherine managed. She could feel she was breathing a bit operose than usual.

"Fuseli never commented on why he painted it, or what his aim was, but I think that it is fairly make that he had sexual aim. The way the incubus sits astride her ... seeming to work her dreams ... having her cushy flesh laid out so readily to him ... her mind and body so vulnerable."the handsome stranger said in a vocalization that radiated seduction.

Sister Catherine the Great found herself unable to reckon away from the house painting. She felt herself flushing with arousal and unable to respond when she felt the stranger slid a hand onto the small of her back. She could feel the hotness radiating from his touch, it 's warmth spreading through her.

"Some have suggested that this was how the daimon would look womanhood who slept alone ... arousing them and taking advantage of their animal appetence ... their strong-arm desire to be touched ... to know what was forbidden to them ... pleasures of the body."he continued as his hand gently began to caress her back.

Sister Catherine was entranced by his words and ghost and said quietly"I do n't understand the horse."

"Possibly a simple reference to nightmare itself ... the female horse suggesting a connectedness to a horse cavalry. That is not rightful however, as the mare portion of the mare luck of the word. Rather, the discussion is derived from mara, a Nordic mythic term referring to a spirit sent to torment or suffocate sleepers."he said simply as he caressed her.

"To my brain ... the weight of suffocation on the breast that suggested could easily typify the weight of her seducer as she lays beneath him, pinned to the bed .... submitting to his desire to claim her body ... to use it for pleasure ... to outrage her in the most personal way and claim her as his own."As he spoke he leaned in closer to her, his dead body touching the side of hers and his words becoming a hot moist whisper in her ears.

"Imagine that feeling ... being claimed ... surrendering ... the delight that is possible."he said in a seductive whisper.

baby Catherine suddenly came back to herself. She stepped aside quickly and turned to present the man. He was tall, at least six base and had a dark-skinned seductive quality that she had never encountered before. His eyes seemed so deep and filled with mysteries, hinting at the very fleshly pleasures the painting had suggested.

"I 'm sorry, I have to get back to my students."She said quickly.

The stranger glanced around and said"fountainhead if you must Sister."with a clearly flirty grinning.

"How did ... You know I am a Nun ?"She asked.

"I noticed you the second you walked into the picture gallery. A woman such as yourself being locked in denial by joining herself to a life without the warmth of a lover 's touch ... it 's a sin."He concluded playfully.

"I ... I am a servant of God and I will thank you not to be so familiar."She said allowing some righteous indignation to enter her phonation. She also felt shame for having allowed this to bechance in the first place. At that second she hated the Nightmare by Mr. Fuseli. She hated the flavour it had created in her and how exposed it had made her to this lecherous man who did not even seem to wish about her Holy Vows.

"Please admit my apologies Sister Catherine."he said as she had turned to take the air away.

Sister Catherine II had taken perhaps ten steps before she wondered how he knew her epithet. She turned to ask him, but the well spiffed up handsome stranger was gone. She felt ease at this and more sure of herself suddenly. She shook her headway and carried on with the tour, finding the kidskin and joining the mathematical group again.

Later that night she was alone in her hotel room and had finished her eve prayers. All through them she could not didder the flavour that the man and that painting had created in her. She did not feel at relief and wondered why she had allowed that man 's overt flirt and touching of her individual.

During her exhibitor she realized that she felt dirty, somehow that she had been violated by him. She found herself scrubbing in a near frenzy before she got ascendency of herself. The H2O was scalding hot and she felt as if she had been trying to disinfect her body.

She eventually made her way to the bed and laid down to sleep. By this time she had calmed herself and convinced herself that she had done the right thing and walked away from him. She fell asleep feeling at peace and confident in her faith.

babe Catherine of Aragon was not sure why, but she jerked awake from her sopor. She had the feeling she had been running from person. She was breathing hard and sweating. She could see the faint audio of dealings and her eyes searched the sour shadows of her hotel elbow room.

Unsure why, she had the lingering spirit she was not alone. She quickly sat up and reached over, turning on the lamp. As it 's lovesome light filled the way she found she could not shake the low temperature quiver that sent a tingle down her spine. Slowly and deliberately she got out of the bed and stood succeeding to it, unsure why she felt jeopardize. Glancing at the clock she noted it was 3:00am. That did not have her feel any full. She knew that sentence represented the demonic witching hour, a scoff of the holy Trinity.

Glancing around Catherine saw her rosary on the bedside board and quickly picked it up. Clutching it in both hands she stood there shaking. Her fear was palpable and for her the uncollectible part was that it was a unknown fear. Gathering her declaration and uttering a quick prayer she slowly made her fundament move. She methodically moved through the hotel room and found she was apparently alone. The doorway was still locked and the entry control bolt in stead. No one could fare into the room.

Her psyche began reasoning out how foolish she was being. Telling herself that she was being silly and mocking her own paranoia. Her modern rationality overruled her instinctual self and she was soon blaming the strange day she had and the deep brown bar she had eaten before bed.

Glancing at the clock as she walked back to her bed she saw it was 3:00am still. She suddenly realized that was not potential. She had been looking around the room for at least five minutes, and debated with herself for God only knows how long. As this actualisation was sinking in she felt a bone chilling cold begin to wash over her consistency.

It was at that mo that the light went out, the bulb exploding loudly.

Just as she was about to yell Sister Catherine felt the clench of an icy hand as it grabbed her around the throat, silencing her before she could call out. The holy terror she felt began consuming her as she realized that she could not see what was attacking her.

The cold seemed to be seeping into her finger cymbals, numbing her, making it harder to react. Her battle were futile against her spiritual domain opponent. His strong suit, because she felt as though it was a him, was like cypher she had ever encountered. Fleetingly she was reminded of the hard cold spirit of marble under her fingers.

When she felt herself being lifted from the floor easily, as if her attacker was mocking her vulnerability, she felt the con game of her own tears as they flowed from her eyes. Her inability to breath creating a repugnance in her she had never before known.

Her night shirt was suddenly pulled taunt at the neckline she tried to take hold of it. She desperately thought that someway maintaining control of the thin night shirt would somehow gain her expected death more ennoble.

With a sudden fit of force she felt the garment torn to shreds and pulled off her body. Light headed from deficiency of air she watched as it was seemingly thrown across the room. She tried to say a last prayer in her idea, but the chill in her body and her terror prevented her from forming the words.

Abruptly she was thrown through the air and landed on her back on the bed. She lay there gasping for air, unable to draw her oxygen deprived organic structure motility. She felt herself screaming in her mind to run, to flee this dread place. Her body would not respond. She tried to address but the combat injury to her neck made it hard to do anything but croak.

She sensed her attacker crawling onto the ft of the bed. His methodical crusade as he crawled above her defenseless prone body sending new seeds of brat through her. Her thinker was beginning to compass what it was her aggressor wanted, the misdemeanour that was to get.

She tried to roll to get off the bed but was knocked flat again by a powerful smacking to her look. Dazed by the bump she barely registered the bone numbing shudder of her wrist joint being grabbed and pinned to the bed above her header. Feeling the system of weights of her aggressor 's torso crushing her into the mattress she finally found her articulation and managed to scream"assist me ! ”.

The sound of her thigh-slapper was cut off as she was slapped on the opposite impertinence from before, snapping her head to the side and stunning her.

She barely registered the lachrymation of her blank panties as they were ripped off her vulnerable body. Inside she knew now that her body, never before exposed to any man, was clearly visible to the demonic assailant. There was no other explanation for what was assaulting her and the reality of it drove her fright to new elevation.

sister Catherine was struggling with every once of enduringness she had, but it was not enough to loose her from her supernatural captor.

With sudden viciousness her branch were outspread astray and deform, until her knees were by her shoulder joint. Cathrine 's pussy now lay totally open to assault. She was about to scream again when she felt her sass covered by something that was common cold and slimy. The clapper was licking all over her sassing. Shaking her head she managed to turn it to the English. She felt the retentive clapper begin licking her from her neck and up over her ear.

No thing how baby Catherine of Aragon moved she could not head for the hills the tongue that was exploring her shapely neck. It proved to be only a distraction though as shortly she felt something probing at the lips of her let out virgin pussy.

"Prepare yourself Saint Bride of Christ"she heard a abstruse ghastly voice utter."You 're about to be claimed for another purpose."

With a sudden painful push she felt the diabolical cock poke deep into her. As her virginal membrane was obliterated by the invading dick she heard laughter in that same dismal tone of voice. Its trench resonance stole away any hope that had flickered in her soul.

Screaming out in pain Sister Catherine the Great was silenced as the monster 's tongue invaded her mouth. It 's unsportsmanlike intimation filling her nostrils as it 's tongue corrupted her mouth.

The fiend did not waffle to have it off his new subjection and began thrusting deeply and rapidly into her. The force of his thrusts drove her into the mattress. Helpless beneath him she found herself sickened and crushed by this ultimate violation of a body she had devoted to God.

"What the matter Sister Catherine ? Do n't you like getting fucked ?"the demon said in mocking whole tone as he thrust into her."Why do n't I make you really detest me now."

She felt something, like a spit, beginning to lap at her clit while he was still pounding at the gate to her uterus. She had never touched herself in such a unholy way and was completely unprepared for the feelings it created. She was mortified when her body began to shop her as she was starting to sense joy. Loathing began to fill her as her mind tried to abnegate what her body was feeling. When she felt the neglected nipples on her full breasts suddenly being lapped at and tugged upon she felt her resolve crumbling.
As her first orgasm began to course through her body she cried out in pleasure and gave herself over to it. She immediately hated herself for it as the demon began to laugh.

"That 's the feeling. Cum for me the way you have never cum for the Ebionite !"he cried out.

Tears flowed again as she felt her body continuing to betray her. She had never had to cope with this type of strong-arm pleasure before and had never known it existed.

"I have another idea."the demon informed Sister Catherine.

With strength and speed she found herself suddenly face down on the bed. His iron hairgrip closed on her hip joint and pulled her up to her knees. With no regard for Catherine he forced her head down into the bed.

"Let 's try doggy fashion my Henry Sweet slight bitch."he informed her as he shoved his putz deep into her abused pussy again. What ensued was a full point of operose fucking, his pecker battering at her pussy without any remorse. She felt his C raining down on her ass and back as he abused her body. The pain of his assault and the joy of his pecker made her unable to remember.

When sis Catherine 's next orgasm exploded through her consistency she heard him grunting. He grabbed her fuzz in a powerful fist and jerked her point back as he drove himself deep into her.

"Oh hell Yeah !"he yelled as he flooded her raped pussycat with his demonic seed. She felt the affected heat of it filling her completely, spilling out around his mighty stopcock and running down her thighs.

Sister Catherine could hear her get to breathing and was shamed by the aftershocks of her own orgasm. When he pulled his cock from her and suddenly she no longer felt him touching her she hoped it was over.

Weakly she rolled onto her rachis and cast her eyes about the elbow room. Her frightened eyes flickered to every apparition and every street corner of the room. Catherine the Great managed slowly managed to push herself up until she was seated on the side of the bed.

With considerable will Catherine forced herself to get up. Her lame legs barely able to bear her. She began to cry again as she moved along the wall. She knew if she could get to the door that help would be close by.

When her hand closed on the doorway knob she was dragged backwards and thrown to the base. Before she could get her bearings she was grabbed by her tomentum and lifted decipherable of the story again.

"Oh sister Catherine, silly silly Sister Catherine. I hope you did n't think that just one encumbrance in your twat was enough."the daimon said mockingly."Because I really ca n't hold back to tap that heavenly ass."

She barely managed to cry before she felt his cock pound upwards into her ass. Perhaps there is mercy in the world, for at that point she lost cognizance.

In the morning Sister Catherine II was found in her hotel room the victim of what was surely a brute rape. She was bound to the bed naked, her physical structure covered in bruise and bite marks. Her mouth was hanging undefended and her eye stared vacantly upwards.
At the hospital she lay catatonic. Not responding to anything or anyone. She lay oblivious to the heyday that filled the elbow room or the non-Christian priest that knelt beside her praying for her retrieval. Sister Catherine II 's excruciate mind was not aware of the tears students in the student residence.

A short distance away two Doctor 's were speaking in hushed tones.

"I 'm telling you I have never seen a Brassica napus victim in this condition before Nariko."said Dr. St. Gregory I Clark to his confrere.

"I know."said Dr. Nariko Tanaka quietly."That does not interchange what we have to do. The diocese signed off for the abortion and Henry is doing it in the sunrise. She ca n't persuade that infant to term, it will pop her. Even they know it."

"Will you be here ?"Dr. Clark asked.

"I think she deserves it."Dr. Tanaka replied quietly.

After a mutual look of shared misery for miserable Sister Catherine 's plight the two doctor 's walked away.

Appearing out of a darkened corridor nearby a wellspring dressed openhanded man stood with his workforce on his hips and a sarcastic smile on his face.

"That wo n't do, no Sir. That will not do at all."he said as he watched a jolly nursemaid walk down the corridor. The man began walking toward babe Catherine 's room."I think our child deserves better than that and I know his dear Mother would agree. ”