The Scandalous Secret She Hides

As I was waiting for Heath to give me more in-depth treatment, he suddenly withdrew his hand and said hoarsely, "All done."

The abrupt halt of contact left me feeling empty all over. The aroused desire that had been stirred up did not subside. Instead, it spread all over my body like wildfire. I craved more thorough comfort and to be filled and conquered.

"According to the examination, you have a typical endocrine disorder." He pushed back his fallen glasses, his white coat sleeves stained with a few drops of water. "Abnormally elevated estrogen levels can lead to... increased special physiological needs."

I was stunned. Were the unspeakable desires and restless nights really just symptoms? No wonder the other girls in my dormitory were so reserved when dating. I was the only one with passionate images of intimacy in my mind.

"Well, Dr. Mallard, how should I treat this illness?" I was too shy to look up and meet his gaze.

"Massage combined with medication can help." He suddenly got closer, his warm breath caressing the back of my ear. "The treatment begins now."

"Huh?" I hurriedly looked up, but my lips accidentally brushed against his thigh.

Through the fabric of his trousers, I could feel the defined lines of his muscles. His intense masculine scent made me dizzy, and an unbearable itch rose between my legs.

Heath's breathing became noticeably heavier. A pair of large hands suddenly gripped my waist, pressing me back against the examination table. The sheets rustled under the strain. "Don't move. Treatment requires the patient's cooperation." His voice was terrifyingly deep.

I heard the soft purr of my skirt zipper being pulled open.

A cool breeze brushed against my back, only to be replaced by a burning sensation. Hot as irons, his palms slowly moved upward from my lower back and lingered on my shoulder blades.

"Such fair skin," he murmured as his fingertips suddenly applied pressure at a certain spot. "Like freshly squeezed whipped cream."

This metaphor made my ears burn.

When those hands reached a specific spot, a powerful electric current surged through my spine, and I could not help but tremble.

A warm and wet touch suddenly pressed against the back of my neck. Like a nimble snake, his tongue slowly slid down my spine before drawing circles around my lower back. When his teeth gently nibbled at my earlobe, I let out a whimper that did not sound like my own voice.

'Mmm, how exciting,' I thought.

"Relax. Give your body to me." His voice was seductive.

How was this a form of treatment? It was clearly a meticulously planned subjugation.

My limbs felt as limp as cooked spaghetti as my mind went completely blank.

The examination table creaked under the weight as he straddled me.

It was indeed as he said: the 'treatment' brought unprecedented comfort. However, a more shameful need began to clamor as pleasure built.

An itch! An unbearable itch started, like countless ants were crawling on me. I squeezed my legs together, but I could not stop the heat.

"Doctor, I feel uncomfortable..." My voice trembled uncontrollably.

Heath did not answer, but he suddenly increased the pressure on my body.

I tilted my head back breathlessly and saw that his eyes behind his glasses were bloodshot. It was as if he were a different person.

He wore a half-smile. "Can't take it already?"

He suddenly grabbed my chin, his three fingers thrusting into my mouth. "This won't do. We need to increase the intensity."

Saliva uncontrollably dripped from the corner of my mouth, only to be licked away by him as he leaned over. It was a gesture so erotic it made my toes curl.

"What do I have to do?"

"You have to do what I say," he whispered close to my ear, his fingers swirling in my hot, wet mouth. "I'll save you."

The examination room reeked of disinfectant mixed with the lewd scent of lust. It had started raining outside at some point, and the sound of raindrops pattering against the blinds was like a countdown.

The hem of his white coat brushed against my inner thigh, which had long been damp.

When his hand finally touched my burning spot, I let out a dying whimper.

This was not how a doctor-patient relationship should develop, but neither of us stopped it.

"I'm about to begin."