Let me count the ways.
This shall be my secret accounting henceforth; I can no longer fully supress my longing. I need an outlet for my desires lest they consume me.
My name is Admiral Firmus Piett. I serve under, and saying such gives me the most delicious chill, Darth Vader, lord of the Sith and first hand to the Emperor himself. I serve my Lord Vader in every need he has; indeed I would fulfill ANY need he had if he but asked. The sound of his labored breathing is the drum beat that my heart marches to, his deep voice the music by which my soul dances to, his dark shape the North by which I set the compass of my life.
I am, without hope of reprieve, madly in love with my lord.
I am also, much to my dismay, married to a woman.
Oh she's a fine one, to be sure. Intelligent, and if you shake her like an etch-a-sketch she'll produce a weapon of mass destruction for you. I have a very useful wife, even if she does shed feathers everywhere. I tell her daily I love her; like all pets she likes the reassurance. Perhaps some days I over-sell the act, but she is naive and foolish enough to believe me. It is fortunate, for sometimes my longing for my Lord Vader swells up like an ocean wave about to crest, and I need to dress my cockatiel up in a plastic helmet and black cloak. It does not quite suffice, but so long as she breathes heavy I can pretend I am somewhere else, bringing my Lord to pleasure with the stroke of my moderately sized sword.
He would moan under me, commanding me "Do not stop, Firmus! I ORDER you to continue!" I am not sure what I would do if I truly HAD my Lord for an evening, for I normally reach climax as soon as I imagine that order.
There is no such thing as a "premature ejaculation," as long as there IS ejaculation, it counts as good. My wife often asks me to continue afterward, but the sight of her pale blue parts is the ice to my passions. And anyway, if you pleasure a wife too much she gets cocky and thinks she can get away with more. The ONE time I actually saw her to finish (the most boring fifteen minutes of my life) she then got herself kidnapped for WEEKS by one of her drug dealers. Intelligent but not smart at all.
It worked out for me though, when I wasn't putting on a good show of "searching," I had pure, unadulterated fun at my Lord's side. Oh, the joy as we shopped through a lawn and garden store seeking new plants for Lord Vader's "special" garden was unmatched by even the best moments of my sham marriage. The laughing, flirting, and teasing from my Lord during those days drove me wild. I cannot count the number of times I needed to take matters into my own hands after hearing that low voice of his call out "bring me the rhododendron" or hearing him bemoan "I am truly a monster" after strangling one of his wives or somesuch.
I was more productive than normal as well; I even "adopted" a runaway girl to cook and clean for me (as even when she is there the featherbrain cannot cook or clean. You would think she'd have natural dusting skills.) The runaway is just glad to have a warm place to sleep and some food to eat. I had her parents killed to smooth the adoption along; it's simpler to become a guardian to an orphan.
They were truly blessed days, till of course, like all carrier pigeons, my wife flapped her way home. She even had the gall to accuse me of flirting with my Lord Vader during her absence! She is fortunate I am doing the Empire a service in keeping her alive. But to prevent her from suing me for divorce, I need to play the good husband again and pretend to care about her. It is exhausting. All I wish to do is lay on my Lord's scarred chest and hear his beautiful wheezing.
Though tonight, I think, it may be time for her to wear the helmet and cape again.
Admiral Firmus Piett
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