"Wider, Millie. Yes, that's it."

I lay weakly on the examination table, my hands unconsciously gripping the sheets.

The voice behind me was low and restrained, but it made my ears burn.

This examination position was too embarrassing. My buttocks were forced to arch high like some kind of submissive gesture.

"Doctor, I can't open any wider..." I bit my lower lip, my voice trembling deliberately.

I could see my reflection in the metal bars of the examination table. My messy hair stuck to my flushed cheeks as my eyes shone with a watery, dreamy glow.

My name was Millie Wilson. I was a dance freshman at my university.

Less than a month into the semester, the boys privately rated me as the most beautiful girl on campus.

As I walked around campus, their lecherous gazes wrapped around my body like snakes, sliding down from my chest to my thighs before crawling back to my face. I knew what they were thinking: filthy and lustful thoughts. However, I enjoyed such gazes.

Whenever I deliberately swayed my hips as I walked across the basketball court, the balls that the boys were holding would suddenly lose control.

They would never have the chance to touch a body like mine. For them, being able to feast their eyes was already a blessing.

The girl in the mirror had the most innocent face, yet the most sinful figure.

My mother's excellent genes had been exaggerated in me. My breasts were so plump that they almost burst through my clothes, and the curve of my hips made many married women feel envious. These excessively feminine features made me swing between innocence and seductiveness. It was almost too much to take in at once.

No one knew my secret.

When I was sixteen, I started having embarrassing dreams. In the dreams, different men pleased me in different ways. As I grew up, the fantasies became more and more uncontrollable. They burned away my sense of reason like a wildfire.

I wondered if I was sick. Otherwise, why else would I be so obsessed with this?

There was no shortage of suitors on campus. The boys from the physical education department chased me like dogs in heat, their love letters spilling out of my locker. Their muscular bodies exuded a strong masculinity, yet they bored me. Simple-minded musclemen possessed nothing but brute force.

Last week, I met Heath Mallard at the campus hospital. He was different from all the other men. His body beneath the white coat was tall and slender, while his eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses were calm and collected.

When he lightly touched my wrist with his gloved fingers to check my pulse, I almost collapsed into his arms. His mature and restrained aura, unique to older men, was as addictive as alcohol.

My nighttime self-pleasure sessions became more and more frequent. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him standing before the examination table in his white coat. I needed him, and the desire for him was driving me crazy.

One afternoon, I spent a whole hour preparing. Warm water gently slid over every inch of my skin. In the steamy bathroom, I examined my flushed body as my fingers lingered on my collarbone.

I chose an almost transparent white tank top and a dangerously short denim skirt. Most importantly, I did not wear a bra.

The girl in the mirror was both innocent and wanton. It was the kind of look that most aroused a man's desire to conquer.

Walking through campus, the gazes of passersby were more intense than usual. A professor on a bicycle even crashed into a lamppost because he turned around to look at me.

I pretended not to notice the stares, but my underwear was already slightly damp with excitement.

The campus hospital was more bustling than I had expected.

The waiting area was full of girls, all wearing exquisite makeup. None of them looked like they were there for a medical checkup. During the 40 minutes I waited, girls kept emerging from the examination rooms. They all looked radiant, their legs trembling as they walked. It was as if they had experienced some kind of ultimate pleasure.

This only strengthened my determination.

"Come in."

The voice from inside made my heart race. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the examination room.

Heath sat behind his desk, his white coat spotless.

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting fine lines on his face as his gold-rimmed glasses reflected a cold glimmer.

When he looked up at me, his Adam's apple bobbed almost imperceptibly.

My legs suddenly went limp.

He was even more captivating up close. Something dangerous lurked beneath his ascetic aura.

I imagined him examining my body with his gloved fingers, and my breathing quickening unconsciously.

"What seems to be troubling you?" he asked, his voice calm as if he was discussing the weather.

I bit my lip and slowly walked toward the examination table. My short skirt rode up with each step, almost revealing the curve of my buttocks.

I knew he must have seen it. Men always looked there first.

I whispered, "I feel unwell all over. I need you... to give me a thorough examination."

The leather surface of the examination table was cold as it pressed against the inside of my thigh. My climbing posture was a bit clumsy, and my skirt completely rolled up to my waist. The back of my neck felt the intense burn of his gaze, and I could not help trembling.

Heath's Adam's apple bobbed slightly as his chest rose and fell more rapidly under the white coat. Then, he calmly put on the stethoscope.

The cold metal stethoscope’s head was pressed against my chest, and I almost yelped. The instrument slid down from my collarbone and precisely stopped above my heart.

I held my breath. He must have noticed that there was nothing underneath this thin tank top.

Heath's fingers trembled slightly, and his earlobes turned red instantly.

This discovery made me feel smug. It turned out that even a mature and steady doctor could blush for a girl like me.

"Your heart rate is slightly faster, but the rhythm is normal." He took off the stethoscope, his voice a bit lower than before. "Miss, which specific part of your body feels unwell?"

I clenched my fingers and deliberately let my voice tremble a little. "Doctor, I always feel... like something inside my body is restless."

My eyelashes trembled slightly as I looked up into his eyes. "Especially at night, I'll dream of some unspeakable scenes."

It was the truth. Those dreams were terrifyingly real, and the bedsheet was always damp when I woke up. There would also be an unbearable soreness deep inside my body.

Heath's gaze was full of emotion. He signaled for me to lie on the examination table, and his warm palm suddenly pressed against my lower abdomen.

I shuddered, my glutes alternating between tensing and relaxing uncontrollably.

"Does it hurt here?" His thumb traced a circle below my navel.

"Ah!" I gasped, my voice surprisingly sweet.

It did not hurt at all. It was clearly a thrilling pleasure, shooting through my body like an electric current.

Heath's hand continued its exploration downward, burning my skin wherever it touched.

I bit my lower lip to prevent myself from making any more embarrassing sounds, and my toes curled at the edge of the examination table.

"Do you have a steady boyfriend?" he suddenly asked.

I shook my head, my hair falling loosely onto the white sheets.

"When was the last time you spent the night with others?"

These questions, which should have embarrassed me, made the fire within me burn even more.

I mumbled in response and noticed Heath's gaze occasionally drifting to my feet. My feet were indeed beautiful—delicate and fair. My ten toes were painted cherry red and looked like a row of tiny seashells.

A boy once said that my feet reminded him of gemstone artifacts treasured in a museum.

"Your feet..." Heath's voice tensed. "They're exquisite."

A surge of heat rushed to my lower abdomen.

I blurted out almost unconsciously, "Do you w-want to touch them?"

I regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth. It was too direct, not something an innocent college girl should be saying, but a certain desperate thrill made me anticipate his reaction.

However, Heath seemed calm as he continued his examination as if he had not heard me. His smooth hand moved down my lower abdomen. When his fingertips traced certain intimate areas, I unconsciously arched my back to meet his touch.

It felt so good...

My whole body was burning as my consciousness faded, and my body felt like it was no longer under my control. Every cell screamed with desire as my eyelids grew heavy.

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."