Date: Fri, 04 Sep 2020 15:46:10 +0000
From: ^sharper <sharper.inorbit@protonmail.com>
Subject: Story: RICK HOWMAN - PART TEN

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RICK HOWMAN - PART TEN

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RICK HOWMAN - PART TEN

The Story of the Arctic Seal - Continued.

[Author's note.
As per previous episode: I am not portraying any reality, just telling a
story with porn. No offense intended.
This episode contains a scene of cruelty - in the second half - so don't
be surprised.
End of note.]


Baby sighed, on all fours, lowering his head, his face close to kiss
Tony's feet, repeatedly, only adding to his feelings of servant hunger.
He needed to be fucked. Tony pushed his toes against Baby's lips and
smiled.
"Stay."

Tony continued his story as though delivering a university lecture.
"I felt sorry for Amaq - but I didn't pity him, yeah? Amaq wasn't the
underdog in his society. He had status. He had pride. Much like a gang
has its heroes and its villains, its renegades and its players; he was a
definite player in a community hierarchy based around wisdom and
strength. So it made sense: he had strength and endurance, canny ability
and vital skills; he contributed to the wellbeing, was valued and
respected the way workmates get on, on a worksite and then afterwards in
the bar, would be my analogy. I wrote this all up in my dissertation,
'Survival Society: a semi-isolated group study'. Semi-isolated, because
they were fully integrated into Canadian political society and economy,
you know, with transport and communications, trade and legal stuff, just
like anywhere else, but at the same time they got along by themselves,
largely autonomously, with quasi-constitutional guarantees to it.

"And I've got to stress, Amaq was happily providing another service to
his gang as well: they enjoyed having him handle the needs they didn't
get handled by their womenfolk. Nothing queer; it was just the way he
fitted in."
"You wrote up all that swordplay in your dissertation?" asked Baby
incredulously.
"No! I mean, I wrote up all the hierarchy, all the social structure and
things! I left out the sexual aspect, obviously."
He laughed.
"I just hinted at it by saying the menfolk in particular had this way of
supporting each other, forming relationships based solely on expectations
of trust and the exchange of services; whatever services. Trouble is, my
appearance threw an imbalance into that arrangement. Amaq, I realised,
immediately saw me as a prize.

"He was used to visualising himself as having his manhood based on him
being a hunter and a useful member of that clique of hunting physical men
- those practices of being in his gang (whatever they were) reinforced
his own manhood. So for him, he saw it as, it was a question of him doing
what had to be done to trap me, a bit like a hunter, to fasten himself to
me, like I was his master, and to beat the others. So I - in his mind - I
had walked into a trap, of sorts. I was all innocent, to his mind, like a
wild animal that's just wandering around and doesn't know any better. I
was his prey - and he had captured me. He even said to me, 'I am a
Hunter; I have hunted you.' He had tracked me - which wasn't how I saw
it, though I liked that he felt an ownership; it balanced out the use I
was making of him that he didn't feel used but proud to be receiving my
sperm and serving the demands of my attention - strange as that might
..."
"No," interrupted Baby. "I understand that. I understand. Proud. I can
see that. I feel that. I feel that too. I feel that as well."
"Yeah, well I suppose you do. Proud to be another man's property? Yeah,
well, I still don't get it fully, and I certainly didn't then. I didn't
understand at all. I just felt cool having his attention and loving the
way he was constantly into me and I was into him - literally taking him
up the shitter literally when ever I wanted or had the time. I thought I
had perhaps stolen him from these guys who had been his friends and fuck
buddies. But that turned me on. Property is theft, after all. But he
clearly felt that he had been lucky to get into this place. He felt that
he had got himself rescued from a kind of group loneliness. That he was
with me made him feel special and prestigious, and he finally had the
attention of a single individual rather than being shared out between a
gang of horny men, however much that gang esteemed his value and treated
him as the totem symbolising everything the group had in common."
"Like a mascot or something."
"No. Not a mascot. He was one of them and they used him for what he
contributed. More than a mascot. He was valued as an individual. I don't
think he realised what he was giving up when he 'trapped' me!

"Or perhaps he did, because that might explain why he reacted as he did
when it was getting time for me to leave. But looking at it from the
other side, for him with me, perhaps it was a step up - from being a
commonly used gang member with no solely independent dignity, to being
under just the patronage of just one special controlling alpha male
outsider for whom he was a unique individual and became special by
association.

"You see, Amaq was a, a ... he was a lonely guy, underneath it all, in
reality, I think - well, we all are - but I, I ... don't think he knew it
exactly, or at least he wasn't conscious of how it defined him ... or, if
he was, he didn't appear to. But what he did want was, company. He didn't
want to be alone. He said to me later, when I was leaving, or when I told
him I was leaving ... come to think of it, it was something he often
said, 'I don't want to sleep alone.' So that, even getting out of bed
with him, leaving him in the morning, or afternoon ... whenever ... was
like I was hurting him or something, cutting him away from my own skin.
It was ... painful, mentally and practically, to leave him, and he used
to grab me in a hug, grab my leg, or my cock, and like moan, and, hold
on. But if I had to go, that's when he would get angry - even though I
usually ended my days with him and he slept with me and I fucked him
absolutely continually day in day out. I was there for weeks and he got
properly attached, and properly shafted, deep and thorough. He had no
complaints (even when I bruised his insides). But he did get
super-attached and super-quickly and then, as time passed and he got used
to it, he got dependent I guess and then reliant. He needed to be fucked
and he needed to belong to me. It was difficult to mention my home life,
back in England, because it would upset him. He hated to hear about it
and if I got a call from outside he'd go apeshit, or into this sulk that
only lifted when I shafted him again. Then he would apologise and promise
never to get upset again.

"And like, if he did something wrong or I was angry with him, even when I
had no cause but just chose to take out on him some petty annoyance of my
day, he was so apologetic, so deeply sorry, so sad. He would beg me for
forgiveness. Like whatever it was it was his fault. He would suggest that
I do something ... you know ... to punish him. And gradually that became
a habit as well. And, I have to say, I REALLY enjoyed it. I really
enjoyed having someone like that, I could practically do as I pleased and
who only wanted more of it. I wasn't used to it - not at that stage of my
life so much. I didn't know men like I do now. I was a young master with
my first true slave. It was difficult not to take advantage of him
because there seemed no other way. The trouble is, I could see, he, was,
used to it because of the way the other guys had him continuously receive
their ejaculations and deposits on a daily and nightly basis. He was used
to it and obviously he loved his being useful and valued in that way. It
defined him and gave him his feeling of security and self worth.

"But if he accepted his place, why shouldn't I fill my boots with some
good old sub attention? When he knelt down, I felt taller. I mean, we
were both adults and knew what turned us on, what we needed to feel good.
He wasn't being dragged into it kicking and screaming; he was literally
demanding to be used, fucked and employed as that kind of a fucker would,
I mean. And I mean sometimes if I did something for myself - like fix a
drink, for instance - he would react like it was an insult. He would
practically attack me; sometimes he did hit me, he struck out and
shouted. He was mad. I used to think I was the abused one and him the
abuser! But then he was all sorry and he'd be all like, forgive me please
Tony I'll do anything. Then I let him suck me. I give him a good beating.
And then I'd fuck him, you know, brutally. He was so glad. I enjoyed it.

"He used to say, 'Make it deep'; that was his favourite phrase. 'Make it
deep' - so I always did. And when I cum I said, 'Can you feel it? My
thick juices pumping inside you?' His eyes melted when he was fully in
the zone, when he wanted to cum but I didn't permit it.

"And as I withdraw the cum gushing out as I withdraw, thick yoghurt cream
sliding out over his pink hot gap, down his ball sack. Mmmmmmmm.

"He was insatiable - well you all are, all subs - and he was desperate
for instruction. Once, I'd tied his legs together, strapped his arms to
his sides, and gagged him tight. Just to shut him up! His eyes looked at
me, so large and black, so gooey wet, so mute, sort of confused, sort of
trusting, sort of terrified. Sort of lost - like a little cub. Something
in his face, changed. He was open to any suggestion."

Baby sighed, kneeling at Tony's feet, still gently kissing Tony's feet,
repeatedly. Tony flinched and tapped him away.
"No more. Don't do that. I'm ok. I'm good. Ok. Listen."
Baby lifted his head, but kept it close to the ground so that he could
resume if Tony indicated it.
"There's more?"
"Sure there is. I was there for months. He ... became my assistant as
well as my screw, and he integrated me into his gang as well, introducing
us all to each other."
"They knew?"
"Knew? Oh they knew alright and they wanted to know how they were going
to do now that he was out of use for them. You can understand.

"The men in his gang were pissed off with me for monopolising Amaq -
though really it was Amaq monopolising me. By devoting himself to me I
didn't get the opportunity to intersect sexually with the the other men.
There might have been other opportunities, other good fucks amongst them
(fit young muscleboys like us) but Amaq made sure I didn't get to find
out. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed his devotion. But I regret now that I
didn't get more variety on that occasion. There were so many cute guys
and they weren't all solely top, I could tell."
"How?"
"I can tell easily. Can't you tell?"
"Usually yes. But how can you tell?"
"You give yourself away. It's easy. Can't explain. But I know. Always.
And some of them would have been easy, except Amaq wouldn't let me alone
long enough."
"He was possessive."
"I'll say."
"And you put up with that?"
"I was busy. I didn't have time to develop things elsewhere. I mean, I
was satisfied with Amaq. He was ... dutiful. He made sure I was well
looked after. Practical as well as sexual. Like with the skins he sorted
out so quickly for me. I left his hut looking like a local and he
introduced me to his mates, really made me part of his group. Even the
Canadians were impressed; they hadn't seen a foreigner mix in so
quickly."
"It's a gay thing."
"It is! We cross boundaries. We are outsiders before we are anything else
and we spend our days camouflaging ourselves, fitting in, accommodating."
"So what happened next?"
"I left."

Baby gulped, "What, you left? You ... what?"
"I left. My time was done and I had to get back, write it all up, make my
thesis. All that. I was done."
"Soo-ooo you just walked out?"
"More or less. Kinda. I woke up one morning and thought, 'Gee, better
tell Amaq to help me get ready.' Only he, wasn't ready to help me get
ready. He was royally pissed off. When I told him I needed to get ready
to leave he was like, all shouting and stuff, and sad too, and begging me
not to go, and telling me to piss off. It was a shit storm actually. So I
was faced with him acting like this and I had to calm him down - or I
couldn't even leave the shack, let alone the country!"
"He was mad at you."
"Mad as hell!"
"Cos he was in love with you."
"He didn't want me to go, that's all I know. That's all I know."
"It looks like it."
"Guys act up when you stop. They want it and that's one thing, but the
moment you stop giving it they get all stroppy. You're the same. You're a
bottom and you're all the same."
"I'm not like that."
"Don't sit there and say that you don't want it right now. And even after
I've given it up you you'll still want more. Fuck off."

Baby couldn't protest.

Tony continued, "Whatever. Don't say you don't want to suck my cock. You
want to suck my cock don't you? You want to. Go on then. Suck my cock.
While you still can. Suck it while it's hot."
Tony held his enormous tool upright by gripping it at the base, its gooey
foreskin peeled back from the gargantuan head. He waved it about,
manipulating its base, while Baby, clambering towards it, tried to get
his lips on the purple curved helmet. Tony grabbed Baby's head and drove
himself in, making Baby squirm breathlessly.
"I really like fucking you Baby. So long as I like fucking you you're
safe - so long as I like fucking you."
Baby heard him.
"As long as I like fucking you you're safe."
Baby thought, "I'm going to make sure I'm always safe."

Tony took two long slow deep breaths.
"I don't know ... Get me a whisky," he ordered. "I need a shot of
something."
So Baby had to stand up and forget his stuff angry prick, and forget his
hole - aching to be smashed - and waddle over to where Tony's whisky
bottle stood upright, looking only slightly larger than Tony's prick. He
grabbed a cut-glass tumbler and splashed some of the brown liquid over a
handful of ice then walked it back to Tony.
"Want a cigar?"
"Sir."
"Sorry Sir. Sir. Would you, like a cigar, please, Sir?"
"Yeah why not. I haven't had one in weeks."
Baby picked a Cuban out of its box and cut the end, handed it to Tony,
who started sucking whilst Baby held a solid gold lighter to it. The
sound of Tony drawing and the cloud of druggy aromatic smoke had a
calming effect on him. Baby put the lighter down and, despite his
feelings of unsatisfied arousal, knelt once more at Tony's feet, trying
not to touch himself, or notice himself, waiting to listen to Tony speak,
hoping it would destract him from the pressure of cum in his balls, he
asked, tentatively, "Have you ever felt like, that you didn't deserve it?
Like you were guilty in some way?"
"No. Why should I feel that?"
"Well, you're, you know, exploiting them."
"Who?"
"Those guys you've had."
"Are you exploited? You saying that?"
"No-o. I just mean. Not me. I'm ... fine. I mean these guys you, you
know, you use."
"Used? I make them happy. They're grateful. You should be."
"I am," said Baby.
"Are you? Beginning to wonder."

That hurt Baby's feelings. He changed the subject, "What was he like?
Amaq. Was he skinny?"

"Oh no. Not even like you. He wasn't thin. He wasn't lean. He was narrow,
but soft round the edges. But that only covered-up his strength; he was
strong, physically muscular. Like a bulldog. Big on the frame of a guy
who was only slightly shorter, and he was agile, like a fish. And skin a
beautiful rich colour like autumn leaves ... slightly almond shaped eyes,
yeah? But brows that were large and expressive that he relaxed and knit,
mobile and and tense, you know, intensely male. Beautiful. In a way. Like
a gentle guy - but still very much a real fighting hunting man of his
group. This sort of hyper-masculinised mind inside a tough but beautiful
body. It was kind of mesmerising. So incredibly fuckable and hot - not
like you; hot in a hot soft fuckable mysteriously foreign sort of way, so
that when he opened up like that way he did, it was like discovering a
flower opening suddenly and unexpectedly in the forest. And when he gave
it to you it was like he was giving you permission to desecrate something
ancient and timeless."

"You miss him, don't you?" said Baby, softly.
Tony coughed. "I wouldn't say, miss, him. It was a long time ago. I
remember him with affection. Like a lot of the men I've screwed. But he
was a good'n; and just goes to prove, the mentality isn't a decadent
urban construct; it's in some men and not others to be such men who not
only yearn to be used by other men but are positively designed to do it.
Helplessly. Born subs. Such men occur naturally in a population and men
like me make use of them naturally also. But I wasn't expecting him to
react the way he did when I told him, you know, I was off.

"I told him I needed him to start packing my stuff. I talked to him like
a servant - that's what he had become, mainly because that was the
dynamic that suited us. I love thinking about all the men I've used as
servants. All the subs and cocksuckers and mancunts. And naturally he
wanted to know where I was going and when I'd be back. I didn't know how
to tell him. I could see he hadn't picked up on what I was about. I
looked at him and hugged him, then he realised - I saw it happen in his
face when he realised what I was saying and immediately he just got this
angry, pushing me away and started shouting about how I couldn't leave,
how I had betrayed him. I held onto him but when I let go he rushed off
around the room like a spinning top, picking up things and dropping them,
and shouting. That's when he came up with this phrase, 'Skin pays for
skin', which I had no idea what he meant by that."
"Skin pays for skin?" said Baby, "What skin? Whose?"
"All skin," said Tony. "His, mine, the clothes we were in, the skin of
caribou and seal, the skin of sex and our faces. Every kind of skin.
That's what he was referring to, and that was his way of saying, if I had
to go, skin had to pay for every skin, with skin."
"I'm no clearer," said Baby. "How pay? What for?"
"So ok it doesn't actually make sense, any sense. Amaq just kept
shouting, largely in his language, I didn't understand despite I'd
learned pretty much from my time there how to speak it a bit. But all I
got was that he reckoned skin was like a debt and needed to pay or ..."
"Or what?"
"Or nothing. Just, skin pays for skin. Like a debt. Like, skin had to
pay. That's what he said. Skin pays for skin and skin had to pay. I
thought he was going to kill me and flay me alive for a minute - you
know, for MY skin! I mean, I don't think he could have the strength to
overpower me if he had but then on the other hand he might have some
trick or super-strength given he was so angry. Angry people have great
resources of power. They can do anything. And he was strong anyway. Anger
is a force of nature like waves or the wind. And it can take you by
surprise. Be warned."
Baby blinked.
"So now he was getting violent and throwing stuff - instead of packing my
stuff he was throwing it all around and breaking things. It was mad. I
tried to grab him to restrain him to control him, and I tried using my
dominant voice and natural alpha superiority - which usually worked - but
he fought me off and ignored me even though I could have fucked him into
submission there and then - he was so horny when he lost his temper - and
he would have begged me to, normally, in floods of tears, asking me to
fuck him out of forgiveness. But he didn't. He just went on and on, 'Skin
pays for skin, Skin pays for skin', and so on. In the end I grabbed him
from behind and held him in a tight arm lock until he quieted down then I
said Ok I need to fuck you right now. Right now. Ok?

"He dropped his drawers and I fucked the cunt out of him, brutally, for
about an hour, edging and almost cuming until at last he was in tears and
saying sorry - though it didn't mean anything, he was still angry and
wasn't sorry except that I was leaving. He was sorry I was leaving and he
was losing his alpha screw. That's all it came down to. He was
desperately sad because even though I kept on fucking him right until the
end, he knew it wouldn't last and he thought, How can I change this? How
can I force him to change his mind? How can I force him into staying?"
"You enjoy being cruel."
"Yeah. I do. And I enjoy guys who enjoy me being cruel to them. It's
mutual."
"Is it?" said Baby, though he knew it was true.

"I changed his position several times, but when I was screwing him, but I
never let him get any pleasure from it. I just fucked him and fucked him
and fucked him until his hole was ruined and sloppy and then I cum
buckets squirting out the sides he was so full of my men and it was
running down. And he was in tears. He fell forward and he just crouched
down, grabbing my ankles, and said, 'Please, please, don't go, don't
leave me, please Tony. I need you Tony.' All that.
"But I couldn't relent.
"Eventually he went silent and dressed, 'Let's go!' he said. 'Go where?'
'On the snow; let's go talk to Inukshuk.'
I thought, what the hell, and agreed to that just to shut him up and, you
know, closure."

Tony was quiet for a bit. Then continued, "There was a thin low mist on
the water. We took a canoe for part of the way. When we got to the
Inukshuk we stood in its grand stone opening and Amaq said some
traditional words, like a prayer, or a poem or I don't know what. It was
very sweet. He was so subdued. I took him in my arms and kissed him. The
cold air whistled round us ... like it wanted us to leave. We didn't go.
We stood and kissed and I said I would miss him. The sadness in his face
was so arousing! He said, 'Will you ever return?' And I said, after a
long pause to soften the blow, 'Unlikely'.
"We stood like that for a good few minutes, staring into the mist; then
Amaq shook my arm and indicated a path beyond the Inukshuk. I followed
him, through the opening, and down, eventually to where the water met the
ice and a small colony of seals lay bleating.

"There was a group of adults motionless, resting, plus some cubs. The
large males barked occasionally, rolled over, or scratched themselves.
The females were less active. And the cubs didn't move, until we
approached, when they lifted their soft white heads and stared at us with
these enormous wet black glassy eyes like big black marbles in their beds
of pleated fur.

"By now Amaq and I had been walking side by side, but, all of a sudden,
Amaq takes off! He runs full speed towards the cubs; I see he has
produced something from his pocket, and holds it up as he gets close - a
small hard club! The nearest baby seal wakes up and starts to turn away.
Then - well you can ..." Tony made a motion with his hand like he was
hitting something.
"What?" said Baby.
"Well, he, several times," Tony struck the air with his hand once more.
"Blood."

"And it was dead. And he. He. He ... picks it up - by its tail, with one
hand, carries it back to where I'm still standing - I'm stunned by the
suddenness of it. The violence. Because ... it was so ... real! And he
holds out this cute furry body to me, presumably to take it. 'See,' he
says, 'this. For you. Skin. Pays for skin. I pay. For you. Take.'
"'I don't want it!'
"'Take it. Take it. You must!'"

"Fuckinhell," murmured Baby. "What did it mean?"

"He really wanted me to stay, I guess, or actually, no. Scrub that. It
was something symbolic that expressed his anger that I was leaving and
leaving him and leaving everything behind me - like it was a debt that he
was paying, on my behalf, somehow. Something like that. It was the most
violent non-sex thing I have ever witnessed - personally. Though it was
sort of to do with sex as well. Obliquely."
"What did you do? Was it even legal?"
"Christ knows. He did what he did and I basically just wanted to get back
and get out of there. He stood with this corpse in his hand - red spots
on the snow -"
"What about the other seals? Didn't they attack?"
"No. Strangely. And he looked at me like it meant something - well, it
did to him but to me, it didn't mean anything except horror, and disgust.
I realised I didn't know him at all, there was something wild there I
hadn't taken in, and didn't understand anything and I felt like an
imposter suddenly who didn't have any business being there at all in that
neck of the woods. I told him to calm down - though I'm the one needed
calming down! "
"And did he?"
"Look, Baby, never tell any one to calm down, not when they're upset. He
threw the little body at my feet and stared at me. I just turned and
started walking back - only I didn't know the route, and the canoe we
shared. It was all just snow and water and seals, with no horizon due to
the lowering sea-mist. I turned back and saw Amaq pick up the cub again -
it looked like a stuffed toy. He walked towards me and walked me - we
just walked; we didn't speak - back to the canoe. We sat in it with the
cub between us...

"Like it was our child. Then when we reached the shore he picked it up
and we walked back to the hut, where he just dropped the cub into a cold
box and shut it in and just stood there like a goon, staring at the box,
then he turned to me and put his arms out, like he would give me a hug;
but I was all past that. After a few seconds he let his arms drop and
just said, Please."
"Sad," said Baby.
"Ye. Too true. He pulled his clothes open and exposed his chest, like in
supplication - I remember his nipples because they were so pointed and
hot and I thought, 'The things I could do ...' He wanted it. He wanted it
again. He desperately wanted me. Fuck it, all he wanted was to fuck. He
wanted me to take his hole. That's all he wanted. He said so. He said,
'Do it. Do it to me please.' Like that's all he wanted after all that,
all that sorrow and cruelty and violence - like a typical sub all he
could think about was my cock and that's all that mattered."
"He loved you."
"He loved my cock, he loved. He loved it clubbing him, he loved. He loved
it killing his hole. That's all he loved. He loved cock. He loved it
stretching him and bruising him. Like you: all you love is cock. All you
want is my monster. That's all you want. You're all the same, sub after
sub, all you want is to be fucked with my big hard cock."
Tony stopped. He stared at Baby, as though all he wanted was to smash it
in - and Baby felt this, Tony imagining him, clubbed with Tony's enormous
weapon. Baby shivered. Tony stared at him silently. Then he said, as
though to someone else, "Smash his hole ..."

"Did you ... you know?"
"Oh yeah. I fucked it one last time for luck. It was brilliant. That was
best fuck ever I think; gave me everything. I think honestly believed it
had changed my mind, or if really let me use it fully how I wanted, to do
anything I wanted, and really, you know, perform for me, it could finally
change my head back to where I'd stay and be there for ever. Huh.
Unbelievable. But a fucking good screw. Unbelievable. It was like
electricity beneath my hands and I just pumped it through like waves and
waves of edging until when I did I saw the cum explode out of the sides
of my prick cause of the pressure inside and it went all like that,
splurge." Tony smiled at the memory. "And I knew it was well and truly
fucked. So I got my stuff and organised a ride and left. It took me a few
days but finally I was back in UK and writing my thesis and that was
that."

"You don't know what happened to Amaq or the seal or anything
afterwards?"
"What do I care? Crazy is as crazy does!" he smiled, and drew on his
cigar.

"That was a horrible story," said Baby.
"I know," said Tony. "It was. But there you are." He stared. "I've had
some odd encounters." He stopped for thought and then added, "See ... the
men of that region they were true hunters, naturally great, ice hunters,
gifted, fur and canny. They had to be cause they used the resources of
the environment to survive and had done for ages; generations of men
going out to kill and provide. Even in the modern age - I wrote about it
in my thesis - like now - you know - they carry on practices that might
seem exploitative or unsustainable to our madcap consumerist eyes, but
that's how they always lived; it's the opposite from what it seems: They
pare out the resources they use absolutely to the best optimum. So Amaq,
he knew how to hunt, how to kill, and did it naturally, like part of the
cultural upbringing, and he knew what he did was wrong, with the seal, It
was wasteful, cruel, just plain wrong. But he hurt and he did it because
he hurt and had no power to do anything to stop hurting or express how
much or why he was hurting. And he hurt because I hurt him. So it was my
fault. I'd hurt so he hurt and that little innocent seal cub ... it was
like his way of demonstrating what I was doing to him, breaking him. Like
he was that cub. Well ... that's just what happens when you drive men to
the edge."

"I wonder what happened to the cub," said Baby.

"I hope he sold it. Lovely little body like that, shouldn't go to waste."

"I'm sorry," said Baby, trying to gauge his response, whilst guarding his
shock.
"I'm sorry, too," said Tony. "You ok?"
"No," said Baby. "No I'm not."
"Come here," said Tony, intending to comfort him.
"No," said Baby. I don't think so."
"Come here," said Tony. "Come here. Come here ... And bring the ashtray."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

END OF RICK HOWMAN - PART TEN