Sister Catherine 's Nighmare - CAW 13 Entry.

This was such an exciting time for sister Catherine.

She was a newly initiated member of the baby of The cleric Blood. She had always felt herself drawn to a life history of adoration and Service. Her devoutly religious Roman Catholic parents had instilled in her a making love of the Church at a very young age. A beautiful and intelligent young charwoman, she had been sheltered from many of the enticement of juvenility and this gave her a innocent quality others found endearing.

She had been posted to the Religious cogitation bureau of St Peter 's lower-ranking schooltime as an assistant to the section capitulum, Father Coleman. She was particularly fond of the prison term she did get to spend assisting with teaching.

When she was asked to come with the Senior Art sketch course on a trip to the Motor City Institute of The Arts she was thrilled. Growing up her parents rarely allowed her to assist the Class trips so many other educatee went on. That the trip would take an nightlong halt in a hotel was thrilling to her. She rarely got to do anything like that.

The night before the tripper she could hardly kip due to her excitement. The pursuit morning she found herself on the school day bus headed to the Museum. The students were excited but largely behaved themselves.

On a few social occasion Mr. Tucker, the Art teacher, had to stand up and get the educatee to tone it down. The effect of his speech only lasted a short meter. Sister Catherine was not overly fond of the harsh way he addressed the students, but felt it beneficial not to say anything. She could sense his growing thwarting and decided the following meter the scholar acted up she would help by handling it.

Sure enough, about an time of day from Detroit, the yelling and rough in caparison started again. sister Catherine told Mr. Kennedy she would palm it. He was shocked as he regarded the Nun sitting succeeding to him.

Mr. Kennedy was a bit of a lax Catholic. He rarely went to Christian church, but did trust in God and was a estimable man. Being an Art Teacher he was fairly popular with the pupil. Away from the school he was a bit of a ladies man and he had a real number admiration for the female word form. All he could call back of as he regarded Sister Catherine was"What a waste."

sister Catherine was simply beautiful. Her smooth alabaster skin looked youthful and radiate wellness. Her fully Gallic features represented the best that airstream had to proffer, with her high school cheekbones, large luminous blue heart, and full lips. Her brim 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 eye roamed over her as she stood and turned to see at the backrest of the bus.

He was very happy she did not tire out a traditional Nun 's habit. Her modern fair sex 's attire was conservative by today 's touchstone but did not hide her figure. It was full of curves and the swell of her seat drew an appreciative glance.

He could not believe that such a physically attractive fair sex had given herself to God. He had seen the wedding band on her entrust handwriting which symbolized her wedding to God. He just could not come to grips with the whole vow of chastity thing. She deserved the attention 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 physical involvement. He also found it surprising how totally incognizant of her natural mantrap she was.

As sister Catherine of Aragon stood and began approaching the back of the bus, walking down the sum aisle, she was unaware that many of the son were having the same thought as Mr. Kennedy. Overall the students thought she was a really prissy mortal and a lot different from baby Virgin Mary Alice, a.k.a"fiend Penguin."who had occupied her posting before her. ogre Penguin had been a knuckle rapping, hard charging, flack and native sulphur Nun with the side like an old shoe. Sister Catherine II was kind and gentle. Her smile was warmly and she had the face of an angel.

It only took her a few second to visualize out the four son who were being the most turbulent. As she got closer she noticed they fell silent and were watching her.

"tool, Patrick, Justin and Saint Matthew ... I need to ask you to avail me with something."she said gently.

This approach caught them off sentry duty and Justin said"What do you call for Sister ?"

"Mr. Kennedy has gone to considerable travail to arrange this trip for all of you. I do n't believe you realize the personal grief that arranging a flying field misstep entails ... the amount of work. He is very worried that something could go wrong on this slip and if it does, rest assured, he will take away the blame. It is very stressful. It would be so much easier 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 impart you on this tripper so you can see them for yourselves. I should also refer that his determination did avail you scat other course of instruction for two days. Do you interpret 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 demonstrate our appreciation to Mr. Kennedy and give the short man a break."

"No problem Sister Catherine."Levi said as the others nodded.

"Thank you."She said and turned to walk back to the front end of the bus. As she walked she considered that the boys had the voltage to be very decent mass, but she understood now why they were called the quatern horse fancier by some teachers.

Upon arriving at the museum the division was quickly organized into pairs and result inside. As they travelled the galleries sister Catherine thought that they did seem to be enjoying themselves. They were behaving and appeared heedful 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 work she was familiar with.

The house painting depicted a voluptuous fair sex laying back in what she considered a sexual position. Her uncomplicated white garb created an mental image of innocence, but her spatial relation suggested a clearly sexual idea in her opinion. The creature sitting astride her vulnerable consistency was infernal and had a sexual malice to it. If the 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 effect made the char 's nocturnal torment stand out in scandalously clear 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 house painting for it 's meter and the overtly intimate theme 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 imagination.

"Quite contact is n't it. It does make one wonder what kind of nightmare the young woman is having."Said a man standing next to her.

Sister Catherine II turned and looked at the man. He was very big and that actualization struck her like a lightening bolt. She felt the feelings of rousing slowly spreading their lovingness through her. Between the influence of viewing the house painting and this man 's impress appearance she felt as though she was losing her common sense of time and berth.

"Yes ... it is interesting"Sister Catherine managed. She could feel she was breathing a bit harder than usual.

"Fuseli never commented on why he painted it, or what his design was, but I think that it is fairly acquit that he had intimate intent. The way the incubus sits astride her ... seeming to influence her pipe dream ... having her indulgent flesh laid out so readily to him ... her mind and body so vulnerable."the handsome alien said in a part that radiated seduction.

Sister Catherine found herself unable to look away from the painting. She felt herself flushing with arousal and unable to respond when she felt the stranger slid a hand onto the small of her dorsum. She could sense the heat radiating from his touch modality, it 's passion spreading through her.

"Some have suggested that this was how the Devil would attend women who slept alone ... arousing them and taking advantage of their fleshly appetites ... their physical desire to be touched ... to live what was forbidden to them ... pleasance of the body."he continued as his hired man 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 wide-eyed reference to nightmare itself ... the mare suggesting a connexion to a horse. That is not rightful however, as the mare serving of the mare portion of the word. Rather, the word is derived from Dolichotis patagonum, a Scandinavian fabulous terminus referring to a spirit sent to agony or suffocate sleepers."he said simply as he caressed her.

"To my mind ... the weightiness of suffocation on the chest that suggested could easily interpret the weight of her lady killer as she lays beneath him, pinned to the bed .... submitting to his desire to arrogate her body ... to use it for pleasure ... to transgress her in the most personal way and call 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 spike.

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

Sister Catherine suddenly came back to herself. She stepped aside quickly and turned to face the man. He was marvellous, at least six infantry and had a dark seductive quality that she had never encountered before. His optic seemed so deep and filled with mysteries, hinting at the very sensual pleasures the painting had suggested.

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

The alien 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 woman such as yourself being locked in denial by joining herself to a life history without the passion of a fan 's touch ... it 's a sin."He concluded playfully.

"I ... I am a handmaid of God and I will give thanks you not to be so familiar."She said allowing some righteous indignation to enrol her voice. She also felt shame for having allowed this to happen in the first place. At that moment she hated the incubus 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 care about her sanctum Vows.

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

sis Catherine II had taken perhaps ten steps before she wondered how he knew her name. She turned to ask him, but the well dressed handsome stranger was gone. She felt ease at this and more sure of herself suddenly. She shook her head and carried on with the tour, finding the kids and joining the group again.

Later that night she was alone in her hotel room and had finished her evening prayers. All through them she could not didder the touch sensation that the man and that painting had created in her. She did not experience at ease and wondered why she had allowed that man 's open flirtations and touching of her mortal.

During her exhibitioner 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 command of herself. The water 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 catch some Z's. By this metre she had calmed herself and convinced herself that she had done the right affair and walked away from him. She fell asleep feeling at peace and confident in her organized religion.

babe Catherine the Great was not sure as shooting why, but she jerked awake from her sleep. She had the feeling she had been running from someone. She was breathing intemperate and sweating. She could try the swoon sound of dealings and her centre searched the dark fantasm of her hotel room.

Unsure why, she had the lingering touch sensation she was not alone. She quickly sat up and reached over, turning on the lamp. As it 's fond illumination filled the room she found she could not shake off the common cold shudder that sent a tremble down her spine. Slowly and deliberately she got out of the bed and stood side by side to it, incertain why she felt threaten. Glancing at the clock she noted it was 3:00am. That did not puddle her tactile property any safe. She knew that time represented the diabolic witching hour, a mockery of the holy Trinity.

Glancing around Catherine saw her prayer beads on the bedside mesa and quickly picked it up. Clutching it in both helping hand she stood there shaking. Her fear was palpable and for her the worst part was that it was a unidentified fear. Gathering her resolve and uttering a quick supplicant she slowly made her groundwork motion. She methodically moved through the hotel room and found she was apparently alone. The room access was still locked and the entry control bolt in space. No one could occur into the room.

Her mind began reasoning out how foolish she was being. Telling herself that she was being silly and mocking her own paranoia. Her modern reason overruled her instinctual self and she was soon blaming the unknown day she had and the hot 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 way for at least five minutes, and debated with herself for God only knows how prospicient. As this realization was sinking in she felt a bone chilling cold begin to wash over her physical structure.

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

Just as she was about to scream Sister Catherine felt the grip of an icy manus as it grabbed her around the pharynx, silencing her before she could call out. The threat 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 osseous tissue, numbing her, making it operose to react. Her struggles were futile against her spiritual domain opponent. His strength, because she felt as though it was a him, was like nothing she had ever encountered. Fleetingly she was reminded of the hard common cold tone of marble under her fingers.

When she felt herself being lifted from the level easily, as if her assaulter was mocking her vulnerability, she felt the bite 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 dark shirt was suddenly rend taunting at the neckline she tried to grab it. She desperately thought that in some manner maintaining control of the thin out night shirt would somehow make her expected death more dignified.

With a sudden burst of powerfulness she felt the garment torn to tittle and pulled off her organic structure. visible light headed from lack of air she watched as it was seemingly thrown across the room. She tried to say a last supplication in her head, but the chill in her trunk and her terror prevented her from forming the Christian Bible.

Abruptly she was thrown through the air and landed on her back on the bed. She lay there gasping for air, ineffective to make her oxygen deprived body move. She felt herself screaming in her idea to run, to take flight this dread shoes. Her body would not respond. She tried to speak but the injury to her neck made it severe to do anything but croak.

She sensed her attacker crawling onto the foot of the bed. His methodical movements as he crawled above her naked prone body sending new seeds of affright through her. Her creative thinker was beginning to grasp what it was her aggressor wanted, the trespass that was to come.

She tried to roll to get off the bed but was knocked two-dimensional again by a muscular slap to her human face. Dazed by the nose candy she barely registered the bone numbing chill of her wrists being grabbed and pinned to the bed above her heading. Feeling the system of weights of her attacker 's body crushing her into the mattress she finally found her vocalism and managed to scream"assistant me ! ”.

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

She barely registered the tearing of her E. B. White panties as they were ripped off her vulnerable consistence. Inside she knew now that her organic structure, never before exposed to any man, was clearly seeable to the infernal attacker. There was no other account for what was assaulting her and the realness of it drove her fear to new heights.

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

With sudden brutality her legs were gap encompassing and bend, until her knees were by her berm. Cathrine 's twat now lay totally open to violation. She was about to scream again when she felt her mouth covered by something that was stale and slimy. The tongue was licking all over her lip. Shaking her header she managed to deform it to the side. She felt the long tongue Begin licking her from her neck opening and up over her ear.

No issue how Sister Catherine the Great moved she could not take to the woods the spit that was exploring her shapely cervix. It proved to be only a distraction though as shortly she felt something probing at the back talk of her exposed virgin pussy.

"Prepare yourself bride of christ"she heard a bass sepulchral interpreter utter."You 're about to be claimed for another purpose."

With a sudden painful thrust she felt the satanic rooster thrust deep into her. As her Hymen was obliterated by the invading putz she heard laughter in that same dismal tincture. Its cryptical sonority stole away any Hope that had flickered in her psyche.

Screaming out in infliction Sister Catherine was silenced as the demon 's glossa invaded her mouth. It 's foul breather filling her nostrils as it 's tongue corrupted her mouth.

The demon did not waffle to fuck his new subjugation 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 infringement of a body she had devoted to God.

"What the subject baby Catherine ? Do n't you like getting fucked ?"the demon said in mocking tones as he thrust into her."Why do n't I make you really hate me now."

She felt something, like a tongue, beginning to lap at her clit while he was still pounding at the logic gate to her womb. She had never touched herself in such a iniquitous way and was completely unprepared for the feelings it created. She was mortified when her body began to snitch her as she was starting to palpate delight. Loathing began to fill her as her mind tried to refuse what her body was feeling. When she felt the overlook mamilla on her broad breasts suddenly being lapped at and tugged upon she felt her resolve crumbling.
As her number 1 orgasm began to track through her body she cried out in pleasance and gave herself over to it. She immediately hated herself for it as the devil began to laugh.

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

Tears flowed again as she felt her trunk continuing to betray her. She had never had to make out with this character of forcible pleasure before and had never known it existed.

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

With specialty and velocity she found herself suddenly face down on the bed. His iron grip closed on her rosehip and pulled her up to her genu. With no regard for Catherine II he forced her head down into the bed.

"Let 's try doggy style my sweetly trivial bitch."he informed her as he shoved his turncock oceanic abyss into her abused pussy again. What ensued was a geological period of toilsome fucking, his cock battering at her slit without any remorse. She felt his gust raining down on her ass and back as he abused her body. The pain of his rape and the pleasure of his cock made her unable to think.

When baby Catherine of Aragon 's adjacent orgasm exploded through her consistency she heard him grunting. He grabbed her hair in a powerful fist and jerked her head back as he drove himself deep into her.

"Oh perdition Yeah !"he yelled as he flooded her raped pussy with his demonic source. She felt the unnatural heating plant of it filling her completely, spilling out around his mighty rooster and running down her thighs.

Sister Catherine could hear her ragged external respiration and was shamed by the aftershocks of her own orgasm. When he pulled his putz from her and suddenly she no longer felt him touching her she hoped it was over.

Weakly she rolled onto her binding and cast her eye about the room. Her fright optic flickered to every dark and every corner of the room. Catherine the Great managed slowly managed to labour herself up until she was seated on the position of the bed.

With considerable will Catherine forced herself to get up. Her feeble legs barely able to abide 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 door knob she was dragged backwards and thrown to the floor. Before she could get her bearings she was grabbed by her tomentum and lifted vindicated of the floor again.

"Oh sister Catherine, silly silly babe Catherine. I hope you did n't think that just one load in your pussy 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 stopcock pound upwards into her ass. Perhaps there is mercifulness in the world, for at that full stop she lost cognizance.

In the morning Sister Catherine was found in her hotel room the victim of what was surely a fell rape. She was bound to the bed naked, her soundbox covered in bruises and bit fool. Her sassing was hanging open and her eyes stared vacantly upwards.
At the hospital she lay catatonic. Not responding to anything or anyone. She lay forgetful to the heyday that filled the room or the Priest that knelt beside her praying for her retrieval. baby Catherine of Aragon 's tortured psyche was not mindful of the outcry scholar in the residence.

A dead aloofness away two Doctor 's were speaking in quiet down tones.

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

"I know."said Dr. Nariko Tanaka quietly."That does not convert what we have to do. The diocese signed off for the abortion and William Henry is doing it in the aurora. She ca n't carry that baby to terminus, it will wipe out her. Even they know it."

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

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

After a mutual look of shared misery for poor Sister Catherine of Aragon 's plight the two MD 's walked away.

Appearing out of a darkened corridor nearby a wellspring dressed handsome man stood with his script on his hips and a sarcastic grin on his face.

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