The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 4

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.