Anonymous - The Autobiography of a Flea, Book4

Watching Bullpole deteriorate – day by day – was a fascinating experience. Imperceptibly, at first, then more obvious as time passed, his obsession about the Mermaid and the wealth of the seas took hold of him – all his accumulated caution and intelligence crumbling under the obsessive desire for unlimited riches and the pleasures of copulation with an immortal female.

Then, one evening, when we were but a last day's sailing from Athens, the Greek consulted with a now feverish-eyed Bullpole.

“Why not indulge ourselves with a little show?” he suggested pleasantly. “A trifling performance that may titillate our voyage-jaded sensibilities.”

“How?” intoned Bullpole.

“Oh, by simply turning all those deflowered virgins over to the crew – and enjoying the sight of hungry men having a feast of the flesh! Famished by weeks of enforced celibacy, discounting the therapeutic use of their fists, they should be quite anxious to have the use of lovely young girls – and I confess that I should indeed be delighted to view the rollicking orgy, having exhausted every other effort to amuse myself! What do you say to the notion, old friend?”

“It sounds interesting.” Bullpole stared with slack jaw into space. “Go ahead, if you like. I prefer to sit here and prepare myself for that little Mermaid who is going to make me the richest man on earth!”

“How touching!” There was the slightest hint of a jeering note in the Greek's tone. “Very well! I shall instruct the good captain to free his crew upon the girls!”

Meeting Ignacio on deck, the Greek described his idea for entertainment. “Come to think about it, lad, you've not had much fun, either, have you?”

“I – I was allowed to have that blonde, last week. The little plump one who was ill with the humors and kept fainting every hour. I fucked her almost to the moment she died, my lord. But I could use another girl!”

“And so you shall have one!”

After the Greek strolled off to discuss the matter with the ship's captain, Ignacio stared at his back, muttering: “It must be wonderfully fine to be free – and possess the power he and Bullpole demonstrate! It must be like being a god. If only I could taste that kind of power!”

An hour later – having dispensed wine to the crew and girls who had been gathered on the deck – the Greek sat atop a hatch, gleefully watching the orgy slowly developing as the nervous wenches drank with the hot-eyed sailors. Ignacio had joined the festivities and was already possessively cuddled up to a dark-haired beauty, their backs to the side of the ship as they swilled the strong wine from the ship's stores.

Then a girl screamed as her companion ripped the clothing from her shapely body, chasing her the length of the deck before he caught her, hurling himself upon her and greedily burying his face in her firm young breasts.

This outburst set off others, and soon the deck was a noisy melee of violent lovemaking and chases. Girls were forced to open their legs where they were cornered. Others had to be pursued below decks before being trapped in a cozy corner, their clothing torn from their toothsomely curved flesh and their thighs forced open to admit the hard, throbbing members of the male sailors as rape after rape took place everywhere.

Since there were about as many girls as there were crewmen, it was just a matter of time before each girl had been forced to submit to several of the sailors – and before the entire affair ended in what amounted to mass exhaustion, it was likely that every sailor had sampled to his hilt every one of the girls – their normal endurance lengthened by their recent celibacies and spurred on to even greater records by the wine, the number of girls at hand and the atmosphere of total freedom.

Amidst the din of laughing men and crying, shrieking females, the Greek perched on the hatch-cover – his devilish features contorted with fiendish enjoyment of the savage sensualities happening around him continuously.

Ignacio staggered by, a nude redhead slung over his shoulder. Like most of the others, he was stark naked by now – and very drunk.

“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!”