The Doctor Who Fed My Dangerous Need

"Please, doctor! I'm begging you!"

As soon as I get off work, I can't control my urges anymore, so I quickly bolt toward the private hospital.

Ever since I'm afflicted with the ailment that makes me addicted to pleasure, I keep feeling very empty on the inside. The urge to let loose and satisfy myself keeps plaguing me at all times.

Left without a choice, the doctor can only feed me some medication.

But my sinful thoughts keep overtaking my mind. At that moment, I feel myself losing my mind.

What should I do?

I was named Nora Lovelace. I was 26 years old and a glamorous white-collar professional.

Thanks to my looks, my model-like height, and my long, slender, captivating legs, I was never short on male suitors. However, due to my conservative upbringing, I was always too shy and awkward to handle their advances.

Perhaps because I had repressed myself for far too long, I developed a strange, embarrassing condition I could never bring myself to talk about. No matter where I was, I constantly had the urge to seek out secret thrills with strangers. This condition began to interfere with my life, eventually forcing me to see a doctor.

The male doctor who treated me was merely a year older than me. He was elegant, charming, and effortlessly witty.

Sitting in his consultation room, my mind began to spiral with inappropriate thoughts. I imagined myself climbing onto his desk to seduce him. I also imagined stretching my legs out under the table to rest them on him, using my feet to press and rub against him suggestively.

The moment these thoughts surfaced, I realized I was having another episode. In truth, my condition was quite odd. For some reason, I seemed to be uniquely sensitive to male doctors.

"Nora?" Dr. Morgan Lancaster had a very pleasant name. He was currently waving his hand gently in front of my eyes to get my attention. "What's on your mind?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" My face flushed a deep crimson. I felt absolutely mortified. Yet, strangely enough, that embarrassment itself felt thrilling.

"Nora, your condition… To be honest, it isn't some rare or incurable disease," Dr. Lancaster said after a moment of thought. "It's more psychological. I'll prescribe you some medicine to help suppress your symptoms."

He decided to start me on a liquid medication. But the moment he moved his hand away from my face, I didn't know what came over me as I reached out and grasped it.

My eyes glossed over, and I parted my lips, drawing his finger into my mouth. Warmth instantly enveloped his finger, and I watched as his face shifted rapidly from shock to a deep, burning red.

The way he reacted to my teasing was absolutely adorable. The baseless fantasies running through my head only caused my condition to spiral further out of control.

"Nora, you're having another episode!" Dr. Lancaster exclaimed. He understood my symptoms and didn't blame me. If anything, he was a gentleman.

My entire body was on fire. No matter how badly I wanted to suppress the urge, my body refused to let him go that easily.

"Nora!" Dr. Lancaster gently tried to pull his hand away a few times. He looked entirely innocent, realizing that not only did I show no sign of releasing him, but my face was also flushed with an unmistakable, overflowing desire.

"Nora… what are you doing?" His Adam's apple bobbed, and sweat beaded along his forehead.

"Dr. Lancaster, could you check this spot for me? I feel so unbearably hot!" I lay across his desk, clutching his hand. I wanted him to touch me, to provide some relief for this condition of mine.

"Nora, your condition does seem fairly serious. However, as doctors, we can't have any kind of relationship with our patients!"

Ultimately, under the weight of professional ethics, Dr. Lancaster pulled his hands back almost reflexively the moment he touched me.

"Drink this bottle of medicine and come back for a follow-up in three days!" He stuffed a bottle of medication into my hands and hurriedly ushered me out of his office.

After leaving Dr. Lancaster's clinic, I downed the medicine he had given me on my way home. Sure enough, the feverish impulses raging through my mind quieted down, and the unbearable restlessness in my body began to calm.

The medicine was actually a relatively common suppressant designed to lower one's desires. After drinking it, I was able to go three days without any impulsive thoughts or fantasies. However, by the third day, I couldn't take it anymore.

I wondered why the medicine only suppressed my symptoms for three days. It felt strange to me—was there really no medication with a longer-lasting effect? I had looked it up before, and apparently, there was.

"I… can't take this anymore!" I groaned.

Perhaps it was because the effects of the medication had worn off, but the rebound from my symptoms felt overwhelming, almost as if it was dragging me into an abyss. My urges hit me more violently than ever before; I desperately wanted to go out and seduce a man right that second.

Fortunately, it was the day of my follow-up appointment with Dr. Lancaster. I gathered myself, freshened up, and headed to the private clinic where he practiced.

While riding the bus, my gaze became hazy and unfocused. I could feel the control I had clung to for three days falling apart. Before long, the torment became too much to bear, and I found myself unconsciously hooking my hand around a man's arm.

The man was startled. Noticing how bold and unrestrained I was being in public, he assumed it was some kind of trap and fled the bus the moment it reached the next stop.