The Devil’s Pact, Ghost of Paris Chapter 2: Tartan Skirt



The Devil’s Pact

The Ghost of Paris Chapter Two: Tartan Skirt

by mypenname3000

edited by Master Ken

© Copyright 2014

Story Codes: Male/Teen female, Mind Control, Magic, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Toy, Female Masturbation, Anal, Humilation

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.

Click here for Chapter 1.

Saturday, August 31st, 2013 – Paris, Texas

At dawn this morning, I sold my soul to Lucifer, the Devil himself, for the power to turn myself invisible. I loved peeping on women, and being invisible was the ultimate way to peep. Just an hour ago, I watched a girl change in the Banana Republic dressing room. Her name was Mindy, and I ended up fucking her hard. She thought I was a ghost who couldn’t pass-on to heaven unless my blue balls were fixed.

To recharge my batteries after my romp with Mindy, I lay on the cold floor of the Paris Commons, beneath the stairs, so I could stare up some women’s skirts. It was my favorite spot in the whole mall, and now I didn’t need to be afraid of getting caught. My pecker was stirring and I was looking for the next girl to molest while enjoying the sights.

I loved the thrill of looking up a lady’s skirt and seeing her unmentionables. I loved them all: plain, white panties; cute panties with cartoon characters, or hearts, or kisses; sexy panties made of gauzy fabric, lace, and bright bows. Boy-shorts, bikini, high-cut, tangas, thongs, g-strings, and even the plain-old classic-cut. I loved them all!

Color flashed out of the corner of my eyes and I looked at the base of the stairs and saw a pair of tan knees that peaked out beneath a green-and-red tartan skirt. I smiled, watching the girl mount the stairs. I loved the anticipation, wondering what sort of panties she would have on. She was young, a sophomore or a junior in high school. I was betting on cute panties with some adorable animal printed on them.

There was a flash of hot pink beneath her legs and my pecker stiffened. Well, Scotty, you were wrong. I had one perfect moment where I could see straight up between her legs at the filmy gusset of her panties. The material – molded to the lips of her cooch – was transparent enough that I could make out her shaved slit and a landing-strip of dark pubic hair.

I had found my next playmate.

I rolled out from beneath the stairs. I had to dodge a bevy of shoppers. No-one could see me, and that made it difficult to move through a crowded mall. Luckily I was a skinny guy, and slipped through. I raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Reaching the landing, I searched for Miss Tartan-Skirt. I looked to my left, straining to see the red-and-green of her skirt.


My heart was hammering with frustrated excitement. I had to find her. I had to see those panties up close. I had to see what they were covering. I whipped my head about desperately. Where was she? I looked to my right, nimbly dodging around an old man in a scooter that almost barreled into me. Did I lose her?

Disappointment soured my stomach. I lost her.

As I turned to walk back down the stairs, I caught a a flash of red-and-green skirt disappearing into a Lady Footlocker. I grinned and hugged the wall as I walked down the second-floor balcony to the store. I reached the window and peered in. There she was, looking at tennis shoes. She wore a white blouse, with very short, ruffled sleeves. Her hair was long, black, and plaited and her face was round and innocent, with huge, dark, doe-eyes.

She found a pair of shoes and sat down on a bench. I quickly hurried over, kneeling down on the floor. Her legs were spread wide and I had to lower my face almost all the way to the floor, but I was able to see right up her skirt at the treasure hidden between her legs. Oh, fuck, that is a lovely pair of panties. A fringe of pink lace surrounded the leg-holes. In fact, the panties were made entirely of pink lace that left her pussy on display.

I moved closer, my head almost between her legs as she tried on her shoes. Then she stood up and I scurried back, bumping into the display rack in my haste to get out of her way. The rack shook and Miss Tartan-Skirt jumped in surprise and frowned at the rack. She shrugged and walked away from me in her shoes; my eyes were glued to the way her ass swayed beneath her skirt.

I grasped my pecker; stroked it slowly as I watched her tight ass. She turned, and I noticed just how well her breasts filled out her top. I could just make out the shadow of her bra beneath the blouse and I wondered what it looked like. Hot pink and lacy, like the panties, with her hard nipples and pink aerola visible? Or something else.

Miss Tartan-Skirt shook her head, kicked off the shoes, and returned them to the box. Then she started to browse the shelves. I moved closer, my pecker inches from her pert ass. I reached out and stroked the nape of her neck.

“Holy jeez!” she yelped and, laughing silently, I stepped back. She stared in confusion right at me, her doe-eyes wide. I stroked my pecker harder. Shaking her head, she turned back to browsing for shoes.

Then I reached out and caressed her arm. Her looks of confusion and consternation were priceless. Every few minutes, just when she seemed to relax, I would strike. A light touch on the back of her hand, a caressing swipe at her calf, a gentle stroke of her cheek. She looked around carefully before she started to try on the third pair of shoes. As she bent down to untie her own shoes, I reached around her body and gave her firm tit a good squeeze.

“Everything ah’ite, miss?” drawled the clerk when Miss Tartan-Skirt just about jumped out of her skin.

“Yes,” Miss Tartan-Skirt squeaked in fear. “I’ll take this pair!”

I followed the girl as she scurried out of the store, the bag with her new shoes tightly clutched in her hands. She was so unnerved she didn’t even bother to try them on. I followed her all the way out of the mall. She was almost running by the time we reached the parking lot. As she fumbled in her purse for her car keys, I goosed her ass and enjoyed her plump feel.

“What in tarnation!” she gasped and dropped her purse and Lady Footlocker bag.

Her doe-eyes were wild as she stared around. There was no-one anywhere near us. Her hands shook as she bent down to retrieve her purse and bag. She fished out her keys and almost dropped them again. She took a deep breath, muttering about being tired, and began to calm herself down.

She unlocked her Toyota Corolla, popped her trunk, and put her shopping bag in. I opened the rear, driver-side door and slid in. She gaped in surprise. “Need more sleep,” she muttered as she slammed the door closed. She got into the front seat, and kept glancing back, frowning.

I loved being invisible. It was the most freeing thing in the world.

As she drove, I carefully grabbed a loose lock of black hair and leaned in and smelled her apricot shampoo. To my horror, she started texting as she drove. Glancing up from her phone every few seconds to make sure the road ahead was clear. Whenever she sent a text she would almost instantly get a response. Twice we drifted into oncoming traffic without her even noticing. I wished to God I could put on the seatbelt, but it would be a little obvious floating in the air around my invisible body.

Finally she pulled into a driveway of a one-story rambler the color of a cloudy sky. She got out of the car, collected her bag, and texted as she walked. I quietly opened the door, slipped out, and shut it every so softly. She was at her porch, furiously texting away; I stalked up behind her. A vindictive feeling grew inside me. The stupid girl almost got us killed and I wanted to make her pay.

She put her phone into her purse and fished out her keys. As she reached for the lock, I pounced and pushed her up against the door. She screamed and glanced over her shoulder as she struggled in my grasp.

“What in the blue hell is goin’ on!” she shrieked in fear as she looked right through me.

I slipped a hand up her thigh, up to her butt and gave it a squeeze. She started to relax. I had wished that any woman I molested would enjoy it. My fingers found the waistband of her panties, hooking through the elastic band.

“What are you?” She sounded afraid and aroused; her big doe-eyes shone with her mixed emotions.

“A ghost,” I moaned, trying to sound ghostly. “Forever cursed to haunt purtee gals and use them for my relief.”

I was pulling her panties down, my hard pecker pressing against her now naked ass. She jumped, feeling the streak of invisible pre-cum my pecker must have left on her ass. “Relief?”

“I need to cum in a sweet young thang’s cooch or I can’t get to heaven.”

I pulled her hot-pink, lacy panties down until they were bunched around her ankles. I gave her ass another squeeze and pressed up behind her. I could feel her pillowy cheeks pushing against my groin as I guided my pecker to her moist pussy.

“Please don’t,” she begged. “We’re outside. People’ll see us!”

My pecker started to sink into her. “I reckon that’s what makes it so excitin’!”

Miss Tartan-Skirt threw back her head and moaned as my pecker speared into her hot, moist cunt. Like Mindy, she was tight but not a virgin. I grunted, and started working my pecker through her slippery sheath.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned. “This can’t be happening!”

“Sweetness, you just better start acceptin’ it!” I licked her ear. “You got one hot, juicy cooch!”

“I must be going crazy.”

I kept pounding her snatch, enjoying her sweetness as I reached around her and found the small buttons that kept her blouse closed. I tried to fumble with them, but they were too tiny for my fat fingers. Instead, I ripped her blouse open and her cunt tightened on my pecker as she shrieked in surprise. I groped her breasts. Her bra felt lacy, and I fingered the pattern. Her nipples were hard underneath and she gasped every time I brushed one.

My balls started to boil over and I pounded her cooch harder and harder. I heard a few muttered laughs, and looked over my shoulder to see a group of teenage boys filming us with their phones. I wondered just what they were seeing. Her panties were down around her ankles and her skirt bunched up to expose a tan ass with just the faintest lines from her bikini. Her blouse hung open and her head was thrown back. It must look like she’s masturbating on the porch.

I smiled; the teens watching us were voyeurs after my own heart.

So I decided to give them a show. I picked up Miss Tartan-Skirt, spinning her around. “What in the blue hell!” she screamed. Her porch had a railing. I bent her over it, and continued to fuck her fast and hard.

I grabbed her bra, pulling the cups down to expose her tits to the hungry gaze of the teens. “No, no, no! Please don’t do this!”

I groped her naked tits, pinching her hard nipples as I pounded her snatch. She tried to cover her breasts and I pushed her hands away. Mortified, she buried her face in her hands. I watched the boys, their eyes wide with lust and disbelief, phones held up to capture every moment.

“What a ho!” the first yelled, the boldest of the boys. And then they all were shouting.

“You’re a fuckin’ slut!”

“Holy shit, look at her tits!”

“How the fuck is she doin’ that?”

I was playing with her round breasts, squeezing them and lifting them up. “Look at them,” I told Miss Tartan-Skirt. “Enjoy their stares like a good little slut.”

“I’m not a…ohhh…slut!” she moaned.

“You sure as hell are, sweetness. I’m only drawn to girls as easy as a seein’ tits at Mardi Gras.” I reached around, grabbed her arms and pulled them away from her face. “Now sweetness, don’t be shy. Be proud that them boys there like to see your sweet hooters.”

“Oh my word!” she moaned, her cunt tightening about my cock, her hips giving a little wiggle. “I can’t believe I’m gonna cum!”

“You best believe it, sweetness, and cum for them boys!”

She gave a loud, wordless moan and her cunt started convulsing around my pecker. She felt so good as her orgasming snatch massaged my pecker. I slammed one last time into her and flooded her with my invisible cum.

“Thanks, sweetness,” I said as I pulled out of her.

Miss Tartan-Skirt rushed to the door, tripping on her panties. She fell onto her knees; her skirt flipped-up and exposed her tan ass and freshly-fucked cunt. The boys hooted in delight, and snapped photos as she scrambled back to her feet. She grabbed her purse, fumbled for her keys as she hastened to unlock the door. She was so frazzled she left the keys in the lock as she slammed the door. The deadbolt clicked and I heard her lean against the door and sigh in relief.

She walked away from the door and I waited a few minutes, before I pulled the keys out of the doorknob lock and slid them into the deadbolt. The same key worked for both locks, so I slowly twisted the key and tried to not make any noise. I winced as the lock clicked loudly, and waited for Miss Tartan-Skirt to investigate. She didn’t. I pushed the door open and slipped in.

She was sobbing on the couch. She had pulled her panties up, slipped her breasts back into her bra, and closed the ripped blouse as best she could. On her lap was a pillow fringed with tassels that she cried into. I almost felt bad for her, but I remembered just how great her cunt felt. My stomach rumbled, so I walked back to the kitchen to see what I could steal. I heard muffled music began to pound through the house and peaked back into the living room. She was gone, fled to her bedroom and that god-awful boy band music. One Direction, maybe? Or Justin Beiber? It all sounded like crap to me. Give me some Johnny Cash or Elvis. Hell, I’d take some rap over Justin Beiber.

I found a beer in the fridge and made myself a bologna sandwich. I devoured it and made myself a second one and washed it down with a second beer. It was a Bud Light, and I was a Coors man, but beggars cannot be choosers. I started wandering through the house. It wasn’t big; two bedrooms and a bath. There were pictures everywhere, mostly of Miss Tartan-Skirt, but also of a frumpy woman that looked to have been pretty once, before a hard life stole that from her. The mother, I figured, and a single one at that. The only pictures of a man were with Miss Tartan-Skirt as a child. I figured her dad must be dead, why else would her mother keep his pictures up?

I amused myself by rummaging through the master bedroom. Her mom’s bedroom wasn’t as tidy as the rest of the house and dirty clothes lay strewn across the floor. I found a pair of large, used panties and gave them a sniffb then shuddered to think how fat her mom must be. These panties would be a tent on me. I found a black, rubber cock in her panty drawer and a depraved idea entered my mind. It had been over an hour since I fucked Miss Tartan-Skirt on the porch and my pecker felt alive and ready.

“I swear it was a ghost,” Miss Tartan-Skirt pleaded to her laptop as she sat at her desk. She must be skyping. I could see a teen girl’s face on her laptop’s screen rolling her eyes.

Miss Tartan-Skirt’s music was loud enough that she didn’t hear me open her bedroom door. I held her mom’s dildo in one hand as I walked into the room. Her room was tidy. Her bed had a purple comforter and was precisely made, like she was in boot camp. That’s how my pa always liked things. Old bastard seemed to think he was still in the military half the time. On her shelves sat crystal and porcelain figurines: mostly unicorns, but a few pegasi, centaurs, and one crystal dragon. Her closet was open and her clothes hung neatly.

“Whatevs, Ruth,” her friend said dismissively. Miss Tartan-Skirt had a name. And it was rather plain and boring. “Last week you tried to convince me you saw a UFO.”

“But I did,” Ruth protested. “It was hoverin’ over the Eiffel Tower.”

I wondered if a UFO really hovered over that gaudy tourist attraction. Since our town was also called Paris, someone, naturally, built a replica of the Eiffel Tower. And since we were in Texas a huge, red cowboy hat rests atop it. I loved UFO’s and all that paranormal shit. But I hadn’t heard anyone reporting a UFO in Paris, and I would have heard about it. I visit all sorts of ‘alternative’ websites. Hell, that’s where I learned how to summon Lucifer and make my deal to turn invisible.

“You’re such a liar,” her friend dismissed.

I turned off her iPod docked to a set of speakers. Ruth jumped. She had put on a baggy T-shirt and still wore that lovely, red-and-green tartan skirt. Her doe-eyes widened as she saw the rubber cock floating in midair. I waggled it; the pecker flopped about and the color just drained from her face.

“It’s back!” she screeched.

“What is, Ruth?”

“The ghost!”

I could see her friend roll her eyes on the screen. “I’m not fallin’ for another one of your pranks. Later.”

Ruth looked on in horror at the rubber cock. “You got your relief. I thought you moved on?”

“ ‘Fraid not, sweetness. Goin’ to have to try a little bit harder this time, sweetness.” She glanced at the dildo in my hand and blushed. “This was up your mama’s cunt.” I inhaled deeply. “Smells fresh. Bet your ma used it just this mornin’.”

“I…I wouldn’t know.”

I smiled, grabbed her arm, and pulled her up. “I want to see you stick this up your slutty cooch.”

“That’s disgusting!” Her voice was full of indignation, so I pushed the dildo into her face, laughing as she flinched and tried to slap it away. “Please stop!”

I grabbed the hem of her shirt, tugging it upwards. She didn’t resist. Her bra was hot-pink and lacy as those panties, her dark nipples peaking through. “What a slut,” I murmured and traced the edge of her bra. “Let’s get that off and free them sweater puppies!”


I didn’t like her defiance so I pushed her bra up, exposing her full tits. I licked my lips, then bent my head down and started to suck on one. She gasped, then her hands cradled my head as she mewled in pleasure. I threw the rubber cock on her bed and felt around for the zipper on her skirt. I found it and her skirt slid off her hips. I released her breasts and saw her almost-naked body, and those lacy, hot-pink panties really didn’t cover much anyways.

“C’mon, Ruth, get them there panties off,” I told her. “I wanna see you fuck your little cooch with mama’s big toy!”

“Please, Mr. Ghost, my momma’s gonna be home real soon.”

“So? You take ’em off or I’ll rip ’em off, and tan your hide besides!”

Ruth pulled her panties off and finished taking off her bra, too. She folded them up and neatly set them on her computer chair. I was getting impatient as she started folding up her tartan skirt and I ripped it out of her hands and threw those back on the floor. She swallowed, getting the message, and laid down on her bed. She grasped the rubber cock gingerly.

“And this will help you move on?” she asked.

I knelt on her bed, staring at her obscenely spread cunt. “Abso-damn-fuckin’-lutely, sweetness.” My pecker was hard and I started to slowly stroke it.

“Fine,” she sighed, tightening her grip on the rubber pecker.

She rubbed it against her pussy lips, then slowly slid it inside herself and sighed softly. Her eyes widened as more of it disappeared into her tight cunt. It was thick – fatter than my pecker had been – and I remembered just how tight her cunt was. She kept pushing it in then pulling it out, and pushing right back in again.

“Umm,” she moaned softly, slowly fucking herself with the dildo. I watched the pleasure ripple across her face. She picked up the speed.

The room filled with a wet, squishing sound as the rubber cock reamed her teenage cunt. I breathed in her tart scent deeply, my eyes fixed to her cooch. Her lips were obscenely spread open, her pussy flushed red with her arousal. I could see her juices leaking out, running down her ass to form an ever increasing wet spot on her comforter.

“Are you watching?” she panted.

“Hell yeah!” I answered, almost speechless as she started playing with her clit. Watching her pussy engulfing the huge toy was mesmerizing. “Fuck yourself, whore! That toy is strechin’ your little cooch.”

She gave a throaty laugh. “This is so wicked!” She picked up her pace, fucking herself faster and faster. “I’ve never been so wet in my life!”

“Sluts liked to be watched!”

“Yes, watch me! Watch my naughty little cunt as I pump momma’s dildo in and out! Umm, it’s so big. I’ve never felt so full! Oh yes! I’m cummin’!”

Her breasts heaved, a flush crept across her skin as her orgasm rippled through her body. She buried the rubber cock inside her cooch, holding it in place as her back arched; her legs stretched even wider and I caught a glimpse of her puckered asshole. Her eyes fluttered as she shuddered then lay still, breathing softly.

“Keep going,” I urged her as I eyed the swell of her buttocks, trying to catch another glimpse of her asshole. What would it be like to slide my pecker up her shitter?

“Sure,” Ruth purred, and started diddling her clit as she slowly fucked herself again. “It’s so hot bein’ watched!”

“I reckon you’re one of them exhib’nist!”

I grabbed her pillow and shoved it beneath her ass. She didn’t stop pumping her ma’s dildo into her cunt. I spread her cheeks and looked at her asshole. I’ve never fucked a girl’s ass before, but I’ve always wanted to. I spit on my hands a few times, got my pecker nice and wet.

“What in the blue hells of tarnation!” she screamed.

She had stopped fucking herself as my pecker violated her asshole. I shoved it straight in, pushing deeper and deeper into her velvety, tight ass. “Don’t stop playin’ with your cooch!” I yelled as I bottomed out in her ass. She squirmed in discomfort, then started to slide the rubber cock in and out of her cunt again. I could feel it rubbing through her pussy. She was stuffed so full of pecker, both real and fake, it made her even tighter.

I started to slowly fuck her ass. She closed her eyes, biting her lower lip and wincing in pain. Slowly her winces turned to sighs and she opened her eyes, and licked her lips. She started pumping the rubber cock faster, pleasure contorting her face. I matched her pace with my ass-fucking.

“Oh fuck, that feels weird!” she gasped. “But nice! Umm, I think I like your dick up my ass!”

I laughed. “Only a slut would like it, though.”

“I am a slut!” she panted. “Umm, a naughty slut that…um…that loves gettin’ her ass fucked by a ghost!”

I really started to pound her ass and Ruth was reduced to wordless moans and gasps. Her breasts jiggled as I fucked her. Reaching out I started pinching her nipple. Her ass squeezed hard on my pecker. The delicious, little slut was lost to the pleasure building up inside her. And I was getting closer and closer to filling her dirty ass with my cum.

“Harder, harder!” she begged me. “Ream my ass! I’m so close to cummin’!”

Her hand was furiously thrusting the dildo into her cunt. I leaned over her and pistoned my hips as hard as I could. She shrieked as her orgasm crashed through her. I kept right on fucking her. My balls tightened, readying to cum in her ass as I kept pounding away. The little slut cried out again as she slipped into multiple orgasms.

The front door opened.

“Ruth, you home?” an older woman called out.

Ruth’s eyes opened in horror. Her door was open. I could hear her mom walking down the hallway. I kept right on fucking her, thrusting my pecker in and out; her ass clenching my pecker as she kept cumming. The footsteps drew closer. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a figure looming in Ruth’s doorway, her purse crashing to the floor.

“What in the holy hell are you doin’ Ruth Annabeth Ahlers!” her mom shrieked.

Ruth’s hand was still on the dildo in her cunt, her body drenched in sweat and flushed red. Ruth was still cumming as she tried to cover her breasts. Her ass squeezed even harder on my pecker and I stiffened and flooded her bowels as her mother watched her daughter’s masturbation in horror. I quickly pulled out and jumped off the bed as Ruth’s husky mom stormed in.

“Have you no decency, Ruth?” The mom’s eyes fell on the rubber cock sticking out of Ruth’s cunt. “You little slattern. Have you been sneakin’ ’round my room?”

“No, momma!”

Ruth yelped as her ma ripped the rubber cock out of her cooch. “Then where in the blue hell did you get this?”

“The ghost, momma!” Ruth was trying to pull up her sheets up to cover her nakedness.

“I’ve had enough with your lies about UFOs and ghosts! You are grounded for a month, young lady!”

“But momma…”

“No, buts! I have half-a-mind to bend you over my knee and tan your hide proper!”

Laughing silently, I slipped out of the room, out of the house, and wondered who would be the ghost’s next victim?

To be continued…

Click here for Chapter 3.

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2 thoughts on “The Devil’s Pact, Ghost of Paris Chapter 2: Tartan Skirt

  1. kokuorei

    Wow, he’s evil. Wonderful story, great characters. I like how he talks different then your other characters. It’s a refreshing change from other stories I read.


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