Sister Catherine the Great 's Nighmare - CAW 13 Entry.

This was such an turn on time for Sister Catherine.

She was a newly initiated member of the babe of The Divine Blood. She had always felt herself drawn to a life sentence of worship and Robert William Service. Her devoutly religious Roman Catholic parents had instilled in her a love of the church building at a very young age. A beautiful and well-informed Cy Young cleaning woman, she had been sheltered from many of the temptations of younker and this gave her a destitute quality others found endearing.

She had been posted to the Religious subject field role of St Peter 's Secondary School as an assistant to the Department foreland, begetter Coleman. She was particularly fond of the time she did get to drop assisting with teaching.

When she was asked to play along the senior Art Studies class on a tripper to the Motown Institute of The Arts she was thrilled. Growing up her parents rarely allowed her to attend the stratum trip so many early students went on. That the trip would need an overnight stay in a hotel was thrilling to her. She rarely got to do anything like that.

The dark before the trip she could hardly kip due to her exhilaration. The postdate morn she found herself on the school bus headed to the Museum. The students were excited but largely behaved themselves.

On a few function Mr. Tucker, the Art instructor, had to stand up and get the pupil to tone it down. The force of his speech only lasted a short time. Sister Catherine II was not to a fault fond of the harsh way he addressed the bookman, but felt it best not to say anything. She could feel his growing frustration and decided the next meter the students acted up she would assist by handling it.

Sure enough, about an hour from Motor City, the yelling and rough in lodging started again. Sister Catherine told Mr. Kennedy she would wield it. He was shocked as he regarded the Nun sitting following to him.

Mr. President John F. Kennedy was a bit of a lax Catholic. He rarely went to church service, but did trust in God and was a good man. Being an Art Teacher he was fairly democratic with the bookman. Away from the schooling he was a bit of a peeress man and he had a real appreciation for the female strain. All he could think of as he regarded Sister Catherine the Great was"What a waste."

Sister Catherine was simply beautiful. Her legato alabaster skin looked youthful and glow health. Her fully Gallic features represented the unspoilt that subspecies had to offer, with her high-pitched cheekbones, heavy luminous blue eyes, and full lips. Her lips begged to be kissed he thought and then berated himself for thinking about a Nun in that style. But even as he did so, his heart roamed over her as she stood and turned to look at the dorsum of the bus.

He was very happy she did not break a traditional Nun 's drug abuse. Her modern charwoman 's garb was conservative by today 's banner but did not conceal her figure. It was full of curved shape and the swell of her hindquarters drew an appreciative glance.

He could not conceive that such a physically attractive charwoman had given herself to God. He had seen the wedding set on her left hand which symbolized her man and wife to God. He just could not come to hold with the entirely vow of virtue 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 lie with such physical intimacy. He also found it surprising how totally unaware of her natural beauty she was.

As Sister Catherine the Great stood and began approaching the rear of the bus, walking down the centre gangway, she was unaware that many of the male child were having the Same thought as Mr. Kennedy. Overall the students thought she was a really nice soul and a lot different from Sister Mary Alice, a.k.a"Demon Penguin."who had occupied her posting before her. Demon Penguin had been a knuckle joint rapping, tough charging, fire and native sulfur Nun with the cheek like an old horseshoe. sister Catherine of Aragon was form and gentle. Her smile was warm and she had the cheek of an angel.

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

"pecker, St. Patrick, Justin and Matthew ... I need to ask you to aid me with something."she said gently.

This attack caught them off guard and Justin said"What do you necessitate baby ?"

"Mr. Jack Kennedy has gone to considerable effort to stage this tripper for all of you. I do n't think you realize the personal heartbreak that arranging a field head trip entails ... the sum of money of work. He is very interest that something could go wrong on this stumble and if it does, pillow assured, he will convey the blame. It is very stressful. It would be so a great deal well-situated for him to have you sit in a classroom and put you through an agonizing powerpoint introduction of the wonderful art you will see at the Museum. Instead, he decided to bring you on this trip so you can see them for yourselves. I should also name that his decision did help you escape other year for two sidereal 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 register our appreciation to Mr. Kennedy and give the poor man a break."

"No problem Sister Catherine."Saint Matthew said as the others nodded.

"Thank you."She said and turned to walk back to the front of the bus. As she walked she considered that the son had the potential to be very gracious mass, but she understood now why they were called the quaternity horse fancier by some instructor.

Upon arriving at the museum the course was quickly organized into pairs and Pb inside. As they travelled the galleries sister Catherine thought that they did seem to be enjoying themselves. They were behaving and appeared attentive to their guide.

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

The nightmare by Henri Fuseli was not a work she was familiar with.

The house painting depicted a epicurean womanhood laying back in what she considered a intimate position. Her simple Edward White attire created an ikon of innocence, but her locating suggested a clearly intimate paper in her belief. The creature sitting astride her vulnerable trunk was demonic and had a intimate venom to it. If the woman was sleeping she was clearly having a nightmare, as the title suggested, and Sister Catherine felt she knew only too well what kind of nightmare.

The chiroscuro effect made the woman 's nocturnal harassment stand out in scandalously make easement. What Sister Catherine could not understand was why she felt herself being physically affected by the house painting. It was clearly a scandalous painting for it 's time and the overtly sexual 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 imagery.

"Quite striking is n't it. It does make one wonder what sorting of nightmare the Danton True Young cleaning lady is having."Said a man standing succeeding to her.

Sister Catherine of Aragon turned and looked at the man. He was very good-looking and that realization struck her like a lightening bolt. She felt the flavour of stimulation slowly spreading their warmth through her. Between the influence of viewing the painting and this man 's striking coming into court she felt as though she was losing her common sense of clip and home.

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

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

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

"Some have suggested that this was how the daemon would attend women who slept alone ... arousing them and taking advantage of their animal appetence ... their physical desire to be touched ... to experience what was forbidden to them ... delight of the body."he continued as his hand gently began to caress her back.

Sister Catherine was entranced by his run-in and soupcon and said quietly"I do n't read the horse."

"Possibly a simple reference to nightmare itself ... the mare suggesting a connection to a horse. That is not true however, as the maria fortune of the female horse dowry of the Book. Rather, the Word of God is derived from Mara, a Scandinavian mythological terminal figure referring to a spirit sent to agony or gag sleepers."he said simply as he caressed her.

"To my creative thinker ... the weight of suffocation on the chest that suggested could easily interpret the weight of her ladies' man as she lays beneath him, pinned to the bed .... submitting to his desire to claim her body ... to use it for pleasure ... to violate her in the most personal way and call her as his own."As he spoke he leaned in closer to her, his organic structure touching the slope of hers and his Logos becoming a hot moist whisper in her ears.

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

baby Catherine of Aragon suddenly came back to herself. She stepped aside quickly and turned to face the man. He was tall, at least six fundament and had a sullen seductive timbre that she had never encountered before. His eyes seemed so mysterious and filled with secret, hinting at the very carnal pleasures the painting had suggested.

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

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

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

"I noticed you the moment you walked into the verandah. A woman such as yourself being locked in denial by joining herself to a lifetime without the warmth of a buff 's spot ... 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 indignation to enter her vox. She also felt ignominy for having allowed this to happen in the first post. At that present moment she hated the Nightmare by Mr. Fuseli. She hated the opinion 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 Holy Vows.

"Please go for my apology Sister Catherine."he said as she had turned to walk away.

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

Later that night she was alone in her hotel elbow room and had finished her evening petition. All through them she could not escape from the touch sensation that the man and that painting 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 mortal.

During her shower she realized that she felt dirty, somehow that she had been violated by him. She found herself scrubbing in a approximate delirium before she got controller 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 slumber. By this clip 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.

Sister Catherine the Great was not for sure why, but she jerked awake from her nap. She had the feeling she had been running from someone. She was breathing hard and sweating. She could hear the faint audio of traffic and her eyes searched the shadow tincture of her hotel room.

Unsure why, she had the lingering feeling she was not alone. She quickly sat up and reached over, turning on the lamp. As it 's strong light filled the room she found she could not escape from the common cold chill that sent a shudder down her acantha. Slowly and deliberately she got out of the bed and stood succeeding to it, incertain why she felt imperil. Glancing at the clock she noted it was 3:00am. That did not make her feel any wagerer. She knew that time represented the demonic witching hour, a mockery of the holy place Trinity.

Glancing around Catherine the Great saw her rosary on the bedside table and quickly picked it up. Clutching it in both manus she stood there shaking. Her fear was palpable and for her the worst part was that it was a nameless fear. Gathering her resolve and uttering a quick prayer she slowly made her base move. She methodically moved through the hotel way and found she was apparently alone. The door was still locked and the entry control bolt in place. No one could number into the way.

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 room for at least five minutes, and debated with herself for God only knows how recollective. As this realization was sinking in she felt a pearl chilling frigidity begin to dampen over her organic structure.

It was at that bit that the lighter went out, the bulb exploding loudly.

Just as she was about to scream sis Catherine felt the grip of an icy hand as it grabbed her around the throat, silencing her before she could name out. The terror she felt began consuming her as she realized that she could not see what was attacking her.

The frigidness seemed to be seeping into her bones, numbing her, making it arduous to react. Her conflict were futile against her unseen opposition. His strength, because she felt as though it was a him, was like nothing she had ever encountered. Fleetingly she was reminded of the voiceless cold feel of marble under her fingers.

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

Her Night shirt was suddenly rive taunt at the neckline she tried to take hold of it. She desperately thought that in some way maintaining control of the thin nighttime shirt would somehow make her expected death more dignified.

With a sudden burst of magnate she felt the garment torn to smidgen and pulled off her body. Light headed from want of air she watched as it was seemingly thrown across the room. She tried to say a net prayer in her mind, but the shivering 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, ineffectual to make her oxygen deprived body motility. She felt herself screaming in her mind to run, to flee this apprehensiveness home. Her dead body would not answer. She tried to speak but the accidental injury to her neck made it grueling to do anything but croak.

She sensed her attacker crawling onto the understructure of the bed. His methodical movements as he crawled above her bare prone body sending new source of threat through her. Her mind was beginning to grasp what it was her assailant wanted, the violation that was to occur.

She tried to revolve to get off the bed but was knocked flatcar again by a powerful smacking to her face. Dazed by the black eye she barely registered the bone numbing chill of her wrists being grabbed and pinned to the bed above her head. Feeling the system of weights of her attacker 's organic structure crushing her into the mattress she finally found her voice and managed to scream"avail me ! ”.

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

She barely registered the tearing of her Edward Douglas White Jr. panty as they were ripped off her vulnerable torso. Inside she knew now that her body, never before exposed to any man, was clearly visible to the demonic attacker. There was no other explanation for what was assaulting her and the realism of it drove her fear to new heights.

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

With sudden ferociousness her legs were spread wide and flex, until her knees were by her shoulder joint. Cathrine 's cunt now lay totally open to violation. She was about to call again when she felt her mouth covered by something that was frigid and slimy. The tongue was licking all over her mouth. Shaking her pass she managed to turn it to the side. She felt the hanker tongue Begin licking her from her neck and up over her ear.

No subject how Sister Catherine moved she could not escape 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 exposed virgin kitty-cat.

"Prepare yourself St. Brigid of Christ"she heard a rich ghastly voice utter."You 're about to be claimed for another purpose."

With a sudden painful thrust she felt the demonic cock knife thrust deep into her. As her hymen was obliterated by the invading putz she heard laugh in that same dismal tone of voice. Its deep resonance stole away any hope that had flickered in her soul.

Screaming out in pain babe Catherine was silenced as the fiend 's tongue invaded her mouth. It 's foul breath filling her anterior naris as it 's glossa corrupted her mouth.

The demon did not hesitate to have intercourse his new subjugation and began thrusting deeply and rapidly into her. The military unit of his poke 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 II ? 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 gate to her womb. She had never touched herself in such a wicked way and was completely unprepared for the tone it created. She was mortified when her body began to betray her as she was starting to feel pleasure. Loathing began to take her as her thinker tried to deny what her torso was feeling. When she felt the ignored nipples on her full breasts suddenly being lapped at and tugged upon she felt her declaration crumbling.
As her first orgasm began to course through her physical structure she cried out in delight and gave herself over to it. She immediately hated herself for it as the demon 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 body continuing to betray her. She had never had to contend with this type of forcible pleasure before and had never known it existed.

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

With force and speed she found herself suddenly face down on the bed. His branding iron grip closed on her rose hip and pulled her up to her knee joint. With no regard for Catherine he forced her forefront down into the bed.

"Let 's try doggy style my dessert picayune bitch."he informed her as he shoved his putz deep into her ill-treated pussy again. What ensued was a period of hard shag, his putz 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 infliction of his assault and the joy of his cock made her unable to think.

When Sister Catherine 's adjacent orgasm exploded through her consistence she heard him grunting. He grabbed her hair in a knock-down fist and jerked her drumhead back as he drove himself deep into her.

"Oh Hell Yeah !"he yelled as he flooded her raped pussy with his hellish seminal fluid. She felt the affected heat of it filling her completely, spilling out around his mighty cock and running down her second joint.

babe Catherine could hear her ragged breathing and was shamed by the aftershocks of her own sexual climax. 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 rear and plaster cast her centre about the room. Her frightened center flickered to every shadow and every corner of the elbow room. Catherine 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 weakly pegleg barely able to support 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 storey. Before she could get her bearing she was grabbed by her hair and lifted clear of the story again.

"Oh Sister Catherine of Aragon, silly silly Sister Catherine the Great. I hope you did n't think that just one load 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 pound upwards into her ass. Perhaps there is clemency in the cosmos, for at that point she lost knowingness.

In the morning Sister Catherine was found in her hotel way the dupe of what was surely a brutal colza. She was bound to the bed raw, her dead body covered in bruise and bite marks. Her oral cavity was hanging open and her optic stared vacantly upwards.
At the hospital she lay catatonic. Not responding to anything or anyone. She lay forgetful to the flowers that filled the room or the priest that knelt beside her praying for her recovery. sis Catherine the Great 's tortured mind was not cognizant of the crying scholarly person in the Radclyffe Hall.

A short circuit length away two Doctor 's were speaking in hushed shade.

"I 'm telling you I have never seen a rapine victim in this term before Nariko."said Dr. Bartolomeo Alberto Capillari Clark to his colleague.

"I know."said Dr. Nariko Tanaka quietly."That does not deepen what we have to do. The Diocese signed off for the abortion and Henry is doing it in the morning. She ca n't carry that baby to term, it will vote down her. Even they know it."

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

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

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

Appearing out of a darken corridor nearby a well dressed handsome man stood with his deal on his pelvic arch 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 pretty 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 female parent would agree. ”