Victoria Ch. 01
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Dear Reader, several non- Confederation planets, not owned and colonized by Stellardyne exist in the Feldon-Maxwell Utopian Universe. This story explores the non-Canfederation planet of Victoria. Rejecting everything modern and especially Utopian, a group of British aristocrats wanted to live like their ancestors did in the old days. They created a fantasy world named Victoria, which resembled the charm and societal standard of 19th Century Enfland. Victorian citizens reverted back to the living as the British did during Queen Victoria’s reign, along with sexual repression, household servants and the age of steam. All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older.
Ambrose Grantham, formerly Ambrose Williams, had taken his wife’s last name when he and Venus got married on Terra Nova. It had become increasingly difficult for Venus to make any money on Terra Nova as a courtesan when prostitution was legalized on that planet. Competition between whores was cut-throat. A visiting space farer could get a blowjob for 5 credits, or a piece of pussy or ass for 10. Venereal disease was not a problem and people in the streets were accustomed to seeing women and men negotiating sexual transactions in public. It seemed like there was a rent-by-the-hour hotel on nearly every street corner.
Venus’ mother had been a highly paid gentleman’s escort for several years when Venus joined her mother as a courtesan on her eighteenth birthday. Ambrose had been one of Venus’ clients when she was just starting out under her mother’s direction. The Grantham family women had been courtesans for European aristocrats since the 17th Century back on Earth. That tradition of Grantham women following the courtesan tradition had carried on since then.
Venus had been an only child and was all that was left of the Grantham female line when her courtesan mother had been killed by a demented client. Her father blamed himself for his wife’s death because he had cleared the killer to have sexual union with his wife. Venus’ father was afraid for his daughter’s wellbeing when he started looking for ways to get her off Terra Nova.
Ambrose was a wealthy man who had become one of Venus’ favorite suitors. He had become a partner in his father and grandfather’s brokerage firm as soon as he graduated High School. He didn’t need a college degree to work with the older Williams men, he just needed cunning, inter-personal skills and a good eye for a bargain. Ambrose had those qualities in abundance.
A successful stock trader, Ambrose’s grandfather and father had started buying Stellardyne stock in the early days when it was still very undervalued. The Williams family, including Ambrose had done quite well for themselves financially by buying stock in Stellardyne technology and on Stellardyne colonies. That’s how Ambrose had become a multi-millionaire by the time he was twenty.
Too busy to date, Ambrose had decided to take Venus with him when he decided to take a well-earned vacation on his 20th birthday. For the extremely wealthy, Earth was still a great travel destination. Over the next four months of touring luxury resorts during the day and having fabulous sex every night, Ambrose fell in love with Venus. Venus knew what her father was going through after his wife’s death and that he wanted her to get off of Terra Nova with a husband of her own. Ambrose was kind, handsome and friendly; had money and he was madly in love with her.
She was mentally prepared when Ambrose asked her to marry him. On the last day of their travels, before they left the French Riviera, Ambrose asked Venus to marry him.
“What if I want to continue to work as a courtesan?” Venus asked. “You know how much I love sex and how much I love to please men,” she whispered.
Ambrose thought about what Venus had said for a few moments.
“If that’s what will make you happy,” Ambrose finally said. “I know how much you love to fuck and I wouldn’t deny you that pleasure,” he told her.
Venus agreed to marry him as longt as she could continue as an escort and with her father’s permission. Ambrose met with Venus’ father and learned of the Grantham family traditions. He would give his blessing to the marriage as long as Ambrose took the Grantham name and moved off planet with Venus. For those considerations, Ambrose was to be endowed with a dowry of one million credits. When Ambrose began to object, Venus stepped in and told Ambrose that it was part of the tradition and that they could use that money to put down on a beautiful mansion for her to ply her trade.
Ambrose and Venus were married and emigrated to New Texas. While they were saving their money to build a nice mansion, Venus began working out of an existing escort service in New Houston. Business was good for a while, Venus was happy and Ambrose was happy too. He got to have great sex with his beautiful bride nearly anytime she wasn’t with a client. Additionally, three more escorts worked for the service and Ambrose was sahabet güvenilirmi allowed to have sex with them for a discounted price whenever they didn’t already have another client.
After a year of living and working on New Texas, a Utopian colony was founded there. Soon, the escort service started losing business. Utopians offered free love and even incest. Utopians were nudists and promised a lifestyle where everyone had whatever they needed as long as they worked. It was amazing how many men had fantasies about being cowboys or having a farm. No working girl could compete against that. After Venus had sat idly for over a week with no customers, Ambrose discovered that a new non-Confederation planet was being colonized. It was called Victoria, and the citizens were going to live in the Victorian style of 19th century England. Sex was for producing children only, and prostitution would not be allowed on the planet.
The sly and resourceful Ambrose realized that this new colony would be a goldmine for a sexually oriented business for the very elite, just as it had been in Victorian England. Ambrose and Venus researched how courtesans operated in Victorian Era England and found a winning strategy. They would become high ranking members of the aristocracy, buy a large luxurious estate, and through a few dropped hints here and there that the Lady of the Manor might welcome gentlemen callers for discrete romantic encounters, they would be back in business.
The local government officials and the police would need to be payed handsome bribes, of course, and free services from some of the house servants would be included. They even planned to bring a number of good prostitutes to Victoria with them when they learned that most of the aristocrats had their own servants. The prices of property on Victoria was relatively inexpensive and a million credits would be enough to buy a large parcel right outside one of the larger cities.
Using a substantial portion of their combined fortunes Ambrose arranged to build a large Manor house there, and become part of the aristocracy. All one needed to do to be an aristocrat was to swear an oath to the Victorian principles and have a lot of money. Ambrose had plenty of money and he certainly didn’t mind lying under oath. Victoria was the perfect place for their new business. It took a few extra million, but Ambrose paid for them to be bestowed the titles of Lord and Lady Grantham of Sussex, since that’s where they bought their estate.
Repressed sexuality and men with money was the perfect recipe for a successful whore house. It just had to be packaged and advertised differently, that’s all. When they first moved there, they mingled with the other rich and proper citizens and invited them to their new manor house for parties and dinner. The chef and several of the male and female escorts from Houston had come to Victoria with them, acting as servants during this initial period.
The female escorts, especially Venus, were very attractive and flirted discreetly with the gentlemen. The butler and other menservants were skilled gigolos and played to the women while the men were being teased by Aenus and the female staff.
After dinner, over brandy and cigars, the other gentlemen asked him about his business. He told them that he came from a line of successful stockbrokers and that he handled all of the investment for several wealth clients, beside himself. That led to a conversation about everyones investments and Ambrose suggested a few others that he had done well with.
After an hour of lively conversation, one of the businessmen told Ambrose that they were raising money to buy a quantum communicator for all of the to use to conduct their stock trades. They asked Ambrose if he would like to joing their group. Ambrose surprised them all by telling them he had obtained the license before he emigrated and already owned such a device. He invited them to dial into his server to make their transactions on his device for no charge.
This was an instant hit with everyone. Ambrose’s generous offer made him an immediate member of the gentleman’s club. They would golf together, hunt together, and smoke cigars and drink whisky at the gentlemen’s club together. After becoming a part of Victorian society and attending many partys with Venus, Ambrose dropped a few hints that his wife had a very high sex drive and occassionally entertained gentlemen callers at home.
“You are aware of this and you allow it?” One of his closest friends asked incredulously.
“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” Ambrose told them. “She allows me to have sex with the maids!”
The maids were all exceptionally sexy women and the men began to envy Ambrose. Not only did he have a sexually active wife, he had her permission to hae sex with the sexy household staff. This was the stuff dreamd were made of. As the party was breaking up, Ambrose went over to the gentleman who had asked him how he could allow Venus to have sex with other sahabet yeni giriş men and invited him to come over to meet with Venus the following evening.
That was forty years ago and the Grantham Manor was a very popular place among Victoria;s elite.
Max Grantham, Ambrose’s grandson, looked up from the ledger in front of him and picked up the ringing telephone. Max cursed under his breath. In this age of faster than light travel and quantum communications, Victorians still used the bloody telephone. The entire planet was pretending to live and work in the 19th century!
“Hello Father, he greeted the caller on the other end of the line. It could be no one else on this private phone.
Are you ready for a little party tonight?” Harold Grantham, his father, asked.
This could only mean one thing; some older aristocratic woman wanted a boy toy for the evening. Max was a prostitute, just like his grandmother, mother, aunt, sister and most of his relatives. Max only worked with women though, his cousin, Timothy, was bisexual and could work with either sex. Tim always brought in more income than Max ever did, but he needed it. He had 3 children to feed.
“I’m ready as always,” Max told his father.
“This one requires you to work with your sister,” Harold Grantham told his son. “It’s for seven PM at the Manor. They’ll be waiting for you two in suite 204, Harold told Max.
“Seven then. Alright, I’ll be there at six. Will Heather already be there?” he asked.
“Yes, she’s finishing up with a client at half past five. She wants you to meet her in her changing room as soon as you get there,” Harold told Max, before hanging up the phone.
Max wondered if it was to be an incest thing, a husband wife swinging thing, or both. He hoped that it would be both. Having sex with his sister was always a bonus. Normally, he couldn’t have sex with a member of the family unless they were working together. Having sex off-the-clock with a family member was not allowed. Last week, on-the-clock, he had gotten the opportunity to fuck his mother in the ass when clients requested it, not knowing that she was his mother.
It was five in the afternoon when Max switched off the electric candles surrounding his desk and locked the ledger book in the safe. The ledger contained detailed descriptions of what his clients liked, disliked and asked for regularly. Other gigolos could read his account of that person and be able to fully prepare for a few hours of sex with them.
Even though the ledger didn’t use names, only numbers, he knew who his regular clients were as did every one of the whores and gigolos that worked there. Discretion was the thing that kept The Manor in business. Only families of means could afford the exchange of services provided at his house, so his client must be at least minor aristocracy, and therefore very discreet.
Max worked at his grandfather’s office in the city during the day, day trading his own stock portfolio and reporting back to his family what other investors were buying. The unmarked office held the quantum communicator his family and their friends used to trade stocks. The other gentlemen used to be able to stop in and speak to their financial advisors and send orders to their brokers. His grandfather had arranged for them to do that now in their own offices, by phoning in their orders and speaking to their advisors.
Rather than sell the office space now that downtown real estate prices had soared, Max leased the comfortable, unused office to use as his base in the city. The insights he was able to glean from observing other stock trades was making his stock portfolio become quite healthy as well.
Unlike his grandmother, mother and sister who used a horse drawn carriage to get to and from the Manor, he had a sporty, steam motorcar. After checking the water reservoir to make sure it was full, he turned on the tiny fusion generator. It took a few moments to build up a head of steam and he was off. It was only a half hour drive from his office to the manor. He planned to shower and rest in his sister’s dressing room before she was finished with her afternoon client. She still had nearly an hour before her current client would leave and he could be done getting ready when she returned to her dressing room.
He was laying nude on the bed, air drying and cooling off, when Heather came into the dressing room. Her hair was disheveled and her lipstick smeared.
“God, I hope our client at seven doesn’t want anal sex, my ass is sore from the pounding I just got,” she said. She bent over and gave Max a sisterly peck on the cheek.
Max had already prepared a hot bath for his sister and she stepped gingerly into the hot water feeling the relief as she soaked for a few minutes. “Thanks Max,” she said as Max handed her a tall, cold glass of beer and a marijuana cigarette.
Ladies weren’t supposed to smoke, or guzzle beer, but his sister was no lady, she was a whore. sahabet giriş In conversation with their wealthy clients, the ladies referred to themselves as Courtesans and the men as Gigolos. But they all knew what they were and were proud of it. They liked their jobs and were good at what they did. Their customers paid a premium to act like sexual deviants with them.
On a planet like Victoria, theirs was a much-needed service. You couldn’t expect a real lady to put up with the amount of carnal desire all men wanted. One session of intimacy with their husbands every two weeks was more than enough. It was gowns and pajamas on, lights out and the women weren’t supposed to feel any pleasure. The reward for this disgusting activity was children.
Yes, whores were an essential part of Utopian life for the aristocrats. Regular people, the servants, tradesmen and merchants, made love to their wives and girlfriends as people had done for millennia. The rules of social propriety did not apply to them. People of lesser means had signed up to emigrate to Victoria because of the simpler life and their dislike for all of Stellardyne’s Utopian guidelines. They liked living on a homogeneous planet. Everybody was European or North American, and white. In short, everyone was a bigot.
Of course, that was their choice. The price they paid was to kowtow to the aristocrats and show the proper respect. For that, they got decent housing within the household, two days off a week, and limited luxuries such as cheap beer, spirits and cigarettes. They were free of worries and totally dependent on their Lords and Ladies. As long as they pleased them, they were well taken care of.
The merchant class had their houses near the spaceport and were sometimes as wealthy as the aristocrats. It wasn’t unknown for an aristocrat to even borrow money from a wealthy merchant until the crops came in or the sheep were sheared. Victorians didn’t want spacecraft landing anywhere near populated centers. To have a modern vehicle land near downtown was to spoil the illusion they kept of the idyllic 19th century life.
Along with the warehouses and shops where merchants distributed their merchandise, the tradesmen built their homes. The tradesmen lived in town, making a living with their hands. Good craftsmen were able to make a decent living and even save for some luxuries. It was in this part of town where a whore could make extra money for her family if she was careful not to get caught by the police.
“Max? Would you please call Joyce to help bathe me?” Heather asked her brother.
“Sure thing,” Max replied, calling for Heather’s maid with the pull cord. Max took the empty beer glass from Heather and the end of the joint when Joyce arrived. He watched Joyce strip and join his sister in the big tub to bathe her. Joyce was an attractive woman in her mid-thirties. She had been hired by the family when she was just a young whore working in the streets in the tradesmen’s part of town. One of the aristocratic women had noticed her when she was visiting one of the downtown shops and called the police on her. Joyce was arrested and had been convicted for prostitution, a rather serious matter on Victoria.
Ambrose Grantham, Max’s grandfather, had gone to the prison and bought her from the State as an indentured servant. He paid off all of her fines and for her freedom. In return, she promised to work for him for as long as it took to pay him back. She had paid him off years ago, working as a prostitute for the tradesmen and merchants who visited the house, but had just stayed on because she liked her job and had the opportunity to make a good living doing what she liked to do. As a maid, she couldn’t fuck the aristocratic men, that was reserved for the courtesans, but she could have merchants and tradesmen as clients.
Joyce’s knowledge of the ins-and-outs of prostitution had been a great help to Heather’s training. She had been assigned as Heather’s maid when Heather was nearly 18 years old. Heather had learned about art, music, literature and all the other things a proper lady should know from her other tutors, but Joyce taught Heather how to be sexy.
Once Heather became of age, Joyce became her sex teacher. She was Heather’s friend, confidant and female lover since that time. Max was a year older than Heather and Joyce had been his sex teacher as well. Joyce had instructed Max how to make love to a woman using her own body and then later, Heather’s as his training partners. Even now, if Max was horny and he had no clients, he would call on Joyce for sex. These sexperiences had honed his skill at love until he was in great demand with aristocratic women.
When Heather came out of the bath, she looked fresh and beautiful. Max watched Joyce, still nude from her bath, take care of Heather’s makeup and hair, and dress Heather in the nearly transparent negligee she would be wearing for their clients this evening. Everyone knew the sheer negligee wouldn’t survive the session. Either the client or she would rip it off of her body to fuck the client. Max had to admit, she looked delicious. Max hoped that he would get to fuck his sister tonight. With these situations it was just as likely that two relatives wanted someone watch them fuck. He and Heather had done that several times before.
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