Nymphomania: An Emily Willis Story

Katherine’s being hauled down the hall like a rabid little animal, kicking, biting, and shrieking in that straitjacket. The orderly doesn’t say shit, just drags her into the white room where the psychiatrist sits, calm as hell, waiting. He lays it out straight—fuck the other patients again and you’re finished. Katherine swears she can’t help it, that her nympho brain owns her. He keeps pushing, drags up the beating she took in Zone B, tells her she asked for it. She’s shaking, crying, ears covered, begging to be put back in her room. He gives her the abstinence speech—no touching, no nothing. Orderly yanks her up and carries her out. Days later he catches her on the floor, panties around one ankle, choking herself with her fingers buried in her cunt. He laughs, throws her on the bed, and restraps her. Back in the white room she gets dumped at the shrink’s feet. She swears she’ll be good, begs not to be sent to B. The shrink calls her a selfish slut, circles her while she cries, says she craves getting wrecked. The orderly’s already rubbing his hard-on through his scrubs. Both men unzip, dicks out, inches from her face. She tries to look away, but her hips are already twitching. The shrink offers her a deal: straightjacket off and a trip back to her room if she plays nice with both of them. Katherine looks from cock to cock, bites her lip, and whispers, "Yes, sir."