The Virgin's Hunter

By Nikki Morris

On her 19th birthday, Katie's best friend forces her into a night designed to shatter the moral chains & shame that have kept her awakening sexual desires deeply repressed. But as Katie struggles to come to terms with whether or not she truly wants to free her kinky longings, she has more to fear than losing her innocence, because something evil has set its sights on Katie. Something Unstoppable.

A night that starts with the dawning of sexual heat and exploration, quickly turns into a night of violence and death. As Katie and her friends fight and flee for their lives from their hunter and his hungry knife, Katie finds herself drawn towards the muscled terror in frightening ways.

Can she escape her horrific fate, or will she find herself engulfed by the evil of, "The Virgin's Hunter."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nikki Morris
• Release date: Jan 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301479221

Nikki Morris

Nikki Morris is a native daughter of Minnesota with a twisted sense of adventure and a wicked imagination. She has recently found herself on the wrong side of thirty, and unable to find a partner who could properly thrill her under the sheets, on top of the car hood, or curved catlike over her liberator, she has taken up writing to create one. She enjoys alcohol, sexy bedroom wear, and sleeping her mornings away. She has an amazing ass from years of spinning and telling people she goes to yoga.New story on the way!! If I can stop masturbating long enough to finish it! Until then, The Virgin's Hunter free at smashwords. Enter NS33E

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The Virgin's Hunter

By Nikki Morris

Copyright 2013 Nikki Morris

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The Virgin’s Hunter

By

Nikki Morris

To Cassie for challenging me to write you something dirty, dirty, dirty. And to Nick for your kinky brain and lustful disposition.

Chapter 1

There’s something in the crispness of the Halloween season that lends itself to stories of terror. We may laugh, and dress up, and throw wild parties, but inside us all, we know that it is a season of evil. Its threat is always there, just a whisper away, a flicker of something sinister in the shadows. Walk home alone on an October night, and however brave or sensible you might be, you will feel fear. There are monsters about in October, and we all know it.

The wretched month signals nothing but death. The frost strangles the life from the plants. The harvest browns and withers. The trees die and weep their leaves away. October offers nothing but early sunsets and the approaching teeth of winter. It is the evilest of months. We have made our parties and costumes and jack o lanterns to trick us into not fearing it, but we know what’s out there. When October comes prowling, it is best to lock our doors and lose ourselves in the terrifying stories we create. We pray the horror inside them satisfies the darkness lurking at our threshold.

This is one such tale. It speaks of evil, anger, and lust. It commits to legend the story of one of those October Demons we pray to never find yet yearn to hear about. It is a slasher with blood, and guts, and screams, and like all its brethren, it is a story of sex. The kind of sex we hide away in the shadows so the world can’t see how much we want it.

There is a moral to the story. You will find it at the end, if your courage carries you there. But we can’t speak it yet, because stories start at the beginning. And this story begins as a late Halloween sun reaches its zenith, starting its descent behind the barren hills to leave us at the mercy of evil. It begins with something waking. Something dreadful. Something long dormant and rising. And it begins, as all slashers do, with a girl.

Katie Morrison was the resident senior class virgin at St. Theresa's High. Her clones are everywhere, Hollywood horror movies, teen dramas, and evangelical wet dreams. She was studious, quiet, shy, and too terrified to so much as glance at the hunky bad boy she’d secretly like to be glancing at. Keeping in character, she dressed conservatively. Whereas most girls her age had long since discovered the joy of bending the mandatory schoolgirl uniform to their sexual advantage, Katie miraculously found ways to make every man’s favorite role play apparel devoid of sex appeal.

Her bright white blouse was a size too big, making it impossible to discern what she had hidden beneath it. She lived in constant fear of anyone seeing her knees, so she’d spent all of her 10th grade sewing class adding several inches to the hems of her skirts. She’d been so terrified about getting into trouble for altering them that she’d thought her heart might explode the first time she wore one to school. To Katie’s shock, no one seemed to notice. This had perplexed her at first, because all the men, be they students or teachers or dirty Dr. Seltz, clearly noticed the frequent shortenings that the other girls did to their skirts. But, since none of those girls ever got into trouble either, Katie assumed that St. T’s must be relaxing its dress code and laughed at herself for having been so nervous.

Katie kept herself plain in other ways as well. She never wore make-up or bothered to do anything with her black hair but give it a quick comb. Though she secretly enjoyed walking through Victoria’s Secret and imaging herself in the things she saw there, she would never actually buy any of it. The thought of discreetly wearing a push-up bra or thong under her uniform never entered her mind. Even if she had worn them, no one would have known.

Her long skirts served their purpose well, and those loose shirts hid the beautiful body beneath. Where other girls tried to get away with as much cleavage as possible, Katie Morrison was strictly a top button buttoned kind of girl. When boys would talk about her (which was rare), it was only to laugh about what kind of glue she used on that top button or wonder how big her bush must be under that extra-long skirt.

Those same boys would have been shocked to find that a neatly trimmed diamond was the only hint of hair adorning Katie’s unglimpsed pussy. (Most of them would have been shocked to see any pussy really.) That diamond fluff was the only outward sign that Katie did not always march stride for stride with the world’s image of a mousy good girl. It was as out of place on her as a nun with a tramp stamp, though its occurrence was easily explained. Katie might be trapped in moral chains of guilt and shyness, but her best friend, Jess, thrived on the fornification of virtue.

Jess considered it her duty to rescue her friend from her mundane dungeon of self-doubt and mentor her on the funner points of being a woman. She had painted a vividly horrific picture of what would happen on Katie’s wedding night if she pulled down her silky white panties and her expectant husband’s ogling eyes beheld a giant raven colored brillo pad where her pussy should be.

If the sight of that rat’s nest snatch doesn’t Medusa him into stone, Jess had giggled with a jubilant grin, then he’ll bolt like hell and take up with the stripper that jerked him off at his bachelor party.

And that stripper will probably be you! Katie had shot back with a smile.

At least I’ll have a boyfriend and a pussy people pay to look at, Jess smirked. Now take the razor and get in the shower. And with that, she had pushed a how-to article into Katie’s hand and shut her in the bathroom.

At the time, Katie had thought they were far too young to be shaving anything, but to appease Jess, she had gone through with it. She always ended up appeasing Jess. Jess might be crude and crazy, but she was the kind of friend who is really a sister, and Katie would never let her down. Truthfully, she was the only friend Katie had.

Jess had told her to go bald like alopecia, but Katie’s courage had faded with each and every lathered swipe (plus she wasn’t entirely sure what alopecia was). She’d made a simple triangle that day and told Jess she felt dirty and stupid for doing it. But as soon as she got back home, she’d found herself sneaking to the bathroom mirror and admiring what she’d exposed. She liked what she saw as her fingers traced across her unearthed lips, and, without planning to, she’d found herself rubbing the new-found wonder.

She’d touched it slowly at first, barely caressing herself, startled by how good it felt and turned on by the shame. Her fingertips found a spot that sent waves of lightning arcing through her body and made her nipples so hard she could see them through her loose shirt. She couldn’t believe that she was doing something so naughty, so forbidden, but the proof was right there in front of her.

Watching her hand abusing herself in the mirror gave Katie a dirty thrill, like a voyeur hoping to get caught, and when she saw glistening wetness start to drip from her deepest folds, she’d plunged a finger inside herself without even thinking about it. She’d moaned, and purred, and breathed so heavy her tight little breasts strained against her shirt, almost making that top button pop. Katie’d found herself grunting, thrusting her hips hard against her probing fingers, aching to take them deeper and harder.

As she’d stared into the mirror, the girl touching herself had both horrified and titillated her. Katie’d felt so dirty, so free. She’d looked at her womanhood, wet and wanting, and she’d found the strength to say a word she normally couldn’t even think.

Pussy, she whispered with shock. You’re a dirty little pussy, and you like to be touched. The thrill of saying a word so forbidden was too much, and Katie felt her vagina tighten round her fingers as she came for the first time in her life.

Afterwards, she had felt ashamed. That girl piddling herself in the mirror was not who Katie Morrison wanted to be. She told Jess that shaving herself made her feel cheap, and she would never do it again. She had believed it at the time, but once the stubble began covering up her new plaything, she’d found herself shaving it.

She had masturbated again too, though this time Katie kept the curtain closed so she couldn’t watch in the mirror. The guilt had been overwhelming again, but not quite as biting as the first time. As the process repeated over the next few months, the guilt eventually shriveled away, and Katie looked forward to shaping her bush in new ways and exploring herself afterwards. She admitted none of this to Jess of course. There were some secrets too embarrassing to share even with your best friend.

And Jess was certainly Katie’s best friend. Though sometimes Katie couldn’t believe the things she said or did, almost as much as she couldn’t believe someone so different could be the person closest to her in the world. Jess was Katie’s opposite and always had been. They had met in preschool, and even then, Jess was a troublemaker. She liked to break rules, run wild, and make the teachers crazy. Yet she had instantly claimed Katie as her best friend, and the quiet little girl had found she liked having someone who dared to do all the things she wouldn’t.

There