“You look like shit!” the man behind the register said as I bought more things to fix the house.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Feel like it, also.”

Brandy, the ghost, was running me ragged. When I was home, I barely got any sleep. She wanted me to fix everything wrong with the house, and even when I got something fixed, something else broke or needed attention.

Working almost fifty hours at my job, and then going home to her, was driving me insane.

I was hoping that after fixing the leaking pipes in the basement, she would let me relax for a while.

“There,” I smiled as I looked at the pipes that were running perfectly. “No leaks.”

From the silhouette of Brandy giving me the thumbs up, I knew she was happy.

Brandy Nichole Schmid was born many years ago, long before I was even thought of, long before my mother or grandmother were born. Brandy had it tough. She lived in a poor town with a poor family, and she didn’t have any good clothes, friends, or things she liked.

When Brandy graduated from high school, she was put into an arranged marriage to bring two poor families together. She married a butcher; together, they had four children. They moved from their small town to this small town.

Brandy’s husband Fred made this house with his bare hands. It took him a long time, but they were happy here. They raised their kids well and gave them the best they could afford. Brandy fell ill and eventually passed away.

The news articles I read always said Fred always felt like Brandy was looking over his shoulder and helping him. After the kids graduated, they all went their separate ways. Even Fred found another woman, and then he left.

Since then, the house has been in two families; each said there was a presence in the house. After the last family had left, the house stayed abandoned until I came along.

I had seen black-and-white pictures of Brandy. She looked like a pretty woman with dark black hair and pale skin.

I knew it was her from the way she looked in the shadows. I didn’t see a clear view of her, just an outline, like an afterimage, but the shadows and silhouette made her a very curvy, top-heavy woman.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I laid down on my bed to get some sleep for the night. “Good night Brandy,” I said as I turned off the light.

I knew she was in the room; it was always cold when she was around or nearby.

I hadn’t got deep into sleep when I felt her on my bed.

Brandy had a huge sexual appetite, and I was often rewarded with sexual favors for fixing things. I was hoping tonight would be the night that it wouldn’t be just a blowjob or a hand-job. I had felt her tits against my cock once or twice, but I was hoping for more.

“Damn!” I said as I felt like I was tied to the bed.

I couldn’t move a muscle; my hands and feet were locked down, and my body felt like it was pinned down.

“Holy fuck!” I said, feeling Brandy’s cold hands on my chest.

The creepy outline of her face appeared mere inches above mine as she smiled down at me. That’s when I felt it.

It felt cold and wet, like putting your finger into a cold watermelon and hearing the slight squish as you pushed in deeper. That’s what my dick felt as she got on top of me.

It started to feel better as Brandy rode me.

‘I am having sex with a ghost!’ I thought as Brandy’s outline kept its cold, dark eyes on me.

I wanted to move my hands and see if I could squeeze or even feel her tits. I saw the outline of them swaying back and forth, but I wanted to touch them.

“Okay, slow down,” I said as Brandy ramped up her rhythm.

She went back and then forward. The bed started to sway with her, but it wasn’t just swaying; it was moving. The whole bed was going back and then forward, hitting the wall behind us.

“Slow down,” I said, feeling her tight grip on my cock tightening.

Back and then forward, the scraping sound of the bed going across the floor.

“Fuck!” I said, as I knew I couldn’t last much longer.

As if she could sense me cumming, Brandy started going faster and harder.

“Holy fuck!” I yelled as she rode my cock hard. It seemed like she was going to tear it right off.

I couldn’t move or stop her. It was impossible to move my hands to slow her down.

Brandy smiled at me after I was done, and then she disappeared.

My cock felt cold and damp when I touched it.

‘I just creampied a fucking ghost!’ I smiled as I turned over and fell asleep.

For months, this went on; it was our deal.

Anytime I fixed something, I got something sexual in return. I fixed the sinks in the kitchen, and I got a blowjob while watching football. I went into the attic and fixed the draft; she gave me a tit fuck.

“You’re out late,” the bartender said.

“Just got a promotion and a raise!” I smiled.

“Lucky you!” the bartender said as he gave me my usual drink.

I stayed out late and drank with some of my friends to celebrate. When I got home, the whole place felt ice cold.

“Brandy?” I said, worried something might have happened to her.

It felt like the inside of a morgue; it was that cold.

Mistress Of The House Chapter Two: A Little Too Much

The ghost and the man have a deal, but how long will that deal last?

“You look like shit!” the man behind the register said as I bought more things to fix the house.



“Yeah,” I sighed. “Feel like it, also.”



Mistress Of The House Chapter Two: A Little Too Much

The ghost and the man have a deal, but how long will that deal last?

About the Creator

Alexander Martin

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