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The Autobiography of a Flea
Stanislas de Rhodes
‘The Autobiography of a Flea’ was initally published in 1887, and inspired a film directed by one of the first female pornographic directors from the 1970s. Starring the inimitable John C Holmes, it is recognised as a classic example of the x-rated genre.Can men of the cloth ever escape temptation?A young maiden, Bella, and her boyfriend Charlie consummate their passion under the moonlight, shrouded in petticoats. Little do they know that someone has been watching them – a priest – who blackmails Bella over the sight he has witnessed, enslaving her into a world of sexual subservience.‘The Autobiography of a Flea’ is narrated by the smallest voyeur of them all, who uses his size to avenge Bella's misfortune, revealing the sordid details of a priest's inner sanctum.
The Autobiography of a Flea
Stanislas De Rhodes
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#ue28213a7-8e58-582d-84a1-d565479d5203)
Title Page (#u89654562-661e-5e0b-8321-153822d77a7c)
Prologue (#u5f94fd85-a2a1-5933-9bdd-83232161ff1a)
Harper Perennial Forbidden Classics (#u5824a091-65f9-5d03-b8ef-7b4468c6b317)
Chapter One (#u16e8b438-c41d-5818-ab92-1c0f6b790ca3)
Chapter Two (#ub253e9f5-89b5-5976-ac37-ba3ef5c5d95c)
Chapter Three (#u69a62390-2e73-5aeb-a2cb-89e22ec0e340)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#ulink_1a92fbdb-6229-529d-a3f0-7356d83a8c63)
…to break to every caprice of his horrid lust, and to bend to the indulgence of the most outrageous and unbridled sensuality.
Harper Perennial Forbidden Classics (#ulink_192072b3-30ae-5fc9-a357-ca63778b8a40)
I
Fanny Hill John Cleland
II
Justine Marquis de Sade
III
Venus in Furs Leopold von Sacher-Masoch
IV
The Pearl Anonymous
V
My Secret Life Walter
VI
The Way of a Man with a Maid Anonymous
VII
The Autobiography of a Flea Stanislas de Rhodes
VIII
Sadopaideia Anonymous
IX
Venus in India ‘Captain Charles Devereaux’
X
Emmanuelle Emmanuelle Arsan
Chapter One (#ulink_c97fa4d7-cdb0-5494-b525-46ac40ca3421)
Born I was – but how, when, or where I cannot say; so I must leave the reader to accept the assertion per se, and believe it if he will. One thing is equally certain, the fact of my birth is not one atom less veracious than the reality of these memoirs, and if the intelligent student of these pages wonders how it came to pass that one in my walk – or perhaps, I should have said jump – of life, became possessed of the learning, observation and power of committing to memory the whole of the wonderful facts and disclosures I am about to relate, I can only remind him that there are intelligences little suspected by the vulgar, and laws in Nature the very existence of which have not yet been detected by the advanced among the scientific world.
I have heard it somewhere remarked that my province was to get my living by blood sucking. I am not the lowest by any means of that universal fraternity, and if I sustain a precarious existence upon the bodies of those with whom I come in contact, my own experience proves that I do so in a marked and peculiar manner, with a warning of my employment which is seldom given by those in other grades of my profession. But I submit that I have other and nobler aims than the mere sustaining of my being by the contributions of the unwary. I have been conscious of this original defect, and, with a soul far above the vulgar instincts of my race, I jumped by degrees to heights of mental perception and erudition which placed me for ever upon a pinnacle of insect grandeur.
It is this attainment to learning which I shall evoke in describing the scenes of which I have been a witness – nay, even a partaker. I shall not stop to explain by what means I am possessed of human powers of thinking and observing, but, in my lucubrations, leave you simply to perceive that I possess them and wonder accordingly.
You will thus perceive that I am not a common flea; indeed, when it is borne in mind the company in which I have been accustomed to mingle, the familiarity with which I have been suffered to treat persons the most exalted, and the opportunities I have possessed to make the most of my acquaintances, the reader will no doubt agree with me that I am in very truth a most wonderful and exalted insect.
My earliest recollections lead me back to a period when I found myself within a church. There was a rolling of rich music and a slow monotonous chanting which then filled me with surprise and admiration, but I have long since learnt the true importance of such influences, and the attitudes of the worshippers are now taken by me for the outward semblance of inward emotions which are very generally non-existent. Be this as it may, I was engaged upon professional business connected with the plump white leg of a young lady of some sixteen years of age, the taste of whose delicious blood I well remember, and the flavour of whose –
But I am digressing.
Soon after I had commenced in a quiet and friendly way my little attentions, the young girl in common with the rest of the congregation rose to depart, and I, as a matter of course, determined to accompany her.
I am very sharp of sight as well as of hearing, and that is how I saw a young gentleman slip a small folded piece of white paper into the young lady’s pretty gloved hand, as she passed through the crowded porch. I had noticed the name Bella neatly worked upon the soft silk stocking which had at first attracted me, and I now saw the same word appeared alone upon the outside of the billet-doux. She was with her aunt, a tall, stately dame, with whom I did not care to get upon terms of intimacy.
Bella was a beauty – just sixteen – a perfect figure, and although so young, her soft bosom was already budding into those proportions which delight the other sex. Her face was charming in its frankness; her breath sweet as the perfumes of Arabia, and, as I always said, her skin as soft as velvet. Bella was evidently well aware of her good looks, and carried her head as proudly and as coquettishly as a queen. That she inspired admiration was not difficult to see by the wistful and longing glances which the young men – and sometimes also those of more mature years – cast upon her. There was a general hush of conversation outside the building, and a turning of glances generally towards the pretty Bella, which told more plainly than words that she was the admired one of all eyes and the desired one of all hearts – at any rate among the male sex.
Paying, however, very little attention to what was evidently a matter of everyday occurrence, the young lady walked sharply homewards with her aunt, and after arrival at the neat and genteel residence, went quickly to her room. I will not say I followed, but I ‘went with her’, and beheld the gentle girl raise one dainty leg across the other and remove the tiniest of tight and elegant kid boots.
I jumped upon the carpet and proceeded with my examinations. The left boot followed, and, without removing her plump calf from off the other, Bella sat looking at the folded piece of paper which I had seen the young fellow deposit secretly in her hand.
Closely watching everything, I noted the swelling thighs, which spread upwards above her tightly fitting garters until they were lost in the darkness and closed together at a point where her beautiful belly met them in her stooping position; they almost obliterated a thin and peach-like slit, which just showed its rounded lips between them in the shade.
Presently Bella dropped her note, and being open, I took the liberty to read it. I will be in the old spot at eight o’clock tonight, were the only words which the paper contained, but they appeared to have a special interest for Bella, who remained cogitating for some time in the same thoughtful mood.
My curiosity had been aroused, and my desire to know more of the interesting young being with whom chance had so promiscuously brought me in pleasing contact prompted me to remain quietly ensconced in a snug though somewhat moist hiding place, and it was not until near upon the hour named that I once more emerged in order to watch the progress of events.
Bella had dressed herself with scrupulous care, and now prepared to betake herself to the garden which surrounded the country house in which she dwelt.
I went with her.
Arriving at the end of a long and shady avenue the young girl seated herself upon a rustic bench, and there awaited the coming of the person she was to meet.
It was not many minutes before the young man whom I had seen in communication with my fair little friend in the morning presented himself.
A conversation ensued which, if I might judge by the abstraction of the pair from aught besides themselves, had unusual interest for both.
It was evening, and the twilight had already commenced: the air was warm and genial, and the young pair sat closely entwined upon the bench, lost to all but their own happiness.
‘You don’t know how I love you, Bella,’ whispered the youth, tenderly sealing his protestation with a kiss upon the pouting lips of his companion.
‘Yes I do,’ replied the girl, naïvely, ‘are you not always telling me? I shall get tired of hearing it soon.’
Bella fidgeted her pretty little foot and looked thoughtful.
‘When are you going to explain and show me all those funny things you told me about?’ asked she, giving a quick glance up, and then as rapidly bending her eyes upon the gravel walk.
‘Now,’ answered the youth. ‘Now, dear Bella, while we have the chance to be alone and free from interruption. You know, Bella, we are no longer children?’
Bella nodded her head.
‘Well, there are things which are not known to children, and which are necessary for lovers not only to know, but also to practise.’
‘Dear me,’ said the girl, seriously.
‘Yes,’ continued her companion, ‘there are secrets which render lovers happy, and which make the enjoyment of loving and of being loved.’
‘Lord!’ exclaimed Bella, ‘how sentimental you have grown, Charlie; I remember the time when you declared sentiment was “all humbug”.’
‘So I thought it was, till I loved you,’ replied the youth.
‘Nonsense,’ continued Bella, ‘but go on, Charlie, and tell me what you promised.’
‘I can’t tell you without showing you as well,’ replied Charlie; ‘the knowledge can only be learnt by experience.’
‘Oh, go on then and show me,’ cried the girl, in whose bright eyes and glowing cheeks I thought I could detect a very conscious knowledge of the kind of instruction about to be imparted.
There was something catching in her impatience. The youth yielded to it, and covering her beautiful young form with his own, glued his mouth to hers and kissed it rapturously.
Bella made no resistance; she even aided and returned her lover’s caresses.
Meanwhile, the evening advanced: the trees lay in the gathering darkness, spreading their lofty tops to screen the waning light from the young lovers.
Presently Charlie slid on one side; he made a slight movement, and then without any opposition he passed his hand under and up the petticoats of the pretty Bella. Not satisfied with the charms which he found within the compass of the glistening silk stockings, he essayed to press on still further, and his wandering fingers now touched the soft and quivering flesh of her young thighs.
Bella’s breath came hard and fast, as she felt the indelicate attack which was being made upon her charms. So far, however, from resisting, she evidently enjoyed the exciting dalliance.
‘Touch it,’ whispered Bella, ‘you may.’
Charlie needed no further invitation: indeed he was already preparing to advance without one and instantly comprehending the permission, drove his fingers forward. The fair girl opened her thighs as he did so, and the next instant his hand covered the delicate pink lips of her pretty slit.
For the next ten minutes the pair remained almost motionless, their lips joined and their breathing alone marking the sensations which were overpowering them with the intoxication of wantonness. Charlie felt a delicate object, which stiffened beneath his nimble fingers, and assumed a prominence of which he had no experience.
Presently Bella closed her eyes, and throwing back her head, shuddered slightly, while her frame became supple and languid, and she suffered her head to rest upon the arm of her lover.
‘Oh, Charlie,’ she murmured, ‘what is it you do? What delightful sensations you give me.’
Meanwhile, the youth was not idle, but having fairly explored all he could in the constrained position in which he found himself, he rose, and sensible of the need of assuaging the raging passion which his actions had fanned, he besought his fair companion to let him guide her hand to a dear object, which he assured her was capable of giving her far greater pleasure than his fingers had done.
Nothing loth, Bella’s grasp was the next moment upon a new and delicious substance, and either giving way to the curiosity she simulated, or really carried away by her newly roused desires, nothing would do, but she must bring out and into the light the standing affair of her friend.
Those of my readers who have been placed in a similar position will readily understand the warmth of the grasp and the surprise of the look which greeted the first appearance in public of the new acquisition.
Bella beheld a man’s member for the first time in her life, in the full plenitude of its power, and although it was not, I could plainly see, by any means a formidable one, yet its white shaft and red-capped head, from which the soft skin retreated as she pressed it, gained her quick inclination to learn more.
Charlie was equally moved; his eyes shone and his hand continued to rove all over the sweet young treasure of which he had taken possession.
Meanwhile, the toyings of the little white hand upon the youthful member with which it was in contact had produced effects common under such circumstances to all of so healthy and vigorous a constitution as that of the owner of this particular affair.
Enraptured with the soft pressures, the gentle and delicious squeezings, the artless way in which the young lady pulled back the folds from the rampant nut and disclosed the ruby crest, purple with desire, and the tip, ended by the tiny orifice, now awaiting its opportunity to send forth its slippery offering, the youth grew wild with lust, and Bella, participating in sensations new and strange, but which carried her away in a whirlwind of passionate excitement, panted for she knew not what of rapturous relief.
With her beautiful eyes half-closed, her dewy lips parted, and her skin warm and glowing with the unwonted impulse stealing over her, she lay, the delicious victim of whosoever had the instant chance to reap her favours and pluck her delicate young rose.
Charlie, youth though he was, was not so blind as to lose so fair an opportunity; besides, his now rampant passions carried him forward despite the dictates of prudence which he otherwise might have heard.
