Keep This Secret Pt. 03

In Chapter Three, David's relationships with Mary and Victoria go in unexpected directions. Notice how much his life changes, and how quickly. If you were David, what would you do with his invention? The possibilities seem endless, don't they?

.....................................................

For the next three days, Mary and I spent almost all our free time in bed. If I wasn't on top of her, she was on top of me. I had to take time to recover from one session of lovemaking before starting another, but Mary was always receptive to my advances. It was every bit as glorious as it must sound. I would say it was like being on a honeymoon, but I didn't love Mary. It's hard to admit, but I still harbored ill feelings towards her. As our sexual adventure progressed, I couldn't help but feel smug about having my way with a woman who'd wronged me. I felt like a sleazy character from a porn novel.

I'm telling you this because it's relevant to what happened later. It was something that changed the way I felt about my invention and the way it should be used. I will never treat another person the way I treated Mary.

I'll have a lot more to say about that later.

When we weren't having sex, Mary and I talked about all kinds of topics we'd never explored on our previous dates. Mary had been a reserved, closed-off woman who was slow to reveal much about herself. Now, she was happy to talk about anything and everything.

I learned that Mary was never interested in academic subjects, but she'd always been passionate about cosmetics, makeup, fashion, diet, exercise, and any other topic that could be applied to making women more beautiful. That included cosmetic procedures. I'd assumed her looks were the result of good genetics and clean living. She told me she'd had breast implants, lip plumping, rhinoplasty, a butt lift, and some kind of surgical procedure that transformed droopy eyelids into wide-open, youthful eyes. Her surgeon must have been some kind of genius, because her only surgical scars were virtually invisible.

I was particularly shocked by the implants. I'd always thought that a woman with implants looked like she had taken a grapefruit, sliced it in two, and stapled each half to her chest. Mary explained that cheap implants look like that. Cheap breast augmentation involves taking a water-filled bag of plastic, making an incision in the breast, and inserting the implant. There's a better way, which happens to cost a lot more. It involves inserting the implant beneath the pectoral muscle instead of on top of it. That's why Mary's breasts look so natural. The only real indications that they were implants were that it was unusual for breasts that large not to sag. They were a little too beautiful to be real.

Mary hadn't paid for any of her procedures. She'd conned various men into paying for all of them. Her victims tended to be old millionaires who thought they could get Mary to be their girlfriend if they just gave her enough gifts. That's why she had a closet full of designer clothing, a nice collection of jewelry, and a big pile of first-class shoes and handbags. She could have never afforded all that stuff on her salary as a hairdresser.

Mary had been a very accomplished little con artist. I'd use my sonic stimulator to put an end to that.

I also learned Mary was a certified personal trainer. She'd earned the certification so she could learn the best possible ways to keep her body looking good. She'd had a few clients in the beginning, but she stopped because she was too lazy to do the work needed to bring in new customers.

She liked being a hairstylist, and she was good at it. Mary said she was the most popular stylist at the salon where she worked, and I didn't doubt it. I was surprised to learn that Mary has a lot of artistic talent. Once, when we were going to her apartment to pick up some spare clothes and cosmetics, I saw several lovely oil paintings on the walls, and they were all signed "Mary." The apartment was so nicely put together that I suspected Mary had conned some man into hiring an interior designer for her. No. Not at all. She did it by herself.

Mary is an extraordinary cook. Her particular skill is producing exquisite meals that are as healthful as humanly possible. She's amazing. My diet improved dramatically when Mary started cooking my meals and doing my shopping.

One activity we shared while we weren't having sex was going to the gym. I recognized that Mary knew a lot more about exercise than me, so I let her direct my workouts. I started seeing better results almost immediately.

When I met Mary, I decided pretty quickly that she was a shallow person with little of interest to say. Learning the truth taught me a valuable lesson. She wasn't like me, but she wasn't dumb. Just different.

More about that later.

Mary spent every night with me, and she was there a lot during the day. I was having so much fun that I briefly wondered if I should have her move in with me. It would save time driving back and forth. But I realized that Mary made a better lover than a housemate. Despite my growing appreciation of her finer qualities, she wasn't the kind of woman I want to live with. I've got a ph.d in neuroscience. Mary has a two-year certificate from beauty school. I'm passionate about politics, economics, and culture. Mary doesn't know the difference between a Democrat and a Republican, she can't balance her checkbook, and her only cultural knowledge focuses on beauty and fashion.

It would never work out.

And there was another thing. Every time I went to work, I saw a continual parade of lovely coeds that were endlessly enticing. They are students, I'm a professor, so I would never pursue a romantic relationship with any of them. Still, they served as a daily reminder of the fact that I could have any woman I wanted. I could use the sonic stimulator to transform as many women as I could handle into doting, sexy lovers every bit as companionable as Mary. I knew I wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to be with many women. Letting any one woman move in with me could only cause problems.

One morning I showed up at work and found Victoria sitting on the floor and playing with the dogs. I sat down next to Victoria and saw that although the dogs were happy, she wasn't. Something was bothering her.

"Victoria, what's wrong?" I asked.

"Oh, it's nothing," she said. She was obviously lying.

"I am your friend," I said. "You can tell me anything. If there's something going on that I can help with, you need to tell me."

"It's nothing," she repeated.

Clearly, it wasn't nothing. It was definitely something. I sat there for a few seconds, then stood up and opened the drawer where I kept the hearing aids that block the frequencies generated by the sonic stimulator. Then I unlocked my cell phone, opened my music player, and began to play the sound file I'd labeled "Mary's Song."

I sat down next to Victoria and waited a moment for the sound to take effect. "Tell me what's wrong."

She began to cry. "My life is falling apart," she said. "I don't know what to do."

That didn't sound like "nothing" to me. "You can trust me, Victoria. If you let me know what's happening, maybe I can do something about it."

"You can't do anything about it. I'm not going to be here next semester. I'm not going to finish my MBA."

Victoria explained that since she enrolled in the MBA program, she'd struggled to put together enough money and financial aid to pay her tuition and other expenses. She'd worked every job she could get, missing sleep and depleting her energy in menial work. It explained why she sometimes smelled like french fries. It had to be hard for a vegetarian to work in a burger joint. The only job she actually enjoyed was taking care of the dogs in my lab.

She also had growing problems with her parents. They were religious conservatives who didn't think girls should get higher education. They wanted her to marry some oaf from their church so she could get down to the serious work of making as many babies as humanly possible. The tension was growing intolerable. Victoria thought it was past time for her to live on her own, but she couldn't afford that, and her relationship with her parents seemed to be at a breaking point.

Her tuition was due in three days, and she was $2,000 short. Now, that doesn't sound like a lot of money for most people, but it was an impossible amount for Victoria.

"Alright, I'm going to tell you what we're going to do," I said.

"We are going straight to the registrar's office and I am going to pay the balance of your tuition. Then we are going to the office of student housing, and I am going to get you a place in one of the dorms. Then I am going to buy a meal plan that will provide for the food you'll need next semester. Then you are going to quit every one of your jobs except this one. The dogs love you. I'm sure you'll be able to handle this job while being a full-time student if you aren't working yourself to exhaustion doing menial work.

"Is that clear, or do I need to repeat myself? I can repeat all that if it will help."

Victoria looked up at me through teary eyes. "I can't let you do that. I can't accept your money."

That was odd. The sonic stimulator was going full-blast, and I was surprised that Victoria could resist my suggestions. She's a very bright young woman. She apparently has a bit more mental fortitude than Mary. This was going to take a little more work.

"Listen to me. I'm not giving you money without any strings attached. I want you to promise to do something for me. Someday you are going to encounter someone who needs help, and you are going to help them the same way I'm helping you now.

"After you finish your MBA, you are going to get a big money job, and you'll see that the financial problems you're experiencing right now are pretty minor in the long term. What's important is that you finish the degree you've worked so hard to earn.

"You deserve a helping hand, Victoria. You deserve to have one measly semester when you can concentrate on your studies instead of being sleep deprived from flipping burgers half the night. What I'm doing is not unusual. You are a nice person, and I want you to promise me that you'll do things like this after you become a rich, successful business woman."

I said this slowly and clearly, looking at her face for evidence that my words were having the desired effect. I couldn't tell, so I figured I'd just have to ask.

"Do we have a deal? Are you ready to go with me to the registrar's office, or are you going to make me waste more time convincing you that you have worked hard enough to deserve a little break for once. Man, I had no idea your parents were like that. I can't see how such people produced a child as kind and caring as you.

"I'm waiting for an answer."

I couldn't be sure, but I had the feeling that Victoria was wavering. Damn, that girl must have a truckload of brainpower. But she finally surrendered. "Ok," she said. "I can't believe this is happening. Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?"

"I'm doing it because I can," I said. "I'm doing it because someone needs to do it for you. I'm doing it because these dogs love you. Dogs are excellent judges of character. Their verdict is in. They think you are an especially nice representative of the species homo sapiens."

Victoria laughed at that, then stopped abruptly. She got a funny look on her face. It took me a second to recognize the problem.

"Ok, I think I understand one of the reasons you are reluctant to agree to this. Victoria, a woman as intelligent as you is smart enough to wonder if I have some hidden agenda. Maybe you are wondering if accepting my help will obligate you to have sex with me.

"There is absolutely no way that is going to happen. You are a student, I am a professor. I don't go there. You are a sweet, attractive young lady. Any man would be blessed if you agreed to spend time with them. There is no way in hell I will be that man. God, I hope I haven't done something that makes you think I'm some kind of pervy old geezer."

"No. No. You've always been a gentleman. I've never thought you were like that. I liked you the moment I met you. And the dogs like you. As you say, they are excellent judges of character."

Hmm. She liked me the moment she saw me? What did that mean? With Mary, the sonic stimulator rendered her incapable of lying.

More about that later.

"Alright, let's put the dogs in their crates and scoot. We can go to the registrar and hit the office of student housing afterward. I'd like to get this handled today, while I've got some spare time." I also wanted to get it done before Victoria used that big brain of hers to reconsider my offer. The poor kid deserved a break, and I wanted to give it to her.

I was glad that the sonic stimulator helped me persuade Victoria to let me help her, but it seemed significant that it took so much effort. That was one more thing I'd have to investigate during clinical trials. By the time we finished buying Victoria's meal plan, she was ready to celebrate. I suggested that a good way to celebrate was to immediately quit her crappy jobs so she could start getting a decent amount of sleep on a nightly basis.

I felt pretty good about myself by the time I got home after work. As always, Mary was there, dressed in sexy lingerie. She'd been with me for weeks, and she'd worn elegant lingerie for me every single evening. She hadn't worn the same outfit twice. She'd conned a lot of men out of a lot of lingerie they never got to see.

"Hi baby. Did you have a nice day?" she said, giving me a sultry look. Mary didn't really care what kind of day I had. She was ready to make love.

We had a routine. We had sex as soon as I got home. Then Mary fixed us a fabulous meal fit for elite athletes. Then we had some pleasant conversation while our meal digested. Then we had sex again. More conversation, more sex, then it was time to sleep. We had sex first thing every morning.

It was a very nice routine.

I had a good life, though I thought I'd eventually get tired of having so much sex. That my sexual hunger would diminish after I'd fed that appetite long enough. The opposite happened. The more we made love, the more I wanted to make love. Maybe my libido will diminish eventually, but I can confirm that it ain't happened yet.

I often used our nightly conversations to find out more about the life Mary had before she met me. She hadn't told me much about her sexual history, so one night I turned on the sonic stimulator and began asking her about it.

She lost her virginity at the age of 17. Her boyfriend was a jock from a rich family. He dressed well, and she liked that. Mary thought she was too old to still be a virgin, so one night she and her date climbed into the back seat of his big car and de-virginized each other.

He enjoyed it. She didn't. It made her wonder if she'd done something wrong, because she couldn't understand why her girlfriends were so enthusiastic about sex.

Nothing much happened in the romance department until she was in beauty school. One of her teachers was a much older guy who said he'd give her a better grade if she slept with him. That seemed like a pretty good deal. He wasn't bad looking. He was nicely groomed. He dressed well, and she liked that.

Once again, the guy enjoyed the sex a lot more than Mary. He became a bit obsessed with her, which is understandable considering the fact that she was already a great beauty. She led him on for a while, finding reasons to avoid sleeping with him again, until finally she said that she really wanted breast implants. She made it clear that if he wanted to sleep with her again, he'd pay for her new boobs.

She did indeed sleep with him again. Once. Again, he liked it and she didn't. But she liked her new boobs, so it was OK.

A pattern was developing. It continued like that until I stopped her. By then, she was a skilled, experienced con artist with a long list of victims. Including me.

I found it puzzling that Mary had never had a satisfying sexual experience. With me, she was an orgasm machine. Somehow, the sonic stimulator had unlocked her sexual potential.

"So you never used to have an orgasm during sex?" I asked.

"I never had an orgasm at all before I met you," Mary said.

"Not even with a vibrator?"

"Never tried using a vibrator."

"What about when you were a kid? What happened when you masterbated?"

"Never masterbated," she said.

That seemed very improbable to me at the time. Since then, I've done some research. It turns out that lots of women never have orgasms. Back in the 1960s there was a famous feminist who held workshops teaching women how to make themselves climax. Her name was Betty Dodson, and she kept doing this until she died at the age of 91 in 2020. Look her up in Wikipedia. Better yet, look at some of the online videos of her orgasm workshops. Imagine a group of women laying on their backs in a circle, naked from the waist down, pressing large vibrators between their legs and following Dodson's directions. Maybe she could have taught Mary how to cum.

Fortunately, that's something I did for her.

"Mary, why do you think you're able to cum with me?" I asked.

She was quiet for a while. Then she grinned and giggled. "I think it's because you've got a magic cock!" She was joking, of course, but she thought there must be some truth to the notion that I was a very skilled lover. She had no way of knowing it was all due to the sonic stimulator, not my magic cock.

"Mary, have you ever enjoyed sucking a cock?"

"No! Yuck. I've never let a man put his cock in my mouth."

"So I guess that means you've never tasted cum?"

"No! Yuck yuck yuck!"

"I think I know the answer to this one," I said. "Mary, have you ever had anal sex."

"That's repulsive. I don't know why any woman would do that. I would never, ever do that."

Hmmm. I asked a few more questions about bondage, spanking, role playing, facials, and other sex acts. Mary had always been repulsed by all of them. It seems that the only thing she'd ever done was vaginal sex, and she had a low opinion of that - until I used my invention to change her mind.

I had a theory. I'd successfully transformed Mary into a woman who loved sex. I had a feeling I could go even further, making her a big fan of forms of sex that she'd resisted fiercely. It would be significant if I could make Mary enthusiastic about experiences that were contrary to her long-held beliefs. If the sonic stimulator could remake an individual's personality, that would be significant scientifically.

But I had a malicious agenda. Despite days of loving, generous sex from Mary, I still carried a grudge against her. The idea of forcing Mary to do things she once considered degrading held more appeal than I like to admit. But I'm committed to telling the truth, so I have to admit that I did some terrible things.

"Mary, you've changed your opinion since you met me."

"I have?"

"Yes. You love to suck my cock. You love the taste of my cum. You love sucking it down your throat to your belly."

"I love it."

"You love anal sex so much you beg me to do it to you."

"I love it."

"You like to talk dirty. You like calling yourself my little slut. My whore. My bitch. My sweet little cocksucker."

"I'm your sweet little cocksucker."

"You want me to cum all over your face. You love that."

"Love that."

"You like being spanked. You even like being whipped."

"I like being whipped."

"You like being tied to the bed and being helpless as I eat your pussy and fuck you."

"Eat my pussy and fuck me."

Those were all the kinky things that came to mind at that moment. I added more later. At this point I decided Mary had talked for about as long as she could. She was squirming around on the couch the way she always did when she wanted some penis therapy. "Let's go to bed," I said, standing up. She grinned happily and jumped to her feet. "Race you to the bedroom!" she said, moving pretty quickly for a woman in stilettos. She never wore shoes that didn't have towering heels.