: JG Leathers
: Keeping Catherine Chaste
: Pink Flamingo Media
: 9781938897399
: 1
: CHF 2.20
:
: Erzählende Literatur
: English
: 76
: kein Kopierschutz
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB

This is the story of a young woman who as she matures, begins to explore the wonderful sensations her body is capable of creating, however, soon feeling guilty, she tells her mother.  Being religious to a fault, her parents soon have Catherine fitted with, and imprisoned in a truly limiting Anti-Temptation System.  Next, she is sent off to the local parochial school for young ladies where she discovers that she is not alone in being imprisoned within the restricting undergarments. Catherine remains a prisoner of her 'System' but is eventually freed and allowed to date.  Her long-frustrated desires boil to the surface and she soon falls victim to the suddenly available world of sensual pleasure, but it's a trap.  Far too soon Catherine is forced into becoming a Nun in the Sisterhood Of Eternal Penitence and once she is delivered to the Convent, she is rapidly absorbed into a life long commitment to Poverty, Obedience, Chastity, Discipline and Silence while always being kept subject to constant electronic control. This is not the end for Catherine though, for The Church has very definite plans for the young women it holds in captivity.  Eventually, she finds herself removed from human status and reduced to the level of an owned dairy animal .... a role she will never be permitted to escape from and one that she will endure for the remainder of her life.

Keeping Catherine Chaste

by JG-Leathers

ISBN:978-1-938897-39-9

Cover Art © Peter Daubner

http://www.peterpd.com/

A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

Copyright © 2014, All rights reserved

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers.

 

 

Prologue

The silence that envelops me is terrible.

Infrequently now, I am only permitted to hear what the Church, in the form of The Office of Holy Discipline, has decided is appropriate. It wasn’t always this way, for up until a year ago, I think, my mind was constantly bombarded with an unending stream of words, repeatedly telling me how to behave and the actions I must take to avoid earning the displeasure of the Church, and thus the retribution of the Office of Holy Discipline.

For the moment I remain kneeling, like the dozens of silent others around me, then slowly, awkwardly, and with flashes of twitching discomfort from the knee-length, rigid shaft projecting down from the thick steel crotch cover of my chastity belt, between my tightly-booted thighs, I and all the rest of the Sisters who are similarly equipped and dressed, obey the same electrical command to rise to our feet. There is no chance of avoiding or misunderstanding it and after only a few hesitations to do so, we all learned our lessons from the terrible shocks that we were disciplined by for our failure to obey instantly. I can see little in the dimness of the Chapel, thanks to the devices and the head piece and veils that I and all the other nuns of my Order are required to wear, and cannot remove ourselves, but turn obediently to the right in unison with my sisters when a trilling, painful pulse of electricity shudders my right breast and its metal-distended and tensioned nipple. A gasp of agony trembles my throat under my permanent, tight, high steel collar, but is stillborn at the back of my mouth; utterly stopped by the large, formed gag pad that has become an intimate part of my body. It too is a permanent part of my ensemble and I will wear it until I die! My cuffed hands jerk automatically, disobediently, at their pitifully short lengths of chain and the rigid bar separating and restricting them. My reactions are instinctual, frantic and utterly useless attempts to tear away the devices locked over, attached to, andinto my sensitive and blood-engorged, but untouchable breasts, while yet another wail of pain ripples up my plugged throat. Oh God! Why is the Church permitted to torment us like this?

The outer garments that I and all the other nuns in the Order of the Sisters of Submission are required to wear are deeply-concealing Habits that completely hide our restraints and Control and Discipline Equipment; acting also to inhibit our freedom of motion even more. This is emphasized when the floor length skirts of my heavy, concealing robes swirl weightily around my booted and hobbled legs. Even as completely covered and totally, intimately controlled as we are, members of our congregation are seldom allowed into the outer world and of course no one other than The Church officials, knows the true extent of our inescapable bondage. Our life, such as it is, consists entirely of useless work, unending hours of penitence, enforced prayer and sleep.

More rippling bursts of electricity curdle both of my ballooned and armored breasts, again making me automatically try to scream frantically while I move slowly between the rows of ‘kneelers’, then down the aisle of the Chapel to the narrow, barre