Words In Sand Ch. 01

(Note: all characters are 18 and over)

Grayson Nichols found an unmarked package sitting on the porch. He clumsily juggled it and his college textbooks and struggled up the stairs. He threw it all on the bed and went to take a piss. He limped down the hallway with his leg sliding. In the bathroom mirror, he saw a wide-shouldered, decent-looking guy. He had been robbed of so many possibilities. Perhaps he would have been an athlete. No one would ever know. A decade ago, a bully threw him down a drainage ditch and shattered his leg. The knee shot pain down to his foot, which seemed to ricochet back up to his neck.

His stepsister's voice rose above the sound of his stream. "Goddamn it Leggy, I need to use the bathroom. I have to get ready for a date."

Ugh, this fucking slut. "Whatever."

Later, he decided to open the unmarked package. He pulled out a copper box covered in ornamental carvings. He hinged it open, and inside was a statue of a meditating person holding a bowl. Under the statue was a clay tablet with strange writing in a strange language. He blinked. No, it was English, and it was in normal print. Jesus, he needed to get better sleep. He read the tablet.

Fill the bowl with sand and write a command.

The command must be legible.

Write as many commands in a day as you wish.

A person cannot be commanded more than once a day.

A person cannot be commanded for more than 137th of a day.

A person must be properly identified.

He did the math on the fraction of a day, which came out to a little more than ten minutes. It sounded so stupid. What kind of joke was this?

That night, he was about to toss it in the trash when he paused. Shit, might as well give it a try. For the fun of it, of course.

There, he knelt in the backyard, grabbing a handful of sand. He struggled back to his room. He had to wait a minute as the pain rubberbanded up and down his body.

He let the sand filter out of his fist into the little bowl in the arms of the statue. He took a mechanical pencil and wrote one line, a command to his stepsister.

Amy Nichols will come into my room completely naked in the morning and stand for one minute.

He had struggled to write the whole line in the sand. It wasn't easy to get down a lot of words. Anyway, it didn't matter. Soon, he went to sleep.

When his eyes opened, the light behind the blinds painted his room in bright bars. The calls of robins disturbed the dawn. He put a pillow over his head, and his alarm peeled just as he began to drift away. There was nothing worse than the morning. He sat up, his calf threatening to cramp. His back hurt like hell. God forbid he have a decent morning.

Amy walked into his room. She had a halo of light blonde hair around an arrogant but lovely face. Her cold blue eyes looked frightened and confused. The shadow of the binds lay across her fair skin and bent along the curves of her body. Her ghost nipples stuck out in the chill. They were marvelous nipples. Her pussy lips were right there, no less visible through the light hair than if she had been shaved.

He didn't give a damn. He examined her openly because he saw no reason to hide his lust. They hated each other. And that fact made this all the more pleasurable.

She ran out of the room as soon as she could.

He looked at the statue. "So, that was interesting."

Hours later, he sat in his World Civilizations class. All he could hear was Professor Cruz and the scribbling of notes. He couldn't stop thinking about the writing in the sand. It was a revelation. It would change his life.

Cruz was in great shape for a forty-year-old woman. "Class, I want you to write a single-page paper that expresses your opinion on what led the Khan of Khans to take over such a great extent of the known world. Tell us if you think Mongolia was destined for empire. If not, how was Genghis Khan able to shake the world."

The hottest girl in the class sat two seats behind Grayson. He glanced at her and saw her taking notes on a laptop. Tiffany Strauss was her name. If he conquered her, it wouldn't be noted in the histories. But then again, everyone had to start somewhere.

Haste makes waste, they always say. He didn't waste. The next few days, he tested the statue. Amy could only be controlled when he used her full name or SSN. Perhaps there were other ways, but that's all he could deduce.

Amy no longer spoke to him or looked at him. He hadn't made her do much. Not yet. But she knew something was wrong. Especially after she entered his room naked a third time, he twisted her nipples and groped her firm tits. She opened her mouth when he flicked her nipple hard. She left when she was under her own control once again.

If you've been starving and someone gives you a cake. You don't eat it all in one sitting. You savor that fucking cake.

He slid his foot down the sidewalk as he crossed campus to the gym. His body hurt as much as always, but the pain seemed inconsequential. He had a mission.

The gym wasn't busy this early. A few weights clanked. A few treadmills wurred. And there she ran, facing toward the window. Her ass threatened to break free of the confines of her shorts. This is why the ancients thought gods molded mankind, for she was a masterpiece.

He stood behind her, reached back, and slapped her ass as hard as possible. Sometimes, he thought he was weaker than he was given his challenges, but that slap rippled down her thighs. It reverberated even though the music played.

She turned around in shock. Anger twisted her face, and she opened her mouth to yell at him. She looked angry enough to get down from the treadmill and kick his ass. But her eyes widened, and her face smoothed. She felt the command take her autonomy.

She followed him to the woman's room. Motion detectors triggered the lights. He flicked the lock.

He watched her strip her clothes until she stood naked. He began toying with one of her nipples. "I knew I'd be nervous. This has my heart racing. How about yours?"

Her eyes looked straight ahead but were misty and frightened. "Yes."

"Good, we're in this together. Tiffany, get on your knees and suck. Remember, I'm a little nervous, so start gently."

She got on her knees and unzipped him. She took his cock into her mouth and began.

He knew it would take a while. Less than two minutes remained when he sprouted a large erection. "Have you taken one this big?"

"No."

What did she want to tell him? He had written for her to stay silent and obey him. It seemed when he asked her to talk, she only did the minimum. But her thoughts were to herself.

He had her stand while he gave himself a few yanks and unlatched the door.

Oliver and David walked in. They had simple instructions, and so he said nothing to them. They ogled Tiffany. But they could do nothing but gag her, lift her, sit her on the sink, and hold her fast. She started to struggle as she gained control of her body.

Grayson stepped forward so he was between her open legs. "You gave good head, Tiffany." He froze. "You're wet. I wonder what that says about you." He groped her breast with one hand and caressed her pussy with the other. Her pussy made slurping sounds when his thumb moved over her hole. He smiled, for he had turned ten minutes into twenty.

She shook her head as his dick made a beeline for her opening.

"Come on now, your body is begging for this." Grayson's dick had a wide berth and couldn't slip in easily, even with the wetness.

She quieted and just stared down at the scene between her legs.

With each thrust, Grayson made progress until he buried himself completely. Now, he could propel himself into her as fast as he wanted. Though he had a time limit, he slowed a few times so as not to nut.

Her hips pushed into his thrusts. Was it conscious, or was she enjoying herself? He had no idea. She orgasmed on his dick.

Grayson pulled out. Ahh fucking hell, he was going to explode. He ambled over to the next sink and let loose. He ran water and soap to clean the mess. "Thank you, Tiffany. I must be going. Don't worry, they will let you go when I'm gone."

Oliver and David confronted him soon afterward. Oliver said, "What the fuck was that?"

Grayson shrugged. "I am going to take over this college. I'll need help. I'll need loyalty."

They looked at each other and back to him wordlessly.

"Did you let her go?"

David grinned. "Whatever you did to us, it wore off. We had a go with Tiffany as well."

"That wasn't part of my plans. If you want everything you've ever dreamed of, you must never act alone. I will reward loyalty, but that loyalty must be unwavering."

Oliver furrowed his brow. "What's unwavering?"

Grayson's leg shook with the extra activity. He had to slide it as if it were dead. He must look disgusting. "Look it up. I have to go"

Later that evening, Grayson opened the box and took out the statue. He had a bottle of sand and a 5mm pencil. It was time to go to work.

His dresser mirror broke in a spiderweb. Something dark looked out from within.

Grayson looked at it blankly. "I know you're some kind of demon. You don't need to frighten me. I intend to go all the way with this thing. You might think I'm just another good-natured person using you for petty and selfish reasons. Trust me when I say my aims are anything but petty. I am simply patient. If you want chaos and destruction, I'm your man."

Amy opened the door and dropped her nightgown. She crawled into his bed and sucked off the remnants of Tiffany.