Morton's Island Ch. 01

Again an eyebrow was raised inquisitively.

"Please continued," Jane said. "I presume you will eventually come to the point."

If this annoyed the woman, she did not show it. She did, however, continue.

"The women, generally, preferred discrete affairs. You perhaps do not know the word 'gigolo', but I can tell you that at that time, Europe swarmed with them. Everyone who mattered knew and approved. The gigolo was the male equivalent of the courtesan, and both groups were integrated into society, which catered perfectly to the needs of its members. Naturally, the needs of men are different from the needs of women, and the number of courtesans exceeded the number of gigolos by a rather large margin. Men routinely engaged several courtesans at a time, and it was common for courtesans to form groups, entertaining men in establishments designed for that purpose."

"You mean brothels?" Jane said, innocently.

"Certainly not!" Madam said sharply. "A disgusting term! But symptomatic of how the British and especially the Americans destroyed culture that goes back at least as far as Ancient Rome. You turned something that was natural and refined into a mockery: as something unnatural, dirty, to be ashamed of."

"You place importance on marriage for life," Madam Sharapova continued, maintain a sharp tone of distaste, "but destroy the very outlets for true fulfillment that make this possible. Your men are forced to visit 'prostitutes'" -- she spat out the word emphasizing her disgust -- "And your women must choose between virtual celibacy or engaging in secret affairs with men who are not gigolos, who are often indiscrete and of whom their husbands are unaware. So it is no surprise that your social order is in decay, that families are broken, and broken again, that children suffer. Yours is a cruel society."

Jane was by now feeling rather uncomfortable. Why was this woman telling her this? Was she merely nuts, or was a point behind all this claptrap?

"Of course, ultimately, your societies will decay into anarchy and then, perhaps, sanity will again prevail. I do not expect to live to see that day."

"Fortunately," Madam continued, 'the old traditions do continue. Russia, of course, destroyed its aristocracy, though here and there one or two persons survive. I, for example, am a true Romanov."

She said this with great pride and Jane nodded as she thought appropriate, though she had no idea what 'being a true Romanov' meant.

"Unfortunately, Germany's aristocracy discredited itself and remains very much in the background. Spa, Baden-Baden and other resorts are no longer viable. Karlsbad became Karlovy-Vary, a town of peasants. Like Germany, Bohemia has fallen under the Anglo-Saxon yolk. But France has retained it social customs even though they are largely invisible. And here in Eastern Europe we have become accustomed to operating in secrecy and with discretion. I would like to say that we have kept the old order alive and well. But it would not be true. Even here, the force of your abominable violation of the natural human condition is everywhere. Opportunists abound. We maintain a thread, the tiniest of threads to the past. The tradition is alive, but only just. It is very fragile."

Madam Sharapova paused for breath. She looked intensely at Jane. Who wanted to say 'Why are you telling me this?', but did not like to. However, Madam saved her the trouble.

"You will be wondering," she continued, "why I am telling you this."

"Well, Yes! Are you reading my thoughts?" Jane replied. Madam Sharpova's bearing and pose intimidated her, but she tried not to show it.

"If you think about it, you will understand. You are Anglo-Saxon. The man behind this meeting is Anglo-Saxon. I cannot expect that you will respect our traditions. How can you when the only world you know is the unrefined, ugly, degrading one in which you were reared?"

"But surely, Count Esterhazy's word....?"

"The Count has committed a grave indiscretion. Since he carries considerable weight in our community, I was obliged to accede to his wish. However, there will be repercussions."

"What 'repercussions'?"

"That is not for me to decide," Madam responded, gravely. "I can tell you only two things. One is that there is no upper bound. The second is that the consequences for the Count depend strongly on the fate of these two young women."

"But surely," Jane said, hotly, "you cannot believe they will come to any harm?"

"They are courtesans, Ms Emily, not prostitutes. And I am not sure that the man who is hoping to make use of their services appreciates the difference."

Jane was about to ask 'Well, what is the difference?' when she realized this would not be smart. During her life as an 'escort', she'd bristled whenever the thought entered her head that most people would regard this as a euphemism for 'prostitute'.

But with Morton, it was different. She did not feel like an escort. Initially she had indeed been his trainer, in matters sexual. But that lasted two days. Thereafter she had increasingly come to think of herself as Morton's lover.

As strange a liaison as one could imagine, but it could not be denied. A bond had evolved between them. Of what nature, Jane could not say. It was beyond her horizon.

Eventually, she said,

"Perhaps it would help if you could tell me what a courtesan is."

"That is something that cannot be put into words."

"Well, perhaps tell me what a courtesan is not?"

"I have already."

Jane was becoming frustrated. She said,

"Well I will tell you what is expected of the young ladies, and let you be the judge."

"That is a good way to proceed."

"The man I represent is aroused by young women who have lithe, white bodies and healthy libidos. This is why he is here in this city. He felt that the Count would be able to help him. That is why we are here today."

"So would I be right in saying that your role, and the role of the Count -- pardon the expression, but you are Anglo-Saxon -- is to pimp for this man?"

Jane felt anger rising. She wanted to tell the woman to go to hell, stand, bristle and march off. But of course, she did not.

Should she, shouldn't she? She decided, Yes! she should.

"I think that is a rather bold accusation --- given that at your club the climax of the floor-show involves these women being auctioned off to the highest bidder."

"How do you know that?" Madam Sharapova said, sharply.

Jane relaxed. She had her now!

"I think it would be wise to assume that the man I represent knows everything about you, Madam Sharapova. He knows about your club, your 'courtesans' and your members. He is a man of the utmost discretion. But this has bounds. If he were to learn, for example, that you had referred to me as a 'pimp', well, I would not want to answer for the consequences."

Madam now sat straight upright in her chair. Clearly, she was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a fashion. Equally clearly, there were 'consequences' whose contemplation made her ass twitch!

Jane sized up the situation perfectly. Time for the oil.

"I consider our meeting here as an introduction. I'm sure in the 'golden age' to which you have referred, courtesans were properly introduced to the men with whom they would enjoy the finer things in life. As you yourself have remarked, this is something that nowadays is fraught with social difficulties. That is why we are meeting here, and why it is I with whom you are meeting, not the man himself. I can assure you, though, that his appetites include no acts a woman of format and libido would object to. In fact, if your 'courtesans' do not enjoy being with him, then he will not enjoy being with them. They will be dismissed."

"And in any event," Jane continued, "they will be free to leave whenever they wish to do so, as they are now."

There was a long silence. Madam Sharapova attempted to recover her composure. Eventually, she said,

"I assume, therefore, that there will be no further need for my presence.

That is, unless your .... employer wishes...."

"No," Jane said, smoothly. "I do not believe your further presence is required, or desired," she added cruelly. "Perhaps you would please now translate for these two women the thrust of our conversation. So they will know what is required of them."

Madam Sharapova an impatient gesture.

"So your man does not quite know everything. Neda and Nina speak English better than I do."

Jane looked, wide-eyed. They'd understood -- everything?

Neda nodded.

"High school in Connecticut," she said, in an East Coast accent.

Nina nodded.

"Cheltenham Ladies College. I hated it," she said, in an accent not awfully dissimilar from Jane's.

Jane recovered from the shock, eventually. Madam Sharapova regained her composure, and the meeting came rapidly to an end. A week, all details through the Count etc. etc.

Madam Sharapova was gone. Jane and the girls left the Imperial Hotel in a cab. They traveled to the central station. There they spent ten minutes sauntering up and down the concourse, exiting at its far end, where they entered a second cab, which conveyed them to the hotel in which Morton was actually staying.

Chapter 6

Morton lay on the carpet in the 'Hohenzollern Suite', his rump on a thick, soft cushion. His breathing was heavy. His penis was fully immersed in Neda's delightfully tight vagina. She straddled him, rode him, teased him, her slender body with its small but well-formed breasts and prominent nipples hovering over him. Morton's eyes feasted on her, and when they strayed to one side, met the equally delectable torso of Nina. She knelt beside him, but upright, her bright red, ripe pussy lips gleaming like beacons between the pure white of her slender thighs.

Occasionally a hand would stray down, stroke, penetrate slightly. Two fingers would spread the petals and ease upwards, teasing the pink tip of an all too ready clitoris out of its hood.

Neda pressed down now on Morton's prone body with the full weight of her own. She began to rock back and forth, moan softly, then less softly, then erratically. The motion of her groin expressed urgency, her limbs began to twitch, her head went back, the rocking motion intensified. Morton raised his hands, stroked her breasts, his fingers tweaked taut nipples, pulled, squeezed. His body lay still beneath her as her movements became wild, uncontrolled, her chest began to heave, ribs showed through prominently as she panted for breath --- a long series of utterances accompanied her orgasm. She fell forward on him, nipples prickling his chest. He held her to him as the aftershocks coursed though her body.

For a while, they were still. Then Neda rolled off Morton's, to be replaced by Nina. She was raring to go......

When Morton told Jane of his idea, she'd felt insulted. What? She wasn't enough? What had she done wrong? It was the way she'd felt when, long before, a boyfriend had suggested a threesome.

"Great. I could do with a second guy," she'd responded, knowing this was not what he had in mind. The end of that relationship.

"You're taking this personally," Morton had said.

"No I'm not," she'd responded quickly, contradicting with her tone the meaning of the words.

He'd explained to her about the visit to Club Venus, how he'd analyzed his responses and concluded certain things, most of which she knew. What she did not know, he said, was the effect the bodies of the 'Slaves' had on him. Of course, he knew they were not slaves and this was not the aspect he had honed in on. It was their bodies, pure white, slender almost to the point of being skinny, small breasts, large, stiff nipples -- perhaps it was the regurgitation of something he had subconsciously felt in his youth, he said, an innate desire that he had never registered, but nevertheless remained unfulfilled.

"Your body is surely without peer, Jane," Morton said. "I feast on your gorgeous breasts, your long, slender legs, your feet ---- did I tell you that your feet are unbelievably erotic ...." Etc.

But nothing Morton said had mollified Jane and in the end he'd had to lay it on the line. He was not one to mince his words.

"You told me, Jane," he said, "that I cannot reach my goal. No man can have sex for 12 hours a day, every day. It's what you said. On the basis of your experience. And so it has turned out to be, with you and me. Just the two of us. If I am to achieve my goal, therefore, we need to think how this might occur. And I believe having a couple of 'slaves' at hand, to help out, as it were, would be just what my libido needs to get back to where we were."

Jane had been silent.

"I'm sure you would not want to deny me my goal because you're afraid to step out of the box."

Jane still was silent.

So was Morton.

Morton's silence told Jane that, although he'd agreed she had been right, he was not abandoning his goal. He was going 'outside the box' one way or the other, with her or without her.

In the end, she overcame her misgivings. She thought about it and recognized that at no period of her life had she been as happy and contented as she'd been with Morton. She could not explain this to herself, but she also could not deny that it was true. She did not want it to end.

Now, on the sixth day of Nina and Neda's visit, she sat in an armchair across the room and watched as Nina rode Morton, her own body upright, arms at her sides, her lower body rocking to and fro, rotating. Nina leant forwards, placed her hands on Morton's chest, and began sliding her vagina over his rigid penis, in, out, half length, full length, slowly, more rapidly. Her own breathing became erratic, her pleasure obvious, her orgasm palpable.

But just as it seemed about to break, Nina slowed to a stop, raised herself again, fully impaled, and began slowly to rock backwards and forwards. Her eyes were closed. Jane may be older than these girls, she reflected, but they had plenty to teach her --- like how to draw out that penultimate stage of pre-orgasmic bliss, practically for ever.....

On day one, Morton had not been able to control his orgasms. Perhaps the tightness of their vaginas, or the sight of their bodies -- probably a combination of both. When his penis went soft, the girls scolded him and one of them sat on his face while the other worked his balls and cock with a gentle hand and not always so gentle mouth. He was not allowed to fuck further, they told him, until he was rock hard and the girl whose pussy he was tonguing had come. Since Nina and Neda seemed to come at will, and to suppress orgasm as long as they wished, this 'punishment' was a simple matter of control. Morton pretended to object, but, of course, he enjoyed the 'punishment' almost as much as he enjoyed being ridden and feasting his eyes on Nina's and Neda's deliciously arousing torsos.

On day two he was punished only thrice in the six hour 'training session' between lunch and dinner, on day three once only, and thereafter not at all. The routine settled in and the girls reveled in it, riding him until they came, one after the other. It was not that Morton did not come. He just seemed to develop the ability to maintain his erection through any number of orgasms. Naturally, Nina and Neda not only knew this, but aided and abetted. It was more fun riding him than 'punishing' him. When they felt his semen spurt up into them, they rode him hard, contracting the muscles of their vaginal walls on the upstroke, relaxing them on the downstroke. When he was hard again, 'normal service' resumed until Nina or Neda, whoever was riding him, decided it was time for their next orgasm.

By which time, of course, Morton's dick was as stiff as a ramrod again and aching. The girls let him ache for a while. They took their sweet time swapping places, though actually, this was never very long. Whoever's turn it was, she was good and ready.

Jane observed the proceedings from her chair in the corner, behind Morton, where he could not see her thighs spread wide, her hand at work. She took her cue from Nina and Neda and tried to string out the interval between her orgasms as much as possible. Towards the end of the week she had this down so well, her state of arousal when she and Morton retired for a 'relaxing evening' was palpable.

"You see, my dear, even you find them erotic."

"Shut up and concentrate," was Jane's playful response as she drove his head into her aching vulva.

Mornings, too, continued as before and Jane had ruefully to admit that Morton attained his goal seven days in succession --- a state of almost permanent sexual arousal. To her own surprise, Jane found that she did too.

It was Morton who elicited the information that the girls were students.

"Social Anthropology," Neda said. "Fascinating now that we have genetic fingerprints."

"Electrical engineering," Nina said, "though talking to Neda I think I made a mistake."

Morton moved immediately to assure her this was not the case, citing numerous companies around the globe 'with excellent prospects', but also confirming that social anthropology was a fascinating field of study.

When he found out that they could take classes online, he called immediately for Alfonse and instructed that the girls' rooms be kitted out with top-line laptops and connected to a fast link. By the end of dinner, this had been achieved, and thereafter, whenever Jane and Morton were enjoying the 'finer things of life' a deux, the girls pursued their studies. Well, Jane presumed they did because no sound was audible from their rooms that suggested otherwise.

Morton did not ask how two such highly intelligent girls were engaged by Club Venus, but Jane did.

Nina glanced at Neda, and Neda at Nina, some sort of shrug occurred and Nina said,

"It's fun."

"Well you do get paid," Neda added.

"Would you do it if you didn't -- get paid?" Jane persisted.

Neda glanced at Nina, and Nina at Neda, some sort of shrug occurred and Neda said,

"Probably. If we could afford the time."

"Most of the students have to take jobs," Nina added, by way of explanation.

Jane still could not get her head around it.

"So Club Venus is your job?" she said.

"I wouldn't say that," Neda said. "Because of Club Venus, we do not need to take a job. We get paid for having fun."

Morton was frowning, but Jane was on a roll.

"Having sex with strange men is fun?"

"It's a lot more fun than having sex with college kids." Neda said. "Cheez! What losers."

"Yes!" Nina chimed in. "I had a boyfriend for a while and d'you know, he didn't get me off once, not one single time. And it's not all that hard."

"But the guys in the club do?" Jane persisted.

"Hell, Yes! You think Morton's the only guy with stamina?"

"He is a bit exceptional, though," Nina mused, more to Neda than the other two.

"Well, maybe," Neda replied. "Depends what these two get up to when they disappear into that bedroom."

They both looked pointedly at Morton, who appeared embarrassed.

When the seven days were up, Nina and Neda prepared to leave. Before they did so, Morton closeted himself with them in Nina's bedroom. They were there for about an hour and Jane wondered what they were up to.

When the girls left, Neda said to Jane,

"See ya!"

And Nina said,

"Au revoir!"

Jane countered with a 'Bye. Nice knowing you', but there was something in their tone that suggested.....

Morton did not seem to notice. Jane thought of asking, but it was almost time for dinner and soon Alfonse would be up to take their orders.

At dinner, Morton said,

"So? What do you think?"

"About what?"

"About our little experiment?"

"You mean with the girls?"

"Yes! Was it a success?"

"Well, of course, I have to say Yes! You achieved your goal and I have to eat humble pie."

"You also said, if I remember correctly, that even a nymphomaniac could not enjoy 12 hours a day, every day. What about that?"