Eve Lilith pushed the call button for the elevator as soon as she stepped into the lobby. The office building seemed almost as posh and impersonal as the one she worked at; polished marble floors gleamed under the soft, recessed lighting, and the walls were adorned with minimalistic artwork and sleek, modern fixtures. The large, mirrored floor-to-ceiling windows let in ample natural light, giving a glimpse of the busy street outside but hiding the inner thoughts of the building from a peeking eye.
The reception desk, a blend of granite and dark wood, was staffed by a well-dressed attendant who glanced at the woman who had just entered his building.
Through his eyes, he saw a striking woman with vibrant red hair falling in soft waves around her face, contrasting sharply with her pale, porcelain skin. Her green eyes were captivating and intense, yet distant as if she were lost in thought. She had a slender yet curvy figure, accentuated by a fitted blouse and a pencil skirt that exuded professionalism and a touch of provocation.
She moved with a confident stride, but her demeanor showed subtle tension. Her fingers tapped nervously on the elevator button, betraying a hint of anxiety beneath her composed exterior. The receptionist noted the contrast between her poised appearance and the underlying restlessness, forming an impression of a formidable and profoundly contemplative woman.
Finally, the soft ‘ping’ notified her of the elevator’s arrival. The doors opened, and a mechanical voice alerted no one: ‘First floor’. She stepped into its mirrored interior and sleek stone floors. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror, her thoughts fleeting. Drawing upon her usual techniques to compose herself, she practiced deep, slow breathing, cleared her mind, and subdued all those feelings.
Dr. Stefan Köhler’s office was on the sixth floor, so she pressed the silver button, prompting the elevator to ascend. Subtle, soft tones, not quite music, emanated through the car as the doors shut, and a gentle jolt signaled the start of its climb.
There was a slight, unnoticeable to most, vibration through the car, stemming from the wires pulling it upward. Eve felt them like strong trembles, starting at the soles of her feet and spreading up her calves and thighs. Her buttocks jiggled slightly.
“No, no, no,” she moaned as she stood on the tips of her toes, held on to the brushed steel handrail, and leaned her head against the mirror.
Eve sighed in relief at the ‘ping’ announcing the end of her ride and let her feet settle back onto the elevator floor. She glimpsed herself in the mirror, straightened a stray lock of hair, and acknowledged the mechanical voice’s announcement: “Sixth floor.”
She stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hall. The offices of Köhler, Adler & Weiss Wellness Center were to the right. She sighed again and pushed the large wooden doors open.
As she entered, Eve found the reception desk to her right. Behind the big mahogany desk sat a young woman smiling at her. Eve approached the desk.
“Hi, I’m Eve Lilith Thompson. I have an appointment with Dr. Köhler?”
“Hi, I’m Camilla. Eve Lilith? You’re the referral from Dr. Stenson’s, right?”
Camilla’s voice was friendly but had a deep, sensual attribute that Eve worked hard to suppress.
“Yes. You can use just ‘Eve’, but that is correct.”
“Great! Just take a seat, and Dr. Köhler will be with you shortly. Let me know if you need anything or have questions while you wait.”
“Need,” Eve thought, “you have no idea of my all-consuming needs.”
Her gaze settled on Camilla and found herself drawn to Camilla’s chest—her blouse that clung just right, hinting at the curves beneath without revealing too much. Camilla’s black, curly hair framed her face perfectly, and the soft neckline of her blouse showcased a subtle but intriguing hint of décolletage.
As Camilla moved, arranging papers and handling the computer, her arms shifted, and Eve couldn’t help but notice the grace and ease in her movements. The way Camilla’s fingers delicately tapped the keyboard, the gentle arch of her neck as she glanced at the screen—these small actions became intensely fascinating to Eve.
Her mind began to wander, and she imagined the feel of Camilla’s warm skin and the sensation of her touch. The idea of Camilla’s breath against her ear, her voice low and intimate, became a powerful and distracting desire.
Eve tried to refocus on the impersonal surroundings of the waiting area, but the images of Camilla lingered vividly in her mind. The soft lighting and the quiet hum of the clinic seemed to amplify her mounting need, making it harder to ignore the intense longing within her.
With a sigh of resignation, Eve realized the extent of her discomfort. Her thoughts were clouded with desire, and she couldn’t help but think, “What I most urgently need is a fresh pair of panties.”
“Is everything OK?” Camilla wondered, shaking Eve back to reality.
“Yes, sorry, yes. Is there a washroom I could use?” Eve asked, trying to regain her composure.
Camilla smiled and pointed to a door at the far end of the waiting area. “Right down there.”
Eve hurried to the door, shutting it firmly behind her as she entered the small, practical washroom. She sat on the porcelain seat, burying her face in her hands and resting her elbows on her thighs.
She dreaded what she had to do. Removing her panties meant she had to give attention to her intimate area, something she had desperately tried to avoid since the morning. With trembling hands, she lifted her skirt and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, a necessary routine she’d become all too familiar with. Despite the menstrual pad, a desperate and futile attempt to contain her wetness, her panties were soaked. She carefully pulled them down, wrapped them in paper towels, and disposed of them in the bin.
The realization hit her—she was still overflowing with wetness and knew she had to dry herself. This meant confronting her most intimate parts, something she had been avoiding. Staring into the mirror, she steeled herself.
“You can do this!” she muttered, trying to encourage herself.
Eve rolled up her skirt, sat on the toilet, and grabbed a tissue. She clenched her teeth, determined to stay focused. “As long as I avoid touching my throbbing clit, I can manage,” she thought, though deep down she knew she was lying to herself.
With tears streaming down her face, she gave in to the overwhelming need. Her hand moved with urgency, rubbing herself to release the pent-up tension. The orgasm came as a much-needed, if only momentarily, release, easing the built-up pressure within her.
Finally, she wiped herself, retrieved a new pad, and put on a fresh pair of panties from the stash she always kept on hand. As she washed her hands and reapplied her makeup, she felt somewhat refreshed; her actions, though shameful, had become a natural part of her day. She had found a measure of acceptance, recognizing that it was either this or madness.
She took a deep breath and exited the washroom, leaving the last remnants of her shame behind the door. She found a deep leather chair, sat down, and sighed deeply. Apart from herself and the receptionist, the waiting room was empty, with only the slightest hum from the ventilation system and Camilla’s clattering as her fingers ran across her keyboard.
Camilla’s phone rang, and she greeted the caller precisely as she had greeted Eve a week ago.
“Köhler, Adler & Weiss Wellness! I’m Camilla; how may I help you today?”
Eve listened to the brief conversation, the receptionist’s steady, professional cadence both reassuring and slightly arousing in its smoothness. She tried to focus on the room’s neutral tones—the beige walls, the tasteful but bland artwork, the soft, indirect lighting—anything to distract herself from the ever-present hum of desire that coursed through her body.
She glanced around the room, noting the tidy stack of magazines on the coffee table and the potted plants that added a touch of greenery to the otherwise sterile environment. Her eyes landed on a large clock on the wall. Its hands moved slowly, marking each second with a quiet tick that seemed to echo in her mind.
“Eve?”
She looked up to see Camilla smiling at her, holding a clipboard. “Dr. Köhler is ready to see you now.”
Eve stood up, smoothing her skirt, and followed Camilla down a short hallway to a door marked with Dr. Köhler’s name. Camilla knocked softly and then opened the door, stepping aside to let Eve enter.
“Good luck,” Camilla said softly, giving Eve an encouraging smile before closing the door behind her.
Dr. Köhler was a man in his early sixties, balding but handsome. His glasses gave him a distinctive appearance, and his attire, a beige shirt with a light brown vest and a pair of neatly pressed trousers, conveyed a sense of timeless professionalism. He had a warm, approachable demeanor, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at Eve. His office was a comfortable space, with large windows letting in natural light and shelves filled with books and various objects of interest.
The doctor stood up from behind his desk, extending a hand in greeting. “Eve, it’s good to see you. Please, have a seat,” he motioned to a large sofa group by the window.
Eve sat herself down and fiddled nervously with the collar of her blouse, her fingers tracing the delicate fabric as she tried to steady her mind.
Dr. Köhler watched her momentarily, allowing her to settle into her new environment before he sat down and glanced at his notes again.
“Eve, I’ve been reading through your file that Dr. Stenson sent me. I want to begin our conversation by asking you how you are today.”
Eve sighed, feeling slightly uncomfortable discussing anything related to herself with a stranger. However, she knew she needed this. “I…Today is,” she began, her words not forming properly in her mouth, “Today is another day, but I’m coping.”
Dr. Köhler nodded, understanding.
“Your condition, ‘Hypersexuality’, Dr. Stenson writes, how does that sit with you?”
“I’m learning to accept it, but I need to learn to live with it,” Eve said in a shameful whisper.
“I understand,” the doctor said, “According to your file, you had an accident two years ago, and while recovering, that’s when you started experiencing these changes?”
Eve closed her eyes; she had been through this conversation so many times already. She had no recollection of the days before her accident nor the weeks following. She had seen the surveillance footage of the intersection, the car hitting her as she crossed the road, her body being flung through the air, and the heavy impact as her body crashed onto the asphalt. She couldn’t connect with the footage; it was always like watching it happen to someone else.
“I should have died that day,” she whispered.
Death. Even the thought of death did nothing to subdue her sensations; some days, it even enhanced them.
The doctor nodded thoughtfully. “And what effect does that have on you?”
Eve hesitated, her thoughts clear yet painful. “Some days,” she began, her voice trembling, “sometimes I think that would have been better.”
Dr. Köhler shifted slightly in his chair, unsettled by the dark turn the conversation had taken. Nothing in Dr. Stenson’s papers had prepared him for the profound depth of his young patient’s struggles.
“And yet you lived; let’s find some comfort in that,” Dr. Köhler said gently. “What are your first memories after the accident?”
Eve blushed deeply. While her cognitive memories of her past life had mostly returned—except for the days leading up to the accident—her initial memories of her new reality were laden with profound shame.
“I… doesn’t it say in Dr. Stenson’s papers?” she asked hesitantly.
Dr. Köhler clicked his pen and placed it on the table with his notepad. “Dr. Stenson, although brilliant, is a medical doctor,” he said calmly. “I am not, and he might not have captured the subtleties of your experiences.”
“There was nothing subtle about what happened,” Eve recounted, her voice trembling. Her first memory after the accident was as vivid as it was distressing. “I was rubbing myself, fingering myself, screaming in ecstasy in my hospital bed. I was consumed by lust, bringing myself to wave after wave of orgasms.”
Eve cupped her face, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. “There were two other patients in the room, waking up startled and terrified when they needed rest from their own traumas. Eventually, they had to move me to a private room, even though my insurance didn’t cover it.”
She recalled everything that happened in that room despite the haze of her medicated state. She had been incessantly pleasuring herself, pleading with the nurses—both female and male—for their attention and intimacy. Eventually, due to her behavior, the hospital implemented a policy where no nurse could enter her room alone; they always had to come in pairs for their own protection.
However, the night shift was understaffed, and not every nurse adhered strictly to the rules. It was liberating for Eve to recount her encounter with Drake, the handsome black nurse who had come to her room one night. She remembered how he had watched her, sitting on the edge of her bed, as she continued to pleasure herself. After checking the hallway and drawing the curtains, he had undone his pants and stroked himself while observing her, eventually taking her in a moment of raw connection.
That night, Drake had led Eve to an intense release, bringing her the first peaceful sleep she had experienced since the accident.
The doctors had assigned her to an interesting cocktail of medication, antidepressants, and mood stabilizers. They had suggested opioids, which Eve refused, but finally, they had found a formula that seemed to subdue her sexual drive sufficiently enough. Eve didn’t find it necessary to let them know how she saw Drake, and eventually, his colleagues, nightly treatments to have the most effect.
Physically, Eve was fit to be discharged, but her hypersexual state had extended her stay. The doctors wanted to ensure it was safe to discharge her and that she could manage her condition effectively outside the hospital.
Dr. Köhler sat in deep thought, picking up his notepad and scribbling the name ‘Drake’ onto it. He knew he might need to file a complaint against him with the hospital, but for now, his immediate concern was addressing Eve’s complex situation. Realizing he had underestimated the time needed for their first consultation, he excused himself, went to his desk, and dialed Camilla.
“Camilla, I need you to reschedule the remaining two sessions for today,” he instructed, his tone indicating the situation’s urgency. “Yes, it’s a matter of emergency. Thank you.”
As he hung up, Dr. Köhler felt a weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. He needed to delve deeper into Eve’s condition to fully understand how to treat her.
“Now,” he said, “what is your physical regime? Do you exercise?”
“I walk,” Eve sighed. “If I run, the movements of my breasts, the rubbing against my bra, each footfall sends tremors through my body, so I walk. I walk to the office; I walk to the store. I can’t ride a bike; I can’t use public transportation. Every subtle vibration surges through my body like a spark of electricity, setting off waves of desire that I struggle to control. Even riding the elevator to your office sent shivers down my spine! It’s like being perpetually on the edge, unable to find peace or normalcy. Every bump, jostle, and little movement becomes a catalyst, driving me towards the edge. And when I fall off, I’ll let anyone take me. Anyone.”
“I appreciate your openness,” Dr. Köhler said. “It’s vital for my understanding and for finding the right tools to help you. How do you feel about continuing this conversation? I’ve cleared my schedule for the rest of the day and would like to work on finding a way forward. Is that OK with you?”
Eve sighed in relief. She hadn’t shared her experiences with Drake or the other nurses before, and it felt liberating to finally open up about everything that had burdened her for almost two years.
“How do I feel, Dr. Köhler? Is there a better word in English than ‘horny’? I feel the same way I’ve felt for two years. If you offered, I would accept. I would let you take me right here on the couch, and you needn’t worry about your license; I would welcome you just for the brief moment of relief it would offer. And, no offense, I don’t even find you attractive or desirable; you just have the tools I need.”
Dr. Köhler shifted in his seat, clearly taken aback. “I see,” he mumbled thoughtfully, struggling to find a way to steer the conversation. “And how does this condition affect your daily life? Your work? Your social interactions?”
“That’s too big of a question, Doctor,” Eve sighed.
She recalled meetings at work, shifting endlessly in her chair, unable to concentrate on the simplest of matters, delivering incoherent answers to simple questions, and excusing herself to find the nearest washroom to relieve herself.
“I don’t…I can’t become the company whore,” she sulked, reciting how she let the intern take her in the mail room only two weeks earlier.
Social life? After the accident, she had tried reconnecting with her friends and resuming her everyday activities. However, countless mornings waking up to another stranger beside her and still demanding more from their unknown faces, she had to exile herself from drinking, from going out. At least with her friends, she had noticed their shame over her, her constant advances towards them, and her decreasing critique over who she took home or went home with.
“Once,” she said with a whimper, “I met a group of bikers, and they took me to their clubhouse. Just straddling the seat of the bike, feeling the heavy vibrations right there at the center of my crotch, made me cum twice before we got there. They all, every nineteen of them, took turns on me; more often than not, I had two or three of them inside me at the same time. They offered to take me home the following day, but I stayed there the entire weekend until they were utterly spent. You would think that would cure me for a few days, right? And for a few days, it did; I could get through a day at the office without having to sneak off to the washroom and listen with fear if anyone came in and heard me.”
Eve continued to talk; all her floodgates had been opened. She vividly recalled going to the Christmas party the first year after the accident, how she had ended up in a co-worker’s hotel room, and how they had shared their bodies through the night.
She continued to tell her doctor about the time she had let three men take her in the back alley of a nightclub, how she had let her taxi driver release himself inside her in the back of his cab.
She recalled her friend’s wedding, where she had found herself in the bushes with the bride’s brother both before and after the ceremony.
She vividly let the doctor in on answering the ad to a married couple looking for a girl to help them fulfill their fantasies, how she still saw them every Friday night, and how eating a woman’s pussy while getting fucked took her to increasing heights.
The doctor continued to take notes as she spoke, trying his best to compose himself. Behind the wise facade of his glasses, he was deeply troubled but also completely confused by her tale. He noticed that time had become fluid and stretched during Eve’s monologue, and they were well over the allotted time.
“I think we have to conclude for today,” Dr. Köhler abruptly said. “I’ll have Camilla set up an appointment for later this week. I will look at your prescription and make any necessary changes. I’ll have Camilla phone you as soon as I’ve sent it in.”
He leaned in with genuine concern, “Will you be ok getting home, Eve?”
“I…could I use your restroom?” Her breath revealed her intentions.
“Absolutely, Eve. Absolutely.”
Dr. Köhler watched as the young woman, twenty-five her papers said, got up, straightened her skirt, and exited his office.
It was the end of the day, so he opened his desk drawer and found his bottle of Glenlivet. He poured himself a generous glass and sat down in his deep chair.
Shortly after, Camilla’s gentle knock at the door as she let herself in sounded like a natural conclusion to their workday. She watched the doctor’s distress and sat down between his legs, unzipped him, and took his swollen member into her mouth.
Today, he came almost instantly, filling her mouth to the brim before she swallowed.
“I’ve scheduled her for tomorrow and again for Friday,” she whimpered, “Will her treatment take long?”
“I hope so,” he muttered, “I hope so.”
Thank you for reading. I appreciate a like and a comment if you enjoyed my story.
