Master of Lust

Chapter 4: Messenger of Death: Amanda Miller

Chapter - 4

"Daddy?" Rick mumbled as he fell to the ground.

"Yes! Yes! Say it again," happily, the old man came towards Rick and brought his ear close to Rick's mouth.

"Daddy... You... You... Fucking old cunt..." Rick mustered up all the energy he could and cursed. The soft-spoken boy was nowhere to be seen, "I regret showing sympathy to a two-faced chameleon like you."

"I curse you, you Asshole. Even in death, you won't find solace. Rebirth after rebirth, that dick of yours... It will be chopped up... You will live your life as an ugly eunuch, getting fucked by ugly bastards like yourself, warming their bed night after night, every day."

"I will haunt you... even when... I am... dead..." Rick finally used up all his energy. He slowly raised his hand and showed the old man his middle finger, "Here... Take this, Dadd..." And Rick finally collapsed.

"Phew... That was actually fucked up," With shock and surprise all over his face, the old man felt his ears itching.

"Oh well... My time has already come," the old man mumbled, and all the playfulness on his face vanished. With sad eyes, he looked up at the sky and sighed, 'How long has it been? I can't even remember clearly,' the old man thought.

'I have finally found my successor,' the old man looked at Rick and smiled.

"But a eunuch?" The old man shuddered at the mere thought of it, "He could have at least said a prostitute. That way I could still have some fun," the old man smirked.

Soon, the sound of sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with each passing moment. The old man looked up, and in the distance, he saw fire trucks and ambulances rushing in.

"Guess this is farewell, brat. Wish I could see what different you would do. Or will you succumb to this curse as I did,"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Aghhh... Fuck! Why is it hurting so much?" As Rick slowly regained consciousness, he felt a sharp throbbing in his head. It was as if a drum was pounding in his skull, and he winced at the pain.

He tried to open his eyes, but the bright light stabbed at his senses, making him wince and shield his eyes with his hand.

"Where am I?" Rick mumbled, his voice hoarse and weak.

As his eyes adjusted to the intense light, he started to make out his surroundings. But the pain remained. Everything around him was white—blindingly white. It was like he was in the middle of a vast expanse of whiteness, with no distinguishable objects or features in sight.

A sense of confusion washed over him. But, suddenly the gates opened, and memories flooded in his mind. How he met the old man. The verbal argument with that good lady who tried to save him from the evil old pervert. Rick's swinging the cane at the old pervert in frustration. The weather turning wild. And in the end, Rick getting struck by a bolt of lightning, sending him into unconsciousness. Rick remembered everything.

"So I am actually dead?" Rick looked at his hands and smiled wryly, "Guess no miracles for me, huh?"

Rick was a bit disappointed, no doubt about it. But more than the disappointment he felt relieved. Relieved from the expectations of his parents, the unrequited love of his, the burden of the society, and more than anything, his growing student loan. Rick was relieved from each and every misery of his life.

Rick then looked around. Everything looked white around him.

"When will he come?" Rick waited. As far as he knew from going to the temple, he was supposed to meet Yamraj, the god of the afterlife soon. But Yamraj has not shown up yet. What was taking him so long?

"Hmm...? Machines?" As he waited for Yamraj, Rick turned his head to look around and saw a few machines attached to him.

"What in the freak show is it?" Rick was confused.

"Don't tell me they have a medical test before they take you to judgment," Rick was losing it. He desperately needed someone to answer him, "What if there is some issue? Where will they throw me?"

And as if Yamraj actually listened to him, the curtains slid.

"Oh, you are finally awake?" A lady dressed in white walked in with a pleasant smile on her face.

"We were so worried about you. No one knew if you would make it here or not," the lady said as she checked the machines.

"Are you him? Did you bring me here?" Rick could not believe he was talking to the God of Death, face to face. And more so, Yamraj was actually a girl. How fucking unbelievable was that?

"Oh no... It's not me. Actually, it was my boss who brought you here," the lady told Rick.

"Auhh..." Rick was disappointed. So it was just a messenger. But to have such a beautiful messenger. Kudos to Yamraj. He is the man. The lady had Brownish-orange hair, a tall figure and ample breasts. Every time she would bend, despite the risk of looking at the God of death, which he assumed she was earlier, Rick still stole glances at that perky ass.

"So you are his messenger?" Rick said.

"Well... You are not far off," the lady nodded.

"I visit before my boss to make sure everything is normal," the lady continued.

"Will your boss visit me? Like actually visit me?" Rick was excited again.

"Well, of course," The lady was taken aback by Rick's excitement, "After all, your case was special. You were brought here after you were struck by lightning. And that's rare."

'Guess there are not many deaths by lightning,' Rick nodded.

"By the way, what is your name?" The lady asked, "We could not find any ID on you. Maybe it got burned by the lightning, along with your clothes.

'They don't know who I am?' Rick lost track of what the lady had to say halfway through, 'What a terrible management in Yamraj's reign.' How could Yamraj, the almighty God of Death show such laxness?

"I am Rick, Rick Smith," still Rick introduced himself. Just to give Yamraj face.

"Hi, Rick... I am Amanda... Your nurse while you are here," The lady introduced herself.

"My nurse?" Rick looked bewildered.

"Auh... Yes... Your nurse."

* * * * *

Here are the choices for the readers. Whichever gets more comments is what we will do in the next chapter:

1. Slap yourself. How stupid you are.

2. Pinch Amanda's ass.

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