The Devil’s Pact
The Ghost of Paris Chapter One: Freedom
edited by Master Ken
© Copyright 2014
Story Codes: Male/Teen female, Mind Control, Magic, Voyeurism, Male Masturbation, Oral
For a list of all the Devil’s Pact Chapters and other stories click here
Comments are very welcome. I would like all criticism, positive and negative, so long as its
constructive, and feedback is very appreciated.
Friday, August 30th, 2013 – Paris, Texas
“Staying out of trouble, Scotty?” Mitchel Craig, my parole officer, asked me.
“Yessir, boss,” I lied.
It was complete bullshit that I was here. What was the harm in taking a few photos up a few girls’ skirts. I mean, they were wearing panties. Hell, those girls probably wear skimpier bikinis when they go to the beach. But the judge disagreed, particularly with my prior, and gave me three years. I was paroled in eighteen months, and had to report to this slug once a month.
“You still livin’ in Paris, son?” he drawled. Craig had a fat, ruddy face and he wiped at the sweat beading his forehead every minute with a grimy handkerchief he pulled out of his back pocket. “At that halfway house on Sperry Street?”
I nodded. It was the shithole that all the sex offenders were sent to. You had to be home by 8 PM, and your room could be searched at any time for ‘contraband’: porn, drugs, weapons, and booze. If you had a job, you could stay out past eight, otherwise you were confined to your room or a shitty common area with a broken TV, a couch from the fifties that had lost all of its padding, and a chess board missing half its pieces.
I ground my teeth as the fat sack of shit drawled on and on. I wanted to mosey my way over to Boone High School and watch the cheerleaders practice. It was the Friday before Labor Day weekend, and there wouldn’t be any school until Tuesday. It was bad enough having to go three days without watching those fine young things shaking their stuff, let alone adding another day because my PO liked to hear himself talk.
I wasn’t, strictly speaking, supposed to be watching the girls. I was a voyeur, and over the years my tendencies has landed me in a mess of trouble. When I was nineteen, I got a job at Boone High School in my home town of Paris, Texas, as a janitor. Well, I drilled a hole in the girl’s locker room and enjoyed the sights for a whole month before I got caught. That landed me my first stint in prison. Sentenced to six years; out in three on good behavior. I thought I got smarter, after I got out, thought I got more careful. But at twenty-seven, I was caught in the Paris Commons, the local mall, with my digital camera hidden in my shoe taking upskirt shots.
I just couldn’t stop. I loved watching girls. I often fantasized about being a fly on the wall, just watching them, up close. Or one of them superheroes that can turn himself invisible. I would just sit in locker rooms, watching the gals and jerking my pecker. I just had to see the ladies naked, I couldn’t help myself. Since my parole last month, I had already snuck a camera into the locker room at the Y and for three days got some delightful footage before the memory stick filled up.
“I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Scotty Adams,” my PO warned. “Don’t think you can be peeping on the girls under my watch.”
“Sure thing, boss,” I nodded. The dumb sack of shit had no idea what I’ve been up to since I got out. I glanced at the old, analogue clock on the wall; there was still time to watch the practice.
The cheerleaders were jumping around when I arrived. Their pretty legs flashing as they cartwheeled around, their firm breasts jiggling beneath their red tops. And when those gold-and-black pleated skirts flipped up and you could see their black, tight spankies that hugged their asses, well it was like I died and gone to heaven. Their school mascot was the lion, and the cheerleaders called themselves the Lionesses. But, it was over all too quick, and I wandered over to the public library. Maybe I’d surf some porn, or check out what was happening on reddit. You could always fine some girl posting a titillating selfie.
I browsed some porn for an hour, receiving a few dirty looks from a mother. Luckily, the first amendment protected pornography as free speech so the shrewish librarian couldn’t do anything about it. But, I couldn’t jerk off either, so I switched over to a few sites I liked to visit. One was called the Unearthed Arcana, a forum for people who loved the occult to post theories on, or to inform people on the latest revelations from spirit channelings and the like.
My first love was spying on pretty young things, my second was the occult. I just ate that shit up. I read Alice Bailey, Madam Blavastky, Alestier Crowely, David Icke, and all the rest. At night I would listen to Coast to Coast AM with George Noory. They were always preaching the truth about the government and aliens and the like. I loved it.
I started browsing the forum of UnearthedArcana.com. Someone posting as attaboy-simon claimed that the rising power in the Northwest, Mark Glassner, had sold his soul to Lucifer as outlined in the Magicks of the Witch of Endor. There was quite the lively debate. These Miraclists that worshiped Mark as a God were quite the fervent defenders, deriding the original poster for even suggesting that their God would consort with demons. attaboy-simon said he was going to prove them all wrong and his final post simply read: “I did it haters, fuk you and fuk your god! Lucifer gave me entire cheerleading squad!! *-)” It was accompanied by a picture of a man and more than a dozen smiling, naked girls holding pompoms.
My heart stopped.
Lucifer gave me an entire cheerleading squad, echoed over and over in my mind. What if this worked? I devoured the Magicks of the Witch of Endor, printing off the pages on how to summon Lucifer. It was well worth the thirty cents the library charged for printing if this actually worked. My hands shook. I could get three wishes for my soul. I was going to hell anyways, just ask my pa the Baptist preacher.
I could realize my dream. I could become invisible, and spy on women. But that was only one wish, what could I do with the other two? I smiled, thinking on the possibilities. I had to do this, it was the chance of a lifetime. I would have to break curfew, but it’d be worth it. Curfew wouldn’t matter if this actually worked.
I bought a steak, stole a grill out of someone’s backyard, and squatted in an empty house on the outskirts of Paris and waited for the sun to rise, a case of Coors to keep me company. I fell asleep. Luckily I remembered to set the alarm on my cell phone and woke up before dawn. I lit the grill and watched for the sun to rise. According to the book, if I offered a heifer as a sacrifice at dawn, I could summon Lucifer. Well, here’s hoping this steak came from a heifer and not a bull.
The wait for the sun seemed to be an eternity. The horizon lightened, fading from black to dark blue to light blue to gray. Hints of rose and orange started to appear. I was shaking with anticipation, my hand holding the bloody steak above the lit grill, just waiting for the first ray of the sun. When that golden light touched my eye, it was like the crack of the pistol at a race; my hand opened and the steak dropped, sizzling on the fire.
“The Shining One, Son of the Morning,” I shouted at the sun. “I give this pleasing offering of flesh and ask that you appear before me. The Shining One, Son of the Morning, appear before your humble servant so that he may beg three favors from you!”
For a moment, nothing happened. Disappointment curdled in my stomach. And then a wind rose up, whipping dust into my face, and I saw a dust devil racing across the dry fields towards me. I stepped back in fear as the brown whirlwind seemed to be bearing down right at me. The wind was howling as the swirling dust roared closer. This wasn’t natural. It stopped, just a few feet away, and I licked my lips in fear. Dust devils never stayed in one place. Then it stopped, and out stepped a handsome man in a dark suit, immaculately clean despite the dust falling around him.
“Hello, Scotty Adams,” the man greeted, a friendly smile on his face. His eyes were scarlet and I swallowed, my heart up in my throat, as he calmly strode up to me. “What’s the term they use these days?” he asked, pursing his lips. “Oh yes, you rang?”
I swallowed. “You’re Lucifer?”
“Really, son, I thought you’d be brighter than that,” he sighed. “You said the words, made the offering, who did you think I was?”
I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right, hoss.”
His scarlet eyes stared at me and I shifted uncomfortably in his gaze. After a minute, he asked, “Well, what do you want? It’s a very busy time for me.”
“Yessir, I guess,” I shrugged. “I mean, Halloween just ’round the corner, right?” Lucifer’s eyes narrowed in annoyance and I quickly said, “I wish to be able to turn invisible. Like, with just a thought.”
“Really?” Lucifer asked, a slight smile on his lips. “That’s a first.”
“Well, I mean, I’m pretty average looking. No-one ever gives me no second glance.” I shrugged. “Even still, I get notice far too much. Bein’ invisible, well, that’d just make things easier on me, hoss.”
“Okay, Scotty,” Lucifer grinned. “One down, two to go.”
“Well, when I’m invisible, I’m gonna molest women and I want them to enjoy what I do and not freak out somethin’ terrible,” I said. It came to me last night that spying on women was fun, but touching them, feeling their most intimate parts, well that would be even better. Lucifer nodded. I was surprised to see understanding in his eyes, not disgust. “For my last wish, I want to be immune from exposure when I’m invisible. Y’know, no sunburns, no frostbite, no hypothermia, or that heat stroke.”
“Done.” There was a flash of scarlet light and yellow smoke that smelled of rotten eggs and a contract printed on yellowing paper appeared in his hand. “Read it, then sign on the dotted line.”
I quickly read it. It was surprisingly straightforward. Lawyers could learn a thing or two. Lucifer pricked my thumb with a black, old-fashioned fountain pen, and I signed in my own blood. Lucifer signed in his, then he nodded to me and vanished in a gust of swirling dust.
Did it actually work though. I held out my arms before me, concentrated, and then to my delight, my arm vanished. There was just the sleeve from my Megadeath T-shirt. Holy shit, it worked. I went back into the house and checked out my reflection. I was just clothes around nothing. It was like that movie, Hollow Man, with Kevin Bacon.
I whooped in delight.
I peeled off my clothes, I didn’t need them anymore, and walked out into the street. It was exhilarating. I was naked and no-one could see me. This was freedom! No-one could see me, could judge me, or tell me what I was doing was wrong! I was free of all the bullshit morality that sent me to prison twice just for a little bit of harmless fun. It’s not like I touched any of those girls, just looked at their fine, taut bodies.
Well, I had the freedom to touch them now!
The street was warm on the soles of my feet as I walked down the black asphalt, the sun warm on my naked back. I quickly missed my shoes, but I sucked up the pain. People used to go barefoot all the time back in olden times; my feet would toughen up, I told myself.
There were, however, other problems.
I had to dodge out of the way of pedestrians. When I went to cross the street, a car almost ran me over making a right turn. And just because I was invisible, it didn’t stop dogs from barking at me. It was an adjustment; I needed to learn to be careful. But it was all going to be worth it as I walked up behind a woman waiting to cross the road.
She was wearing a lavender sundress with a short skirt. I reached out, grabbed the hem and lifted up the skirt and saw her pantied-covered ass, nice and plump, before she spun around. She frowned as she looked for whomever had grabbed her skirt. I almost laughed, this was priceless, watching the confusion on the woman’s face. She turned back to face the light and I reached out and rubbed her bottom. Instead of freaking out at the touch, she wiggled her butt back into my hand and sighed.
“Who’s there?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. I jumped back as she reached for me, then feeling bold, I grabbed her breast. Her eyes widened and I could feel her nipple hardening. Fear and pleasure flickered across her face as I groped her.
I would have gone farther, but a man barreled into me, knocking me down. The man looked around in surprise, and the woman fled across the street as I struggled back to my feet. I was about to follow, when I saw the car making a turn and I stopped before it hit me. Then the light changed red and traffic started flowing. By the time it was safe for me to cross, the woman had disappeared into an apartment complex.
Oh well, there were other women to play with. I kept walking, heading to the Paris Commons. It was Saturday and the teenage girls would be flocking to the clothing stores. I picked up my pace, eager to get my hands on some pretty young thing. My pecker was hard with anticipation, bouncing about as I walked.
It was challenging to walk through the mall. I had to hug the walls to avoid bumping into people, but I threaded my way to the Banana Republic. I waked back to the dressing rooms, waiting for a likely girl. The first was a tall girl, with an okay body, but her face was long and narrow and very plain, so I passed on her. Next was a chunky gal in her thirties and I shuddered when I saw the tight clothing she selected. It my opinion, spandex is a privilege, not a right.
The third, though, she was just right; young and hot. She was short and petite, with long, honey-brown hair and vibrant, green eyes. She had a shy smile on her face as she walked up to the dressing rooms, a couple of skirts, a pair of shorts, and several blouses in her hand. She walked back to the farthest changing room and opened the white door. I moved quickly, stopping the door from closing and slipping in.
She frowned as I moved into the corner, peering around. “Hello?” she asked with a dulcet voice.
I tried to stop my heart from beating and breath as softly as possible. My pecker was rock-hard with excitement as she frowned and then shrugged. She hung her clothes on the hook and grabbed the hem of her loose, white blouse and pulled it over her head. I almost groaned as her bare back came into view, marred only by the straps of her white bra. In the mirror, I could see her small breasts cradled in the plain, white cups of her bra.
Thank you attaboy-simon! This was so much better than upskirt shots and peepholes. I was just a foot away from a teenage girl, probably a freshman, stripping her clothes off. I grasped my pecker, stroking it gently as she kicked off her flip-flops, then unbuttoned her jeans. She wiggled her hips deliciously as she slid off her tight pants, exposing a pair of white panties decorated with Minnie Mouse. Her ass was slim and the panties dug into her crack, outlining her cheeks. When she bent over, the gusset of her panties was pulled tight against her pussy and I could see wisps of brown hair peaking out the side.
I almost came just from that sight. If I had been stroking my pecker any harder, my cum would have been splashing all over her rear. I stroked harder, trying to be as quiet as I could, but the sight before me was just too much. She straightened up, grasping the shorts and pulling them up her legs. She turned, looking at her ass in the mirror, her breasts just inches away. I stroked my pecker harder, biting my lips to keep from moaning.
“Is someone out there?” the girl asked, frowning as she pulled on one of the tops.
I slowed my strokes down and the girl shook her head, muttering under her breath as she modeled her clothes in the mirror. She frowned, shaking her head, and started to strip out of those clothes. She wiggled the shorts off, once again bending over. Oh god, her pussy was right there, covered by those tight, girlish panties, inches from my pecker. My balls were boiling and my face contorted in pleasure.
My cum was also invisible, it turned out, as it splashed on the girl’s ass and crotch. “What the fuck,” the girl gasped, jumping and spinning around. She rubbed at her ass, feeling my sticky cum, and she frowned as she lifted up her fingers, rubbing them together, but not seeing what was causing that sticky feeling. Her eyes flicked around the changing room. “What is going on?” she muttered.
God, my pecker was still hard. This was just too exciting. But I needed more. She turned to grab her clothes and I made my move. I reached out and grabbed the clasp of her bra and ripped it open. She spun around again, hands clutched to her bra to keep her breasts from being exposed. Her lip trembling in fear.
She didn’t resist as I grabbed her arms and pulled them away, just continued shaking in confusion. Her bra slipped off exposing her small, snowy breasts topped with dark-red nipples. Oh, God, she was so beautiful and innocent. She bit her lips, staring down at her arms, trying to see what force held her wrists.
“A-are you a ghost?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered with a smile. “I’m attracted to the only the most purttiest girls.”
She flushed, her nipples hardening. “You think I’m pretty?”
I pulled her right hand down to my hard pecker. Her eyes widened as she gripped my pecker, squeezing gently. “Feel how hard I am for you, sweetness.”
She gasped, letting go, her entire body was beat red. “I did that?”
“I got to have you,” I groaned, my hands grabbing her flesh. Her breasts were soft yet firm, her nipples hard and she moaned as I played with them. It was strange, watching her breasts deform as my invisible fingers kneaded her pliant flesh.
“Do you need relief, Mr. Ghost?” she asked. “Do you have a bad case of blue-balls keeping you from passing on?”
I slid my finger down her taut stomach and started fingering the waistband of her cute panties. “I do. I’m in so much pain. I just need a purtty, young thing like you to give me some relief. Y’know, so I can get to heaven!” I slipped a finger into her panties and felt her silky pubic hair.
She was breathing heavily, her hands reaching out hesitantly until she found my body. “Okay,” she whispered as her hands slid down and found my hard pecker. “I’ll help you, Mr. Ghost.”
“Rufus,” I said. “Call me Rufus Scott, sweetness.” Rufus Scott was some bigwig from a long time ago, his mansion was a tourist attraction.
“I’m Mindy. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Scott.” She shook my pecker like we were shaking hands.
I knelt down and pulled her panties off. She gasped in surprise, but willingly stepped out of her panties. I held them up, sniffing her scent. She smelled sweet and fresh like a summer meadow. Her bush was darker than her hair, and matted with her arousal. I smiled, my Pact was exceeding my wildest expectations. I couldn’t resist, I stuck my head in and licked at her slit. I never went down on a girl before, but damn if she didn’t taste wonderful.
“Oh, Mr. Scott!” she gasped.
“Shh, you don’t wanna get caught,” I warned her.
“Sorry,” she whispered, then clapped her hand over her mouth as I dove back in for another taste.
Her pussy was tight and when I parted her lips she was pink and wet inside. I slid my tongue through her groove, gathering her tasty juices. I sucked and nibbled on her lips, then I found a hard button at the top of her pussy. I licked it and she shuddered and moaned into her hand. It was her clitoris, I realized. The pleasure button on a chick. I sucked it into my lips and she bucked like a bronco on my lips and I held on for dear life.
“Oh wow, I’ve never came so hard before,” she sighed happily. “Thank you, Mr. Scott. Now, maybe we should attend to your problem.”
“Abso-damn-fuckin’-lutely, sweetness,” I panted, standing up.
I picked her up she was so light, gripping her ass tightly. She wrapped her legs around my waist and I quickly maneuvered my pecker to her wet cunt. “Oh, yes, Mr. Scott,” she cooed happily as I sank into her pussy. She was tight, but no virgin.
She started pumping her hips on my pecker, and I enjoyed the velvety tightness of her pussy. I glanced at the mirror and all you could see was Mindy floating in the air, writhing like bitch in heat. I turned around, facing away from the mirror. Then I looked over my shoulder and I could see her pussy gaping open as my invisible pecker fucked into her pink hole.
“Oh, fuck this is wild!” I moaned, pumping my hips.
“I can see down my pussy!” she gasped softly as she saw her reflection in the mirror. “Oh, it’s so pretty! Mmh, your ghost pecker feels so great inside me!”
Her hips twisted on my pecker, driving me crazy with pleasure, and I pumped my ass as fast as I could. I just came a few minutes ago, but her teenage cunt was quickly building me up to another one. I squeezed her firm ass, then started sucking and licking at her neck. Her hard nipples and soft breasts rubbed against my chest and her arms snaked around my neck and she hugged me tightly.
“Oh, yes!” she moaned. “Sweet Jesus, I’m gonna cum again!”
Our flesh was slapping together, we were getting louder and louder. I had to finish before the store clerk interrupted us. The silky walls of her pussy rubbed the head of my pecker with every thrust, sending pleasure that radiated out from my pecker. I could feel my orgasm nearing and I pumped wildly. My balls were getting closer and closer to exploding. Just a few more thrusts and I would be there.
“Fuck!” I grunted as my cum boiled into her cunt. “Goddamn fuckin’ hell! You got one amazin’ cooch, Mindy!”
“Oh wow!” she gasped, bucking in my arms as her cunt spasmed on my pecker. “Oh, Sweet Jesus, yes! Yes! Oh crud, I’m cumming!” She panted, rubbing her cheek against me. “Umm, that was nice.”
“Yeah,” I said, letting her go.
“Good thing you’re a ghost,” she joked. “’Cause I’m not on the pill.”
“Uh-huh,” I laughed, then slipped out of the changing room, catching one last look of her naked body. Wouldn’t that be rich if she got pregnant.
I started whistling as I walked out, passing the clerk, a pretty young woman with black hair who looked around, confused, at the sound as I walked by. She had a firm-looking butt, and I couldn’t resist reaching out and pinching her fine ass.
“What the fuck!” she screamed in surprise.
I grinned. Mindy wore me out. I would need a break before I could go again. So, I started heading to my favorite spot in the whole mall. If you stood underneath the stairs that led to the second floor, you could see up a woman’s skirt through the gaps between the steps. I stretched out on the floor mall’s cold, hard floor. It was uncomfortable, but the view was well worth it. And who knows, in an hour or so, I bet I could find another woman to help a poor, suffering Ghost get some relief.
To be continued…
Click here for Chapter 2.by