Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have someone at your feet, begging, pleading with you to have sex? Or, do you wish that for once in your solitary pathetic life, you would wake up with hands rubbing every inch of your body before grabbing the hardest part that yearns to be touched?

Do you honestly think that would cure the amount of money you spend on tissues and porn subscriptions? Ha, think again, my friend. Unfortunately, it's not as great as you think it would be, and let me explain why.

For the sake of introduction, you can call me Master Ceil because you will soon understand why having a sex slave is not all it's cracked up to be. Yes, I said sex slave, and yes, I may seem ungrateful and still pathetic in the end, but trust me, YOU do not want a sex slave, especially when it becomes more of a chore then something pleasurable. So first, let's get to the 'how' I became 'Lucky'.

It wasn't a matter of luck but more of a curse set upon me by the Director of Hell.

Second, I only remember the day it happened, a Tuesday morning. I was still hungover from late-night beers and binging on chicken while surfing the internet for male porn actors that had my face. If they had my body, they'd be the ones left to clean up all the white gooey mess after the show was over.

My mind was bumping to the beat of my alarm while I was dreaming of pounding whoever it was this time that made their way into my head. Then, finally, I rolled over in bed, pissed because I woke up.

Checking the time, I flew out of bed and grabbed clothes off my floor for work before heading to the nearby bus stop, running later than usual.

I'm poor, and with my one room apartment, I barely have space for a toilet, so missing work or getting my pay docked would have me eating 1.00 soft buns from the gas station for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

My job didn't pay much, and I was stuck all day answering phone calls for pissed off customers that were idiots for buying our shitty products in the first place. I didn't have to interact with people, so I didn't put much thought into my appearance. As a result, no one ever notices me anyway.

Usually, the bus stop is full of people, so full that a line wraps around the block, and I can never make it on the first bus. However, a second bus usually comes 15 minutes later, it's a big city, and if I am having a good day, I make it on that one.

Tuesday was very different. Only one person stood there waiting. It made me so nervous that I constantly checked my cheap phone for the time. It was 8 am, yup, no issue there.

The person standing there was another tall, professional, and well-dressed man. The kind I could only hate and scorn to the depths of Hell for having won the lottery of good looks.

"Ex..excuse me, do you know if the bus is running late today?"

My question somehow shocked him, or maybe it was me. He raised his eyebrows at my presence and sidestepped, looking away. I wanted to say thanks for nothing, but I shrugged and stepped back to not impose my useless existence on him.

It's fine. His reaction wasn't something new. At least he didn't wave his hand in front of his nose as if I smelled or punch me and call me a bum like others had. I did bathe when I remembered.

The city sound of traffic, sidewalk conversations, and random music blaring filled the background when I rechecked my phone. It was almost 9. I was officially late.

The man ahead of me sighed impatiently and pulled out his phone to make a call. I watched him. What else was there to do?

"Yes, Karen, I am running late for the meeting. The damn bus is running behind. Lazy city workers, what are they getting paid for? Send someone to pick me up at the 23rd and Deal Street bus stop. No, Karen, I don't give a damn who it is. Find someone!"

He hung up with an impatient scoff and paced for five minutes before making another call.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Miu, yes sir, no, sorry sir, it seems I am running behind. Of course, sir, right away, sir."

When he hung up, I realized that he must be pathetic too.

I watched him put his phone away and grab his bag tightly before looking both ways to cross the street.

Naturally, I looked, but cars were still far away, so he could make it if he ran for it.

Just as he took the first step onto the street, he stopped and pulled out his phone, answering it.

I was nervous, he was now pacing in the street, and I could see the cars coming from the left of us.

"I'm headed there now. Yes, I did, sir. I'm trying, sir, maybe 10 minutes if I run, sir. What? No, please just give me ten minutes, sir!"

The idiot had his back to the cars coming towards him, and he even started screaming above the horns honking from people driving by slowly. Most of them have phones out in hopes of recording some gruesome action. How many likes would a brain-splattered car get? In our society, 110K minimum.

By making a stupid decision and going out of my routine to give a shit about humanity, I have loads of regret later.

I couldn't just stand there. I had to react.

Quickly darting out in front of the car that was only seconds from having a dead office worker paint job, I used my whole body to pull his heavy, muscular, perfect frame out of the way.

The asshole, and I use the word lightly, was so damned engrossed in butt kissing he never noticed his life was in danger. Instead, he responded as if it was ME who was the inconvenience, not him almost dying.

"What the fuck, man?" He sneered and snapped at me before saying into the phone, "Oh, sorry, no, not you, Mr. Miu, my apologies, I was talking to someone else. Yes, I am running now, yes, of course, I will, iced Americano, got it, sir, no, it would be my utmost pleasure."

It was the last I heard as he ran across the other traffic lane and stepped safely onto the sidewalk.

I was relieved and pissed, but shook my head in disbelief as I turned back to the bus stop when SPLAT! My dumbass was hit instead of the idiot ass-kisser.