Note: All characters are over 18, as indicated in this or the previous chapters
Deep Waters - Chapter 5
Just before midnight my wife re-joined me in our room, her orgy with Ian, Andrew and Jenny having ended. After a kiss and a hug for us both, Annabel returned to her husband. Izzy was tired, but I didn't let her sleep until I had clarified one point.
"How was it will Ian?" I asked, mainly as a way of starting the conversation. It still felt odd to be asking politely how her half of a session of partner-swapping had gone, but I felt strangely detached emotionally from it. It was as if this was just how things were meant to be at Deepwell and it didn't seem worth making a fuss over - we were all adults having fun, so what was the problem? But I knew that wasn't how I would have reacted before coming here.
She smiled with genuine pleasure. "Amazing. You have no idea what combinations two men and two women who all fancy each other can manage! How was Anna?"
"Not as vanilla as you might imagine," I said. "You are not the only one who can get up to kinky stuff. I spanking her arse with my hand and your hairbrush. She loved it and, to be honest, so did I. Then we fucked like wild animals, the first time at least. The other two times were a bit more regulation."
"Wow, I'm impressed," said Izzy, sounding like she meant it. "You've never shown any interest in that kind of thing before. Is Anna big into that scene then? You know, CP or BDSM stuff?"
"Apparently not as a regular thing but she said I was so dominant and masterful it excited her. Do you find me that way?" I looked into my wife's eyes as I said this. To my surprise she blushed and didn't hold my gaze, glancing down at her lap. She seemed reluctant to answer but finally said:
"Well... yeah... a bit, I suppose. I mean... I didn't used to. Not that I thought you were weak or anything you understand, but a normal, average, decent guy who I just happened to be madly in love with. But the last couple of days... there's something..." Izzy was floundering in a way I wasn't used to seeing.
"If I gave you an order, would you obey?" I asked, pushing a little harder.
She lifted her head and this time looked me in the eye. "Yes," she said quietly, "yes, I would."
I had no desire to start ordering my wife around, I loved her too much to want that, but something new was going on. It was doubtless Deepwell related and at some point I would need to test what it meant. The problem was I had no real idea how. My first thought, inevitably in this place, was to ask for something sexual, but that was no use as a test - Izzy would likely agree to it anyway, especially as she was even hornier than usual since our arrival here. So it had to be something Izzy wouldn't want to do, but at the same time nothing that would really harm her in any way.
I decided that if I slept on it perhaps inspiration would strike. We undressed, got into bed and I kissed Izzy good night. She soon fell asleep but it took a long while before I did the same, despite my exertions earlier with Anna. I had a lot on my mind and a whole new series of questions for George Webster.
*****
Happily today - my fifth at Deepwell - proved to be the day I got all the answers I could wish for. The new problem I faced was what to do with them. In my opinion not all the implications were good ones.
I didn't mess around when I joined Webster for my usual 10 a.m. appointment. All pretence about writing his biography was forgotten. I now knew I was his heir but that explained nothing else - not his longevity, the rampant casual sexuality of this place, the way everything he said was so influential nor how I seemed suddenly to have also acquired that last characteristic. So I came straight out and demanded he told me the whole truth. I was not comfortable with the thought that Izzy and I were being manipulated somehow and I let it show.
George listened quietly to my angry outburst, before nodding solemnly and saying: "Yes, you're right, its time you knew the secrets of Deepwell. After all they will soon be yours to keep. Use them well." He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a heavy iron ring with two massive keys on it. They looked ancient. "I usually keep these more securely, you understand," he said, "but I knew we would need them today. Follow me."
As soon as he gave me that instruction, I instantly felt calmer. Of course George would tell me what I needed to know. I had been foolish not to trust him. He led me out of this office and I dutifully followed without further comment. We went down the stairs to the entrance hall and then toward the back of the house into the oldest, stone-walled part of the building.
"This was part of the monastery that stood here before our ancestors built the house you see today," George noted, before stopping at one of the huge, heavy oak and iron bound doors I had noticed three days ago when I had visited the gardens. George fitted one of the keys into the lock and turned it with surprising ease. "I keep it oiled," he said, as if in explanation.
The door opened inwards and I followed him inside. We entered a small stone-walled chamber, with a set of stairs leading down from it opposite where we had come in. I half expected flaming torches to light the way, but George flicked a light switch and naked electric light bulbs sprung into life, illuminating the room and the stairs, which I now saw curved round in a spiral. George closed the door and locked it from the inside. Then he headed down the stairs, which were also walled in thick slabs of stone. I followed.
The stairs spiralled down until I was certain that we were at least a storey's depth below ground so that the room we now entered must be a sort of cellar. However, there was no entry way to surface level other than the stairs we had descended, so it had obviously never been intended for storage. It was larger than the room above, had another heavy oak door opposite, and was brightly lit by electric lighting.
There were no furnishings here, but one very obvious feature - a large well, the circular walls of which, about three feet high, were also made of stone. However, I couldn't see into it as the top was capped off with a metal cover. There was a variety of brass tubes running into it. These led into a mass of machinery, which in turn sprouted more pipes that disappeared up through the ceiling. The assemblage resembled some sort of intricate Victorian plumbing.
"So this is the well the house is named after?" I guessed.
George shook his head. "No, this is called the 'new well', which I suppose is amusing given it is hundreds of years old. It is very important though. I don't know if you had realised, but this house is not on mains water. All the water used here - for drinking, cooking, bathing, even washing clothes and the like - comes from this well. There is a huge natural aquifer trapped in the rocks far below the house. The well accesses it and pumps - electric ones these days - pull up the water, then send it up to tanks in the attic space, from where it serves all the needs of the house."
"I'm guessing this water has something to do with the unusual behaviour of your staff and guests?"
"Correct," said George. "The water itself is very pure and entirely safe to drink, but the rocks it is held in have an unusual combination of minerals - unique, so far as I know. It has been chemically analysed several times, most recently in a study I commissioned a decade ago. There is nothing dangerous about it, but the effect on the human body is most surprising. It heightens the libido and also seems to make people more susceptible to suggestion."
"So everyone who drinks it becomes weak-willed and randy?"
George laughed, "You overstate the effects. They still have free-will, but I will admit that natural passions are unleashed. It all depends on the individual. I chose my staff from those who already have a strong sex-drive. The effect on someone less passionate would be not as marked. You might remember that one of the first things I did when you arrived with Izzy was offer you both a cup of tea. It was made with this water of course, and one way and another you've been consuming it ever since. In the case of you two it seems to have had a marked effect."
A thought suddenly struck me and I chuckled. Seeing George looking questioningly in my direction I explained. "Since you told me that you intended to pass your titles to my father, I've been worrying that he and Mum would want to visit. The idea of them running around naked ravishing the staff was too horrible to contemplate. But now I realise all I need is a good supply for bottled water from the local supermarket and that problem is solved."
George smiled at my comment but shook his head. "From what I know of my grandson the effect on him would have been at most that he and your mother might have had a nice second honeymoon. I don't think promiscuity would have struck. Incidentally, these waters have health benefits for those who drink them; residents of Deepwell suffer very little from infections for example. I imagine that was the basis of all the 'miracle cures' the monks used to dole out when this was a place of pilgrimage, but they don't seem to extend life or youth, at least not enough to be noticeable. Come, there is more you must see."
Webster went over to the door in the far wall of the cellar. It was of heavy oak with iron studs like its counterpart upstairs and he produced a second similarly massive key to open it. We passed through, although this time George left the door open. Beyond was a short passage, no more than six feet long, and then the stone walls stopped and were replaced by a tunnel cut into the bedrock. It looked as if it were a natural passage that had been widened and smoothed by the hand of man, presumably centuries before, and it slopped gently downward.
