Chapter 11
My story, said Alfred, the youngish clerk, who was the next to speak, is a very simple one.
At eighteen I stared work in the office of a perfume manufacturer in London. I liked the work, and it wasn't very long before I was promoted to assist the secretary of the woman director, Miss Flannel. One night Miss Flannel asked me to stop on in the office with her to catch up on arrears of work.
Till then I had never had any experience of sex of any kind. As a boy I did masturbate a bit, but after I took up cycling I stopped the habit, and in fact didn't think about sex at all.
Miss Flannel was about forty, thick-set, not and particularly attractive, though she dressed well, and used make up to great advantage.
Everybody else in the office had gone, and I was sorting out the documents on my deskexport orders which had to be got ready for the next day-and not paying much attention to Miss Flannel, whose desk was by the window. A few of the orders were difficult to understand, as they were made out in foreign languages, without any accompanying text in English, and several times I had to go up to Miss Flannel to get her help with the foreign texts. (She herself spoke a lot of languages).
After an hour' work, we had finished. Miss Flannel produced a wine bottle from her desk, and told me to bring a chair up to her desk.
"I like you, Alfred," she said, "You're a good worker. If you go on pleasing me yon will go a long way in this firm." She poured me out a glass of wine, poured herself a small whiskey from a quarter bottle, offered me a cigarette. No sooner had I drunk the wine when I felt my head reeling, and my legs and arms turning to putty.
I passed out completely, and when I came to, I was on the sofa, and Miss Flannel was beside me sponging my face.
"You are a baby," she laughed. "Fancy passing out after one glass of wine." I sat tip and lit a cigarette, I felt all right but still a bit faint. I also felt peculiarly itchy round my crutch. Within a few minutes of my recovery, the itch had become unbearable," and, despite myself, my hand went down to scratch.
Miss Flannel looked at me strangely. "Is there anything the matter, Albert?" she asked.
"No, Madam," I said. "I just seem to have a terrible itch. Maybe the wine caused it. I don't normally drink at all." Again my hand went down to the front of my trousers and I scratched furiously.
"You poor boy," said Miss Flannel. "You've probably got a touch of inflammation there."
I couldn't help blushing. "I'm sorry, Madam," I said. "I hope you don't think it's awful manners on my part."
Miss Flannel laughed. "You silly boy," the said "you don't have to be ashamed of anything like that. In any case, I don't suppose you know it, but I qualified as a doctor before I started this business, and I know all about the human body. In fact, I think I'd better examine you now, and Bee if I can't help you. After all you can't go long the street scratching away like that." She pushed me back on to the sofa, and then, to my shame and consternation, she began to undo the buttons of my trousers. I tried to protest, but she just laughed at me and called me a silly boy.
Her hand was under my balls, and I felt her squeezing. Then she ran her fingers along my cock. I couldn't stop my cock getting stiff. The burning itch was now almost intolerable, so bad in fact that I began to feel quite desperate.
"Yes," said Miss Flannel. "It's a touch of inflammation. I've got something which will put it all right for you." She went to her desk, and came with a jar of cream, which she proceeded to rub into my parts. The itch in the skin subsided, but something else replaced it: a feeling of lust such as I had never experienced in my life.
I must have become momentarily quite mad, because suddenly I seized the top of her dress and ripped it off her body. I tore off her underclothes and threw myself on her on the floor. I was foaming at the mouth with lust, as I fucked her.
When I had finished I rolled off her body, and helped her up. We both sat on the sofa. I was terrified of what I had done.
"Madam," I said, "I don't know what you must think..."
"Don't be silly," she said. "What happened then was perfectly natural. And don't call me Madam any more. My name is Eve."
"Thank you very much," I said. "I was so frightened just now, I thought you might even call in the police. After all, it was rape, wasn't it?"
She laughed. "Whatever it was it was very nice." She brushed my cock lightly with her fingertips, and of course I immediately got stiff again. She brought a glass of water and sponged my cock and balls. Then she suddenly pressed her face against me and I felt her tongue running over my cock.
"You just lie back and relax," she said. She now had her mouth over my cock. With her hands she was squeezing my balls. I came almost at once, and, as she felt me coming, he increased her suction, so that the spunk which poured out of me must have been enormous in amount.
From that I became Eve's lover. I learned afterwards that she had drugged my wine that first night, and then had rubbed a violent aphrodisiac into my cock. But I didn't care. I had been promoted to personal secretary, I was earning very good money, and I had a mistress who encouraged me to give way to the most violent expressions of lust.
The week-ends I spent it Eve's house in the country and our association might have continued for years had not extraordinary incident occured, some four months after the scene I have described in the Office.
Eve had a boxer dog, a male, who was passionately devoted to his mistress, and who right from the start was furiously jealous of my relations with his her.
One night at Eve's house, my cock jutting out in front of me, (we were in the middle of our preliminaries), I went out of her bedroom, naked as I was, to fetch some whiskey. The dog was waiting for me. Its vast jaws closed round my cock, and his teeth went, ferociously right through the flesh. There was a soft plop on the floor : this was the bleeding tube which had been my cock...
Miss Flannel compensated me for the loss of my cock, and she got a good surgeon to patch me. But of course I was no use to her any more, as all I have had since then in front of my balls is a stump of cock barely half an inch long. I lost the job, and I drank through the money I had as compensation . It took me a long time to settle down, but I managed it at last, and nowadays I can accept my disability philosophically. When I'm not working or drinking, I do a lot of cycling.