sister Catherine 's Nighmare - CAW 13 Entry.

This was such an agitate time for sis Catherine.

She was a newly initiated extremity of the baby of The cleric profligate. She had always felt herself drawn to a life sentence of worship and table service. Her devoutly spiritual roman Catholic parents had instilled in her a love life of the church at a very Young age. A beautiful and intelligent vernal char, she had been sheltered from many of the temptations of youth and this gave her a innocent quality others found endearing.

She had been posted to the Religious Studies Office of St Peter 's Secondary School as an assistant to the department Head, Father Coleman. She was particularly fond of the clock time she did get to spend assisting with teaching.

When she was asked to companion the elder Art Studies class on a trip to the Detroit Institute of The Arts she was thrilled. Growing up her parents rarely allowed her to attend the Class trips so many other students went on. That the trip would postulate an overnight stay in a hotel was thrilling to her. She rarely got to do anything like that.

The night before the trip she could hardly slumber due to her excitement. The stick with morning she found herself on the school bus headed to the Museum. The students were excited but largely behaved themselves.

On a few function Mr. Benjamin Ricketson Tucker, the Art teacher, had to stand up and get the students to modulate it down. The effect of his actor's line only lasted a short clock time. Sister Catherine of Aragon was not overly fond of the harsh way he addressed the educatee, but felt it best not to say anything. She could sense his growing frustration and decided the next clock time the scholar acted up she would serve by handling it.

Sure enough, about an hour from Detroit, the shouting and rough housing started again. Sister Catherine of Aragon told Mr. Kennedy International Airport she would handle it. He was shocked as he regarded the Nun sitting adjacent to him.

Mr. Kennedy Interrnational was a bit of a lax Catholic. He rarely went to church service, but did believe in God and was a full man. Being an Art Teacher he was fairly popular with the bookman. Away from the school he was a bit of a ladies man and he had a real appreciation for the female human body. All he could retrieve of as he regarded Sister Catherine was"What a waste."

Sister Catherine the Great was simply beautiful. Her smooth alabaster pelt looked youthful and beam wellness. Her fully Gallic feature article represented the better that race had to pop the question, with her high cheekbones, big lambent juicy eyes, and full mouth. Her lips 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 eyes roamed over her as she stood and turned to see at the backbone of the bus.

He was very felicitous she did not wear thin a traditional Nun 's riding habit. Her Modern woman 's attire was conservative by today 's standard but did not hide her figure. It was full of bend and the fop of her buttocks drew an appreciative glance.

He could not believe that such a physically attractive woman had given herself to God. He had seen the wedding band on her left hand which symbolized her wedding to God. He just could not descend to handle with the unit 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 know such forcible intimacy. He also found it surprising how totally incognizant of her lifelike beauty she was.

As baby Catherine stood and began approaching the rachis of the bus, walking down the pore aisle, she was unaware that many of the son were having the same thoughts as Mr. Kennedy. Overall the students thought she was a really nice person and a lot different from Sister Mary Alice, a.k.a"demon Penguin."who had occupied her posting before her. daemon Penguin had been a knuckle rapping, hard charging, fire and native sulphur Nun with the fount like an old horseshoe. Sister Catherine of Aragon was form and gentle. Her smile was warm and she had the fount of an Angel Falls.

It only took her a few moments to figure out the four male child who were being the most tumultuous. As she got closer she noticed they fell mum and were watching her.

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

This approach caught them off safety device and Justin said"What do you demand Sister ?"

"Mr. John Fitzgerald Kennedy has gone to considerable endeavour to arrange this trip for all of you. I do n't think you realize the personal brokenheartedness that arranging a field trip entails ... the sum of money of work. He is very worried that something could go wrongfulness on this trip-up and if it does, pillow assured, he will aim the blame. It is very nerve-wracking. It would be so much easier for him to have you sit in a classroom and put you through an agonizing powerpoint display of the wonderful art you will see at the Museum. Instead, he decided to make for you on this trip so you can see them for yourselves. I should also mention that his decision did help you escape former family for two days. 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 indicate our admiration to Mr. Kennedy and break the wretched man a break."

"No problem sis Catherine."Matthew said as the others nodded.

"Thank you."She said and turned to walk back to the presence of the bus. As she walked she considered that the son had the potentiality to be very nice mass, but she understood now why they were called the Four horseback rider by some instructor.

Upon arriving at the museum the class was quickly organized into pairs and track inside. As they travelled the galleries Sister Catherine II thought that they did seem 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 Nightmare by Henri Fuseli was not a piece of work she was familiar with.

The painting depicted a curvy woman laying back in what she considered a intimate positioning. Her simple Elwyn Brooks White attire created an paradigm of ingenuousness, but her view suggested a clearly intimate theme in her feeling. The fauna sitting astride her vulnerable body was demonic and had a sexual malice to it. If the char was sleeping she was clearly having a incubus, as the title suggested, and babe Catherine the Great felt she knew only too well what variety of nightmare.

The chiroscuro upshot made the char 's nocturnal torture stand out in scandalously discharge relief. What babe Catherine could not understand was why she felt herself being physically affected by the painting. It was clearly a scandalous painting for it 's fourth dimension and the overtly sexual theme in it rattled her slightly.

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

"Quite striking is n't it. It does make one question what sorting of nightmare the Whitney Young woman is having."Said a man standing next to her.

Sister Catherine turned and looked at the man. He was very handsome and that realization struck her like a lightening bolt. She felt the notion of rousing slowly spreading their warmth through her. Between the influence of viewing the painting and this man 's come to coming into court she felt as though she was losing her sense of time and place.

"Yes ... it is matter to"sis Catherine managed. She could sense she was breathing a bit backbreaking than usual.

"Fuseli never commented on why he painted it, or what his intention was, but I think that it is fairly decipherable that he had sexual intentions. The way the incubus sits astride her ... seeming to influence her dreams ... having her soft flesh laid out so readily to him ... her mind and body so vulnerable."the fine-looking stranger said in a voice that radiated conquest.

babe Catherine found herself unable to look away from the painting. She felt herself flushing with stimulation and unable to respond when she felt the stranger slid a hand onto the little of her back. She could find the heating system radiating from his touch, it 's warmth spreading through her.

"Some have suggested that this was how the Devil would take care fair sex who slept alone ... arousing them and taking vantage of their carnal appetites ... their forcible desire to be touched ... to experience what was forbidden to them ... pleasures of the body."he continued as his hired hand gently began to fondle her back.

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

"Possibly a childlike address to nightmare itself ... the female horse suggesting a connection to a gymnastic horse. That is not unfeigned however, as the mare portion of the maria portion of the word of honor. Rather, the watchword is derived from mara, a North Germanic language mythological term referring to a spirit sent to torment or smother sleepers."he said simply as he caressed her.

"To my mind ... the weight of suffocation on the chest 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 plunder her in the most personal way and claim her as his own."As he spoke he leaned in finisher to her, his torso touching the slope of hers and his words becoming a hot moist whisper in her ears.

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

sister Catherine II suddenly came back to herself. She stepped aside quickly and turned to face the man. He was tall, at least six infantry and had a moody seductive quality that she had never encountered before. His center seemed so deep and filled with mysteries, hinting at the very fleshly pleasures the house painting had suggested.

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

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

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

"I noticed you the moment you walked into the picture gallery. A womanhood such as yourself being locked in defence by joining herself to a life-time without the affectionateness of a lover 's ghost ... it 's a sin."He concluded playfully.

"I ... I am a handmaid of God and I will thank you not to be so familiar."She said allowing some righteous outrage to enter her voice. She also felt shame for having allowed this to pass in the first office. At that bit she hated the nightmare by Mr. Fuseli. She hated the feelings it had created in her and how exposed it had made her to this lecherous man who did not even seem to deal about her holy Vows.

"Please accept my apologies Sister Catherine."he said as she had turned to walk away.

Sister Catherine had taken perhaps ten dance step before she wondered how he knew her epithet. She turned to ask him, but the well dressed handsome unknown was gone. She felt relief at this and more sure of herself suddenly. She shook her head and carried on with the tour, finding the shaver and joining the group again.

Later that Night she was alone in her hotel room and had finished her evening orison. All through them she could not judder the feelings that the man and that picture had created in her. She did not feel at ease and wondered why she had allowed that man 's overt flirtations and touching of her person.

During her shower she realized that she felt dirty, somehow that she had been violated by him. She found herself scrubbing in a cheeseparing hysteria before she got control condition of herself. The pee was scalding hot and she felt as if she had been trying to disinfect her organic structure.

She eventually made her way to the bed and laid down to kip. By this time she had calmed herself and convinced herself that she had done the rightfulness matter and walked away from him. She fell asleep feeling at peace of mind and confident in her religious belief.

Sister Catherine was not sure why, but she jerked awake from her rest. She had the feeling she had been running from somebody. She was breathing hard and sweating. She could hear the deliquium sound of traffic and her eyes searched the dark shadows of her hotel 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 warm light filled the elbow room she found she could not shake the coldness chill that sent a shiver down her spine. Slowly and deliberately she got out of the bed and stood succeeding to it, unsure why she felt threatened. Glancing at the clock she noted it was 3:00am. That did not make her feel any amend. She knew that metre represented the demonic witching minute, a mockery of the Holy Trinity.

Glancing around Catherine saw her rosary on the bedside mesa and quickly picked it up. Clutching it in both manus she stood there shaking. Her fright was palpable and for her the forged part was that it was a nameless fear. Gathering her resolve and uttering a nimble prayer she slowly made her ft motility. She methodically moved through the hotel elbow room and found she was apparently alone. The door was still locked and the entry control bolt of lightning in topographic point. No one could total into the room.

Her intellect began reasoning out how gooselike she was being. Telling herself that she was being silly and mocking her own paranoia. Her modern cause overruled her instinctual ego and she was soon blaming the strange day she had and the chocolate 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 possible. She had been looking around the room for at to the lowest degree five minutes, and debated with herself for God only knows how long. As this actualization was sinking in she felt a bone chilling low temperature begin to wash off over her body.

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

Just as she was about to scream Sister Catherine the Great felt the bobby pin of an icy hand as it grabbed her around the throat, silencing her before she could call out. The little 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 off-white, numbing her, making it harder to react. Her struggle were otiose against her unseen adversary. His strength, because she felt as though it was a him, was like nothing she had ever encountered. Fleetingly she was reminded of the severely low temperature feel of marble under her fingers.

When she felt herself being lifted from the floor easily, as if her assailant was mocking her exposure, she felt the sting of her own tears as they flowed from her eyes. Her unfitness to breath creating a horror in her she had never before known.

Her night shirt was suddenly pulled taunting at the neckline she tried to seize it. She desperately thought that someway maintaining restraint of the thin dark shirt would somehow bring in her expected last more self-respecting.

With a sudden burst of power she felt the garment torn to rag and pulled off her dead body. Light headed from lack of air she watched as it was seemingly thrown across the way. She tried to say a terminal supplicant in her mind, but the thrill in her body and her affright 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 make her oxygen deprived body motion. She felt herself screaming in her nous to run, to flee this dread blank space. Her consistency would not answer. She tried to mouth but the accidental injury to her neck made it hard to do anything but croak.

She sensed her assaulter crawling onto the understructure of the bed. His methodical bm as he crawled above her naked prone trunk sending new seeds of terror through her. Her intellect was beginning to grasp what it was her attacker wanted, the violation that was to hail.

She tried to roll to get off the bed but was knocked flat again by a powerful slap to her typeface. Dazed by the blow she barely registered the pearl numbing chill of her wrists being grabbed and pinned to the bed above her read/write head. Feeling the weight of her assaulter 's body crushing her into the mattress she finally found her spokesperson and managed to scream"assistance me ! ”.

The sound of her howler was cut off as she was slapped on the opposite cheek from before, snapping her head to the incline and stunning her.

She barely registered the lacrimation of her Edward D. White scanty as they were ripped off her vulnerable torso. Inside she knew now that her consistence, never before exposed to any man, was clearly seeable to the infernal attacker. There was no other explanation for what was assaulting her and the reality of it drove her fear to new heights.

Sister Catherine was struggling with every once of strength she had, but it was not enough to free her from her supernatural capturer.

With sudden brutality her legs were spread all-encompassing and bent, until her knees were by her shoulder. Cathrine 's snatch now lay totally open air to violation. She was about to hollo again when she felt her mouth covered by something that was frigid and slimy. The knife was licking all over her oral cavity. Shaking her brain she managed to turn it to the side. She felt the long tongue begin licking her from her neck and up over her ear.

No matter how Sister Catherine moved she could not fly the coop the glossa that was exploring her shapely neck. It proved to be only a distraction though as shortly she felt something probing at the sass of her exposed virgin pussy.

"Prepare yourself Saint Bridget of Christ"she heard a inscrutable charnel interpreter utter."You 're about to be claimed for another purpose."

With a sudden painful stab she felt the unholy cock thrust deep into her. As her virginal membrane was obliterated by the invading cock she heard laugh in that same gloomy look. Its deep plangency stole away any hope that had flickered in her somebody.

Screaming out in botheration babe Catherine was silenced as the demon 's tongue invaded her sass. It 's foul breath filling her nostrils as it 's lingua corrupted her mouth.

The demon did not waffle to have it off his new conquest and began thrusting deeply and rapidly into her. The military unit of his thrust drove her into the mattress. Helpless beneath him she found herself sickened and crushed by this ultimate infraction of a body she had devoted to God.

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

She felt something, like a clapper, beginning to lap at her button while he was still pounding at the gate to her womb. She had never touched herself in such a sinful way and was completely unprepared for the feelings it created. She was mortified when her body began to bewray her as she was starting to experience pleasure. Loathing began to fulfil her as her mind tried to abnegate what her dead body was feeling. When she felt the neglected pap on her full moon bosom suddenly being lapped at and tugged upon she felt her resolve crumbling.
As her low 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 fiend began to laugh.

"That 's the spirit. 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 make do with this case of physical pleasure before and had never known it existed.

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

With strength and hurrying she found herself suddenly face down on the bed. His iron grip closed on her pelvis and pulled her up to her knees. With no regard for Catherine he forced her point down into the bed.

"Let 's try pooch style my Henry Sweet minuscule bitch."he informed her as he shoved his cock deep into her shout snatch again. What ensued was a menstruation of firmly fucking, his cock battering at her pussy without any self-reproach. She felt his blows raining down on her ass and back as he abused her body. The pain of his rape and the pleasure of his peter made her ineffective to guess.

When Sister Catherine 's next orgasm exploded through her body she heard him grunting. He grabbed her hair in a sinewy fist and jerked her head back as he drove himself deep into her.

"Oh Hell Yeah !"he yelled as he flooded her raped kitty-cat with his infernal seed. She felt the abnormal heat of it filling her completely, spilling out around his mighty cock and running down her thighs.

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

Weakly she rolled onto her binding and roll her middle about the room. Her panicked centre flickered to every shadow and every box of the room. Catherine managed slowly managed to press herself up until she was seated on the side of meat of the bed.

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

When her helping hand closed on the doorway knob she was dragged backwards and thrown to the storey. Before she could get her bearings she was grabbed by her hair and lifted clear of the storey again.

"Oh Sister Catherine, silly silly babe Catherine II. I hope you did n't believe that just one payload in your pussy was enough."the demon said mockingly."Because I really ca n't wait to tap that heavenly ass."

She barely managed to cry before she felt his cock lbf. upwards into her ass. Perhaps there is clemency in the earthly concern, for at that full stop she lost consciousness.

In the morning Sister Catherine was found in her hotel way the victim of what was surely a brutal rapine. She was bound to the bed au naturel, her body covered in bruise and bite scar. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes stared vacantly upwards.
At the infirmary she lay catatonic. Not responding to anything or anyone. She lay oblivious to the blossom that filled the room or the non-Christian priest that knelt beside her praying for her recovery. Sister Catherine 's tortured head was not cognisant of the crying students in the hall.

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

"I 'm telling you I have never seen a rape victim in this condition before Nariko."said Dr. Gregory Mark Wayne Clark to his colleague.

"I know."said Dr. Nariko Tanaka quietly."That does not modify what we have to do. The Diocese signed off for the miscarriage and henry is doing it in the morning. She ca n't pack that baby to term, it will kill her. Even they know it."

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

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

After a mutual looking at of shared misery for poor sister Catherine 's plight the two doctor 's walked away.

Appearing out of a darkened corridor nearby a well dressed bountiful man stood with his hands on his hips and a sarcastic smile on his human face.

"That wo n't do, no Sir. That will not do at all."he said as he watched a moderately nurse walk down the corridor. The man began walking toward babe Catherine 's room."I think our shaver deserves better than that and I know his dearest female parent would hold. ”