Princess Leia

April 18, 2014 9:15am Published by Jules Smith in The Art Philosopher 36 Comments

 

Warning:  Adult Content – If you are under 18 years of age, jog on…
To those who continue:  This is a true and compelling, short story about one of my Blog Followers who finds it amusing to set me up with challenges within my challenge.   Here’s his comment to my Big Reveal :
 
“Anyway, good luck with it and, just to add to the fun – like last year – I’d like you to try and squeeze in the following words at any point throughout the month (I’ve made them a bit more difficult than last year, but I know you like a challenge!): “defenestration; brobdingnagian; callipygian, ambisinistrous and “I can’t believe it’s not butter!”
 
So, I decided to meet this challenge ‘head on’ and include all of the challenging words within this tale.  Seems some people will never learn….
 
**************************************************************
 
 
Mr. Masher’s dreams had all come true, which made a very nice change indeed.  He’d been going about things in general, as you do, married with two kids and working hard at his job and had often wondered what else there was in life.  Wouldn’t it be nice if some unexpected surprise were to happen and turn his life into a whole new sci-fi, erotica playground, or something like that.
 
As the saying goes, ‘Be careful what you wish for,’  for just shy of six weeks  after thinking that, Mr. Masher won the lottery.  A cool two million.   The night it had happened found him at home alone.  Well, the kids were in bed and the current Mrs. Masher was working nights which was about as alone as it got, apart from when he was working away.
 
After doing a happy dance, passing out several times and getting way too ahead of himself on the Newcastle Brown’s, Masher had an idea.   An idea that would change his life.  He hadn’t felt this elated since he was 14 years old and had nicked a bag of lemon bon bons from Mr Bent’s sweet shop. 
 
He decided he wasn’t going to tell anyone about his big win and carry on as normal. He went about setting up investment bonds and other off shore and secret accounts and told his boss he was leaving due to family complications and that it be best if nobody got in touch as things were a little delicate.  It all went swimmingly and just as planned. 
 
From Monday to Thursday Masher would kiss his lovely wife goodbye and trundle off to his pretend work in his very average, run of the mill, bloke car.  Buying an Aston Martin DB9 at this point might’ve put the cat among the pigeons. Off he’d drive, down south to the lovely little Bistro hotel where he’d spent many a night and a week staying over for work. He knew the staff very well and could trust them.  He’d secured the room for a whole year and they were very accommodating as he’d paid over the odds for the service.  He asked if they’d mind if he decorated it, obviously he’d have it made good again if he was to ever leave and the hotel manager was more than happy to oblige.   Being a bloke and all, Masher wasn’t very good at interior design so he hired a couple of top notch designers to get it all spanking for him. 
 
“I want it dark, ya know,” he said.  “But with like stars that glow and planets floating around. And blasters and an Enterprise control panel and…and…I want pictures of Princess Leia and manacles above the headboard and phaser guns and lightsabers and…
 
“It’s a little mixed up, shouldn’t we just stick to one theme?  Either Star Trek or Star Wars?’ the designers had queried, tentatively.
 
But Masher had money and he wanted it all.   The designers did as he asked cos, well, money talks. And so did the life sized, C-3PO that stood in the corner.
 
Masher loved his room except it wasn’t just a boyhood dream pad,  oh no, this was now Captain Masher’s den of iniquity.  He’d got on the internet and on the phone and done his research better than he’d ever done for any job before.  He searched and he vetted until he found the very best ladies of the night to sate his long time, sci-fi fantasies.
 
“I need a few girls…”  he’d  said to the brothel Madame, in his best millionaire voice. “One that looks like Uhura and do you have any girls with ridged noses? Like Ensign Ro and ultimately… A Princess Leia lookalike..”
 
And so it was.  The hookers came from Monday to Thursday and carried out their space duties.
 
“Ooh Captain Masher. Is that phaser gun for me? “ Gina said huskily, who was fast becoming his favourite because of her callipygian assets.  
 
“MMMM….”  she purred, licking her voluptuous red lips and straddling Masher on his bed as she unzipped his trousers.  “WOW, now that’s a weapon of brobdingnagian proportions!” she simpered as she released the beast from it’s cage.  Captain Masher was quite pleased about this, since the starfleet costume he’d donned was a little on the tight side and beginning to chaff his nads.  
 
“You have a very extensive vocabulary, don’t you?”  Captain Masher said to Gina, the Trekky whore babe. 
 
“ I can even recite “If”  by Rudyard Kipling, in French, whilst giving head.  Shall I demonstrate? “  She smiled as she lowered herself to his throbbing member.  
 
He would have preferred that she hummed the Star Trek theme tune to be honest but he wasn’t going to argue. 
 
Her soft warm mouth with all its cherry promises started to gently suckle on the head of his rigid cock. Her hot, darting tongue circling and teasing until his skin felt like it would rip from the swell of pleasure.  He was close to flipping her onto her stomach, spreading her creamy thighs and ramming her violently from behind to release the almighty need she was creating, as she tongued his hard shaft. Sensing his ache, her mouth closed around him, enveloping every inch of his manhood as she moved her head slowly up and down, sucking and begging for the nectar inside him.  Faster and firmer, her hot, wet mouth worked its magic as she took him deeper and deeper into a place where no man has gone before.  He felt the crescendo of pleasure rage forth as his hot spunk filled the back of her throat with such force, that he nearly caused defenestration. 
 
Gina swallowed every ounce of his seed and raised her pretty head, a small amount of cum dripping evocatively from the corner of her swollen lips.  
 
“MMMM,  Captain Masher”  she murmured, taking a finger and wiping up the leftovers on her mouth and sucking on it. “You taste so creamy and delicious.  “I can’t believe it’s not butter.” 
 
Masher’s head was spinning and he was dying for a bacon sandwich.  He paid Gina and said how he’d like her to do that again next week as he wasn’t paying full attention to the French oral recital and didn’t want to appear rude.  She unzipped herself from the red Trekky dress and redressed in her jeans and jumper, ready to fetch her kids from the school run.  
 
Masher rang down to reception and ordered some fodder from room service and then reached for his notebook and began to write. 
 
Captains log ( ironically). Stardate 2014. 4 –  Man Trap.  This orally gifted girl could suck a desert dry and come out with a mouthful.  Money is everything it’s cracked up to be and more.  Must order new starfleet outfit.  

He placed his pen and pad on the bedside table and decided to take a bit of a nap.  Not five minutes into his orbital dream, he heard the the familiar clunk of his bedroom door opening. Can’t be room service yet, he thought, opening his weary eyes, they take bloody ages.  As he peered through the darkness of the universal, star lit bedroom he saw a vision of beauty walk through.
 
“Princess Leia” he whispered.  What the hell?  They said they hadn’t found anyone quite like her yet at the brothel but that they were still looking.   How had she suddenly come about?    All his girls had key cards so she must have been sent from the Madame.
 
“I don’t know where you get your delusions, laser brain,” she said as she stood there in her long white dress. 
 
“  Look, Im all up for a Princess Leia situation.  Really, I am, she’s like my ultimate fantasy but I’ve just had the life sucked out of me and well…ya know… I’m getting on a bit now.   I can’t just up and at it like I used to.  You’re gonna have to give me a couple of hours, a sarnie and a kip.”
 
The Princess Leia smiled and from behind her back produced a large and rather vicious looking whip that looked like it belonged to Indiana Jones.
 
“Errr… I’m not sure that you’re totally down with the Star Wars vibe,“  Masher corrected. “Princess Leia didn’t have a whip..”
 
“Well She DOES NOW!”  screamed the Princess in a voice that was very, very familiar to him as she neared the bed and unfurled her lash.
 
“Oh my God….Mrs. Masher?”  There she stood.  His wife cunningly disguised as his boyhood fantasy.  It all seemed so terribly wrong.  And then he remembered how terribly wrong he’d actually been and felt the dread and fear of ‘found out husband’ coursing through him. 
 
“Look….I can explain.”  He tried to grab her with his trembling hands but the fear and first crack of the whip across his thighs, rendered him ambisinistrous.  
 
“ARRRRRRRRR.  That bloody hurt!”  
 
“Save it Han Solo,” she spat.  “You stuck up, half witted, scruffy looking Nerf herder.”
 
“Actually, I’m James Tiberius Kirk today….”
 
CRRRRR..ACK!  went the whip for a second time.  
 
“You said you wanted to be around when I made a mistake, well, this could be it sweetheart.”  Masher decided to join in with the mixed up role play.  It was a colossal mistake.  
 
“ You deceitful, evil, cheating, tight fisted, useless sack of shit!”  she delivered, eloquently “ And to think of all the times I’ve looked nice for you when all I had to do was sport a hairstyle that looks like I’ve got Minnie Mouse ears and wear a bloody bed sheet with a belt tied round it.  Is that all I had to do to get you going?  Really?  I don’t get this Princess Leia thing, whatsoever! “ 
 
“Well… It’s actually when she’s in her bikini and…”
 
“Shut. Up.  You nauseating numpty!  Here’s how it’s going to go down, so listen up Captain Kirk”  Even Masher was starting to get confused now.
 
 “You know that dishwasher that you refused to buy me?  Well, I want one that’s top of the range and it will sit in the brand new, farmhouse kitchen of my brand new 7 bedroomed mansion complete with tennis courts and swimming pools and a baby blue, soft top Bentley.  And that, Mr. Masher is just for starters and if you don’t comply I shall leave you dead, buried and penniless.” 
 
Masher thought she had a point but couldn’t resist a bit of a comeback.
 
“Look, I aint in this for your revolution and I’m not in it for you Princess.  I expect to be well paid.  I’m in it for the money.”  
 
It was the final crack of Princess Leia’s whip that made Masher realise that the force was no longer with him but quite clearly with her and his fantasy days were well and truly over.  This was it, the final frontier and all that mattered now was that he shut the fuck up and lived long and prospered. 
 
 
 

36 Comments

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Awesome Jules! Can’t decide wether to feel sorry for Masher or not?! I Can’t Believe Its Not Butter love it, keep em coming (if you pardon the expression ) xx

Hello anon…. Nah, don’t feel sorry for him, he had it….coming. 😉

Oh. My. God. What have I done?

Apologies to all who read this: the girl is obviously deranged!

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this and it made me LOL several times… and I never write LOL.

Good as it was though, Jules, I don’t think comedy, sci-fi, sex fantasies are your forté and I think we’d all prefer to read the other stuff wot you write so well.

Excellent stuff though. Thanks for writing it.

And you just had to mention the dishwasher, didn’t you? Ouch!

I think that should be Oh. My. Goddess…

Me? Deranged? BWAHAHAHAHA! I know that you’re off to buy a lottery ticket 🙂

I had fun writing it so I’m glad I made you LOL. I’ve never been really good at boundaries so I was a little bit concerned. Not much, though. I’m glad you took it in the spirit it was intended!

Oh, and yes: challenge met!

And now I feel epic 🙂

You are soooo moneysupermarket.

Ha Ha! I know! Love that advert when he’s in his speedos!

Hee! Love the humor. I would have passed on such a challenge, but you pulled it off. Love the butter!
Deb@ http://debioneille.blogspot.com

Oh I can’t pass on any challenge. I have such a ridiculous, competitive nature that people just love to push. Thanks Debi 🙂

Picard: Captain’s log. Ensign Ro has finally come. Captain down.

…and cue Deep Throat nine 😉

Deep Throat Nine… LOL, again!

See? I’m keeping you young 😉

For a minute I thought this was going to be a wonderful tale about a man who has his cake and eats it, but I should have realised that such things only happen to Han Solo and Captain Kirk. The evil snitch who told Mrs Masher what was happening should be hung, drawn and defenestrated. Unlike Masher, who was well-hung, whipped and dessicated.

Well he did have his cake and eat it….for a bit. He’d only of got sick of the cake after a while, like any bloke. Besides, I thought it only fair that Mrs Masher got herself a nice, fit, hard buttocked tennis coach. 🙂

Warning = Invitation. It always has. it always will. But you knew that already.

I didn’t know you did erotica. What a big surprise! Nice work. Get ready for a tsunami of inappropriate search term hits.

Charming British colloquialisms used:

nicked
sweet shop
trundle off
bloke
a sarnie and a kip (which I had to Google)
realise (with and “s” instead of a “z.” And that’s zee, not zed.)

Afterwards, I’ve never found myself dying for a bacon sandwich. Usually, it’s a nap.

I knew the wife was going to ruin everything. I knew it.

The video of you typing was mesmerizing and the sound a little creepy. Who held the camera?

Ayup Exile.

Well OF COURSE I know that – it’s like moths to a flame. Particularly if you’re under 18 as that sort of warning would have had me on it like a ferret up a trouser leg. However, I am bound by the A-ZED challenge laws. No smut without warning. Really spoils the surprise.

Our language is rather charming, is it not? It’s not our fault that you lot choose to bastardise it with your wimpy zee’s that wanna be ZEDS.

Tis I, behind the camera. Those are the nimble fingers of some young buck I bumped into at Dodgy Bob’s Internet Cafe Club. 🙂

Conservative hate radio / fearmongering of Fox news is to blame! Recall that the whole massacre in Rwanda got started the same way, a very rabble-rousing hatemonger talk radio host on one of Rwanda's few radio stations fanned the flames and spurred the outbreak of genocide….

I find your entire country charming, my dear. I am a hopeless Anglophile. Hopeless! Should’ve been born there instead of here. etc. etc. I can only admire and pine from afar.

I’ve heard about Dodgy Bob and his lot. Isn’t that where Heartbleed and a lot of other viruses are launched from? Yes, it is.

I changed all my passwords to ‘Dodgy Bob’ so I’m safe as houses.

Hah! I love how you whipped this one into submission. You totally rocked it with the mystery words, and seriously, I’m glad the man got his comeuppance. =)

True Heroes from A to Z

Whipped into submission….now there’s a thought. 🙂 Men always trip themselves up. They’re not used to high heels like us 🙂 Thanks Crystal.

This was the bomb Jules…you had me snorting tea out of my nose! That wanker so had it coming. Greedy little sod could at least have given the Mrs a nice divorce settlement and went on his merry way…as if. I give her credit for being inventive as well as bravado in stepping out in that garb. Your range of talent never ceases to amaze me. If I’m ever over on your side of the pond, I’ll buy you a drink for this one! Best laugh of the week.

I love it when that happens! Didn’t he? Although he’s not a real life wanker, I just made him one. Plus in that scenario he wouldn’t be doing any wanking whatsoever. I mean, why have a dog and bark yourself, eh?
I shall hold you to that drink my lovely Tracy. That will be a cracking night! And thanks for the compliments. 🙂

Ha! Well I have to give you that one. Guess he wouldn’t. Would be sort of difficult with that whip leaving stripes on his backside anyway. 😉

Wouldn’t it ever? I’d give you plenty of notice so they could put up warning signs that we were headed out!

I’m excited already! :))))

I dont know what to say. Gobsmacked…I so wasnt expecting this! Erotica can only really hold my interest so long, but this…Three cheers for Mrs Masher!

There are no words. Not when you’ve got your mouth full.

Hip-Hip-Hooray!

When I read the words, “I can even recite “If” By Rudyard Kipling, in French, whilst giving head. I thought that Masher might really be onto something. Alas – the old ball and chain.

Bloody wives. I mean. why do men get married, eh? I don’t know why they ever pop the question. 🙂

The moral of the story girls: Don’t get married but remain the mistress! I’m all for it.

Men marry girlfriends. The girlfriends become wives. Men fool around with other women who’re girlfriends. The wife leaves them and the girlfriend becomes a wife — and they guys look for another girlfriend.

If only women understood that the diamond ring is not the problem.

Oh I agree. They should just collect them, knowing what’s coming. 🙂

Anyone who challenges The Jules had better think again. That said, I think your story is very realistic. Only – I quote – a bloke would want stars that glow and planets floating around. You’ve got two cool millions (yep, quoting again) and that’s all you can think of. And Princess Leia. “Princess Leia, we could Leiaround for a while and do stuff.” Wish I had a weapon of brobdingnagian proportions. I could ask Santa. Laser brain…. I can tell you know your classics, too.

P.S. Do you reckon there’s such a thing as an uncool two million? (Yen? Ah, I see.)

Right! Don’t back me into a corner! “Leiaround and do stuff” Love that line.

I thought you diid have a weapon of brobdingnagian proportions? Or was it your imagination that was gigantic?

Ha! Yeah, Yen. And Monopoly.

Ah you remember…. How could you forget, right? But (whispering) keep it on the low down, Jules. I’ve had my fair share of Kitty Claws.

P.S. I’ve been thinking…. 2 uncool million would still be about $20,000.

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