Anonymous - The Autobiography of a Flea, Book4

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.