The Sex Maniac And His Sexy Shrink

WARNING: This story contains explicit sexual activity and rough sex. If that offends you, please move on and read something else. There is something for everyone on Literotica.

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The Case of the Sex Maniac and the Sexy Psychiatrist

Escaped sexual psychopath changes family forever.

~~~~~

"So, when did you discover your patient was missing?" asked the older of the two detectives as he flipped open his notebook and started writing.

"About 7 a.m." replied the nervous young orderly. "Right after breakfast started. He hadn't show up."

"You didn't report him missing until 8:30!" replied the detective, his voice accusative. "Why the wait?"

"Well, first we checked the bathroom and showers, just in case he was there," answered the orderly defensively. "And then the library and rec room ― the other places he might have been."

"That took an hour and a half?" asked the detective suspiciously as he gazed out the barred windows behind the hospital administrator's desk, looking at the eight foot wall that surrounded the mental hospital.

"No!" answered the fortyish hospital administrator, as she interrupted the detective's questioning. "When Danny couldn't find Woodrow, he came to me. That's when I tried to pull up the video feeds on my computer ― "

The administrator's voice trailed off as she struggled to choose her next words carefully. The detective grew tired of waiting and prodded her for an answer.

"What did the videos show?" asked the detective pointedly, his growing impatience apparent in his voice.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," replied the administrator, sounding subdued as she avoided making eye contact with either detective. "The videos weren't being recorded. The camera system's live feeds were visible, but they weren't recording."

"How long had the recordings been off?" asked the second younger detective, speaking for the first time.

"Long enough!" confessed the administrator dejectedly.

"HOW LONG?" asked the second detective, raising his voice.

"I won't know for sure, not until the security guy gets here." responded the administrator. "Probably hours. I don't know how to operate the system. I've never really had to use it myself before. He'll be here in a few minutes. I called him in early."

"There isn't another security guy on duty now?" asked the first detective skeptically.

"Ordinarily yes," replied the administrator, her voice betraying her unease. "But he had to go home sick mid-shift. Food poisoning, we think."

"This is getting better by the minute!" said the second detective sarcastically

"I assume you've checked everywhere else on the property for him by now," interrupted the first detective, trying to move things along.

"Yes, we looked everywhere while we waited for you to arrive," replied the increasingly agitated admin. "He's not here. You're welcome to check yourselves, if you like."

"Oh, we will," replied the second detective sarcastically.

"We had to go through multiple layers of security to get in here," interjected the first detective. "I assume it is the same getting out. How do you think he managed to escape?"

"One of the young nurses!" blurted the orderly Danny.

"Danny! You can't know that for sure," admonished the admin sternly.

"It makes the most sense," retorted Danny. "Woody is a charmer, a real lady's man. He smooth talked the panties off of one of them, I'll bet!"

"Woodrow is very manipulative," the administrator had to agree. "Being highly manipulative is part of his psychopathy."

"Speaking of which," interjected the first detective, "can we see his file?"

"Nice try, detective," replied the admin without missing a beat. "You know perfectly well those records are privileged. You'll need a court order to see them."

"Well! No harm asking," said the older detective smiling.

"I think everything you need to know about Woodrow is already in the public record ― trial transcripts, news reports, your own files," argued the admin. "You already have a pretty good idea what he's' capable of."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," replied the older detective. "But I'll still need to talk to his shrink. Is he here right now?"

"No. Abigal ― Dr. Leeds ― is on vacation," replied the admin. "She won't be back for another week or so. There's no point in disturbing her vacation. Nothing in his condition has changed. There's nothing new you're going to learn from her."

"You're probably right," said the detective, nodding his head in agreement before deciding to move on. "Thank you for your cooperation Ms. Spalding. You've been helpful. ― Except for the files, of course."

The detective's smile told her he was just gently needling her.

"Sorry, my hands are tied on that one," apologized Spalding. "And it's Natalie, by the way. Let me know if I can be of any further assistance."

"Well, OK, then! Thank you, again," replied Cassidy, pausing for a moment.

"I have your cards, if I think of anything else," added Spalding without finishing the sentence.

"My intuition is telling me Danny Boy here is probably onto something," continued Cassidy, looking at the admin. "Can you get all the female staff lined up for interviews. Then we'll see what shakes out."

"OK, I can do that," replied Spalding.

"I'll want to interview the ones going off shift first," added Cassidy, "and then the ones coming on. Eventually, we'll want to interview everyone."

"In that case, I better let the women know that they shouldn't leave. The shifts are about to turn," replied the administrator. "I'll need to get right on that. Do you think my staff is going to be safe?"

"They should be. Woody will probably want to get as far away from here as possible," reassured detective Cassidy."

"We already have an APB out on him and we're running down his past associates," added detective Moody. "He's probably long gone by now."

"OK, I guess that's reassuring. Why don't you use Abigal's office. She won't be back for a week or so," said Spalding, not sounding convinced as she got up to escort the detectives to the psychiatrist's office ― and hopefully out of her hair.

~~~~~

Cassidy was the lead detective and he would personally be handling the interviews. He settled in behind the psychiatrist's desk and began reviewing his notes as he waited to interview the first of the female staff who were about to go off duty from the overnight shift.

'Maybe I'll get lucky!' thought Joe Cassidy as he started scribbling down the list of questions he wanted to ask each of the women. He had sent his subordinate, Phil Moody, back to the station to coordinate their other efforts and to begin contacting Woody's past associates.

Cassidy knew it was going to be a long slog apprehending Woodrow Shelbourne now that he was out in the wild again. It had only been a stroke of dumb luck that enabled them to catch him in the first place.

Woody had always been three steps ahead of the police, and the FBI too, Cassidy remembered. He had been part of the original investigative team that worked with the FBI to catch Woody in the first place.

With a genius level IQ and a charming personality Woody was a charismatic figure, Cassidy reminded himself. Add to that the fact that Woody was tall, dark and handsome ― straight from central casting ― and you had a formidable adversary.

One of the things that had made Woody difficult to catch in the first place, and would make his apprehension hard again, was the fact that many of his victims were infatuated with him.

Woodrow Shelborne suffered from paraphilia. He was what was commonly referred to as a sexual psychopath. And as such, he was pathologically obsessed with sex.

Woody's combination of good looks, charismatic charm and his sexual prowess, allowed him to sweep his female victims off their feet. Because of his mental condition, we was single minded in his obsession with beautiful women.

Woody was a six foot six specimen with movie star good looks and a package to boot. His penis was both long and thick and he knew how to use it. He had learned a long time ago that most, if not all, of his sex partner's pussies could not accommodate his huge muscle.

But to his surprise and pleasure, he discovered that his sex partners could take all of his huge cock up their shapely asses. Once he learned to push past the curve in their anal canals and penetrate their middle colons they discovered Nirvana together.

Once his prodigious cock was lodged deep inside his sex partners, the women went wild with carnal desire and quite literally became his lust crazed ass whores, willing to do 'anything' to have him deep inside them again.

By the time these women discovered the depth of his depravity it was too late for most of them. They had already been drawn into his kinky world of pleasure and pain, becoming just as consumed by lust as he was.

Only a handful of his female victims seemed immune from his charms, but their testimony at trial had been enough to get him convicted and sent away to the mental hospital from which he had just escaped.

Detective Cassidy was jarred from his internal reverie by the sound of the buzzer coming from the hallway. The administrator had told him the buzzer would signal the change in shift and that the female staff he wanted to interview would start showing up soon after for their interviews.

Picking up the phone, Cassidy dialed his fellow detective, Ed Moody, wanting to touch base before he became preoccupied with interviews. Moody picked up after three rings.

"Hey, it's me!" announced Cassidy. "Drop what you're doing. We need to contact Woody's former victims ASAP and give them a heads up that he's on the loose, if for no other reason than to cover our asses in case this psycho goes on a revenge spree."

"Oh, OK," replied Moody. "That makes sense."

"We should offer them protection, if they want it ― especially the ones who testified against him," continued Cassidy. "And the psychiatrist too, the one who buried him with her testimony. They may all be in danger."

"I'll get right on it," replied detective Moody. "Anything else?"

"No, that's it," replied Cassidy, looking up after hearing a knock at the door. "I think my first interview is here. Let's touch base later."

~~~~~

After interviewing the first three female staffers, Cassidy realized that he needed to change his approach. None of the women he interviewed was even remotely Woody's type and none of them had even see, much less talked, to Woody.

Cassidy got up from behind the desk and thanked the women who were still waiting in the hallway. He suggested they all take a short break in the cafeteria because he made some urgent calls to make. Then he closed the door and returned to the desk, picking up the phone.

"Natalie, I need your help again," Cassidy asked the administrator as he cradled the phone on his shoulder. He continued to scribble notes. He hoped using the administrator's first name would encourage her to accommodate his new request.

"If I can," she replied. "What is it?"

"I think interviewing all the women is going to be a waste of time," said Cassidy. "At the risk of sounding sexist, and my apologies if I do, Woody has a 'type' that appeals to him. The three women I just interviewed ― he wouldn't give them the time of day."

"And what 'type' is that?" inquired Spalding with an edge in her voice.

"All of Woody's victims were an eleven on a scale of ten," replied Cassidy bluntly. "The women he obsesses over have a certain glow about them. They all exude an animal sexuality. They look like movie stars, dress like fashion models, and have the bodies of centerfolds."

"Well, I don't know if I have any of those on staff," laughed Spalding. "But I do have a few lookers, I think."

"Those are the ones I want to see first then," replied Cassidy. "We can follow up with the others later."

~~~~~

"Fuck! It's cold out here," muttered Woody, slowly dislodging his long legs from beneath the steering wheel as he climbed out of the aging Honda Civic. Standing and stretching once he was out of the car, Woody stood at the edge of the turnout. From this vantage point, Woody could see the meandering river below him and the ocean just beyond.

Woody wanted to get the lay of the land. From his vantage point, Woody could see the Russian River flow into the Pacific. The detectives had been right. Woody had gotten as far away as he could from Fresno and the 24/7 media coverage of his escape on the local news.

Woody was just east of Jenner, near the mouth of the Russian River where it flows into the deep, cold waters of the Pacific. The continental shelf hugs the steep and rugged shoreline along this stretch of the coast and it could be wintery cold even during the middle of summer.

Never having been here before, Woody wasn't prepared for just how cold it could be. And making matters worse, this stretch of coast was notorious for its unrelenting icy winds which could chill you to the bone even on a summer day.

"Why the fuck would anyone want to vacation here," wondered Woody out loud, "much less live here!"

But it was what it was, Woody reminded himself. This was where his current object of desire was headed, so this was where he had to be too!

Looking at the time on the used iPhone that the accommodating nurse Betsy had bought for him, he realized that he would have to hurry if he was going to conceal himself in the Cape Cod style beach house before she and her family arrived to begin their vacation.

Woody smiled to himself, remembering how foolish she had been to leave the itinerary for their vacation open on her laptop during Woody's appointment.

When she stepped into the hallway briefly to confer with another doctor that day, Woody took advantage of the opportunity.

Seeing the itinerary open on her screen, he had quickly printed a copy off and pocketed it before she came back inside from the hallway.

According to the map on his phone, the cottage she had rented online was just inland from the coast, along the river's northern edge. After driving past the two story beach house, Woody continued up along the coast highway and parked the aging Honda in the first 'beach access' parking lot he encountered.

Fortunately the old car had never been registered to Betsy and couldn't be traced back to her. It had belonged to her aging neighbor down the street and he had paid her to park it in her garage. After he died, it had just sat there.

Once Woody enticed Betsy to help him by using his considerable charm and other assets, Woody had her buy a new battery and make sure that the aging car would run.

It was only later that Woody discovered what a struggle it would be getting his six foot six frame into the tiny vehicle, but he managed.

The fact that the heater in the aging wreck didn't work worth shit only became a major issue after he drove through Guerneville on his way to the coast when the temperature plummeted.

As he walked through the biting cold, back toward the cottage, Woody questioned his judgement in selecting Betsy Boobs as his accomplice in crime. On the plus side, she had a great body, particularly her rack, and she could fuck like a bunny. He had never heard a woman moan as much as she did when he filled her with his prodigious endowment.

On the other side of the ledger, she wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. Witness the condition of the aging wreck of a car she provided and the 'summer attire' she had purchased for him. Not exactly appropriate for his current arctic adventure.

But on the whole, he was satisfied with his choice. She absolutely worshiped his cock and would do anything to get some more of it. He was confident she wouldn't spill the beans to the cops if she were interviewed.

He had promised her they would eventually rendezvous and live happily ever after, with him fucking her silly multiple times a day. It was a nice dream ― for her. Woody had different plans.

Woody's mind recentered on the task at hand. He reminded himself that once he had his captives firmly under his control his tropical attire wouldn't be an issue any longer since no one would be wearing clothes for the duration of their little holiday together.

Everyone would be snugly within the warmth of the cottage. But far more important, Woody would be snugly inside the warm pussy and ass of his newest obsession as well as her teenage stepdaughter's tight little holes.

It was only a few more blocks to his destination, Woody reassured himself as he gritted it out through the cold. Checking his iPhone again, he estimated that he had a little over an hour to pry his way inside the cottage and find a suitable hiding place from which to pounce once the family of four was inside.

First and foremost, there was Woody's current object of desire. He had been dreaming of her nightly for the past year and he had a long list of things he wanted to do with her and to her.

But first he would have to subdue her husband and her son. Woody was also looking forward to making hubby watch as he turned 'daddy's little girl' into a whoring slut right before his eyes.

Woody was confident that both women would be worshiping his cock well before he was done with them, just like his previous conquests.

Both the boy and girl had recently graduated from high school and were getting ready to attend different colleges in the fall. At least that was the scuttlebutt among the staff and other patients at the hospital.

They were both nineteen ― but they weren't siblings. The boy was the wife's from a previous marriage and the girl was the husband's from his previous wife.

Over the course of their little mini-vacation together, Woody looked forward to playing voyeur. He planned on watching the family anguish over being forced to engage in incest with each other when he wasn't busy fucking the two women himself.

Woody was aware he needed to be cautious in controlling the quartet. Keeping them properly restrained would be the first order of business since they wouldn't exactly be willing infidels for the things he had in mind.

Planning ahead, Woody had bought a couple of packages of large zip ties at the hardware store in Guerneville on the way through town.

Woody had also found the Lady Colt that Betsy's father had bought her for protection in her nightstand drawer. He stashed it in his bag before leaving her house the previous night after rocking her world one last time. The small handgun would be a persuasive tool in the event either man got ideas about playing the hero.

Woody was jolted back to reality as a sudden gust of wind almost swept him off his feet.

"I'm freezing my fucking balls off!" grumbled Woody, almost falling as he trudged up the wind swept road toward the cottage. "I hope the fucking realtor left the frigging heating on!"

~~~~~

"Give me an update," asked detective Cassidy as he briskly walked across the detective bureau toward his desk. He was looking at Moody.

"All the victims have been contacted. The only ones that wanted protection were the ones that testified against him," said Moody.

"That makes sense," replied Cassidy before adding sarcastically, "the others probably want to pick things up where they left off.

"Yeah, that was my impression," agreed Moody. "Some of those 'ladies' seemed downright infatuated with the crazy bastard."

"That's what came out at the trial," replied Cassidy.

"Oh! Before I forget, the shrink definitely wants protection," added Moody. "She's scared shitless, Joe. He apparently told her in graphic detail what he planned on doing to her if he got out."

"That bad, huh?" replied Cassidy.

"Yeah," replied Moody. "Although I'm not sure some of what he said is even physically possible."

"Well, it's the thought that counts," replied Cassidy drolly. "Ask her if she wants to be relocated temporarily."