Deep Waters Ch 03

Note: All characters are over 18, as indicated in this or prior chapters

Deep Waters - Chapter 3

On the morning of our second full day at Deepwell, Izzy and I were rather sluggish in getting up. After the big orgy the previous afternoon we had returned to the house, showered and then dressed for dinner, but afterward we had chosen to opt for an early night, our exertions catching up with us. This had carried over to the morning and it was 8.45 before we made our way downstairs for breakfast.

On the way I received something of a shock, which at least had the merit of properly waking me up. We were passing the sitting room next to the dining area - the same one we had visited after dinner on our first evening here - when some strange noises from within caught my attention. Wondering what was going on, Izzy and I pushed the door, which was slightly ajar, open a little wider and quietly peered inside.

Three people were in the room. All were naked and in the middle of an extraordinary sexual combination. I recognised the couple we had met at dinner on the first night, Ian and Annabel Thornton, and, with a little more difficulty, the blond servant called Andrew who had carried our bags when we arrived. But what they were doing was wholly new to my experience.

Ian was sat in an armchair, side-on to me. Andrew was on all fours on the carpet in front of him, with his head between Ian's legs. I realised that he had to be giving the older man a blowjob. I have no prejudice against gay sex, but nor does it do anything for me. Besides, there was something much stranger going on, which was drawing most of my attention. Anna had a strap-on dildo attached round her waist and hips, such as lesbians might use, only in this case she was clearly fucking Andrew with it, penetrating his arsehole. It seemed that he was enjoying the action, given the rampant state of his sizable cock.

The three were lost in their own little world of lust and I felt an urgent need to escape before they noticed us watching. I was certain we would be invited to join in and I wasn't sure I was ready for such things. Izzy in contrast was watching with a half-smile playing on her lips and I had to practically drag her away.

"What the hell was that?" I muttered mainly to myself as we headed for the dining room where breakfast would be waiting.

My wife heard me and answered, "It's called pegging. A big turn-on according to some guys - gets the prostate gland going." She sounded remarkably matter of fact. "Interesting that Andrew and Ian must be bi. Actually most of the girls here are as well; I'm guessing it helps if you work at Deepwell." I said nothing. Izzy was way more broadminded than me, although given I had enjoyed my first orgy yesterday maybe I was learning.

Over breakfast I asked Izzy what her plans were while I was cloistered with George Webster. I was a little nervous that she might get involved in something seriously 'advanced'. Her reply put my mind at rest.

"To be honest, I'm a little sore after yesterday. Madelaine and the Welsh girl - umm, Cerys - have offered to show me round the house and gardens. I thought I would take them up on the offer. And they've promised they know how to avoid Steve, in case you're worried. I reckon he can be a bit much at times."

*****

This time I took my laptop to the 10 a.m. meeting with George Webster and for the next two hours I recorded memories of his long life. Which was all very well - I was getting plenty of material I could write up later for his biography - but it wasn't answering any of the questions that were nagging at me. And when we took a break at midday, I raised this.

"We are making good progress!" George said, seeming pleased.

"Yes... yes, we are...but..." I said slowly.

"Go on Ed, what's troubling you?"

"I have a lot of questions and no answers yet."

"Such as?" asked George.

"Well, how can you have lived so long and aged so slowly? Why does it feel like everything you say has such weight that people want to follow your advice, even against their first instinct? Why did you choose me to write your biography? And why is there so much sex going on and no one bats an eyelid? Yesterday, I took part in a six person orgy and it seemed the most natural thing in the world. And this morning there was a bisexual threesome in the sitting room at breakfast! Just what is it about this place?"

George smiled, "That certainly is a lot of questions! I promise I'll try to answer as many as possible before you leave, although not all at once I think. But since I can see you are not going to be able to concentrate until I tell you something more, I'll ask Sarah to get us some sandwiches and a cup of tea for lunch and then I'll show you some things that might interest you."

Forty minutes later George Webster was leading me on a tour through parts of the house I had not yet seen. I wondered if we might run across Izzy and her new friends, given she was supposed to be doing something similar, but there was no sign of them.

George led me along the corridor that ran the length of the upper story of the West wing of the house. About half way down, he stopped at one of the many doors, drew a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked it. "I call this room 'the family album' - a private joke," he said, leading me inside.

The room was carpeted but bare of furniture beyond a couple of chairs pushed up against one wall and a small table with a hardback notebook on it. The most interesting feature was a series of paintings done in oils. Most looked old, although clearly of different eras, but the first was of my host himself, looking like he was aged in his mid-30s. I walked over to it and read the brass plaque underneath. It said: 'Sir George Webster, Bt, 1900 -, 5

th

Baron Deepwell 1924 -'.

George joined me. "I had that painted in 1956. Not a bad likeness I think."

"Sir George, Baron Deepwell?" I asked.

"Yes, I am heir to a hereditary knighthood and also a place in the minor aristocracy of this daft old country of ours. A lot of nonsense, really; I did nothing to earn either, so I don't use them. Come and see something more interesting."

Webster picked the notebook up from the table and then led me toward the most recent looking painting other than his own. It was of a stern looking man in Victorian style clothing. This picture also had a brass label. It said: 'Sir Nathanial Webster, Bt 1786 - 1924, 4

th

Baron Deepwell 1814-1924.'

"That's the man from who I inherited this place, his fortune and those titles - and also my middle name," George noted. "I met him of course, although he was starting to get a bit ancient by then."

"Ancient? You're not kidding," I said, doing the maths. According to this he lived to be 138!"

"Yes, and this is where it gets interesting," George said, opening the notebook. "I have my entire family tree noted in here, but there is no need to discuss all of it. Old Nathaniel will do nicely as an example. Although I was his heir, I was not his son, or even his grandson, but his great-great-grandson. Look at this line here, from eldest son to eldest son."

I examined the book and there is was. Nathaniel Webster's eldest son was also named Nathaniel. Nathaniel junior had lived from 1816 to 1870. His first born was Albert Webster 1841-1903 and Albert's son was Alfred Webster 1872 to 1916. I did the maths once more. "54, 62 and 44," I noted. Not especially old."

"No. My great grandfather died of 'consumption' as they called it then, that is to say tuberculosis. Albert got pneumonia; both common enough deaths in those days. Alfred Webster was my father of course and he was killed in the First World War. He had served in the Navy in his youth and insisted on re-enlisting despite his age. They needed people with experience and he was killed when the ship he was on was hit at Jutland."

"Oh... oh, I'm sorry," I said. I could see the memory still affected Webster even after all this time.

"It was sad to lose my father, but also fateful. If he had lived he would have inherited Deepwell and maybe you would be talking to him today, or perhaps some other descendent of his, because for sure I would be long dead of old age."

"So what you are saying, is long life doesn't affect all your family," I realised.

"No, just the masters of this house. I won't go through the details of all of them like I did for Nathaniel, but have a quick look at the others."

Next in line was a portrait of, according to his plaque, 'Sir Gervase Webster, Bt 1699 - 1814, 3

rd

Baron Deepwell 1723-1814'.

George gave a chuckle. "Old Nathaniel was a good Victorian. He had several wives but strictly one at a time and he stayed with them until they died of old age. Gervase, however, was also a product of his age, what they called in those days a 'rake'. Have you ever heard of the Hellfire Club? Well, Gervase ran something similar here. Just an excuse for a lot of drinking and whoring, I suspect. On the other hand, he was the one who built most of the house as you see it today."

We moved to the fourth portrait. "Sir Henry Webster, Bt 1624 - 1723, 2nd Baron Deepwell 1643-1723", I read aloud.

"I think maybe the closest to me," mused George. "Not as stuffy as Nathaniel or as wild as Gervase. It is hard to know how to conduct yourself, when you are aware you will see most of the people around you - even your children and grandchildren - die." There was an underlying sadness in his comment I thought.

The last picture was of 'William Webster, 1504 -1643, First Baronet 1579, 1st Baron Deepwell 1642'.

"And now we come to the man who started it all, at least as far as my family is concerned," George said. "William Webster was, as far as I can tell, a perfectly ordinary man for his time. None of his ancestors was notably long-lived, so far as I have been able to trace. He came from a family of well-off merchants and made even more money in the wool trade. Then King Henry VIII decided to abolish the monasteries, seize their land and sell it off for the cash. In 1540 William used some of his fortune to buy the lands of Deepwell Abbey, probably hoping to increase his social standing."

I interrupted George to ask, "Before this mansion was built the site was a monastery?"

"Yes. The oldest stone built central parts of the ground floor of the house are all that remains of the medieval buildings. Anyway, William demolished the Abbey and built himself a Tudor home, although Gervase replaced most of that later. He also paid Queen Elizabeth for the hereditary knighthood, hence he is the first baronet. But the odd thing is that Sir William didn't die, living on into the age of the new Stuart monarchs."

"And he was the first to live that long?" I asked.

"Yes again. So it has nothing to do with my ancestry. It's this place. God knows how long old William might have lived, since he got himself killed in a fairly stupid way. When the civil war broke out, he was all for the side of the King - I suppose royalty had been good to him - and insisted on riding out to war. He was 138 by then, and even with long life must have been pretty decrepit. King Charles rewarded him with a peerage for his loyalty, but he didn't get to enjoy it for long and got himself killed at the Battle of Lansdowne in 1643."

"Which is all very interesting," I said, "but doesn't actually answer anything."

"No, but I think it is enough for today. Go and find your wife and talk to her. She strikes me as a highly intelligent lady. Perhaps she will have some thoughts on the matter," said George. I thought he sounded a little annoyed, as if disappointed in me in some way, although I had no idea why.

*****

I went back to our bedroom, but my wife was not there. I texted her and discovered that it seemed this place, among its many other features, had a Jacuzzi and spa in the east wing, ground floor. A few more texted directions and I made my way there. When I entered, it was to discover Izzy was still with Madelaine, although there was no sign of Cerys.

Somewhat to my relief, the two girls were doing nothing more than simply relaxing in the Jacuzzi. Nevertheless they were both naked and the first thing they did on seeing me was to invite me to strip and join them. I knew where that would lead and I had too much on my mind at present to lose myself in another threesome, so I declined and instead said that I needed to talk to my wife alone.

Madelaine seemed disappointed, but brightened up considerably when Izzy made me promise that come what may she could join us that evening. The French girl got out of the bubbling water, giving me a full view of her slender and desirable form before wrapping herself in a towel and disappeared off to get dressed.

Then I sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi and told Izzy everything that had occurred with George. After my wife had heard me out, she said:

"I think I need to talk to George Webster. Maybe ask some different questions, ones that might not occur to you. I think I have an idea what is going on, but I need to check some things before I speculate any further."

"Sure," I said, "we can tackle him together. Maybe after dinner, or tomorrow..."

"No, I need to see him alone. I'll do it tonight, and I know he'll see me because I fully intend to sleep with him."

I suppose I had known for some time that this would happen; it seemed inevitable. But I guess I still looked a little shocked as Izzy went on.

"You know our agreement and you know I love you. George obviously wants me and I'll not deny that for an older man - a lot older apparently - he is very attractive. It's the perfect way to get him alone and I think we'll both enjoy it as well. As for you, I want you to take Madelaine to bed. She's a nice girl, likes you and you are hardly keeping it secret that you fancy her. So be a good boy and enjoy yourself while I see George tonight. You know it makes sense."

I had to concede it did make sense. That Izzy would sleep with our host had been inevitable from the time we first met him and if she got some useful information that was a bonus. Slightly to my surprise I found I didn't feel bad about it at all and said so.

"I think it's a great plan. I bet George is an amazing lover, but don't tell me how good! Have fun, find out what you can and I'll look after Madelaine for you."

So that is what we did. And because I wasn't present, I'll let Izzy tell you what happened. After all, as I have said before, this is as much her story as mine.

*****

Ed has asked me to describe what happened when I met George that night. I will admit I was hiding the idea that was growing in my mind from Ed. I was scared to share my theory because the implications were too great for both of us. Much as I love my husband and admire his honesty very much, it is also the case that Ed can be a bit naïve and innocent in some ways compared to me. I felt I needed proof before I told him what I was thinking.

The obvious thing to do was to talk to George Webster but I also figured he was unlikely to tell me if I was right just by my asking him. Perhaps something more intimate might tip the balance? His interest in me had been obvious from the moment I walked into his office on our first day here.

I suppose on paper that sounds a bit creepy on both sides. After all he was much older than me, by a century in fact according to Ed, and I'm making it sound like sexual bribery on my part, but it wasn't like that. To be honest the hope of getting some answers was really a secondary consideration for me and I was very pleased that he seemed to desire me, because the truth was I most certainly wanted to sleep with George.

The reasons why were hard to rationalise. It was true that he was an extremely handsome man, in a sort of 'George Clooney c2010' sort of way, only even better. Further, he wasn't pushy or unpleasant; I felt that he would take no for an answer, although I doubted many women had said it over the years and I certainly had no intention of doing so. Also, instinct told me that all those years of experience with who knows how many women meant he was going to be amazing in bed.

However, none of that really mattered. What did was that when George talked to you, you believed him and wanted to go along with what he said and to please him if you could. And I really wanted to please him.

I was finding my whole stay at Deepwell confusing, but in a good way. I love my husband and would never want to hurt him so I had reconciled myself to monogamy despite my own belief that it is possible to have a successful open relationship if both partners agree. And yet now all my fantasies were coming true and Ed seemed not just ok with it but to be genuinely enjoying himself. I couldn't help wondering if it would last. When we left the influence of Deepwell and George Webster would my husband come to hate what had happened here? Could it ruin our relationship? I didn't know, but the idea scared me.

This was the context to my seeking out George that evening. I wanted to know what being with him would be like but I was worried whether deep down Ed would be jealous.

After Ed and I had finished our discussion in the spa, I got dressed and went to see Sarah Lim and explained what I wanted. "On the day we arrived," I began, "Mr Webster said that one evening he would like to invite me to dinner, you know, privately, just the two of us. I was wondering if this evening would be good for him?"

The beautiful secretary gave me a knowing smile and said, "I'll just check." She disappeared into Webster's office next door, but only briefly, soon re-emerging to say, "George says that would be wonderful. Be in the entrance hall at 7 p.m. and he will collect you himself. He also asked if there is anything you would especially like to eat and he will have Philippe prepare it."

"I'm fond of sea bass," I said, thinking of meals out with Ed.

Sarah smiled again, "Good, I'll pass that on to chef." Then, more conspiratorially she added, "You're in for a wonderful evening. George is an amazingly skilled lover." I blushed scarlet at her words, but she ignored this and added, "Do dress well though. George likes beautiful clothes as much as he does beautiful women; the one enhances the other he says. Have you got any sexy underwear?"

"Err... yes. I bought some things with me, along with my favourite little black dress. I meant them for Ed really but I suppose..."

"Good girl; go for it," grinned Sarah. Then she gave me a quizzical look. "Does Ed know?"

"Yes, he's agreed. And because I didn't like to think of him sitting there alone in our bedroom, wondering what I'm doing with George and waiting for me to return, I've suggested that Madelaine keep him company. They both seemed happy enough with that idea."

"I'm not surprised Madelaine was keen on spending the evening with your husband!" Sarah said, delighted by my plan. "From what I experienced yesterday, I wouldn't mind some more myself. You two really are getting into the swing of Deepwell life!"

"Of course, that's the point really. I want Ed to have fun; after all I'm in no position to complain. I mean, if you really want to, don't let me stop you!"

Sarah beamed at me. "I'll speak to Madelaine."

*****

Somehow this felt special and I spent that afternoon in careful preparation. I had a bath, then washed my hair and blow dried it. I powdered and scented every part of my body that seemed relevant, until I felt clean, groomed and ready. I carefully brushed and combed my hair, until I was satisfied with the style of my brunette locks. Then I dressed in that sexy underwear I had bought for my husband but now intended for another man.

It comprised matching black suspender belt, lacy bra and thong kickers, all so diaphanous as to be practically see-through, together with black stockings and stiletto heels. I slid into my sleeveless black dress, which hugged my figure close enough to show off my curves to best advantage, Ed helping by zipping it up. Finally, I freshened up my makeup, applying lipstick, eyeshadow and blusher.