Lately I've been in a bad mood, so my friend suggests that I see a traditional medicine practitioner.

But I dare not do that, for I'm addicted to carnal pleasure. Rumors have it that a traditional medicine practitioner can easily tell what my addiction is.

Unfortunately, my body keeps going through changes I can't explain, so I can only head toward a clinic on my own.

As expected, the way the practitioner looks at me shifts instantly.

"You've been longing to get screwed out of your brains, right?"

He pins me on the desk before tugging off my damp panties…

My name was Evelyn Hartwell. I was a sophomore and known as the most beautiful woman in my department. Countless people had a crush on me.

Every time I went on a date, the man's touch left me restless with desire, yet none of them could satisfy me. Before I even felt anything, they pulled up their pants and fell asleep beside me, so I had to relieve myself with my own hands.

But that was nowhere near enough. My fingers were too small. If only there were two… or something larger.

The more I thought about it, the more flushed I became. Hiding under the covers, I climbed on top of my boyfriend. He pushed me away while half-asleep. "Sweetheart, I'm tired," he said.

After he finished speaking, he turned his back to me and fell into a deep sleep. I packed my things right away, broke up with him, and went home.

With no one left to satisfy my desires, I grew even more restless. The guys at school saw me as untouchable, so none of them dared to approach me directly.

My close friend, Riley Hayes, noticed my low mood and suggested I see a traditional medicine practitioner. "They're really accurate. They can even tell what you ate last night just by feeling your pulse."

I swallowed hard. If they could tell that I had been pleasuring myself every night…

"No, thanks," I said.

…

In the middle of the night, my chest felt tight and sensitive. No matter how fast I moved my hand, I still felt unsatisfied with the large silicone toy. On the screen nearby, the actors began another intense scene while I, still unfulfilled, could only finish in a rush.

After thinking it over, I pulled up the contact information for the traditional medicine practitioner Riley had recommended.

I carefully chose my words and sent him a message. "Hello, what time are you available tomorrow for an appointment?"

As I waited nervously, he replied almost immediately. "I'm available now. You can come over."

I checked the time. It was already 9:10 pm, which felt a little late.

Even though my thoughts were bold and heated, I had always been known as a gentle, well-behaved woman. Besides, the lights in my dorm went out at 10:00 pm. If I went now, I might not make it back in time.

I accidentally clicked on the practitioner's social media profile and saw a photo of his abs. Under the dim lighting, his skin looked firm. Although his face was hidden, his strong build, defined abs, and sharp V-line made it clear that he had an incredible physique.

I suddenly wondered if things would be different if he were my boyfriend. He looked capable; that part of him must be impressive.

I gulped. My empty core suddenly ached with longing.

I took a shower, and by the time I arrived at the traditional medicine clinic, it was already 9:30 pm. Only a couple of lights were on, and there was hardly anyone there.

Before I could speak, a young man wearing a mask walked out. "Are you Evelyn Hartwell?" he asked.

When I nodded, he rolled up the sleeves of his white coat and said, "Have a seat and take off your coat. I'll check you first."

Looking at the veins on his hands, I caught myself imagining how good it would feel to be held down by those hands. When I snapped back to reality, he was checking my condition. I quickly pushed the unrealistic fantasies out of my mind.

He glanced at me now and then. "Your energy is low, and your system seems strained. Do you stay up late often?"

I grew even more uneasy. Dampness spread underneath my skirt, and I couldn't stop my hand from rubbing against myself under the table. "I-I guess so."

He raised an eyebrow and pressed his hand against my arm. "Tell the truth."

I lowered my head, feeling extremely anxious. Yet the tension below only built, almost slipping out of control.

In a daze, I suddenly heard him say, "Slut."

Before I could react, he grabbed my hand. His sharp gaze swept over me, dark and unrestrained.

He said, "You've actually wanted me to do this for a long time, haven't you? You lying brat, did you think I couldn't tell? You pleasured yourself once before coming here, and now you still have the nerve to touch yourself in front of me?"

I lacked the courage to admit it and stood up, trying to run.

"W-What are you talking about?" I stammered.

The traditional medicine practitioner strode over to lock the door, blocking my path. After I bumped into his well-built frame, I stumbled back several steps until I was pressed against the desk.

His dark gaze scanned every inch of me intensely. "Your friend already told me that you're a slut who can never get enough. You have a nice body, but you aren't very honest. Now, let me teach you how to be more truthful."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.

I was already soaked down there, but I didn't want to appear too easy. I just craved pleasure intensely; I wasn't a slut.

His large hand gripped my backside while the bulge in his trousers pressed against my stomach. "Still acting tough. Do you want it or not?"

He took off his mask to reveal a handsome, aloof face, with a faint intensity flickering in his eyes. But his words were incredibly blunt. "Where are you most sensitive? Is it here?"

His hand brushed along my waist, and I immediately went weak. My body slumped against the table as he slowly rubbed me. His slightly calloused fingers easily unbuttoned my clothes and slipped inside to brush against my chest. His teasing was overwhelming.

"No… please, I'm begging you," I said.

He sneered. "Are you begging me to take you sooner?"

Just then, someone knocked on the door. A voice called from outside, "Dr. Laurent, are you in there?"

Vincent Laurent didn't even bat an eye. He pressed himself even closer to me and smirked faintly as he looked into my panicked eyes. "I'm here."

I gasped in terror. "Don't let him in!"

I was a mess down there, and faint damp marks had already spread across my clothes.

Vincent shoved me under the examination table. He opened the door, sat back down, and asked the patient who had come in, "What seems to be the problem?"

I covered my mouth and curled up beneath the table. All I could see were his leather shoes and straight legs.

The patient spoke for a long time. I barely dared to breathe, yet Vincent calmly responded as he spread his legs toward me.

He unbuckled his belt with one hand. The length beneath his white coat was impossibly thick. It was truly enormous.

My breathing quickened as heat rushed through me in an instant. If I took it into my mouth…

Vincent rubbed himself in slow circles through the fabric of his underwear. I swallowed hard and watched him without blinking.

I couldn't help but reach for my own core, following his rhythm. It felt incredible. I covered my mouth as I gasped quietly.

"What was that sound?" the patient asked.

My heart leapt into my throat, thrill and fear tangling together.

I glanced up at Vincent and saw that he was completely unfazed. He sped up his hand, his voice remaining calm. "The soundproofing is poor. There's a food street nearby."

Then, to my surprise, he pulled it out. It appeared even larger and thicker when it sprang free. I simply couldn't look away. It was no exaggeration that none of my ex-boyfriends could compare to him.

My mouth instantly went dry, and I crawled toward him without thinking. I unconsciously lifted my hips, my legs rubbing together restlessly as I behaved like a desperate animal seeking attention.

But I didn't care about any of that. My eyes were fixed solely on Vincent's massive size. It could surely fill me up and leave me satisfied.

Sensing me move closer, Vincent glanced down with a more playful look in his eyes. He pushed his hand into my mouth, kneading and stirring until my saliva dripped down.

Vincent wrote a prescription slip with one hand. "I understand your condition. Come by tomorrow to pick up your medicine. Don't stay up late tonight."

"Oh, it's already 10:00 pm. Thank you, Dr. Laurent. You should get some rest, too," the patient replied.

As soon as he left, Vincent pushed my head down.

I was forced to move up and down, caught between discomfort and pleasure. I was incredibly anxious and impatient, but at the same time, I was so overstimulated that I couldn't pull myself away.

Vincent hauled me up a split second before he was about to come, kissing me as he soaked my skirt. Then he pressed me onto the examination table from earlier.

The door was still wide open, and what had just happened left me with lingering fear. "T-The door isn't closed. Someone might see us," I stammered.

His hand traced circles around my waist. My lower body tightened, and despite the lack of direct contact, I released a fresh wave of moisture.

Vincent said, "You really are slutty. Isn't it better if they see us? Don't you want to be watched?"

He turned me over, my clothes pressing tightly against my chest as the cold table rubbed against me. He didn't enter me, yet I found the sensation even more thrilling than if he had.

The hot, hard length of him felt like it was burning more intensely. His movements grew increasingly fierce, and he couldn't stop himself. He slapped my butt a few times, making me tense on instinct.

"S-Slow down," I pleaded.

The only response I got was him pounding against me even harder.

…

Although we didn't go all the way, I felt surprisingly satisfied. Thinking about how none of my ex-boyfriends could compare to Vincent, I wanted to delete every single one of their contacts immediately. They were all just useless losers.

I had already missed my dorm's curfew, so Vincent took me to his place, but he didn't stay there. Instead, he booked a room at a nearby hotel. Before leaving, he gave me the door code.

"I'll be messaging you over the next few days. If you want to cure your condition, do exactly as I say," he said.

He made it clear that everything he did was part of my treatment. I knew my intense craving wasn't normal, so I didn't have much of an issue with his special treatment. Regardless, I had enjoyed myself, so I nodded in agreement.

Perhaps it was because my innocent and gentle appearance made me seem docile that, after glancing at me for a moment, he pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Goodnight," he said.

I grew damp once again and quickly shut the door.

…

The next day, Riley called me first. Before I could scold her, she explained that Vincent might have a bad temper, but his medical skills were exceptional. "He doesn't take simple cases, that's why I described you that way," she said.

Riley and I grew up together, and she had never harmed me. Reflecting on this, I nodded. "His skills are indeed impressive. The last session was very effective."

I was so exhausted that I didn't even dream last night.

Just then, Vincent sent me a message, so I ended the call with Riley. He asked if I was awake.

I replied, "I'm going to wash up and then head back to campus in a bit."

Vincent asked, "What are you wearing today?"

I answered, "The same as yesterday. I didn't bring a change of clothes."

Vincent replied instantly. "I left some new clothes for you at the door. Put them on and send me a photo."

I opened the door and found a gift bag. It contained a full outfit, including brand-new underwear. I put them on, and they fit perfectly. But they were quite tight, a far cry from my usual loose dresses. Most importantly, there was no bra.

Vincent messaged, "The treatment has begun. The first step today is to go without a bra."

My nipples were prominent through the thin fabric, making me hesitate. As if sensing my thoughts, Vincent sent a photo. It showed a veiny hand covered in moisture. Just looking at what he held reminded me of the foreign sensation between my legs from the previous night.

I touched my collarbone without thinking and was about to move down when he sent another message. "Don't touch yourself."

I grew even more restless, but reminding myself that this was part of the treatment, I forced myself to endure it.

Even though the fabric was chiffon, I couldn't stop feeling self-conscious about my breasts. Whenever I bent over slightly or sat down in public, I felt as if everyone was staring at me.

At noon, Vincent sent a message. "Take off your underwear and send me a photo."

He also sent a nude photo of himself after a workout.

I rushed into the women's restroom, carefully took a photo of the soaked fabric, and sent it to him. "What if I can't wear it anymore?" I asked.

Vincent then sent a voice message. I held the speaker to my ear at the lowest volume. He spoke in a low voice. "Then don't wear it, sweetheart."

I became even wetter. His words felt like a whisper against my ear, impossible to forget.

Since I wasn't wearing underwear, I unconsciously walked with my legs pressed together. Whenever I felt any hint of dampness, I immediately went to the restroom to wipe myself clean. If I could sit, I wouldn't stand.

After a full day of torment, my focus had shifted from my chest to my lower body, and finally to Vincent, who said he’d come to pick me up.

I started waiting for class to end at 4:45 pm. Although only 15 minutes remained, it felt like an eternity. My mind kept replaying images of Vincent's thick member and powerful arms. I lost count of how many times I swallowed hard.

The second the bell rang, I hurried out of the classroom with the crowd.

As soon as I got into the car, Vincent openly stared at my chest. I instinctively tried to cover myself, but he said, "It looks good. Don't hide it."

I had no choice but to lower my hands. The seatbelt hugged my curves, making the outline of my chest even more obvious. I noticed Vincent's Adam's apple bob slightly.

After the car entered the underground parking lot, he turned and bit my lip. I reacted almost instantly.

He nipped at my chest with a grin as his hand slid lower. The space inside the car was cramped. He pulled me onto his lap and caressed every inch of me. "How does it feel now?"

I was so frantic that my eyes nearly welled up with tears as I fumbled with his clothes. "I-It's too much. I can't take it anymore. I want—"

Vincent grabbed my hips and thrust upward. I cried out immediately. My strained expression was reflected in the car window as the vehicle shook rhythmically.

Vincent took out something else. It wasn't as thick as him, but it was quite long. He turned it to the highest setting in front of me and slowly pressed it inside.

Suddenly, footsteps came from outside the car. "Don't be so rough. What if someone comes by?"

That voice sounded familiar. It was Riley!

Outside the window, Riley was held in a guy's arms. His hands were wandering, working her into a frenzy. He buried his head in her neck, and then they suddenly leaned against Vincent's car.

Vincent abruptly shoved it deep inside, nearly making me scream. "You're getting distracted by that? Am I not enough for you, you little slut?"