The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 4

CHAPTER I

In earlier journals describing my titillating adventures among the sexually obsessed human species, I hope I've modestly established the fact that while I am merely a Flea who must depend upon the ancient profession of bloodsucking to sustain my life, I'm a rather extraordinary creature insofar as my talent for being aware of the behavior and motivations of the lustfully inclined humans upon whom I feed is concerned. It's a wise parasite who knows the foibles of his hosts. I have enjoyed such wisdom since birth.

I cannot pretend to understand my own unique ability, nor the workings of a capricious destiny which apparently chose to single me out from all others of my kind – dispensing upon me the gift of intelligent observation as well as the additional capacity of communicating as exhibited herein.

I know only that it is, at times, a rather strenuous responsibility for one in my lowly walk (or should I more accurately say leap) of life. When going briskly about my surreptitious business of obtaining a living by deftly (and, often, dangerously) drinking the nourishing blood of the human beings that is so necessary to the continuance of my very existence, I'm frequently distracted by my own fascination for their bizarre and active mating techniques – to which they seem considerably addicted over and beyond their need for food and sleep. The human appetite for carnal pleasure and sexual satisfaction is indeed a voracious trait of their specie.

And a most entertaining one as I hope to once again prove by sharing my most recent experiences with those of you into whose hands this account may have fallen.

Finding myself back in England, I endured the cold, damp climate with as much fortitude one my size can muster but I longed for warmer, dryer climate, having known the more comfortable weather of other lands in my travels.

Once I had firmly concluded that I was ready to migrate to a more suitable climate, it was simply a matter of time and a number of jumps from host to host, whenever the opportunity presented itself, before I found myself within the cheery interior of a waterfront hotel that catered to seafaring men from ports all over the world.

The inhabitants of the hotel represented almost every nation imaginable, and knowing that the quality of cuisine is important when one is to depend upon it during a long sea voyage, I took the trouble to sample each sailor's blood – letting that which was most enjoyable to my palate determine my eventual destination.

I finally settled upon a virile young man named Ignacio Oses – a veritable bull of a fellow with olive skin (that was easily pierced), black hair, intent brown eyes and muscles that seemed to bulge over still more muscular construction. Also, his was a cheerful and pleasant disposition which seemed to keep his face unmarked since he would rather laugh than fight, even when far gone in wine; at which time he preferred singing doleful songs in his beautiful baritone voice, made even more exotic by his native Catalonian accent. Speaking both English and Spanish, he was apparently a very intelligent young man despite his obvious lack of formal education and manners.

Most important of all, Ignacio was returning to his own country – the famed Iberia of which I'd heard so many enchanting rumors and had always yearned to visit – within a few days, having only come to England upon some mysterious mission that he seemed unwilling to discuss with the others who plied him with wine and questions, but found that no matter how tipsy Ignacio became, his tongue would loosen only for ribald jokes and rollicking ballads whose merriment was superceded only by their undeniable obscenity. He simply sidestepped any reference to his purpose in being on the English soil, replying to rudely direct questions with a roguish smirk, a shake of his head and, occasionally, a spritely if lewd gesture that lightheartedly advised the questioner to drop the entire subject.

Naturally, my own militant curiosity was ignited and once I was aboard the intriguing Ignacio I knew his secret would be shared with me, sooner or later. Now all my former depression and ennui were gone – vanished in the excitement of my new host and his mysterious affairs, whatever they might be; and the anticipation of reaching sunny Spain at last.

One evening, as Ignacio sat roistering with the other sailors, a small boy appeared at the hotel bearing a message for him – which the lad whispered into Ignacio's ear. The immediate change that came over Ignacio was impressive. His face became solemn. His manner matter-of-fact. Gone was the merry, boisterous Ignacio. In his place was now a sober Ignacio who quickly excused himself and went into the darkness of the streets, heading toward the docks where ships were tied. Reaching a large and graceful vessel, he went aboard and straight to a cabin that could only have belonged to the master of the ship, judging from its exceptionally well furnished interior. There he found a short, dark man whose white hair and beard proclaimed his seniority, and whose air of authority announced his commanding presence on the vessel.

“You wish to see me, Captain?” inquired Ignacio, speaking Spanish fluidly. “The boy brought your message to the hotel.”

The captain nodded. “Yes, I would remind you, my friend, that we are scheduled to sail for Palma de Majorca in ten more days. And we are still short of our cargo count by two girls. We dare not return to Senor Bullpole without the exact number of virgins we were sent to obtain. So I must ask you to give me an account of your experiences in London, successful or otherwise.”

Ignacio shrugged. “I've already found ten genuine virgins. I'm terribly afraid they were the only such creatures in all of the sinful city of London. I doubt that there is another untouched female, under the age of ten, in the entire area.”

“The jest is a poor one! You must find two more virgins. Senor Bullpole expressly sent us to fetch him a dozen English virgins – and God have mercy on our tortured bodies and demented souls if we fail to deliver exactly that number of girls, each virginal, to him!”

Ignacio grinned impudently. “You make our esteemed employer sound like a monster, Captain! I doubt that he would flay the hide from our bodies just because we are unable to bring him the exact number of girls he requested!”

The captain's fist thumped his desktop violently and his face reddened with anger. “You speak from ignorance! You don't know that man like I do! He is more god than man! And when he gives an order, those who do not or cannot obey it to the letter are punished most horribly!” Agitated, the captain poured two brimming glasses of wine, handing one to Ignacio grumpily. “He didn't request anything, my foolish young friend! He ordered twelve English virgins and, by the seething seas, that's exactly what must be delivered. Twelve!”

The captain downed his wine in gulps.

“Well, perhaps the hunting would be better if I took a boat and went upriver,” suggested Ignacio, thoughtfully sipping his wine. “There are certain small villages all along the Thames. Country girls are more gullible than their citified sisters. I would have a greater chance of finding virgins in the rural villages.”

“Do it!” agreed the captain. “Just have two more lovely innocents back aboard this ship within ten days, my boy!”

“Our lady-doctor will examine them – as all the others?” Ignacio grinned again. “What a strange voyage this has been! All women sailors! Even a woman doctor! You and I the only males aboard ship! A most unusual journey, eh, my captain?”

The captain nodded, smiling. “Precisely the sort of cold logic Senor Bullpole uses in all his varied enterprises. A crew of women to prevent the cargo – bless their helpless little cunts – from being deflowered during a long voyage! A woman doctor for the same reason – and to carefully examine the cargo before shipping. An aged captain, too old to ruin any of the shipment!”

“And me?” laughed Ignacio. “I'm neither female nor too old! What about me?”

“Bait. Handsome, virile and charming bait to lure the little fishes aboard! To flirt with them and drug them senseless – and you'd better remember never to deflower any of them, once we're safely at sea, my boy!” The captain peered solemnly at the younger man. “If I had to report damaged cargo, it would be on your head!”

“I'm only human!” chuckled Ignacio. “And I've been so busy fishing for Senor Bullpole, I've not had a chance to spear anything for myself – and I feel the need, believe me!”

“I shudder to think what fate would befall you, were any of those darling cargo items damaged!”

“Don't fret yourself, my captain! I shall keep my hunger under control until we are in Majorca and I can vent it on the lovely, passionate wenches of home!” Ignacio went to the door. “Until later, when I will return with two more virgins.”

“Don't fail!” urged the captain.

Ignacio shrugged and left the cabin. Sauntering along the deck toward the landing, he was suddenly accosted by a broad-beamed female garbed in sailor's clothing. Only her immense and sagging breasts gave any hint that she was indeed female. Her dark hair had been crudely hacked to a short length and her face was weathered and harsh.

“Hello, pretty boy!” she bellowed, clasping an arm around Ignacio's shoulders. “I'll bet you've not had a good fucking in at least an hour, eh?”

He grinned good naturedly but pushed her fat arm off his shoulders. “At least, you sea-going old cow! Why – are you in heat?”

“I'm always in heat! Especially for the long hard belaying pin you carry between your hairy legs!” She grabbed at his crotch and he evaded her without difficulty, laughing.

“You'd never feel it!” he assured her. “The man doesn't walk earth who has a prick large enough to fill that gaping hole of yours!”

Anger flooded her depraved face. “Then your huge tongue would do nicely! I'll wager I'd feel anything that big in my heated pit!”

Ignacio shook his head, still grinning as he ran lightly down the gangway. “Go suck your own flabby tits until you come, you poor old salty slut! When I ram my pole into a pussy – it'll be something tight and snug between the lovely thighs of a girl half your age! Who wants old women?”

She screamed energetically, the vile words of her colorful obscenities echoing back and forth across the docks as he strolled swiftly back to the hotel. There, instead of rejoining the others in drinking and singing, he went directly to bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

What unusual self-control, I thought, getting a much needed meal as he slept, for such a young and healthy man! It's a wonder he's not prowling the streets for a conquest, considering how long he's gone without sexual enjoyment of any kind. Why, he hasn't even relieved himself by his own hand all these nights that I've been on him.

I was to learn Ignacio's limits, later.

Lounging at the tiller of the small boat as it slowly sailed along the flowing river a few yards distant from the lushly green banks of the shore, Ignacio studied the sky with narrowed eyes and yawned.

For the past two days he had wandered upriver, slowing down as he approached each village beside the water, sometimes mooring the boat and going into the villages where he wandered around or went to the pubs – always alert for any sign of young and innocent-looking girls.

Abruptly, he straightened up, his face brightening as he saw the three girls kneeling on the flat rocks of the banks, washing clothes. They spied the boat and their laughter became a bit louder, a trifle shriller. When it approached and they saw the handsome Ignacio in it, each girl began behaving coyly.

“What a lovely sight – three beautiful sirens luring poor sailors to their doom!” Ignacio moored the boat beside the rocks as he chattered. “My eyes must be playing tricks on me! I never knew malicious little sirens were so completely enchanting!”

The trio giggled deliriously.

“La, sir!” said one of them, a busty brunette with flashingly bold green eyes. “You make fun of us – and us only ignorant country girls! What cruel sport!”

“Nay,” protested Ignacio in mock shock. “Why, I haven't a cruel bone in my body!”

“No, but you are muscled most completely!” The slender blonde with the bee-stung lips eyed his manly frame with a wistful expression on her gentle face. “I've never seen such a beautiful person!”

This remark led to much vying among the girls for his attention. And he gradually – laughter, joking and finally sincerity – worked the entire conversation around to suggesting that the four of them picnic upon the river, showing them the fine repast of cold meat and chilled wine in the boat, nestled within a tub of glittering ice.

They were hesitant, at first, protesting that they would be punished for taking too long to do their washing chores, but Ignacio skillfully kept whetting their appetites and exciting them with flattery and romantic descriptions of the joy of eating and drinking while drifting along the river; and they finally succumbed – each of them allowing him to help them into the boat, giggling guiltily over their shoulders with childish delight at having found the courage to play hooky from their tasks.

He steered the craft away from the shore and allowed it to plow through the current, heading upriver, securing the tiller so he could set about preparing to serve his shapely guests who sat clustered in the bow, eyes bright with excitement.

None of them saw him expertly drop the tiny tablets into two of the glasses as he filled them with the ruby wine. The tablets dissolved instantly.

Chatting merrily as they consumed the feast and imbibed their chilled wine, they enjoyed the ride as the boat slowly moved along. Ignacio watched the two girls – whose wine he'd drugged – with smiling close attentiveness.

It seemed, judging from the conversation, that all three wenches were cousins. The two brunettes were seventeen years of age, the little blonde only fifteen years old; and none of them had ever been more than a mile from the village in which they had been born and reared. They listened to Ignacio describe his native Spain with interest, holding their chins in their smooth hands and gazing adoringly up at him.

Slowly, the eyes of the blonde and one of the brunettes began drooping tiredly. Soon they were yawning openly. A few moments later both simply went to sleep – sprawling clumsily across each other, murmuring incoherently as they lost consciousness now that the drug was taking effect.

“What rude girls!” said the brunette, angrily shaking her cousins' shoulders and glancing apologetically at a quietly smiling Ignacio, too disturbed to realize the way he was eyeing her full curves, the heavy way her breasts hung protruding from her thin frock as they thrust against the material, the glimpses of her shapely legs as her skirt moved upward when she changed stance.

He laughed strangely. “I'm not concerned about their manners, pretty one. Only about the state of their innocence!”

She stared at him. “What do you mean, sir?”

“Well, I hope they're virgins.”

She blushed. “Of course they are. My cousins are good girls. Not that the boys in our village haven't tried to change that, because boys are always trying to take a girl's purity away from her! But why should you care about their innocence?”

“I have my reason.” He motioned for her to come to him, smiling steadily. “I'm sorry you will be left behind. I can see that you're fond of these cousins. You will miss them. Come here, and I'll comfort you for awhile.”

“Wh-What do you mean 'left behind?'“ She quavered, fear oozing across her face. “I think it's time you took us back to our washing.”

“Are you a virgin, too?”

Her blush deepened. “Fie, sir, that's none of your business! Now kindly turn this boat to the shore while I awaken my cousins! I fear you have become too bold and spoiled this afternoon, and I ask you to land us where you found us.”

“And so I shall – after you and I have lain together, tasting the delights of love!” He went to her, his arm encircling her trim waist while she stood paralyzed in stunned and startled fear, her widened eyes regarding him with sudden awareness of his intent, and she resisted numbly as he pulled her toward the stern of the boat where there was space enough for two to recline. “I hunger for the pleasure of knowing your body, feeling your passion meet mine! I must have you, pretty one!”

“No!” she whispered. “Not that!”

He began kissing her throat, nuzzling his face into the smooth soft flesh of her shoulder, pushing her dress down over the satiny shoulders and baring her high firm breasts while she made sounds of protest, struggling vainly in his strong arms.

His mouth found her pale nipples, closing over one and then the other as he greedily nursed at her breasts, changing back and forth with hungry glee as he pulled her to the deck beside him despite her frantic efforts to free herself.

“Oh, stop!” she cried. “I cannot stand this sort of intimacy with a stranger!”

“You've done it with others who were not strangers?” He lifted his face from her glisteningly wet nipples. “You've allowed friends to be this familiar?”

She averted her eyes. “Y-Yes, I've allowed a boy I liked to kiss and suck my titties – but only that. Nothing more. And only because I was fond of him and his need to nurse upon me was so great.”

“My need is even greater,” he murmured, putting his hand up her thighs, caressing the warm flesh of her inner legs and feeling her tremble as his fingers encountered the crisp hair matted over her plump mound with its velvety lips. “I beg you to have mercy upon my need, too, pretty one, and let me fuck you!”

“It's – It's wrong! It's sinful! It's -”

“It's inevitable now that I hold you in my arms and the lust is simmering in my balls!” He inserted a finger into the lips of her crevice, feeling the exciting moistness that was gathering there and knowing that she was ready for the love act. “Here, I must put my mouth on you!”

Quickly he bent over, spreading her thighs and burying his head into her crotch, his mouth seeking her organ and closing over it with greedy grunts of pleasure as he tongued and mouthed and tugged and licked at the slitted mound.

She groaned, her upraised legs tightening around his bobbing head. Writhing, she endured the shocks of sensation exploding deliriously as his mouth played urgently upon her organ – the unbelievable joy of it dimming her senses.

“Oh – Oh, G-God, sir!” she crooned in a quivering tone. “You're driving me to madness with that tongue! I – I can't stand much more of this business!”

Without a word, he shifted positions – lying between her legs and taking out a large stiff penis from his trousers. Its dull-reddish tip gleamed in the sunlight as it stood erect upon a white hard column of muscle. Guiding it with his hand, Ignacio pushed the throbbing head of his organ into the wet soft lips of the girl's cunt, hearing her gasp as she felt the ruthless hardness of the male part pressing against her vulnerable opening.

“Pi-Please don't deflower me, sir!” she pleaded between sobs. “Please don't rob me of my purity!”

He thrust the column of pulsating muscle into her snug hole, feeling it plunge through a thin wall of tissue and hearing her scream of pain as his penis stabbed deeply into her body until it could go no further. He lay there, enjoying the warmth and tightness enveloping his member while she cried steadily.

“There, there!” he comforted her. “The worst is over now. There won't be any more pain. I'll move carefully and you should even feel pleasure in a short while, pretty one. Fucking can be fine for the girl, too.”

“I'm – I'm no longer pure!” she wailed miserably.

“True, but you'll survive.”

Slowly he began undulating his body, bringing his enlarged, stiffened penis almost out of her hole, stopping when only the throbbing tip was still within her slippery tunnel and slowly reentering the passageway in a steady return to its depths which gradually made her squirm and grunt as lust took hold of her senses and a new hunger for satisfaction that she had never before known came upon her body.

“Faster!” she demanded. “Harder!”

He complied, increasing the tempo and force of each thrust until he was rapidly pumping the organ in and out of her with near savage intensity, and she was frenziedly lifting her satiny bottom to meet each incoming stroke, welcoming it within herself with animalistic mewings and cries of enjoyment that set his blood afire.

The boat rocked with the steady motion of their bodies as they – locked in each other's arms – fucked wildly in a mounting clamor of urgent need until they suddenly climaxed, biting and clawing at one another, grunting harshly and shuddering as their spasms of orgasm shook them physically for long seconds before quieting to a numbed exhaustion. There they lay, motionless and silent save for their labored breathing.

“By the wicked winds!” Ignacio swore. “That was a most marvelous fuck, pretty one! It must have drained half the juices from my balls!”

“It – It was wonderful!” She sounded dreamily content. “I never realized fucking was so much pleasure! My, but it does leave a girl shaken to the marrow of her bones!” She suddenly rotated her broad hips in a playful movement. “La, but your nice big truncheon feels good in me! See how it stiffens so quickly again when I lower myself against it and move thusly!”

“You excite me again, pretty one!” grunted Ignacio thickly, grasping the cheeks of her rising and falling bottom and driving himself urgently into her, again and again. Soon they were repeating the act, each straining to the other in a threshing violence of sensual delight. Once more they reached a climactic frenzy followed by total weariness.

“Oh, l-la, but I l-love that!” she panted.

“Fine! Now you will tumble with the boys and enjoy yourself with no more nonsensical worry about the importance of purity!” He glanced at the sun's position. “But it's time that I was on my way. I must return to London.”

Her expression sobered as her eyes went to the inert forms of her unconscious cousins. “Surely you jested about taking them away, sir? You're returning all of us to our village, aren't you?”

Smiling grimly, he steered the boat downstream now without speaking, his eyes searching the shore for the flattened rocks where he had found the girls. He brought the craft in to shore when it came to the rocks he sought.

“All right, pretty one,” he said quietly, turning to the girl and extending his hand. “Here are your unfinished chores. Your village lies just beyond. Allow me to help you step ashore.”

“B-But my cousins!” She fell to her knees, her hands clenched prayerfully together, her eyes imploring him. “Please, sir! Put them ashore, too!”

He shook his head, unsmilingly.

“I gave you my virginity, my body! Isn't that a decent price for their safety?”

“They'll be perfectly safe, pretty one. No harm will befall them. Quite the opposite. They'll be guarded and cared for as though they were royal princesses. They are destined to live in splendor, in exquisite luxury. You have no need to fear for them. Rather, envy them because your future will be a poor and dreary one compared to the life that lies ahead for your cousins.”

“B-But you're kidnapping them. They don't even know you're taking them away!”

“Best that they don't since it spares the pretty creatures the anguish of leaving familiar persons and places.” He picked the girl up in his arms and stepping over the gunwale of the rocking boat, put her firmly on her feet atop a flat boulder. “My grateful thanks to you for the pleasure you gave me today, pretty one.”

No sooner was she deposited upon the rock than she began hysterically pleading again, dropping to her knees in supplication.

“Be merciful, sir! Please don't steal my poor cousins! They'll perish from fear and homesickness, being only simple country girls who have known nothing but our village life!”

Ignacio clambered back into the boat, his handsome features a stern mask of determination. Casting off, he went to the drugged girls and covered their bodies with a large piece of canvas. Then he stepped to the tiller – ignoring the girl still crying and begging him – where he brought the craft around in the river's current and soon was heading downstream, the figure kneeling on the rock growing smaller, her entreaties becoming fainter until we rounded a gentle bend in the river's course and she could no longer be seen or heard.

“Por Dios!” Ignacio swore softly. “That was a good thump or two, planting my heated seed into her little garden of delight! Now if only these two pretty ones are as untouched as their lovely cousin was – my task is completed!”

He began softly humming one of the Spanish ditties and there was a note of homesickness in his voice. Considerately, I deferred luncheon out of respect to my host's sad mood.