The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 4 (14 page)

“Ho, Ignacio!” cried the Greek, lifting his wine in the gesture of a toast. “Having a fine time?”

“The finest, m'lord!” mumbled Ignacio.

“That's a plump piece of smooth-skinned baggage you have there!”

“Would you like her, m'lord?”

“Oh, no! You go right ahead. Don't let me interfere with your fun, lad! After all, there are others as yet unacquainted with your brave weapon!”

Nodding drunkenly, Ignacio stumbled to the railing, dumped the semi-dazed girl upon the deck and piggishly forced himself between her legs – taking her with swinish gruntings of pleasure as his penis slid into a tight cunt already brimming with the sticky juices of a half-dozen sailors who had filled it earlier. Hardly had he doubled up in the spasms of orgasm than he was pushing her away, swilling a few mouthfuls of wine and looking about for still another girl to take.

Hour after hour the orgy continued, the pace and noise of it gradually subsiding into a steady murmur of carnal activity. Soddened by drink and stunned by the initial onslaughts upon their persons, now the girls willingly submitted to each man that pulled her down and made love to her, all of them showing slutty signs of actually enjoying themselves.

And the Greek sat, sipping wine, his chin resting in the palm of a hand with his elbow propped upon his knee – watching the tired couplings with avid enjoyment and seemingly never wearying of the sight of men and women copulating in a variety of positions. He seemed to especially appreciate the more exotic minded couples – those mouthing each others' private parts or mounting one another in seemingly impossible positions but which produced eventual climaxes that in turn affected cries of pleasure and animalistic sounds of satisfaction.

Meanwhile, the ship had literally come to a stop, wallowing in the troughs of a quietly rolling sea while the crew – and the goaty old captain, too, hungrily nursing upon the small hard tits of an unspeakably drunken brunette, lying nearly unconscious beside him while he fitfully pumped and thrust his body between the languidly opened legs of another brunette into whose pit he stoutly drove his ancient rammer with deliberate strokes-finished their orgiastic duties in a rapidly decreasing mood of excitement and lustful vitality.

Total quietude eventually descended upon the ship. Sailors and girls slumbered soundly wherever they completed their last copulation, clumsily lying atop one another or strewn hither and yon about the deck. A symphony of snoring softly sang into the cool night air over the gentle slapping of the peaceful seas against the hull.

Stiffly, the Greek got down from the hatch-cover, yawning mightily and stretching his aching limbs, and carefully making his way toward his cabin, he stopped momentarily when he found a sleeping Ignacio sprawled nakedly between two nasally snoring young women whose satiny flesh was darkened with bruises and stained with dried wine.

“Sleep well, my young friend!” chuckled the Greek. “I'll need all your strength on the morrow when we send Bullpole to his final seduction! Naturally, I'll have to rid myself of you since you know too much – and I cannot afford slaves who know too much!”

Proceeding to his quarters, he undressed – after locking the cabin-door – and lay for a long time before sleep tickled at the edges of his consciousness. I – having boarded him, preferring his blood to others' – patiently awaited his lapsing into a deep sleep, knowing I would be less likely interrupted during my repast were he dreaming.

“I wonder if that treacherous old bastard of a seer recognized his last-minute symptoms as being caused by the same traceless poison he once invented for my use on enemies?” The Greek mused aloud. “Well, I rather hope he did since I never faced him with his own disloyalty!”

And then he drifted into sleep, smiling.

Making it into port with a bleary-eyed, worn crew barely able to dock the ship, we disembarked and went by carriage to a fortress huddled high above the city. This was the Greek's palatial residence. Constructed of pure marble and easily as large as Bullpole's castle in Spain, it was well guarded and gorgeously furnished with strangely designed chairs, tables and couches – the walls covered with intricate tapestries and misty oil paintings, most of them depicting bawdy scenes of sensual delights.

Bullpole silently followed the Greek as he led him and Ignacio through the buildings on a tour that took almost two hours just to go through the main buildings, leaving many of the multi-level wings and offshoots un-visited. Bullpole viewed everything with the abstracted air of a man who isn't truly seeing what he is shown. His mind was obviously elsewhere – deep within a cavern, I assumed, judging from the all-encompassing obsession he had developed aboard ship.

Returning to a large cool chamber where silent-footed servants swiftly served wines and fruits, the Greek smiled at his guests. “Well, you've seen some of my little retreat,” he said amiably. “Time for the rest of it when you're rested.”

“When do we go to the sea-caves?” demanded Bullpole, thirstily quaffing a huge golden goblet of wine. “I want to get on with the main business that brought me here.”

“After you've rested.”

“I'm rested now.”

“Well, soon.” The Greek stared stubbornly at his longtime competitor. “I have – uh – there are a number of preparations that must be made for the journey, brief as it actually will be.”

“What sort of preparations?” Bullpole threw a surly glance over the jewel-encrusted brim of his goblet. “Be specific!”

Anger flushed the Greek's satanic features but he Visibly controlled himself, his tense face relaxing into a mild smile of patience. “Ah, now, old friend. I shall not bore you with a plethora of practical details and dull trivia when you are so weary from a long voyage!”

“I told you – I'm rested.”

The Greek laughed good-naturedly. “So you did! But must I be so crass as to remind you that we are now in my empire – and here I am the dictator of events and affairs, and the procedures which bring them to pass? I simply suggest you enjoy the humble suites that have been readied for your use. And let me know instantly if the little… ah… creatures waiting there for your virile presence are not to your liking in every way possible!”

“I get your point,” mumbled Bullpole gruffly, and he allowed an attendant to lead him away, his face dark with frustration. “For now I must be the cooperative guest. But once I've -” His words faded into an incoherent murmuring of discontent.

Deftly, I leaped to Ignacio's muscular frame as he passed the smiling Greek, an exchange of glances between them indicating that all was going well; and I marveled that this cold-natured Greek could smile so warmly at one he planned to destroy after having assured him that his future was safe and secure because he had been tested for ultimate loyalty, and has passed that test satisfactorily. The degree of viciousness in human nature never fails to startle me, no matter how often I see it displayed. Hence, I left the Greek's person with a definite sense of relief which must not be construed as mere emotional judgement. I'm not, as a humble flea, burdened with that kind of emotional reaction: I simply know in an instinctive fashion where the greatest danger to my own existence lies – and that intuitive alarm was strongest upon the persons of the Greek and Bullpole to my bewilderment, considering the power each wielded most ruthlessly.

Upon reaching the apartments reserved for them, Bullpole turned to Ignacio. “In the interest of privacy, I decided to leave my personal bodyguards in Spain. I brought you along to serve in precisely that capacity since you are known to be loyal, alert and physically strong. I shall depend upon you to be fully responsible for my safety – particularly when I'm asleep.”

Ignacio bowed. “Yes, sire.”

“I trust not our host. Nor should you. We are Spaniards far from our native ground and in an alien place where anything might happen.”

“I'll remember that every moment, sire.”

“See that you do.” Bullpole entered his chamber, the door closing behind him with a solid click. Ignacio stood a moment with a thoughtful expression, then he, too, went into his chamber.

The room was luxuriously furnished in the same exotic styling as the rest of the palace. In its center was a low wide sleeping-couch, the table beside it containing a platter upon which a variety of cheeses, olives, slabs of crusty bread and an assortment of fruits were heaped.

A girl with long black, glossy hair and huge dark eyes lay upon the couch, her nakedness a satiny swelling and curving of white flesh from the gentle lines of her shoulders and generously moulded breasts to her well-shaped legs and tiny feet. She gazed up at Ignacio with an expression of submission.

“Well, the Greek wasn't jesting,” remarked Ignacio, sitting on the edge of the couch and smiling at the girl. “Everything for a guest's comfort and pleasure. I'm coming up in the world when my room is supplied with beauty such as yours.”

She sighed, tremblingly.

“Have you no tongue?” His hand touched her soft warm flesh, began caressing her rounded belly just above the crisp thicket of pubic hair. “Have you no words of greeting for a guest?”

She murmured something in Greek, the sound of the foreign words a whispery gibberish to Ignacio's ears. Her tone clearly implied her resignation and hopelessness as did the sad expression in her huge, widely spaced eyes.

“Ah, well,” murmured Ignacio, undressing. “We shall not allow language to be a barrier when we can breach it with the oldest communication known to man and woman, pretty one!”

She studied his exposed penis – erect with the excitement that her nudity created within him – with nervous interest. Her nostrils flared with reaction to the sight of the long upright shaft of rigid muscle tipped by the reddish-blue plum that pulsed slightly with the tension Ignacio felt. A tremor of quivering went over the girl's entire body when he rolled over, lying beside her and feeling her warmth and firm softness touching his own muscular frame. She gasped, moaning throatily when his hands fondled her breasts, toying the large nipples into tautness. She twitched and groaned when his fingers sought her pubic mound, caressing the tender lips of her crevice, parting them and exploring their depths until her juices flowed copiously – indicating her sexual readiness.

For a short while Ignacio lay upon her belly, idly sucking at her melon-ish breasts and pressing his stiffened member up and down, inserting it between the moistened lips of her slit and letting the lust simmer in his balls that now ached with bursting need for release. She cried out as he shifted position – shoving his hardened penis into her yielding hole, the head sinking into its warm wetness. Grunting, he thrust the entire length of his column deeply within her tight pit and she wrapped her legs about his waist, panting as he began steadily ramming his throbbing stiffness in and almost out of her cunt. Saliva dribbled from a corner of her mouth, her eyes glazed with enjoyment and she grunted softly with each inward thrust of his penis – and thus they fucked in a quiet, straining rhythm until, abruptly, the wildness of orgasm was upon them and they launched themselves into a noisy frenzy of motion, erratically moving with abandon and savage intensity – the girl clawing and biting at him – until the climax had been reached and the spasms juicily exhausted them both.

They fell asleep, still entangled in each others' arms and legs, in the position of copulation.

Three days later, the first light of morning was fading the night sky when Ignacio was rudely awakened by a husky young man his own age who wore the trappings and insignia of the Greek's personal guards. Harshly shaking Ignacio's bare shoulder, the fellow grinned down as Ignacio groggily opened his eyes and peered sleepily up at the stranger.

“Arise!” said the man. “I'm sent to awaken you! It's time to leave for the sea-caves!”

Ignacio sat up, yawning and rubbing his face. During the past three days and nights, while waiting for the Greek to announce their departure to the sea-caves, he had glutted himself unstintingly with rich foods, wines and a number of passionate young wenches – all of whom, like the newest girl still gently snoring beside him, had helped considerably to pass the time.

“Who – who are you?” Ignacio asked thickly.

“Socrates Uthimus – most trusted of my master's personal guards. I'm to accompany you gentlemen on the trek to the sea-caves by order of my master.” He nodded at the naked girl whose tempting curves of flawless flesh graced the couch in unconscious wantonry. “By the blazing eyes of the gods, I hate to pull you from the comforting side of that little slut, but I'm ordered to collect you! I don't envy you having to interrupt dalliance with the pretty thing. Don't bear a grudge against me for being the one to summon you!”

“I won't,” mumbled Ignacio putting on his clothing. “Anyway, I'm getting weary of this room! It'll be good to travel and see someplace else.”

“You jest!” The cheerful grin on Socrates' face broadened. “How can anybody tire of such stimulating company? I cannot even imagine such -” He stopped talking, eyeing the sleeping girl hungrily.

“Go ahead – if we have the time,” offered Ignacio smiling at him. “You look as though you could use a quick tumble!”

“I – I could! I haven't had a woman in more than a week of heavy duty!” Socrates' face went dreamy with lust as he studied the vulnerable nudity of the girl. She stirred, turning onto her back and raising one leg, exposing the intimate beauty of her slitted mound nestled in the curly dark thatch of hair between her thighs. “If I thought you were serious and there would be no trouble, I'd -”

“I'm serious, friend.” Ignacio sat down at the table, began munching hungrily at the remains of meat, cheese and bread – washing the food down with wine from a tall, slender bottle. “Go ahead and have her! But don't take all morning unless you want to be caught in the delightful act by our superiors!”