Latest Forum Posts:


The Night of the Hunter

My appetite was incredible. It had been in days and only then did I realize just how murderous I felt inside, more than ready to submit to my cravings, to release the beast within. When had I last fed? Four days? Or was it six? And why hadn't I? Was it caution? Fear? Sheer repulsion? I can answer yes to all three, but I'd be lying to you. Let's just say, I was saving myself, starving myself to be exact, for a wondrous meal, dessert possibly included. But let me tell you honestly, that my will was weak and my nature too powerful to fight off and why else would I not feed in days? I was not testing my endurance, nor did I feel guilty of committing unspeakable acts of torture and murder. I was building the tension, and after four, five, six days, I was ready to strike.

It was a night like every other. It was still and cool and remarkably peaceful, for there is nothing disturbing about the night. I was out walking, picking my prey meticulously amongst the groups of teenagers outside the movie theatre, the boys far too bitter for my taste, spotty and greasy and rowdy. The girls, on the other hand, are just my type. They are delicate little things, with adorable clumsiness and an air of maturity. Some are neat and some try too hard with their groupie attitude and heavy makeup. I like those most of all because they are difficult to frighten. I love a challenge.

I was picking my prey, as I mentioned before, when suddenly a group of boys huddled by the trash cans began to jeer at me. They looked older than the rest, about nineteen or so, and through my eyes, not so threatening. They were boys, after all, boisterous and attention-seeking twits. I approached them with calm and the silence invaded the space between us. I stared and behind my sunglasses I saw them well. I smiled. At once, I sensed their sudden fear.

"They're fake," the tallest said and stepped forward, away from his anxious peers. "Dude, it ain't Halloween. Why are you dressed like you're from the Addams family?"

"Don't you like my attire?" I asked and brought a hand to my face. I was seconds away from exposing my eyes, but my hand stopped in midair. I could not spoil the show at such an early stage.

The boy laughed. This encouraged the others to relax a little and they laughed along. It encouraged me also. I laughed the loudest and silence reigned once more.

"I don't understand why you don't like my attire," I said, staring down at myself. "Too black?"

"Too weird." another said.

"Ah," I smiled once more, widely, absolutely sure my teeth would not miss anybody's sight. "But you see, I don't care what you have to say about me. And you know why that is?"

"Why?" the tallest said, a slight quiver in his voice.

"Because I could rip your hearts out faster than it would take you to call for help."

They shifted anxiously, waiting for their leader's response. He stood there, perhaps too frightened to move a muscle, and his forehead was moist, and his heart beating so fast I could not count how many beats there were. I smiled one more time, and this time, I did remove my sunglasses. It was dark, but I imagine they all saw the glinting red glare with clarity. They turned and ran, all five of them down the damp alleyway that led to the back of the theatre and I followed swiftly, my attention focused on the last of the five, stumbling over toppled trash cans his peers ahead of him knocked down in their desperate attempt to flee.

He fell at last, brusquely on his hands and knees and before he felt the air leave his chest, I was above him, my foot on his neck, restraining him.

"What is your name?" I asked, resting my forearm on my knee.

"Fuck you!" he yelled and whimpered when I pressed my foot down harder.

"I ask again, what is your name?"


"Now, you see, Mark? The consequence of laughing at other people who did nothing to offend you?"

He mumbled something inaudible. I leaned in further and said, "Forgive me, I didn't hear that."


"Sorry, who?"

"Sorry... sir!"

"Sir?" I leaned my head back and laughed into the night. "You may call me Mr. Dexter," I removed my foot and dragged the boy on his feet. "I take great pleasure in murdering those who annoy me, but this time I will spare a life because I pity you so,"

"I'm so sorry, sir--Mr. Dexter, it won't happen again--"

"--In exchange for a token."


"Your blood."


The boy, so inexperienced and so terribly dimwitted had no idea what I was talking about. And so I helped myself. He was a little hesitant at first, stuttering about his sexual preferences and assuring me with everything he had that his only interest was 'pussy'. He had to be quiet. I had to make him behave orderly. So I turned his head and sank my sharp teeth into the side of his neck, where the mother vein is located. Instantly, the boy screamed, something I had not anticipated. Furiously, I slapped a hand over his mouth, whilst I sucked, the hunger and pain slowly decreasing, my mouth flowing with precious blood. It ran down my throat like fire and at once, I felt almost alive. I enjoyed it thoroughly, it was oblivion I was feeling, something pure yet very carnal, and I was lost, unable to control myself and my actions, until something very strange made me part from his neck.

The boy was looking down at his own self, a painful expression etched across his face, as though he were actually witness to a horrible spectacle. I had felt it. I removed my sunglasses, as I had done before, and the boy ignored his fear when he looked into my eyes. I smiled.

"My sexual encounters consist solely of the presence of a woman. Can you say the same?"

One hand shot straight to his fiery-induced groin, the other, over the fresh wound on his neck. He looked startled.

"What did you do to me?" his voice echoed around us.

"I have only enjoyed the taste of your blood," I answered calmly. "It seems you rather enjoyed yourself too."

"No." he turned on his heel and made to run from me, but I pulled him back and thrust him against the wall.

"No, no, Mark, I haven't finished with you yet."

"Let me go!" he yelled and fought against my iron grip.

"Not just yet."

I plunged yet again in that deep abyss I knew so well; I bit him all over, unable to control my urge, on his neck, his wrists, his chest. I left him weak and bloody in the alleyway when I felt he couldn't be subjected to anymore pain. His sobs lingered on, even when I stepped out of the alleyway and back into the world and once leaving him behind, I realized that I was still as ravenous as I was before feasting on his blood.

I'd had enough of silly children. For that night, at least. I desired a woman. A true woman who knew what she truly craved. This thought led me to my favorite brothel in town. I was considered a local, but I did not overuse my status. I liked being lesser known, distant. But Sandra recognized me straight away.

"It's the black," she said and put her arms around me. She smelt strongly of sex. "And you're paler than everyone in the room."

"My attempts serve useless through your eyes," I embraced her back, though only at the waist. "Tell me, who is available tonight? I need someone who can afford to keep me satisfied. No interruptions."

"Janie can wait on you, Dex. She's in room eight," Sandra leaned closer and her lips brushed my cheek. She never did enjoy the art of kissing, even an innocent kiss like the one she presented me. And when she released me and I was already down the hall, she called out to me, in a forced whisper, "Don't get blood on the sheets this time, Dex, it scares away our customers!"

I nodded, not entirely sure I could keep that promise.

Janie often shrank with my mere presence, but only because she found me quite intimidating, not because she was afraid of me. She had a body of perfection. And her clear eyes were subtle and true and I saw something right in them, something that kept me sensible and gentle with her. True, she had marks all over her body, caused undoubtedly by yours truly, but she thrived with the prospect of giving up her body to me. She wore those scars with pride.

She smiled when she saw me that night; she always had a smile for me, not to mention a worthy snack. Without being told, she tilted her head to the shide and brushed her golden hair out of the way. I bit hard (she liked it rough) and she moaned, pressing against me as the blood ran down her neck and onto her breast. I flicked my tongue over the wound, travelling down, tracing my tongue over the blood, until finally halting at her breast. I could feel her quiver above me as I got down on one knee and felt her between the thighs; she had a scar there, on her left lip. I caressed it with gentleness, my fingers unnaturally cold, and without warning, I sank my teeth deep into her thigh. She squealed, marvelously aroused, and rocked her pelvis against my head as I sucked the blood seeping from her thigh.

I removed my sunglasses and Janie suddenly pulled my head back. The yellow light from the bulb above hit me across the face and Janie looked straight into my eyes. There was electricity in them, a cold sense of perverse desire, a craving for release. Her head flew down and she bit me on the neck, as I had done to her, and all at once I felt a tingling sensation running from the base of my spine to my head, I felt heat spread throughout my body, in my toes, in my groin, in the very fingers used to penetrate her entries. She came and her warm juices spurted over my fingers.

"Fuck me, Dex." she moaned and left me kneeling on the floor alone.

The white sheets on the bed were soon stained with red and she lay there, waiting for me. I knew it was too late to apologize to Sandra about the sheets, but I mentally took note, and focused on undressing as quickly as possible. Janie liked to watch me do this.

"Your body's like, all white and soft. Is it always like that?"

"Always." I answered and stood before her, my shaft stiff and ready.

"If you're dead," she said and kneeled on the bed. "How come you can get it up?"

Janie was full of absurd and unnecessary questions. I was used to her childish naivety; she was, after all, just twenty years old and still fresh. And she was used to receiving nothing from me, except money and the very scars she cherished like badges.

Her mouth was put to better use other than questioning me. Her oral skills were extraordinary, and even when she gagged, she went on sucking, more ardently than before. It was a good effort simply fitting it whole in her small mouth. When I asked her to stop, she obeyed and looked up at me, her mouth ringed with spit and blood, her eyes wide and expectant.

"Can I bite it?" she asked, resting both hands upon her thighs like a school girl.

I knew I couldn't resist those eyes. "Only the tip." I said.

She did, ever so gently, but still I felt the pain and the rush of fervor and the blood trickling into her open mouth. She then lay on her back at my command and I entered her fiercely, her legs wrapped around my waist. She enjoyed when I pounded her without mercy, she knew my strength, what I was capable of doing with it and she made use of that with plenty of boldness and tenacity. I bit into her fresh wound on the neck once more and kissed her roughly on the lips and she responded, though hating the taste of her own blood, human blood.

"Harder, Dex, harder!" she moaned, clawing my back like a savage creature.

I felt it sting, but it did not last, or perhaps I didn't feel it any longer because my pace was suddenly too much. It was something utterly bizarre to watch, yet alone take action in. It was frenzy. It was chaos. My entire body was burning brilliantly, the bed was thumping off the floor, Janie was shrieking and the blood from her newly inflicted wound was flowing in all directions. She began to claw at my face incessantly, licking the blood before it dripped onto her chest, and she bit down on my lip as I arched my back and came. The sound that escaped my lips was something similar to an animal and one last thrust gave Janie the second release she craved.

She released me from the waist and lay sprawled on the bed. I watched her regain her breath, her posture, then, one by one, she began to lick her fingers clean. I sat beside her and bit into my wrist and offered it to her. She accepted gratefully.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

To link to this sex story from your site - please use the following code:

<a href="">The Night of the Hunter</a>

Comments (3)

Tell us why

Please tell us why you think this story should be removed.