I felt a hand shaking me and an increasingly loud voice saying, “Professor, professor.” It was Arthur, my assistant. He was trying to wake me up.

With a groan, I struggled up from my lab floor, wondering what had just happened.

My laboratory was a mess, with broken glass everywhere. At the rear of the room, a boiler had exploded. Steam still whistled from a broken pipe. Without thinking, I closed a valve, instantly stopping the steam and the noise. It also gave my head a chance to clear.

Arthur shouted, “Lady Carrington has gone.”

I looked at him blankly and mumbled, “Lady Carrington, Victoria – my wife!”

Although I still felt woozy, my senses were starting to come back. I tried to remember the details of the explosion and recalled how it had thrown me to the floor… But there was something else. I saw a mask, a hand, and then a rag, which I now understood to have been soaked in chloroform.

Someone had drugged me!

I looked around, and I realised that Arthur was right. There was no sign of Victoria.

The three of us had been working on a new type of steam-driven horseless carriage when the unexpected explosion happened, knocking me to the ground. Thereafter, it all went dizzy.

I looked at Arthur.

“It was the Steam Sisters… It was the Steam Sisters,” he was repeatedly saying to me.

With the ringing in my ears now dissipating, his words were becoming clearer.

“There were four of them. After the explosion, they dragged Lady Carrington away to their blimp. The last time I saw them, it looked like it was flying towards London. I tried to stop them, Henry, but they tied me to the horseless carriage.”

I glanced towards the steam-driven vehicle, the length of rope on the floor, and then back to my lab assistant. Unlike me, he wasn’t the sort of man to have a fistfight, being academic and fubsy.

Arthur handed me an unopened letter, addressed to me, and explained that they had left it with him before taking Victoria.

I opened the letter and read it…

Lord Carrington,

Please excuse any inconvenience, but we have borrowed Lady Carrington. She is quite safe and will be working as a housemaid until she has paid off the debts that her father still owes us.

Don’t try to find her or contact the Peelers. She will be in touch. You have been warned.

The Steam Sisters.

I read the letter again, thinking that for a warning, it was at least polite. Then I passed it to Arthur, who also read it.

Victoria’s father, the late Lord Carrington, had recently passed, leaving his solitary child, Victoria, only his title and a mountain of debt. He had been a weak man, with gambling, drinking, and whoring being just three of his vices. To add to that, he inconsiderately died at a relatively young age without setting his affairs in order.

That task fell to Victoria and me. We had already paid off the Clockwork Union and the Mechanical Turks, two of London’s most notorious mobs. That had taken most of our wealth. But now it seemed there was another gang that her late father owed money to, the Steam Sisters.

I knew very little about them apart from the fact that they were a mainly female-led gang located in Soho. They ran many of the capital’s brothels and were not the sort of people to be taken lightly.

“Professor, aren’t we going to rescue Lady Carrington?”

“Arthur, it's too late to chase them as they are in the air. It is best that we wait until we hear from Victoria or the Steam Sisters, as we don’t want her to get hurt. In the meantime, we should formulate a plan.”

*****

After an anxious month of worrying, I received a letter from my darling lady wife. The correspondence was concise and straightforward, informing me that she was in excellent health and receiving proper treatment. She still did not know when she would be home, but most importantly, she expressed that she loved me.

However, during that month, I had not been idle, and my contacts told me that my wife was working as a housemaid at “The Open Purse,” an upmarket brothel. I also had an idea of how to bring Victoria back to our home in Surrey.

As I passed the letter to Arthur, I announced, “It is time to put our plan into action and rescue my wife."

*****

I hated spending time in London with its crowded streets and the steam that seemed to find its way out of every building orifice and into every one of mine.

As Arthur carefully pulled up our horseless carriage in a Soho side street, a passing man glanced at our contraption. He wore a waistcoat, top hat, and goggles. A cane was held in his hand. He was dressed very similarly to me. With a smile, he nodded, then donned his top hat and continued on his way.

Such behaviour was to be expected, as steam-driven, horseless carriages were a new invention. The one we were riding was a little more unique than most, being large, powerful and armoured.

I glanced up as a large blimp passed over us low in the night sky. With its steam-driven propellers, it was carrying passengers, probably to another corner of this hellish, dark city. However, the airship's presence served to remind me why we were here – to rescue my wife, Victoria.

Arthur and I looked across the street at the imposing building that stood there. It was “The Open Purse” brothel. At six storeys, you couldn’t miss it, yet people continued to stroll by it as if it did not exist.

Knowing that I was just about to go in and look for my wife, I studied its impressive street façade. On the first level, there was only a large, sturdy black door. Above, there was a scattering of dirty yellow windows, each illuminated with the latest gas light.

However, what caught my eye was higher up, between the fifth and sixth floors, where a large clock face dominated the view. Its mechanism was well-lit; I could see it working, with the black hands and their driving gears ticking away. The clock's presence made me smile, as after all, once inside, “The Open Purse,” everything was on the clock.

I left Arthur sitting in the horseless carriage. He was going to get us out of there quickly if needed.

With a little trepidation, I walked across the street and tapped the head of my cane on the brothel's door. A small, head-high shutter slid open. Inside the opening, two eyes appeared and quickly scanned me, checking that I was indeed a customer.

Once reassured, the heavy black door swung open with a clunk.

Slightly relieved, I stepped inside, and I was asked to remove my top hat, goggles, and mask. Once I had done so, the tall, burly female door guardian escorted me to a kiosk.

There, an attractive older lady greeted me, saying she was my host and to call her “Madam Emily.”

She was dressed somewhat formally, in a long flowing bodice dress, though her overflowing bosoms were telling me that I had come to the right place.

“Name,” she asked, slightly sharply, from behind the desk.

“John Smith,” I replied without thinking.

It brought first a warm smile from Madam Emily, then a realisation as she told me, "We already had three John Smiths tonight... Is this your first time here?”

“Yes… Actually, this is my first time at any of these establishments,” I somewhat meekly replied.

“Well, John Smith, you need to first pay your entry fee and read the rules. That is, if you can read; if you can’t, we don’t want you here in this house of ill repute. We only require wealthy gentlemen.”

Madam Emily pointed to a short list of rules, which I quickly read, then paid my admission, and we walked into a large, well-furnished room. It had an open fire on one side. A scattering of leather chairs, settees, and several chaise lounges adorned the room. Sitting on them were several scantily dressed women; thankfully and unsurprisingly, none were Victoria.

Two women dressed in identical red bodices and white flowing dresses came through one of the doors. I assumed, as they were both carrying bedding and towels, that they were housemaids wearing an establishment uniform.

However, neither of them was my wife, but their brief presence reinforced the idea that I needed to have a good look around.

“Which woman do you desire?” Madame Emily asked, her hand now wafting towards the ladies in the lounge.

With my eyes briefly casting over them and the knowledge that if I paid, I could have everyone, a surge of primaeval desire went straight to my loins. At thirty, I considered myself to be experienced in matters of the flesh. But it had been a while since I had another woman apart from Victoria.

“Or maybe you would desire both Ada and Vera?”

I looked at the two girls nearest us; both were attractive and seemed to be in their early twenties.

“John, if you pay for both of them, they will put on an intimate show for you.”

I hesitated.

My member hardened at the thought. I had heard about such shows in my younger days, where two ladies indulged in the pleasures of their naked bodies. They called it lesbianism. But then I remembered that I had a job to do, and I looked back at Madam Emily, thinking that, despite the obvious delights of Ada and Vera, I needed to look around the establishment and find Victoria.

“Is it possible to just watch some of the ladies in their boudoirs?” I hopefully asked. My loins were in favour of observing the naked women, while my head was telling me this was a good way of looking around “The Open Purse” brothel.

“Oh, you are a voyeur!” Madam Emily exclaimed before smiling and adding. “You are not alone here in enjoying that pleasure.

“John, you need to remember that while you are here, it is possible to do anything as long as you follow the house rules and, of course, pay for your pleasures!

Ada will look after you, but you will need to pay for her time, and as it is your first time, a word of advice – you should always tip your whore after using her.”

I nodded and paid for an hour of pleasure with Ada. However, despite her attractiveness, her voluptuous figure, and her long blonde hair, I hadn’t planned to copulate with her. But I would be giving her a generous tip.

The blonde lady stood up, took my hand and introduced herself as Ada. Having already received her instructions from Madam Emily, she led me through the same door that the housemaids had walked through earlier. The corridor greeted us with evenly spaced scarlet-coloured doors along its length.

“You are new here, no?” Ada questioned, a hint of a French accent coming to the fore.

I told her that I had never been here before, while also noticing that Ada’s eyes were a bright blue, just like Victoria’s. However, that was where the similarity stopped. My wife was an older brunette, her skin pale, a real English rose. She also carried a medium-sized chest, and her height was slightly on the petite side.

In comparison, Ada had that Mediterranean look, olive skin, giant bosoms and was nearer my height.

“These are the boudoirs where we entertain, but we don’t go there. You like to watch, no?”

“Yes, I prefer to watch,” I sheepishly admitted, realising that I liked the idea of observing another couple's act of fornication even if one of the participants was a whore.

As we talked, another housemaid walked past; this one looked very similar to my wife.

Ada noticed me staring and told me that there were four housemaids per floor, but they were not available to guests, unlike her!

She also confirmed that the entertaining only happened on the bottom three floors; above them were their sleeping quarters, and the top floor was off-limits. It made me realise that I had a lot of ground to cover.

I even wondered if I should come clean with Ada and tell her why I was there.

With my eyes more drawn to Ada’s nether regions and her tight derriere, we climbed some stairs. At the top, we stopped and went through a hidden door into a small, dark corridor. There, Ada told me that from now on, we could only speak in whispers as we were going into the private viewing areas.

As we crept along the dark passage, I found myself feeling increasingly sexually excited. The idea of being a voyeur felt so naughty, even wicked. We passed a man, another voyeur with his whore, and into a black-painted viewing box. It had a bench seat and was just big enough for two people.

Ada put her finger to her lips – be quiet – then closed the black sliding door behind us, briefly plunging both of us into complete darkness. She then deftly opened the two little slot windows, which were at eye level in the wall in front. A modicum of brightness now illuminated us; my eyes were drawn to the light and the secret world that lay beyond.

As my head crept forward towards the wall, and my eyes stared at the bright open slot, I felt my dick stirring. It was getting hard, but that was not all I realised.

Suddenly, it dawned on me that the client beyond the opening was probably unaware of our surveillance. A second, more bizarre thought crossed my mind – perhaps there were men, or even women, who took pleasure in the sensation of being watched!  

As my eyes butted up to the opening, I knew what it represented for me – a new private world.

Then it dawned on me. I might be thirty, a professor, and have recently become a lord of the realm, but when it came to matters of the flesh, I knew little – that I was far from being a man of the world.

As my eyes slowly focused on the boudoir beyond the slot, I realised that my vantage point was high, just a foot below the ceiling. A large bed dominated what was otherwise a rather sparse room, just a dressing table, a wardrobe and what looked like a screen to dress behind.

On the bed was a completely naked man with a hairy body. He was lying on his back, his head propped up by a white embroidered pillow. Below him, kneeling on the bed, was a topless lady. Her face seemed to be buried in his midriff. I couldn’t determine what she was doing, but I did notice her brunette hair was pinned up and she was only wearing white bloomers.

Feeling very much like the voyeur that I was, I put my hand down to my britches and adjusted my manhood, which, if I had been in private, I would have taken into my hand.

I continued to watch the boudoir show surreptitiously.

As I did, I noticed the man seemed to be enjoying whatever he had paid the whore to do. Maybe she was kissing his dick. I just couldn’t see. He said something, and she moved up the bed towards him. He tried to kiss her, but she shook her head and instead directed his attention to her perky tits, sucking on her nipples.

This was something I understood, something I had regularly done with Victoria.

A sweet moan echoed around the room below.

The erotic sound made me realise that it had been too long since I heard the sounds of a lusty female voice. With the sound, I felt Ada’s hand on my britches; it was just above my knee. I jumped, startled, my eyes coming away from the erotic world beyond the wall.

Ada’s hand started to move, slowly sliding upwards towards my manhood. I gulped. Only Victoria had touched me in this way. But now that was just a sweet memory.

“Do you want me to help you with this?” Ada whispered as her fingers brushed gently over the crotch of my britches before softly rubbing my stiffness through them.

I gasped again, this time a little more loudly. I didn’t answer her question; I was unsure; I had marriage vows to consider. However, like magnetism, my eyes were once again drawn to the slot and what lay beyond it.

I peeped through it.

The woman still had her back to us, her brunette hair released and now cascading down her back. Her moans were more like quiet gurgles, her client's hand between her legs, her bloomers now discarded.

My eyes tried to carry on watching, but Ada’s hand was doing wonders.

I needed relief… I needed to watch what was happening next door!

Pulling my eyes away from the show, I whispered, “How much?”

“You're already paying me,” Ada replied, wisps of French accent once again coming to the fore. “So you could say it's on the account, no?”

As I sat back enjoying the female attention, Ada deftly undid the buttons on my britches. I had forgotten how good it was to have a female touch. However, my mind was still in the other room, wondering what I was missing.

Then Ada salaciously wrapped her hand around my hard manhood and started to slowly move up and down.

“Where did she learn how to do that?” I thought. It did not occur to me that the answer to my question surrounded me.

“Who are we watching?” I whispered as Ada expertly manipulated my penis, my britches now pushed to the floor.

“Violet, though everyone calls her Vee. She has only been working here a month.”

As Ada worked her magic, my dick appreciating her touch, the voyeur in me pushed me forward. I wanted to know what was happening next door. It was becoming an obsession.

With a glance, I witness the whore being rogered from behind. It was an unusual position, one that a dog would use. Her hands were pushed against the headboard, her moans now louder, almost familiar, but it had been so long since I had been with my wife.

Ada pulled back into my seat, the show briefly over, though the sexual sounds and a glimmer of light continued to come through the slot. It was sufficient to show me that Ada was now on her knees, my manhood in front of her face.

“The house rules say I need to use one of these before I go any further.”

Even though I had read the house rules, I wasn’t sure what it was, so I asked, “What is it?”

“It is a French letter.”

I was none the wiser until she rolled it down my penis.

Then the penny dropped.

Although I had never seen one before, I assumed it was a barrier preventing Ada from getting pregnant, and I concluded that she wanted to have sex with me.

But I was wrong!

Instead, Ada took my dick into her mouth. It was something I never knew women did, and it made me realise this was what the whore in the other room was doing earlier with her client.

I groaned. This was a new experience for me.

As Ada’s head bobbed away, my mind went back to what was going on in the room next door. I leaned forward, my eyes pressing against the slot.

Once again, I took in the naked couple next door. Their dalliance was still ongoing, though the sexual position they were now in was much more familiar to me. She was on her back, her face still hidden; he was on top and between her legs. It was the way Victoria and I made love.

Ada pushed me back into my chair, her head still bobbing, my dick throbbing, my release not so far away. But I needed to see what was happening next door. So I stopped Ada, pushed my chair away and knelt. These actions let her have full access to my now wanton phallus, while, importantly, I could see what was happening through the slot.

I felt Ada’s tongue curl around my member. I quietly groaned. My loins were burning with desire as her head once again bobbed up and down. Ada’s welcome, recurring action, made me realise that I wouldn’t last long. So, I planted my eyes against the slot and again took in the view through it.

The hairy man was fucking the whore, the familiar sounds of copulation reminding me of what I had been missing. I observed the man’s buttocks twitching; he was close, their bodies entwined. A rapturous cry from the lady, her face still obscured, though I had the eerie feeling that I had heard that cry before.

I jumped, my face coming away from the slot as I felt Ada’s finger come between my bottom cheeks.

“What was she doing?” I thought.

Her finger traced my crevice, sensually running it downwards, brushing my most private place until she found my aching balls. I stifled a groan as Ada gently fondled them.

I was so close.

But I daren’t look down at what Ada was doing, as my voyeuristic instincts were urging me to watch the couple next door climax – I knew they were just as close as I was.

With Ada’s mouth working wonders on my cock, my eyes remained glued to the action next door.

In those few moments away, the woman was now on top, riding the hairy man’s penis, her face still hidden. This was a sexual position Victoria and I had once tried when we first got married. Watching made me hope that we would revisit this position once again in the future.

Then, in a moment of complete rapture, the man and woman climaxed; the whore threw her head back, ecstasy written across her expression.

The look of astonishment traversed my face – it was Victoria!

My eyes shot open and gawped, and my cock spasmed as I ejaculated spurt after spurt into the French letter that was inside Ada’s mouth.

The whore I had been watching with her client—fucking him—was my wife!

*****

With my head still a muddle of thoughts, I crossed the road and climbed into my horseless carriage. Arthur was still sitting in the driver’s seat. He looked at me but remained silent, likely because he noticed my confused expression and realised that Victoria wasn’t with me.

With the boiler already fired up, he engaged the gearbox and released the brake and valve, bringing the horseless carriage to life.

“Where to?” Arthur asked, seemingly unsure, as Lady Carrington wasn’t with me.

“Home” was my one-word answer.

The steam, noise, and chaos of London, along with the important conversation Victoria and I had, were still swirling in my mind.

After watching my wife with another man, I looked for Victoria.

Upon finding her, we talked, and many words were spoken; however, the ones that kept bubbling up in my mind were that Victoria had told me that she loved me, and she never kissed any of her clients. It was too personal. She said that she would return home at the end of the month once the debt was paid.

She also stated to me that it would have taken too long to work as a housemaid to clear her father’s liability. So, she had willingly chosen a different, quicker path as she missed me and wanted to get home as soon as she could. But only when she was free of our obligation.

The fact that I had found out what she was doing wasn’t meant to happen… But now that I knew, perhaps it was for the better, as she was enjoying the variety of the different types of sex.

I was stunned. Yet, I was also guilty, as I had found a type of sex that excited me.

Coyly, I explained to Victoria about my indiscretion with Ada and that I had observed her with a client, fornicating. However, perhaps the hardest part was what I then admitted – that I had relished watching my wife have sex with another man.

It was not until we had left the city that I turned towards Arthur and spoke to him.

“Lady Carrington… I mean, Victoria will be returning home at the end of the month. She needs to finish paying off her father’s debt to the Steam Sisters. Until they have been fully remunerated, she will carry on working at ‘The Open Purse’ as a housemaid.”

I smiled to myself, knowing what we had already agreed upon.

Victoria told me that when she returns home, our sex life will be very different. We will be exploring a variety of exciting and kinky activities in the bedroom and beyond, including naughty sexual acts that she has learnt over the past month.

Arthur did not need to know the whole truth… That I was a voyeur, and my wife, a willing whore, who in the future would be occasionally… working from home!

There was one more thing I needed to mention… I then turned to Arthur and announced, “Until the end of the month, I am planning to spend quite a bit of time in London, visiting Victoria.”

Author's Note: All characters engaged in sexual acts are 18+ ©2025 wxt55uk. This story may not be reproduced in any manner without the express permission of the author.