Chapter Six

 

Belinda Becomes a Spy

 

The Pump Maid Inn at Lower Boxley had an elaborate and amusing living pub sign, which arrested Belinda Jenkins’ attention as she strode up to its main entrance the next morning.

A pretty blonde bondslave was chained within the open frame of the sign beneath the name board. She was positioned squatting over the end of the handle of a standpump, which was fitted with an upright phallus onto which she was impaled. There was enough slack in her chains to allow her to raise and lower her hips and so work the pump, which she did every minute or so. The water that gushed out of its spout fell into a bucket that was connected via a narrow pipe back to the reservoir from which she was drawing it. She was forced to keep pumping because a pair of slender spikes, no doubt connected to a float in the reservoir below her, slowly rose up out of the base of the device and pricked her bottom unless she kept it drained.

As Belinda gazed up at the girl’s red-flushed features, plump trembling breasts and distended sex, she was reminded of the time she and that small group of Arabella Westlake’s exclusive friends had spent playing with Sue Drake, who had been their own secret bond slave. Then there had been the exciting Thistle Ride she and Arabella had taken Melanie along for. Melanie had squealed so prettily. It had been such fun… until the Major had caught them. Arabella had been severely punished while Belinda had been banned from the Hall social circle.

The disagreeable memories caused a frown to crease Belinda’s otherwise smooth high forehead with its straight, well-space brows. Her jawline was determined, her mouth was wide with a petulant tilt, and her chin and nose were both slightly uptilted. She had a slender figure, emphasised by her summer dress. Long brunette tresses tumbled from beneath her sunhat, contrasting with her dark eyes and pale clear skin.

For the past few weeks Belinda had been keeping away from the Hall and any association with Arabella. She had hardly spoken to the other members of the group, who were also sheltering from the aftermath of Arabella’s downfall. As for Arabella herself they understood she had gone away to recuperate with friends in the North. Then a letter had arrived yesterday directing Belinda to travel the four and a half miles from Shaftwell to Lower Boxley and the Pump Maid Inn, which was a small but well-respected country hotel.

Belinda entered and at the reception desk asked the way to a “Miss Smith” who was staying in Room Seven. She was directed to the first floor and knocked at the door of a small suite. The door was opened by a familiar figure.

‘Arabella!’ Belinda exclaimed. ‘It is you.’

‘Be quiet!’ Arabella said sharply, dragging Belinda into the room and shutting the door behind her. ‘I don’t want anybody here knowing my real name.’

Arabella looked the same as before: a cool, attractive, cream-complexioned blonde a few years older that Belinda herself. Perhaps there was a little extra shadowing under her eyes but they were still the same dark glacial blue, or possibly even a little sharper and more determined.

They sat at a small table by the window. Arabella rang down to room service and a tray of tea and cakes were sent up. As they sipped and ate Belinda asked tentatively: ‘How are you? I mean after… what happened.’

‘How do you think?’ Arabella retorted coldly. ‘My Uncle cropped me and locked me away in my room like a child just for putting a few scratches on his new favourite pack-girl. Then I was kidnapped by masked thugs and presented before three hundred guests on a platter instead of his brown bitch as the prize game bird, bound naked, stuffed with holly and with a dildo up my arse and drawing pins in my breasts!’

Belinda shrank back in her chair. ‘I… I’m sorry. That was stupid of me.’

Arabella appeared to make a supreme effort to control her temper and forced a thin smile. ‘No, I’m sorry, Bel. It was kind of you to ask. It’s just that I’ve been a bit preoccupied. Doing a lot of thinking, you understand?’

‘Of course,’ Belinda said sympathetically.

‘And now I know what I’m going to do.’

‘What’s that?’

Arabella smiled. ‘Why, take my revenge, of course. And I need your help. You’re the only one I can trust.’

Belinda did not like the dangerous glint in Arabella’s eye, but she said: ‘Well, of course… if I can.’

‘I’m sure that everything that happened on the night of the ball was too carefully planned for it to be chance. They, those thugs, whoever they were, had to have detailed inside information. Which means one of us was supplying it.’

‘Oh, no, Arabella, it can’t have been,’ Belinda protested.

‘Yes, and I know who it was. Think about it. Somebody who knew where to find Sue and steal her away from us. And who was going soft on Sue from early on? Who started behaving oddly when we were searching for Amber Jones? Who knew I had taken that phallus of hers and had it in my room? Whoever wrote the letter that lured me out of the Hall the night of the Ball knew that I could get hold of it.’

‘Oh. You mean Jemima? But she could never think up anything like that, far less carry it out. She’s so, well, meek and gentle.’

‘And somebody might have taken advantage of that to make her inform on us. Then they did the rest.’

‘But who?’

‘I’ve no idea. But Sue being stolen; the Jones girl breaking out of jail, what happened to me and Melanie going missing have to be connected. That’s why I want you to find out. She spied on us so now you spy on her.’

‘But I’ve hardly seen her around much. I think I heard she’d been having tea with Sister Newcombe a few times. That’s all I know’

‘Well get her to visit you instead. Become her best friend. You know how trusting she is. Play on that.’

‘Well… I suppose I can try,’ Belinda said doubtfully.

Arabella’s face darkened at her evident lack of enthusiasm. ‘Do you want things back the way they were or not?’ she demanded.

That was something Belinda had missed. Since the incident at the Hall and her known close ties with Arabella she sensed her social standing locally had fallen. ‘Yes of course I do,’ she admitted awkwardly.

‘Well this might put things right. My uncle wants Melanie back, the police want that Jones girl found and we want Sue. This gang of slave thieves is at the heart of it and everybody in Shaftwell is frightened of them striking again. If we can get to them through Jemima and find out who they are or even where they’re hiding the missing girls, we might be able to recover all three of them. Think how grateful everybody would be then. All that thistle ride nonsense would be forgotten.’

It made sense the way Arabella put it. And it wouldn’t be hard gaining Jemima’s confidence. She was quite an innocent at heart.

‘All right,’ Belinda said. ‘I’ll do it.’