Anonymous: The Autobiography of a Flea, Book4

“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.”