Anonymous - The Autobiography of a Flea, Book4

The Greek sat back, looking satisfied.

“Next!” Bullpole watched the sullen-faced girl with uptilted breasts tipped with knobby nipples and a mound so lightly dusted with blonde hair as to look hairless, the slit clearly in view, saunter toward him confidently. She knelt quickly, taking the nodding male organ into her strong hands and plunging her gaping mouth down over its tip with her eyes tightly closed.

“Good!” grunted Bullpole.

The girl continued to bob her head vigorously up and down, sucking at the fleshy column with grim steadiness, her clenched jaws indicating that she was applying some pressure to the penis as she sucked roughly, almost vengefully.

“Enough!” rumbled Bullpole, looking uneasy. “That is enough of that! You've passed the test!”

The girl sucked harder, faster.

“Enough!” bellowed Bullpole irritably.

Now she increased the speed of her bobbing head, her paws tightening painfully about the pulsating organ between her teeth which must have begun scraping at the tender flesh of the penis. There was a stubborn, threatening quality to the manner in which she was mouthing the member.

Without warning, Bullpole's open hand swung in a swift arc, savagely striking the girl's moving head – the force of the blow knocking her mouth free of the organ and sending her tumbling sideways where she lay limply upon the floor.

Guards leaped forward to grasp her, and her head lolled lifelessly from side to side when they roughly raised her to a slumped position. She sagged in their hands – dead weight.

“When she regains consciousness, put her in the dungeon until further orders,” snarled Bullpole, gingerly touching the reddened skin of his badly mouthed penis. “She'll have to be taught a lesson about that kind of behavior!”

“Sire?”

Bullpole frowned up at the guard.

“Her neck is broken, sire. She's dead.”

Bullpole sighed. “A pity. I dislike waste of good material. Well, take her away. Don't just stand there gaping at me, you lout!”

“You're fortunate that she didn't attempt to injure you seriously,” murmured the Greek. “She might've tried biting your member entirely off the moment she got those jaws about it.”

Bullpole nodded, his face tight. Apparently, he was considering what that would have been like – having his sensitive penis bitten through until it dangled by a shred of flesh or two.

“No more testing for now,” he boomed, waving the guards, girls and attendants away. “I'll resume it later. Bring more wine.”

He and the Greek sat for a long time, idly discussing various matters of business, and their planned sexual contest. Bored by their conversation, I proceeded to wander through the castle in a series of carefully estimated hops – occasionally riding aboard various servants as they hurriedly went down hallways – until I found myself in a corridor near a heavily-guarded doorway.

Entering the suite beneath the doors was easy enough for one my size and I found myself in the spacious quarters where those girls who had passed Bullpole's unique test were being kept, presumably until he had need of them. The apartment was filled with beautiful young female humans – lounging, pacing restlessly and sitting quietly, staring into space – some of whom were holding conversations which I sampled, unobtrusively moving from group to group in my chronic curiosity.

“I've heard,” remarked a shy-faced brunette, “that he likes to take two or three girls to bed with him at the same time, and that his knowledge of erotic play stuns the mind.”

“Well, I just hope he doesn't expect me to put my mouth over that terribly big thing of his again!” A prissy-eyed redhead shuddered involuntarily at the memory. “Gor, what a taste it had!”

“Perhaps he's a very fine lover,” suggested a slim blonde with a hopeful smile. “He has a kind face – and he really wasn't unpleasant about the way he conducted that strange test! I prefer to believe the best of the gentleman.”

“After the bastard kidnapped you?” The redhead glared angrily at the blonde. “Have you lost all your senses? Fine gentleman, my arse! He's just a powerful beast who intends that we provide him with pleasure until his repulsive lusts are fully satisfied, that's what he is!”

I proceeded to another group, enchanted by their opinions of their captor. For girls who had been forcibly abducted they seemed, by and large, oddly lacking in resentment. Those who were resentful seemed to be in a definite minority indeed. I could only wonder if, having known poverty all their lives, many of them were now willing to accept their new lives because of the luxurious surroundings and the accompanying sense of excitement and adventure that being brought here had been introduced into their existences. Such a theory might well be unsubstantial but no other was clearly indicated.

“I wonder how much that huge organ of his will hurt,” mused a nervous-looking blonde, biting her fingernails to the quick. “I've heard it really pains a girl when she loses her purity – and I fear that the size of the man's manhood has a lot to do with how much it hurts!”

“Pooh!” scoffed an impish brownette, tossing her head imperiously. “Old wives' tales! My oldest sister lost her innocence in a haystack and she assured me that it hurt not one whit! That's just nonsense supposed to keep a girl from finding out how much fun lying with a man can be, I think!”

“You really think so?” A soft-spoken brunette with huge eyes looked heartened by the other girl's comment. “I'd – I'd like to believe it's not going to be a horrible experience at all. I don't know that I could endure it if it was torturous or very frightening. I've always heard -”

And so the chatter went, with girl after girl giving vent to her deepest fears or impudent glee according to her nature and what she believed in regard to the act of sexual intercourse which none of them had yet actually experienced. And I was wont to believe that the experience would indeed vary with each girl's basic attitude toward it, although I hadn't the slightest notion what Bullpole might bring to the performance in the way of skill or gentleness, patience or brutality.

Staying only long enough to snack upon one of the stouter built girls – whose blood was sweet beyond belief for such a sour-faced individual – and deftly avoiding the half-hearted scratching she accorded her cleanly shaven armpit following my impromptu refreshment, I departed from the suite and returned to my host who was just rising from his wine and conversation, bidding the Greek a genial adios for the moment.

“It's agreed, then,” belched Bullpole loudly. “We each sleep a full ten hours and following a light meal, commence the contest to see which of us can indeed fuck the most girls – the loser being whomever can no longer complete the act by unloading his manly juice into still another virginal cunt!”

“Splendid!” The Greek's sly eyes glittered. “But – and I ask you to forgive me for suggesting it – shouldn't there be stakes of some kind or other? If for no other purpose than to lend the contest added zest?”

“Aren't our egos stake aplenty?” Bullpole locked mildly surprised.

“True. But – and again I ask you to excuse my native fondness for gambling – wouldn't the entire competition be lent a most exhilarating mood of excitement, over and above our mere personal ideas of our own virilities, if something truly valuable in an… ah… materialistic sense were involved, old friend? Or do I press the point ungraciously?”

“I'm not afraid to wager,” burped Bullpole a trifle brashly, being somewhat tipsy. “I'm as much if not more of a reckless gambler than you, you goaty old Greek!”

Something dangerously akin to hatred glinted in the Greek's eyes for a fraction of a second but was lost in the oily smirk of chagrin that overpowered his devilish features. “I know you are, and I'm probably courting disaster – but I shall make so bold as to inquire whether you are gambler enough for worthwhile stakes.”