Date: Thu, 17 Jul 2003 00:41:31 +0100 From: joshua Caddy Subject: Antiques trade Chapter the third Legal Notice: The following story may contain descriptions of graphic sexual acts. These acts may be between boys or between a man and a boy. Violence may also portrayed within the context of the story. The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality. The author, or his designee, retains copyright to this story. There may be no reproducing or distribution of this story without expressed written consent. Once again thank you for all the positive comments I have received. All comments are most welcome. joshuacaddy@lycos.co.uk Chapter The third When you get down to it finding out where Ryan was should not be that difficult. All I had to do was go and ask Frank nicely where he was imprisoning a small boy. After my visit of a few hours previous I was sure he would be cooperative. So reassuring Jason as best I could that everything was going to be ok, I tucked him up on the couch again covering him with the blanket I place a hand on his forehead and said "go to sleep and see what tomorrow brings" one of my grandmothers old sayings. With that I put on my overcoat and despite my knees protests I descended the steps of the caravan and crossed the grave still fairground. I reached Franks wagon and looked in through the side gate. Frank had come round and dragged himself into a sitting position against the wall. Climbing into the wagon I sat on an upturned crate opposite Frank. "Good evening" I spoke softly "I believe we have a little unfinished business" Despite the earlier beating Frank looked at me belligerently "Go fuk you're sen" he spat. "That's not polite. You have two choices firstly you can tell me where Ryan is and I will leave you in peace or secondly I will cut your testicles from your body, then you will tell me where the boy is and as I leave will set light to this wagon with you still in side it. The choice is yours" Whilst I dislike threatening people I must confess making that bastard sweat was getting to be quite enjoyable. My threat, delivered in such a calm, unassuming manner had unnerved Frank. Gone was the bluster he had initially displayed. Now it would appear he would do anything to get me out of that wagon with his anatomy more or less intact. So quickly he gave me directions to a derelict farm he owned on the moors. Thinking to make life easy for myself I removed a large bunch of keys from the dashboard of the wagon and standing in the doorway of the wagon said. "This had better be my last visit to you otherwise I guarantee the next one will be fatal" Saying this I stepped out of the wagon and made my laborious way back across the showground to Jason. On reaching the caravan I had to sit on the step for a while whilst my knee recovered. I had done far more walking that day than I had done in a long time. Eventually the pain began to subside to a dull ache, so I stood up and hauled myself up the steps. As I crossed the threshold Jason sat up on the couch and desperately asked "Did he tell you where Ryan is "? I smiled softly and replied, "Of course he did. We shall go and collect him in a few hours. My knee needs a rest before I can drive all the way up to North Yorkshire" Saying this I sat down on the couch next to Jason and reached for the bottle of malt on the counter next to me. The look of disappointment that Jason gave me caused me to pause and ask him what the problem was "Frank always used to beat me when he'd been drinking" Jason murmured. Not wanting to upset the boy further I replaced the bottle and holding out an arm gathered him to me. Sat with one arm around his bare shoulders and the other resting on his knee, above the blanket, I apologised for being so thoughtless. "You see Jason I've never had to think about anyone other than myself. There has been no one to bother about my relationship with the bottle before, so I'm sorry if I have upset you. I just did not think. Please forgive me. I wont open another bottle whilst you are with me if it makes you so uncomfortable" Jason murmured "Thanks" and with a contented little smile snuggled up next to me. As I sat with this vulnerable young lad held to me I thought about how my situation had changed in the last two days. Now I had a boy who needed me, but who needed me to give up the crutch I had been leaning on for so long. I was not specifically an alcoholic, been able to go for weeks at a time without even touching a bottle. However, after a stressful situation, or when my knee was particularly painful, I would find myself pouring a libation without even thinking about it. Now it would appear this particular release would be denied to me. Still I thought the loss of one vice was a small price to pay. Jason's steady rhythmic breathing told me that he had again fallen asleep and so settling myself as best I could, whilst holding a naked, sweet smelling boy (what a chore!) sought out the land of nod. I was awakened some hours later with a terribly sore knee, a back aching from the unusual position in which I had slept and a blond youth kissing every square inch of my face, in a similar way to being licked by an over enthusiastic puppy. To say I was startled would have been an understatement. As he saw that I had awoken Jason kissed my lips one last time and sat back looking at me in anticipation. That I am not a morning person is something of an understatement. The means of my awakening were something of a shock to the system. I could do nothing more than murmur "Good morning" to the sweet boy who had interrupted my slumber in such a charming fashion. "Can we go and get Ryan now" Jason asked earnestly? "Give me chance to wake up first "I responded stretching and staggering to my feet. Again, this boys obvious affection for me was troubling my subconscious. Did he know what his kisses had done to my insides? After I had put on the kettle making a very strong pot of breakfast tea. (For my foreign readers I must stress that the English consider tea to be the universal panacea) I checked Jason's wounds . They were still red and enflamed but there were no signs of corruption. So changing the dressing I asked Jason if he need any more pain killers. The previous evening I had given him a couple of the strong pain killers the doctor had prescribed for my knee. "No thanks" came his reply. Jason's hardihood to the pain he must still have been suffering was reassuring. If he could bare this he would recover so much quicker from the harsh treatment he had received at Franks hands. At this point his stomach gave a loud rumble. "But you won't turn down breakfast I bet" I asked with a chuckle. He gave me that little boy smile that looked so charming on his adolescent face. "Yes please, I haven't eaten for days" Without further ado I set to making a gigantic fry-up for the two of us. If you have never seen a hungry boy attack a large plate of food, watch a wildlife documentary on wolves and you will get the idea. After we had both eaten I went outside and hitched the caravan up to my wagon. I went back into the caravan and asked Jason if he could manage to walk to the wagon. He stood up and wincing with every step made his way to the door. He started to go down the steps but his legs gave way,. Luckily I had anticipated this and caught him as he fell. There I was outside in broad daylight with a naked young lad clasped in my arms. Quickly I wrapped him in the blanket again and put him in the front seat of the wagon. Fortunately it was still early enough for no one to be around. I shudder to think what the consequences would have been if someone had seen this event. Making sure Jason was safely strapped in I started the wagon and headed for home. This was because my house lay between our current location and the place of Ryan's captivity. After a few hours drive we reached my home within the bounds of Sherwood forest. No please don't start conjuring up pictures of Robin Hood. The forest of today is so different to the medieval forests of his day. My house was in the forest, miles from the nearest habitation and so Jason began to wonder where we were going. " Not long now" I reassured him as we progressed down a leafy lane. Rounding a bend in this narrow track we started up the gravel drive to my home. As we reached the head of the drive Jason got his first site of Hargrave Hall. This Jacobean house had been in my family since it was built by one of my ancestors. Comprising of a central building with a wing on ether side the red brick hall looked as though it had just fallen out of some civil war epic. You could almost see a cavalier walking down the front steps to go and do battle with the roundheads. The hall exuded an air of permanence I had always found deeply reassuring. Lifting Jason out of the front seat I said "Welcome to my home. Your one of very few people who I have invited inside" Crossing the gravel I fumbled in my pocket and withdrew a large black iron key. With this I opened the double doors leading onto the hall. Carrying Jason across the threshold he was struck with wonder at the sight before him. Panelled in dark oak the hall was timeless. An array of antique weapons from around the world decorated the walls. Interspersed with hunting trophies and battle flags from long gone regiments the room could have resembled a museum but for the fire burning in the cavernous inglenook and the mass of cut flowers arranged on most surfaces. "Here my ancestors have been safe through the ages. Here YOU will be safe for as long as you choose" I softly spoke into Jason's ear. "I don't want to leave you, ever " Jason murmured I could not trust myself to answer this declaration of trust, such were the conflicting emotions cascading through my mind. Before I could contemplate an answer he was drifting off to sleep again. The journey and his cruel mistreatment were beginning to take their toll on him. So crossing the hall I ascended the large open staircase and carried him to the master bedroom. Lying him on the bed I unwrapped him from the blanket and checked to see his wounds were still mending. They had not opened during the journey so I did not change the dressings preferring to let him sleep. This however presented a problem. I could not go and look for Ryan leaving Jason to fend for himself. I could only speculate as to the condition he may awaken in. Finding himself so removed from people and his normal surroundings he may hurt himself or become distressed. With this in mind I crossed into the adjoining bathroom and from the medicine cabinet (a nice little shaker piece I had bought on a trip to New England some years ago) took out a bottle of sleeping tablets. Two of these I crushed in the bottom of a glass and added a little water to dissolve them. They had been prescribed for me just after I had injured my knee and were guaranteed to knock out an elephant. I reckoned that two of these would nock Jason out for fifteen to twenty hours long enough for him to get all the sleep he need and long enough for me to go and find Ryan. Perhaps this was not strictly ethical but it was the best solution I could come up with at the time. Uninterrupted rest was what Jason needed and that was what he was going to get. Going back into the bedroom I roused Jason sufficiently to get him to drink the sedative. I sat with him, stroking his blond head until I was sure the pills had taken full effect. Then going into the kitchen I briefly checked on the dogs to ensure that the house keeper had fed them. Crossing the inner courtyard I took the Landrover from its billet in the old coach house and set off to remove Ryan from his wrongful imprisonment. The drive up to the moors took me some two hours and a further two to locate Frank's isolated farm. I use the term farm loosely. It was a collection of rundown farm buildings that had not properly been used for years. Stopping the Landrover in the yard I got out and began to search through the buildings for signs of Ryan. The out buildings were all near derelict and contained nothing but rubbish and spiders. As the farm house was locked I assume that he would be in there somewhere. A cursory search revealed nothing other than the scruffy trappings of Franks brief stays. Washing piled in the sink, dirty clothes and unwashed plates scattered around the room interspersed with empty beer cans. None of the rooms held even the sign of a small boy. As the rank odour of the place was starting to get to me I went outside for a breath of air and to consider what my next move would be. One thing was for sure, if Frank had been less than wholly truthful with me he was going to wish he had never been born. As my search of the farmhouse and out buildings had revealed nothing I was at a loss as to where to look next. Had Frank hidden Ryan somewhere else? I decided to take another look at the farmhouse. Going into the near derelict kitchen I noticed the dresser against one wall. Whilst in poor condition, should it be sympathetically restored it would be worth a quite a few grand. Even in a desperate situation like this the antiques divvy could not help but come to the fore. I stood looking at the neglected dresser whilst wondering where I should search next. Then it struck me. Scratched into the dirt of the floor were two shallow grooves running to the legs of the dresser. Taking hold of the dressers front I pulled it away from the wall. Despite its size the large piece of kitchen furniture moved easily away from the wall. This was due to the casters that had been added to the back legs. Concealed by this large item was a cavity in the wall in which was set a small oak door bound with iron straps. Obviously part of the houses original fixtures, this old door was fastened shut with two massive draw bolts and a large padlock. Searching through the bunch of keys I had taken from Frank eventually I found the key that opened the lock. Cautiously I opened the snap lock and drew the rusty iron bolts. The door opened inwards revealing a flight of narrow stone steps. Noticing a switch just inside the door I turned on a row of bare light bulbs strung along the wall. Descending the feted, evil smelling staircase I came to a small room from which lead three doors set with iron grills. The first room contained crates of booze and fags. Obviously frank had been involved in bootlegging. I cannot say I was surprised. This was just the sort of low-level crime that scum like him would participate in. The second room was more surprising. It contained a bank of video recorders and other media equipment. It was obviously some sort of copying facility. I supposed that Frank was doing pirate copies of stuff. Quite a lucrative market for the dishonest! The third room was unlit and when I opened the door a foul smell seeped out, making me gag. The rank odours emitting from that small chamber were similar to animal cage that had not been cleaned for an age. Light trickled in from behind me illustrated a vile scene. In one corner were a number of buckets overflowing with excrement, obviously the source of the stench. In another were barrels and the remains of foodstuffs long past their sell by date. Looking like an over-large rats nest a mound of filthy blankets, curtains and other rags, occupied the third corner, farthest from the door If the pile of rags had not made a movement as I gazed in I don't think I would have entered such a foul chamber. Steeling myself, I crossed the debris-strewn floor and began to sift through the rank pile of cloth. On reaching the bottom of his mound my heart almost stopped. Cowering in a tight ball was a small, thin blond boy. Dressed in frayed denim cut-offs and a ragged black t-shirt obviously too small for him, this distressed, abused boy could only be Ryan. He looked so vulnerable and fragile cowering there that I just wanted to hold him to me forever, to make everything all right just by enveloping him in my arms, as if I could transfer my strength to his emaciated frame just by holding him to me. With tears streaming down my face I knelt down beside him and scooped the distressed child into my arms. The terror of being touched by a man caused him to struggle against me, much in the same way as the rabbit does in a gamekeeper's snare. The mental torment this boy had been subjected to was too cruel to contemplate. That he should flinch so from human contact could only make me wonder what evils Frank had inflicted upon this small boy. Whispering soothing words of reassurance I picked Ryan up and carried him from the dark, feted cellar that had been his home for so many weeks. Thought the thin fabric of his tattered shirt I could feel the warmth emanating from Ryan's body as he pressed against my chest. There was so little flesh on his small body that I could practically feel the frantic heart beats behind his ribs. On bringing him out into the daylight he began to quake even more, if this were possible. So unsure what to do for the best I sat upon the doorstep rocking him back and forth, softly singing one of the old folk song my grandmother had taught me all those years ago. Where that old air came from I do not know. It rose unbidden in my subconscious, almost as if instinct told me this is what was required. I sat and held the boy to me, crooning the ancient air and watched the sun continue with its endless progress across the azure sky. Eventually Ryan slipped into a fitful slumber his blond ill kempt head nestling against my shoulder. In order not to wake him I stood as slowly as possible and softly walked to where the Landrover was parked. Adjusting my hold on Ryan's emaciated form I opened the rear door and placed the poor boy into the basket my dog usually rowed in. Whilst not entirely suitable for a boy it was far cleaner and safer than the pit from which he had just come. Taking off my overcoat I covered the boy as best I could. Ensuring he was as comfortable as I could make him I got into the drivers seat, started the Landrover returning whence I had come, through the shabby farmyard, down the dirt track and across the remote moor until I reached the main road. It took me some three hours to return to my home within the eaves of the emerald dappled forest. During this long monotonous journey I had often stopped to check upon my precious cargo but he remained safely within the grip of Morphious. Pulling up the long gravel driveway I stopped outside the font door and opening both doors carried Ryan upstairs into the master bedroom. Lying naked upon the crisp white silk sheets Jason still remained in his drug induced sleep. In this solamnic state the cares of his harsh treatment had washed from his face leaving him with a carefree countenance. As Jason did not need me I did not pause in the bedroom but carried Ryan into the adjoining bathroom. I could not bare to see him remain in his filth-encrusted state for a moment longer than was necessary. So whilst he continued to dose I laid him on the rug by the bath and began to remove his soiled clothing. It was easier to tear the remnants of his t-shirt from his thin torso than struggle to pull it over his head. So deftly I ripped the thin garment from his frame exposing a smooth neglected body in much need of a good soaking. Once I had discarded the rag of a t-shirt I then began to unbutton the grimy cut-offs. Slipping them down his filth stained legs the soiled grey briefs left behind would have constituted a health hazard in anyone's book. These I pealed from his body like a rotten banana. What adhered them to his bum I did not linger upon but discarded them into the pile of filthy rags that had accumulated upon the floor. Mixing in a little bubble bath I ran water into the tub as hot as I thought Ryan would be able to stand it. When this was done to my satisfaction I picked up the now stirring boy and slid him into the warm waters embrace. This automatically began to revive him, so whilst I began to soap his slender limbs massaging the dirt from his oh so smooth, hairless flesh he began to take notice of his surroundings. "Where am I?" he asked in a quiet little voice. "Your somewhere safe" I answered "Your in my home where no one will hurt you" This took some moments to register upon his small face. In the meantime I continued to wash his body removing the accumulation of his own filth. As I washed his back, rubbing my hands into flesh he asked "But who are you" "My name is Thomas Edward Hargrave but you may call me Tom) I responded. " Jason asked me to fetch you" With a look of recognition "Your White Tom" he stammered. A thousand emotions playing across his features in less than a heart beat. For many years this had been my nickname. Although few people dared to use it to my face White Tom was the name known around the trade. A name noted for the ability to tell gold from gilt, someone who could walk through a room once and tell you what every item within was worth and the history behind it. Someone you did not sell to unless you were scrupulously honest. I am noted in the trade for two things. Firstly, my ability to divvy antiques. That is to say know good from bad, the fakes and the forgeries from the genuine article. The second was my response to those who crossed me. Whilst never getting angry my vengeance would be swift and most appropriate to the situation. My actions had always echoed that thought offered in the "Mikado" "Let the punishment fit the crime" So effective was I in paying people back that it had become a by - word around the trade. People who tried to sell me rubbish would suddenly find that the new stock they had bought from such an unimpeachable source, with provenances as log as your arm were practically worthless. The only time I indulged in passing of fakes (which I made myself) was to those who thought they could fleece me. Early in my career in the trade a number of dealers had tried to pull a fast one on me. My retribution was such that three of them had to declare themselves bankrupt. Seeking revenge for this they waylaid me at the close of one fair and tried to beat their losses out of my hide. Suffices to say they did not succeed. After I had broken a number of their bones they did not bother me again. Word of this particular encounter spread around the trade, getting more and more embellished with every telling. Some years down the line I was practically considered a homicidal lunatic by some dealers and so most were weary in their dealings with me That is why Ryan was somewhat taken aback to find himself being bathed by someone likely to tear his arm off and beat him with the soggy end, or so he thought. How far from the truth his imagination fled I could not say, but it came nowhere near the truth, of that fact I am certain. "Yes some call me White Tom" I laughingly responded running one hand down the snow-white pigtail hanging down my back. "Don't worry I'm not going to hurt you, nor is anyone else" I paused in my bathing of the boy and sat back upon my haunches. In this position our faces were level so I looked into his eyes for the first time. Like his brothers, Ryan's right eye was a most enchanting shade of blue. However, the left orb was half blue and half green, this slight alteration from the norm gave Ryan a most appealing look. Holding his gaze unblinkingly, the hazel fire of my eyes searched into the depths of his inner being. After a moment the tension in his face began to ease and he started to giggle at the intensity of look I was giving him. "Do you believe me now" I asked him? "Yes" he shyly in responded in that way small boys do when they are with someone they don't know. I resumed my washing of this grubby little boy. Allowing my hands to drift over his thin young body I removed the last vestiges of his own filth, removing all the visible traces of his cruel imprisonment. On completing this onerous task (as if!!!) I lifted Ryan from the foam-capped water and standing him on the rug began to dry him with a fluffy bath towel. Whilst I was doing this, his eyes began to explore the large, opulent bathroom, taking in all the little touches that make a room something special. Though I am not excessively extravagant in my tastes, my home was elegant furnished in a combination of fine antiques and hidden ultra modern touches that made it something out of the ordinary. The bathroom in which we were standing was panelled in white marble with various Victorian fitting including the large claw footed bath Ryan had just emerged from. On wiping the last of the water from Ryan's round little bum I wrapped him in another large white bath towel and picking him up, walked back through into the master bedroom. There I laid him on the bed at the side of his still sleeping brother. Rolling onto his side Ryan began to gentle shake Jason, saying his name at the same time. His endeavour to rouse his older sibling came to naught. Jason was still under the influence of the powerful sleeping tablets. "I've given Jason something to help him sleep," I said leaning over to stop Ryan's ministrations. "He should be asleep until morning, as should you be" I pulled the covers from underneath Ryan and removing the towel I tuck him in bed next to his brother. "Go to sleep and we will see what the morning brings" I murmured my grandmothers favourite saying. Stroking his soft blond hair I rose and went to turn out the light. This brought a panicked response from Ryan "Don't turn out the light mister, please I promise I'll be good, please don't turn out the light." He repeated this sad litany over and over getting more distraught by the second. Quickly I crossed the room and sitting on the edge of the large bed I pulled Ryan to me. How could I have been so stupid! Ryan had been kept for Christ knows how long in a lightless cell and here was me returning him to the dark. "I'm so sorry " I whispered into his ear as I held the shaking little body to my chest. For the first time he wrapped his arms around me and began to cry a whole river full of tears. Held in this tight embrace a boy was once again working a spell on my jaded heart, binding himself to me with cords stronger than iron, entwining himself into my very soul. No sorcerer could have worked an enchantment stronger than this small lad was casting on me now. No blacksmith could have forged chains stronger than those Ryan was subconsciously binding me with. Again I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this boy was now mine, or was I his? Whichever was the case I knew that his happiness and well-being were now the major focus of my life. Ineffectually I tried to disentangle his wiry arms from around my neck but this he would not do. So slipping my hands under is naked bum I picked him up. Allowing his slender legs to wrap around my waste. Held tightly in the grip of this boy octopus I limped down the staircase into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Unless you have been in a similar situation you have no idea how difficult it is to make a cup of tea when enveloped by a naked boy. Moving over to the Arga I sat down in the ancient oak rocking chair that had been my grandmothers prize possession and just as quickly got up again. Crossing the kitchen I entered the utility room and moving past the pile of ironing I opened the door leading to the dogs room. No sooner had my hand touched the door handle than a joyous barking filled the air. As I turned this handle the door was nocked towards me and out bounded a large fat black Labrador. With tail lashing from side to side I was greeted by my one true love (until now that is) Tilly. This Labrador bitch had travelled the length and breadth of the country with me. Her undying, unquestioning love had been the one thing that had kept me going through my blackest hours of self-loathing. She had not accompanied me to this last fair as some five weeks previously she had given birth to eight puppies. I had not wanted to leave her but my housekeeper had insisted she would look after them all. Mrs Hughes was someone with whom you did not argue. So I had been packed off alone to the fair. After her initial joy at seeing me she became curious about the small naked bundle wrapped about my body. So as I sat down again in the rocking chair, having returned to the kitchen she began an inspection of the boy still tightly holding onto me. As her cold wet nose touched his naked bum he almost shot out of my arms at the shock. I could not help but laugh at this comic event. As Ryan settled himself upon my lap he gave me a most hurt, reproachful look. Threw tears streaming down my face I profusely apologised to the offended imp sat on my knee. The shock of Tilly's cold nose had distracted him from his fear of being left in the dark and he continued to regard my laughter and apology with greater disgust. Have you ever noticed the meaningful looks boys will give you when you have been teasing them? If looks could kill!! When I had regained my composure I solemnly introduced Ryan to Tilly who being the ham that she was promptly gave him a paw to shake. Delight at this replace disgust on Ryan's face and he slid off my lap and proceeded to stroke my favourite girl. This continued for around five minutes when Tilly began to nudge Ryan towards the utility room and back to her lair. When Ryan looked at me questioningly I said, "Go with her she has something she wants to show you". So being herded across the kitchen Ryan went into the dog's room. As I got to the door a few moments later I was greeted by one of the cutest sites imaginable. Sat cross-legged in a large wicker basket with small black puppies crawling all over him was a naked blond boy. Ryan and the puppies together was the stuff of chocolate box lids (if they ever used naked boys which unfortunately they did not). The look of rapped fascination and love on Ryan's face was charming to behold. Here was a boy who only hours before had been imprisoned in a dark cellar for weeks showing such compassion to Tilly's puppies that it would have melted the hardest of hearts. As he sat playing with the puppies trotting across his lap Tilly decided that as he was in her basket with her puppies he must belong to her as well to so she decided to give his naked body a good licking. As her pink tongue lapped across his face he began to giggle in the most charming of manners, in fact the same way his older brother did. To see this neglected boy so happy caused a lump to rise in my throat. This is what boys were made for I thought not for sick bastards to abuse. Ryan sat and played with Tilly and her family for half an hour or so before I said, "Young sir it's about time you were asleep" This caused a frightened look to cross his face. "Please don't leave me in the dark" he sobbed. Scooping him from the nest of puppies I held the naked young boy to my chest "Don't you want to sleep with Jason" I asked? "No " was the only response I got. This left me with a dilemma what could I do with Ryan. If he won't sleep alone or in the dark what can I do about it? The obvious answer was taking him to bed with me. This thought however, filled me with absolute dread. How could I get into bed with an eleven year old boy who had only just met me? Could I trust myself not to abuse my position? Would Ryan's naked body lying next to me be too much for me to bare? End of chapter the third