Sister Catherine’s Nighmare – CAW 13
Introduction:
CAW 13 Entry – How horrifying Art Can Be.
This was such an exciting time for Sister Catherine.
She was a newly initiated member of the Sisters of The Divine Blood. She had always felt herself drawn to a life of worship and service. Her devoutly religious Roman Catholic parents had instilled in her a love of the Church at a very young age. A beautiful and intelligent young woman, 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 time she did get to spend assisting with teaching.
When she was asked to accompany the Senior 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 involved 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 sleep due to her excitement. The following morning she found herself on the school bus headed to the Museum. The students were excited but largely behaved themselves.
On a few occasions Mr. Tucker, the Art Teacher, had to stand up and get the students to tone it down. The effect of his speech only lasted a short time. Sister Catherine was not overly fond of the harsh way he addressed the students, but felt it best not to say anything. She could sense his growing frustration and decided the next time the students acted up she would assist by handling it.
Sure enough, about an hour from Detroit, the yelling and rough housing started again. Sister Catherine told Mr. Kennedy she would handle it. He was shocked as he regarded the Nun sitting next to him.
Mr. Kennedy was a bit of a lax Catholic. He rarely went to Church, but did believe in God and was a good man. Being an Art Teacher he was fairly popular with the students. Away from the school he was a bit of a ladies man and he had a real appreciation for the female form. All he could think of as he regarded Sister Catherine was “What a waste.”
Sister Catherine was simply beautiful. Her smooth alabaster skin looked youthful and radiated health. Her fully Gallic features represented the best that race had to offer, with her high cheekbones, large 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 manner. But even as he did so, his eyes roamed over her as she stood and turned to look at the back of the bus.
He was very happy she did not wear a traditional Nun’s habit. Her modern woman’s attire was conservative by today’s standard but did not hide her figure. It was full of curves and the swell 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 marriage 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 know such physical intimacy. He also found it surprising how totally unaware of her natural beauty she was.
As Sister Catherine stood and began approaching the back of the bus, walking down the centre aisle, she was unaware that many of the boys 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. Demon Penguin had been a knuckle rapping, hard charging, fire and brimstone Nun with the face like an old shoe. Sister Catherine was kind and gentle. Her smile was warm and she had the face of an angel.
It only took her a few moments 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.
“Peter, Patrick, Justin and Matthew… I need to ask you to help me with something.” she said gently.
This approach caught them off guard and Justin said “What do you need Sister?”
“Mr. Kennedy has gone to considerable effort to arrange this trip for all of you. I don’t think you realize the personal grief that arranging a field trip entails… the amount of work. He is very worried that something could go wrong on this trip and if it does, rest assured, he will take 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 bring you on this trip so you can see them for yourselves. I should also mention that his decision did help you escape other classes 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 don’t we all work together to show our appreciation to Mr. Kennedy and give the poor man a break.”
“No problem Sister Catherine.” 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 boys had the potential to be very nice people, but she understood now why they were called the Four Horseman by some teachers.
Upon arriving at the museum the class was quickly organized into pairs and lead 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 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 painting depicted a voluptuous woman laying back in what she considered a sexual position. Her simple white attire created an image of innocence, but her position suggested a clearly sexual theme in her opinion. The creature sitting astride her vulnerable body was demonic and had a sexual malice 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 torments stand out in scandalously clear relief. What Sister Catherine could not understand was why she felt herself being physically affected by the 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 isn’t it. It does make one wonder what sort of nightmare the 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 feelings of arousal slowly spreading their warmth through her. Between the influence of viewing the painting and this man’s striking appearance she felt as though she was losing her sense of time and place.
“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 intention was, but I think that it is fairly clear 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 handsome stranger said in a voice 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 back. She could feel the heat radiating from his touch, it’s warmth 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 carnal appetites… their physical desire to be touched… to experience 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 touch and said quietly “I don’t understand the horse.”
“Possibly a simple reference to nightmare itself… the mare suggesting a connection to a horse. That is not true however, as the mare portion of the mare portion of the word. Rather, the word is derived from mara, a Scandinavian mythological term referring to a spirit sent to torment or suffocate sleepers.” he said simply as he caressed her.
“To my mind… the weight of suffocation on the chest that suggested could easily represent 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 violate her in the most personal way and claim her as his own.” As he spoke he leaned in closer to her, his body touching the side of hers and his words 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.
Sister Catherine suddenly came back to herself. She stepped aside quickly and turned to face the man. He was tall, at least six feet and had a dark seductive quality that she had never encountered before. His eyes seemed so deep and filled with mysteries, hinting at the very carnal 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 “Well 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 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 voice. She also felt shame for having allowed this to happen in the first place. At that moment 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 care 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 steps before she wondered how he knew her name. She turned to ask him, but the well dressed handsome stranger 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 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 shake the feelings 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 person.
During her shower 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 control 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 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.
Sister Catherine was not sure why, but she jerked awake from her sleep. She had the feeling she had been running from someone. She was breathing hard and sweating. She could hear the faint sound of traffic and her eyes searched the dark shadows 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 warm light filled the room she found she could not shake the cold chill that sent a shiver down her spine. Slowly and deliberately she got out of the bed and stood next to it, unsure why she felt threatened. Glancing at the clock she noted it was 3:00am. That did not make her feel any better. She knew that time represented the demonic witching hour, a mockery of the Holy Trinity.
Glancing around Catherine saw her rosary on the bedside table and quickly picked it up. Clutching it in both hands 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 feet move. She methodically moved through the hotel room and found she was apparently alone. The door was still locked and the entry control bolt in place. No one could come 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 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 least five minutes, and debated with herself for God only knows how long. As this realization was sinking in she felt a bone chilling cold begin to wash over her body.
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 hand as it grabbed her around the throat, silencing her before she could call out. The 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 bones, numbing her, making it harder to react. Her struggles were futile against her unseen 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 cold feel 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 sting of her own tears 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 pulled taunt at the neckline she tried to grab it. She desperately thought that somehow maintaining control of the thin night shirt would somehow make her expected death more dignified.
With a sudden burst of power she felt the garment torn to shreds and pulled off her body. Light headed from lack of air she watched as it was seemingly thrown across the room. She tried to say a final prayer in her mind, 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 make her oxygen deprived body move. She felt herself screaming in her mind to run, to flee this dread place. Her body would not respond. She tried to speak but the injury to her neck made it hard 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 terror through her. Her mind was beginning to grasp what it was her attacker wanted, the violation that was to come.
She tried to roll to get off the bed but was knocked flat again by a powerful slap to her face. Dazed by the blow she barely registered the bone numbing chill of her wrists being grabbed and pinned to the bed above her head. Feeling the weight of her attacker’s body crushing her into the mattress she finally found her voice and managed to scream “Help 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 white 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 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 captor.
With sudden viciousness her legs were spread wide and bent, until her knees were by her shoulder. Cathrine’s pussy now lay totally open to violation. She was about to scream again when she felt her mouth covered by something that was cold and slimy. The tongue was licking all over her mouth. Shaking her head 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 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 pussy.
“Prepare yourself Bride of Christ” she heard a deep sepulchral voice utter. “You’re about to be claimed for another purpose.”
With a sudden painful thrust she felt the demonic cock thrust deep into her. As her hymen was obliterated by the invading cock she heard laughter in that same dismal tone. Its deep resonance stole away any hope that had flickered in her soul.
Screaming out in pain Sister Catherine was silenced as the demon’s tongue invaded her mouth. It’s foul breath filling her nostrils as it’s tongue corrupted her mouth.
The demon did not hesitate to fuck his new conquest 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? Don’t you like getting fucked?” the demon said in mocking tones as he thrust into her. “Why don’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 sinful way and was completely unprepared for the feelings it created. She was mortified when her body began to betray her as she was starting to feel pleasure. Loathing began to fill her as her mind tried to deny 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 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 physical 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 grip closed on her hips and pulled her up to her knees. With no regard for Catherine he forced her head down into the bed.
“Let’s try doggy style my sweet little bitch.” he informed her as he shoved his cock deep into her abused pussy again. What ensued was a period of hard fucking, his cock battering at her pussy without any remorse. She felt his blows raining down on her ass and back as he abused her body. The pain of his assault and the pleasure of his cock made her unable to think.
When Sister Catherine’s next orgasm exploded through her body 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 Hell Yeah!” he yelled as he flooded her raped pussy with his demonic seed. She felt the unnatural heat of it filling her completely, spilling out around his mighty cock and running down her thighs.
Sister Catherine could hear her ragged 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 back and cast her eyes about the room. Her frightened eyes flickered to every shadow and every corner of the 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 feeble legs 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 floor. Before she could get her bearings she was grabbed by her hair and lifted clear of the floor again.
“Oh Sister Catherine, silly silly Sister Catherine. I hope you didn’t think that just one load in your pussy was enough.” the demon said mockingly. “Because I really can’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 mercy in the world, for at that point she lost consciousness.
In the morning Sister Catherine was found in her hotel room the victim of what was surely a brutal rape. She was bound to the bed naked, her body covered in bruises and bite marks. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes stared vacantly upwards.
At the hospital she lay catatonic. Not responding to anything or anyone. She lay oblivious to the flowers that filled the room or the Priest that knelt beside her praying for her recovery. Sister Catherine’s tortured mind was not aware of the crying students in the hall.
A short distance away two Doctor’s were speaking in hushed tones.
“I’m telling you I have never seen a rape victim in this condition before Nariko.” said Dr. Gregory Clark to his colleague.
“I know.” said Dr. Nariko Tanaka quietly. “That does not change what we have to do. The Diocese signed off for the abortion and Henry is doing it in the morning. She can’t carry that baby to term, it will kill 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 poor Sister Catherine’s plight the two doctor’s walked away.
Appearing out of a darkened corridor nearby a well dressed handsome man stood with his hands on his hips and a sarcastic grin on his face.
“That won’t do, no Sir. That will not do at all.” he said as he watched a pretty nurse walk down the corridor. The man began walking toward Sister Catherine’s room. “I think our child deserves better than that and I know his dear Mother would agree.”
