I Need a Hero
By Captain Eazy
Call me, Ishmael. Yeah, I told him that, but the asshole didn’t call, and he probably gave my cell phone number to all of his shipmates, not that they’d have much interest in calling a horny twenty-four year old girl if he was anything to go by. See, I thought he might be able to dominate me control me unleash my inner fires et cetera because he had this story about being the only survivor of his ship et cetera had great hair craggy good looks big hands et cetera talked like a poet instead of a sailor et cetera et cetera. I should have guessed when we were spending that one night together and all he wanted to do was talk talk talk about this dude and I mean by that a guy named Queerqueg or something like that you’d think that would be a dead giveaway but not to me dumb blonde you know what they say well to cut a long story short Ishmael told me he was a harpooneer but he only sank his harpoon once that night if you know what I mean, Doctor, and it didn’t exactly go very deep for very long.
Big sailor, right. See, Doctor, that’s why I’ve come to you, it’s this obsession of mine to be mind-controlled to be freed of my inhibitions to be ordered by a domineering male to suck fuck et cetera while rubbing my tits and clit et cetera and to do that with no shame to release my inner slut you know. Well, to tell the truth it’s kind of embarrassing to talk about it for a farm girl like me brought up in Nebraska on the flat prairies but back there not that anything exciting ever happened but I miss it sometimes because you know the boys actually paid attention to me very flat prairie country not many hills around et cetera so I guess my 34Ds were kind of a tourist attraction but they’re farm boys and I want a hero, Doctor, I need a hero to give me what I need. Sure I know you’re a professional psychiatrist heard it all patient confidence I can trust you et cetera but damn I’m so frustrated you know I mean I’m on a talking jag here.
So anyway, Nantucket was a washout which I had gone there only because I heard that poem about the man from there who had a cock so long he could suck it but if that guy ever lived there he’s moved away, I tell you. I didn’t find any dicks moby or otherwise worth writing home about, if you know what I mean, Doctor.
Well, what’s a girl to do with her inheritance of nearly two million dollars after taxes if she needs a hero and can’t find one? I thought romance that’s the ticket and what place is better for romance than France, right? So I hopped a jet and hung out in bistros and bidets and places like that and before long I hooked up with this Frenchman standard model jaded aristocrat seen the world been there done that needed thrills and he told me he’d take me to this chateau where I’d be taught the pleasures of surrender so what the hell it was December and everything was closed anyway so here I find myself in the backseat of the cab with this upper-class frog and he says “Removay-vous your brassiere, si’il vous play.” So I let my boobies bounce free and believe you me my nips were pretty poky what with the icy weather and all then he says “And zee pan-teez.” So I did then he says “Non, non, zee bare flesh, she must seet on zee lea-zhair.” Well fuck that I says it’s thirty fucking degrees outside and my ass just might freeze to this fucking Corinthian leather you want me to catch pneumonia in my privates et cetera and we had a pretty big fight and then he had to borrow fifty francs from me to pay the taxi I ask you would a hero do that I think not.
The chateau was okay not great but okay I mean the furniture was all like two or three hundred years old you’d think they could afford to visit Ikea at least but anyway it was drafty as hell and even so they took all my clothes off and blindfolded me and made me do a few things that a sheep probably would have done just as well and might have appealed to some of those French fries more than I did to tell you the truth. Okay I thought this is getting sort of toward it but no one’s controlling my mind they’re just frog fucking me. So I meet some of the other girls and one of them is really cute but with the weirdest taste in jewelry don’t make me go into it but let’s say the love tube was padlocked okay? Well she’s sweet enough and I’ll give her credit she could muff dive like nobody’s business but God she was boring when she talked. Always “O! Weel you wheep me please?” and “O! Weel you tie me up si’l vous play?” and “O! Zee pleas-ures of zee soobmission!” I never learned her name but from the way she talked I just called her O and that seemed to do but man she was wanting me to dominate her et cetera and Doctor that’s not what I crave I need a hero like I said. And those French guys, forget about it, all “Oo la! La! Zee vichyssoise she taste like pommes des terres!” and “Mon Dieu! Quelle cul t’as!” and half the time their winkies were softer than a croissant and I think a hero needs at a minimum a hard winkie don’t you agree Doctor?
So anyway after a couple of weeks I got out of that crazy fucking place and went out into the country where some friends of mine introduced me to this decadent nobleman a Marquis or something or other and they all told me he’d be a great mind controller he’d force me to humiliate myself et cetera suffer pain et cetera and all that shit which to tell the truth wasn’t exactly my idea ‘cause I wanted to get my rocks off excuse the French I wanted to achieve sexual satisfaction more than I wanted my titties pinched et cetera but he was just a fat old guy in a weird-looking wig who wanted me to crawl around naked on hands and knees et cetera while he made notes and scribbled with this freaky quill pen that excuse me I kept thinking could be put to better use than writing like it looked like it could tickle a girl’s fancy et cetera if you know what I mean Doctor. Did you ever crawl around on hands and knees naked for about nine hours a day on hardwood floors well let me tell you I don’t recommend it it made my hands and knees sore and did nothing for my tits and clit which I thought was the whole idea in the first place but maybe there was a language barrier or something. Anyhow I didn’t even last a week in that place the old guy was kind of sweet to tell the truth but not at all my idea of a domineering hero and you know though it made me a little sad to leave him I think he was the saddest.
A friend of mine tells me that she knows this British girl named Fanny who has a wide circle of gentlemen friends et cetera and maybe she could help me find a suitable hero I figure what the hell so I take the train from Paree to London et cetera and hook up with Fanny and she’s working with a lot of girls and they have like tons of boyfriends and you’d think I’d stand a chance right but oh no. First night I’m there they introduce me to Lord B____ and I says what kind of fucking name is that how do you pronounce ____ anyway and he says just the way it’s spelt so you know he was a fucking idiot. He demands I lie down and I think well this is more like it but all he wants to do is chow down on my snatch and let me tell you it felt weird all scrapey and I look down and I swear to God Lord Bullshit or whatever his name was had teeth the size of Chicklets and then you won’t believe this he wanted me to paddle his naked ass and tell him he’d been a bad boy well he gave bad head but hell I hadn’t crossed the Atlantic to do shit like that so I walked right out on him.
So anyway I jet back to the U S of A still bummed out frustrated thinking there must be a hero somewhere who can wave his hands make me weak in the knees make me wet et cetera mount me from behind hump me all night finish off by shooting into my mouth making me swallow his cum and then making me beg for more call him my master et cetera et cetera. You’d think that wouldn’t be too much for a simple blonde from Nebraska to ask for would you but did I find it? Well, Doctor just wait until you hear what happened next.
I figured if there’s any action where’s it gonna be and told myself L.A. that’s where the movie stars are that’s where the bright lights sin city high rollers are somebody there is a hero needing a slave and that’s me so I hung around there for awhile got to know this darling little girl her name my God she said was Candy but I’m sure she made that up it was probably Ursula or Zelda or something yucky like that anyway she told me that if I wanted to be mind-controlled I ought to meet her old man now Doctor that means her husband right? Right? No, wrong! She meant her daddy! And between you and me, Doc, I don’t think Dads was all there I mean he didn’t much try to control me or even his own bodily functions et cetera he more or less leaned against the wall in a corner his mouth open drool coming out while Candy and I sixty-nined each other about five times I’m not saying that was bad now in fact she had a flickering little tongue that dipped into my honeypot like a hummingbird licking nectar from a tulip and her little clit was springy and juicy and all in all it was about the best time I’d had since the high school dance when I lost at strip poker eleven times in a row though I had to hide some cards n the crack of my ass to be able to do that. But her Daddy didn’t control me just slumped there in a pool of drool et cetera and I sort of think he had bramaged his dain, if you know what I mean and I think you do because of you being a psychiatrist and all.
Somebody says you know what you need is an umpire I said what to call strikes and balls and they yelled louder this was at a rave see and said no not umpire vampire and I said where do I find one figuring they’d tell me to go to N Y C where there’s the vampire state building et cetera but no they says New Orleans well how was I to know it was hurricane season anyway I get there and find out the goddamn vampires don’t even get up in the daytime they work the night shift and I adore fucking in the golden rays of the rising sun well you can imagine. But I find this vampire and he’s got long flowing locks et cetera pale and interesting never drinks wine but he’s got a sweet tooth for me so I struggle a little to make it interesting and he rips my bodice and my titties pop out glad to get a little fresh air it was humid as a sauna in New Orleans let me tell you anyway he jumps back and screams and yells what’s this and it’s just my tattoo of a cross small and tasteful right between my boobies and he calls his buddy from the next crypt and they whisper and buzz and the other one comes over and kind of diffidently asks me to shuck my panties which I do and they see the other tattoo just above my bush and I swear to God they collapse weeping in each other’s arms before they were goddamn vampires they must have been sailors. Anyway I pulled up stakes and then put down stakes and sort of Buffy-ed out my vampire problems and the goddamn hurricane hit that week I tell you if I’d had PMS at the same time half of Louisiana would’ve been wiped out.
So here I lie on your couch and I still haven’t found my hero Doctor and I want to know if it’s hopeless or if there’s a chance for a simple-hearted blonde rich girl from Nebraska ever to find happiness and a hero who will release her seething demons turn her into a sex-crazed nympho fuck her nine ways from Sunday and leave her wanting more or if maybe I should take up politics or some other hobby.
Yes, that’s a very pretty stopwatch, Doctor. Real gold? It catches the light so charmingly when it .swings .back and oh
Oh.
Oh, Doctor!