Anonymous - The Autobiography of a Flea, Book4

“Very nice, my dear,” he murmured. “Most enjoyable!”

Now the gorilla was mauling the lesbian, whose head lolled loosely, her neck having been broken during the violence of the attack. Bullpole made a brief gesture and the guards drove the beast to a corner of the cage while others removed the body of the ill-fated lesbian.

Bullpole shifted position, turning his attention into the small arena.

“Begin the punishment,” he ordered clearly.

Guards who had been awaiting this command went into action immediately, bringing out a frightened, white faced Ignacio and tying him firmly to a large upright log, binding his arms to his sides and tearing his ragged clothing from his gleaming torso until he stood entirely nude in the blazing sunlight, squinting nervously in all directions.

Then from a gate in the wall of the arena guards brought a line of unkempt, stumbling rabble that must have been imprisoned in some dark dungeon because they blinked painfully against the brilliant light of day, crowding clumsily into one another as they were prodded and pushed to where Ignacio stood bound to the stake. Seeing his nakedness, they began making strange little noises of excitement – their degenerate faces becoming animated with excitement, lust gleaming in their eyes as they stared at his lengthy penis hanging limply down over his full testicles nestled in the matted thicket of black pubic hair. Jabbering and nudging each other, the line of obvious perverts snickered and giggled with unrestrained glee, every pair of eyes glued to the young man's genitals..

Shoved into a straggling line-up by the brutal guards, the filthy, ragged men shuffled their feet and whispered excitedly among themselves while the first in line was led to Ignacio, where he suddenly knelt, grasping Ignacio's organ in trembling hands and avidly plunged his slobbering mouth over the tip – voraciously nursing upon it.

Ignacio's expression of surprise and embarrassment quickly was replaced by one of sheer horror as – looking at the long line of perverts awaiting their turn at him – the realization that his punishment consisted of having his member abused by every man in that line reached his mind, and he sagged with the resulting emotions of dismay and humiliation.

Meanwhile, the one kneeling before him, greedily sucking upon the now erected penis, increased his mouthings until the convulsive motions of his throat told that Ignacio had climaxed and the pervert was drinking down the spasms of juice gushing into his mouth and throat.

Then the pervert was yanked to his feet, marched out of the arena – and the next drooling pervert in the line was brought to Ignacio where he, too, knelt and hungrily took the still hard penis into his mouth, gnawing and tugging at it with relish.

Ignacio groaned, closing his eyes and enduring the sensations which he knew would become total agony before the line had enjoyed their turns at the organ which already felt bruised and painful.

Bullpole smiled grimly, glancing down to the chief guard below. “When he becomes unconscious,” he said quietly, “end the punishment.”

The chief guard nodded his understanding.

Rising, Bullpole strode cumbersomely from the balcony, returning to his private suite where he was met by a delegation of employees who briefly reported to him on the various states of his many business enterprises while he listened in silence, frowning now and then or nodding approval, and when they had departed – he wearily sprawled upon an immense bed to fall into a deep sleep.

Taking advantage of his unconsciousness to partake of a much needed meal, I found his blood to be particularly rich and nourishing with a distinctively winey flavor. Then I, too, relapsed into that lightly comatose state which serves as sleep for my kind, my hunger abated.

Even a Flea must rest occasionally.

Hours later, Bullpole arose and after refreshing himself to awakeness with a tepid bath – during which nubile female attendants lathered him with perfumed soaps, rinsing his bulk off again amid much chattering and giggling while he sat smiling calmly – went into the huge room and lowered himself upon the pile of cushions.

An ebony maiden brought him a platter upon which a feast of meats and breads and fruits had been piled in abundance, and soon he was joined by a lean, wiry man his own age who seemed to be associated with Bullpole, and I received the distinct impression that their association was definitely more social than business since Bullpole's attitude toward the slighter, devilish-looking fellow was amiable and the way one treats an equal.

“You have a magnificent place here,” commented the guest, glancing slyly at his host as he plied himself with food. “A truly superlative way of life indeed, old friend.”

“Ah,” chuckled Bullpole munching a leg of mutton with relish, the grease dripping from his chin as his strong teeth tore the tender meat. “I must be careful now! When Zorba Aphranes is liberal with compliments, it means that the shrewd Greek is after something! What caught your eye, friend?”

“Well, now that you've graciously mentioned it, I have gotten rather fond of that delightful little Egyptian wench you thoughtfully provided.” Zorba gulped down a large goblet of pale wine, smacking his lips afterward. “She's the most skillfully sensual creature I've ever possessed. I warn you, friend, that I may pilfer her when I leave!”

“No need. She's yours.”

“Thank you, Bullpole. That's most generous of you. Perhaps I can return the favor with an equally desirable creature when you visit my retreat in Athens, which I trust will be soon.”

“Of course.” Bullpole snapped his fingers and an attendant swiftly brought a bowl of warm water in which he rinsed his mouth and fingers, drying them fastidiously with a snowy towel. “I look forward to visiting you in Athens – to see how you conduct your affairs of trade and how you manage you little palace of pleasures. Meanwhile, I must attend to my own enterprises. Which is mainly why I've been such a poor host and have unintentionally ignored you these past three weeks.””

“Understandable,” murmured the Greek.

“Well, I hope the sundry modest pleasures that have been provided for you are keeping you relaxed and entertained.”

“They are, indeed.”

“Would it amuse you to observe how I'm solving a rather personal problem?” Bullpole glanced at the other man, smiling thinly. “I have no wish to bore or embarrass you, but you might find my methods a trifle interesting.”

The Greek nodded, his mouth full of food.

“I've had a particularly vexing problem since my early youth,” Bullpole explained, calmly taking his mammoth penis out of his robe. It stood erect, throbbing slightly. “As you can see, I'm not being boastful when I say that my organ is of an unusual length and circumference.”

“True. A remarkable member indeed!”

Bullpole sighed. “Yes, but its very size is my problem. Years ago, I discovered that the average woman cannot comfortably accommodate an organ as large as mine, and indeed is often physically damaged by its insertion into her vagina – not to mention the psychological effects of having such a bulky truncheon introduced into her sensitive parts. This left me with a hellish choice – or so I thought. Suffer a life of insidious, unthinkable celibacy or suffer females to risk the agony of my outsized prick. Since I'm neither saint nor fiend, the choice almost drove me mad.”

“No wonder! Such a choice would drive most men out of their minds. Having that large a member is a problem entirely unknown to me, old friend.” The Greek clucked sympathetically. “I never realized you bore such a grievous problem!”

“But I solved it! Some years ago I learned, from a wise man, that any woman whose mouth is large enough to encompass my organ also possesses a cunt sufficiently yielding to accept this absurdly huge penis without creating damaging stress or strain to flesh or mind!”