His Forbidden Treatment - Chapter 1: Chapter 1
You are reading His Forbidden Treatment, Chapter 1: Chapter 1. Read more chapters of His Forbidden Treatment.
My boyfriend was about to dump me—because I was frigid in bed.
Too ashamed to tell anyone, I sneaked into the hospital for a checkup, never imagining the doctor would turn out to be... dangerously skilled at handling women.
Not only did he fix my problem—he turned me into a shameless, insatiable mess who couldn't resist men.
That weekend, disguised in sunglasses and a mask, I slipped into the hospital like a criminal.
My heart pounded as I hesitated outside the doctor's office, knuckles hovering over the door.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in." A deep, velvety voice answered—calm, controlled.
Face burning, I shuffled inside and handed him my appointment slip.
"P-please, Doctor... I need help. My body... it doesn't... work right."
The moment I spoke, he glanced up, his sharp gaze locking onto me through his glasses. My words died in my throat.
I just sat there, frozen, tongue-tied.
"Dr. Ethan Lowell," he introduced himself smoothly, jotting notes. "Call me Dr. Ethan. Relax—I'm here to help."
God, his voice. Warm. Reassuring. But something about it sent a shiver down my spine.
"My boyfriend wants to break up with me," I blurted.
No reaction. Just a slight tilt of his head. "And how can I assist with that?"
Maybe it was his professionalism, or the way his fingers moved with precision—but my nerves eased. Even as my cheeks flamed, I forced the words out.
"He... says I have hypoactive sexual desire disorder."
Dr. Ethan's pen stopped. His eyes lifted, studying me.
I couldn't hold his stare. "I want him. But every time he touches me... I just feel wrong."
"A month now. He's frustrated. I'm desperate." My voice cracked. "Please. Help me."
He set the pen down, lacing his long fingers together. "Regular periods?"
"Like clockwork."
"Gynecologist? Ultrasounds?"
"All normal."
Adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses, he leaned forward slightly. "Any history of assault? Drugs? Unwanted advances?"
"Nothing."
"Certain? No mornings where you felt... off?"
"Positive."
A slow nod. "Your condition is treatable."
My heart leapt. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand. "Really?"
His skin was warm. Firm. A jolt shot through me.
"Yes. But—"
"But what?"
He held my gaze, unblinking. "Your case is unusual. Standard methods won't work." A pause. "I'll need direct physical contact with your... sensitive areas."
My entire body flushed. For a second, I nearly bolted—
But then I remembered my boyfriend's disappointment. The way he'd pulled away last time.
Swallowing hard, I whispered, "I'm willing."
Dr. Ethan's lips curved—just slightly. "Then lie down. Let's begin."
Too ashamed to tell anyone, I sneaked into the hospital for a checkup, never imagining the doctor would turn out to be... dangerously skilled at handling women.
Not only did he fix my problem—he turned me into a shameless, insatiable mess who couldn't resist men.
That weekend, disguised in sunglasses and a mask, I slipped into the hospital like a criminal.
My heart pounded as I hesitated outside the doctor's office, knuckles hovering over the door.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in." A deep, velvety voice answered—calm, controlled.
Face burning, I shuffled inside and handed him my appointment slip.
"P-please, Doctor... I need help. My body... it doesn't... work right."
The moment I spoke, he glanced up, his sharp gaze locking onto me through his glasses. My words died in my throat.
I just sat there, frozen, tongue-tied.
"Dr. Ethan Lowell," he introduced himself smoothly, jotting notes. "Call me Dr. Ethan. Relax—I'm here to help."
God, his voice. Warm. Reassuring. But something about it sent a shiver down my spine.
"My boyfriend wants to break up with me," I blurted.
No reaction. Just a slight tilt of his head. "And how can I assist with that?"
Maybe it was his professionalism, or the way his fingers moved with precision—but my nerves eased. Even as my cheeks flamed, I forced the words out.
"He... says I have hypoactive sexual desire disorder."
Dr. Ethan's pen stopped. His eyes lifted, studying me.
I couldn't hold his stare. "I want him. But every time he touches me... I just feel wrong."
"A month now. He's frustrated. I'm desperate." My voice cracked. "Please. Help me."
He set the pen down, lacing his long fingers together. "Regular periods?"
"Like clockwork."
"Gynecologist? Ultrasounds?"
"All normal."
Adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses, he leaned forward slightly. "Any history of assault? Drugs? Unwanted advances?"
"Nothing."
"Certain? No mornings where you felt... off?"
"Positive."
A slow nod. "Your condition is treatable."
My heart leapt. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand. "Really?"
His skin was warm. Firm. A jolt shot through me.
"Yes. But—"
"But what?"
He held my gaze, unblinking. "Your case is unusual. Standard methods won't work." A pause. "I'll need direct physical contact with your... sensitive areas."
My entire body flushed. For a second, I nearly bolted—
But then I remembered my boyfriend's disappointment. The way he'd pulled away last time.
Swallowing hard, I whispered, "I'm willing."
Dr. Ethan's lips curved—just slightly. "Then lie down. Let's begin."
End of His Forbidden Treatment Chapter 1. Continue reading Chapter 2 or return to His Forbidden Treatment book page.