Date: Tue, 08 Jul 2003 22:57:53 +0100
From: joshua Caddy  <joshuacaddy@lycos.co.uk>
Subject: Antiques Trade Chapter 2

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.

I could not believe all the positive feedback I received after the first
chapter was listed. Thank you so very much sorry to anyone who was upset by
the violence.

All comments are most welcome.

joshuacaddy@lycos.co.uk

Chapter the Second


Frank tore open the small door on the side of the wagon "what the fuk do
you want" he snarled.

"What I paid for" I responded.

"Go fuk your sen, an unless tha wants some or this dunt come back" With
this crude outburst Frank brandished the cutthroat razor in my
direction. His hands were dripping with Jason's blood; he looked like
something that had crawled out the seventh circle of the pit.

That is until the end of my oak walking stick connected with his wrist. The
crack of bones shattering was quite audible. As you would expect he dropped
the razor and automatically began to hold his shattered arm. Then the stick
caught him on the elbow of his other arm. A sound like someone breaking a
dry twig resulted from this sharp contact.

I ignored Frank's bellows of pain and like a pool player making the opening
break I rammed the end of the stick into franks groin causing him to fall
back inside the wagon. Jumping in after him I then proceeded to beat the
shit out of him. Numerous well aimed blows and kick soon reduced him to a
quivering mass.

Lying upon the floor surrounded by an ever-growing pool of his own bodily
fluids Frank looked like a whale after the whalers had harpooned it.

Leaning in towards Frank's repulsive body, I pressed the stud on the side
of my stick, which caused a six inch steel spike to click out of its
tip. Placing this needle sharp spike just under Franks left eye I said in a
calm almost conversational manner "You may consider me nemesis. If you ever
lay one finger on Jason, on any boy ever again I will take great care to
ensure you suffer an exquisitely painful end to your mortal existence" I
lightly pressed the spike into franks flesh causing a single crimson drop
to role down his cheek like a ruby tear. If he were to shed a tear it would
be for his own suffering and not the agony he had inflicted upon countless
others. With this thought in mind I banged his head on the floor until he
lost consciousness.

Tucking the stick into my belt I stepped over Frank's inert carcass and
tightly grasped Jason around the waste, anguishing over the agony this
caused him; I lifted him from the hook in the wagons roof.

Whimpering softly Jason's arms fell around my neck. He lacked the strength
even to hold on and so lolled like a rag doll in my arms. This fragile
action, more so than the horrific mutilations he had suffered tore at the
very fibre of my being. With tears cascading down my cheeks I gently
lowered him to the dross-strewn floor of the wagon.

As I detached the chains from his wrists the marks left were nothing in
comparison to the other depredations inflicted upon his smooth teen
body. After sliding these cruel restraints chains from his ravaged arms I
then proceeded to extract the butt plug from his mouth. This I did and he
promptly vomited a foul mixture of blood and bile across the wagon floor.

The site before me was something that no one should see, let alone have
inflicted upon them. Jason was bleeding profusely from the gash across his
chest and the pincer wound to his leg.

Casting a glance around the lorry back I saw nothing with which I could
alleviate Jason's misery. So wrapping him in my overcoat I clasped him to
my chest, much in the same way a mother carries a new born infant and
returned across the fairground to my caravan.

The caress of the cold night upon his ravaged flesh began to revive Jason
and he began to feebly struggle in my arms. Not pausing in my progress
across the night-still fairground I whispered reassuring words into his ear
as his tousled blond head lay upon my shoulder. "Jason, he's gone. He
cannot get to you anymore. I will NOT allow anything to happen to you
further" My voice crackled with the turmoil of emotions cascading over me,
but the sound of this gentle, heartfelt reassurance gradually began to
quiet his struggles.

Getting Jason up the steps and thought the caravan door presented me some
small difficulty. The progress across the fairground with this precious
load had left my knee inflamed and unwilling to continue bearing its load.

Ignoring the searing agony that my knee had now become I laboriously toiled
up the steps and negotiated the constraints of the caravan door. Once
within I placed Jason's damaged frame upon the padded couch, which only
hours before I had cleared of its normal debris in anticipation of dining
with this now troubled young man.

Now removed from the warm safety of my embrace Jason began to frantically
survey his new surrounding. For the first time since I and removed him from
the torment of his employers clutches his eyes fell upon my care worn
countenance and in a voice barely audible breathed "I new you'd come for
me"

After uttering these few brief words his eyes closed and he slipped into a
state of ravaged unconsciousness. Whilst only a simple statement, his words
washed over me like an icy torrent. How did he know that I would save him,
why did he expect this from someone he barley knew?

In this simple unquestioning trust I knew I had been given the most
precious gift one man could give another. Yet at the same time the
consequences of this fell like a lead collar upon my shoulders. I now had a
purpose in my existence, for beyond all reason, I knew that Jason's well
being and future were my sole purpose for the rest of my days. Without
question I would care for him forever.

This revelation washed over me, a flame burning uncontrollably within my
soul.  I came out of this moment of devine contemplation and began
ministering to his ravaged flesh.

With my previous experience of wounds and there treatment (yes I will tell
you something about my history but Jason is far more important at this
moment) I soon staunched the bleeding from his wounds, carefully cleansing
these disgraceful signs of mans in humanity to man, or in this case boy.

I had removed the vestiges of his t-shirt when dressing the razor wound
across his chest. He lay there upon the couch still in his bloodstained
shorts and no longer white football socks. Moments of agony flashed across
his slumbering face. I filled a bowl with warm water and using one of my
blue silk handkerchiefs I began to wash the bloodstains from his smooth
young flesh. Gently I sponged the rivulets of sticky blood from his smooth
torso and then softly dried the cleansed areas with an Irish linen hand
towel.

Moving down to his feet I rolled the blood besmirched socks from his
well-defined legs, slipping them past his perfectly shaped feet and
discarded them upon the floor. I then unbuttoned the remains of his shorts
and smoothly raising his legs with one hand and removed both shorts and
boxers in one quick movement. Laying his legs down again I continued to
wash the blood from his body, chasing the lines of blood from his waste
down to his feet. As I ministered to this poor boys flesh I could not help
but dwell upon the mentality of someone who could cause such devastation to
something, someone so beautiful. Once I had remove all traces of blood from
Jason's body I quickly dried him, not letting the water come into contact
with the dressing applied to his wounds.

Throughout the time I was dressing his wounds and cleansing his body Jason
had remained in the land of Morphious, the minds last resort when pain gets
too much to bare. On completing my work I stepped back to fully assess what
lie before me.

In a state of fitful slumber Jason laid upon the couch, naked except for
the sterile white of the dressings vividly contrasting with the walnut hews
of his tanned flesh. As I surveyed the beautiful boy who lay before me I
could not help but let my gaze linger upon the boyhood nestling upon his
smooth tanned thighs. Whilst I yearned with every fibre of my being to
caress this picture of perfection I new that it would be a betrayal of the
great trust placed upon me. So sighing, I struggled to raise myself from
his side and covering him with a soft cream coloured blanket went to put
the kettle on.

Having made myself a cup of blackcurrant tea I returned to the couch and
Jason, who was now beginning to stir from his deep, restorative slumber. I
perched on the edge of the couch by Jason's side. As I did so his eyes
opened and he sat bolt upright in a state of shock not knowing where he was
nor how he had come to be there. The look of panic upon his face was
heartrending to see. As his eyes fell upon me he through his arms around me
and began to cry in the most pitiful way. I was unable to do anything other
than draw him to me and return his embrace, whispering the gentle
reassuring phrases parents' use when comforting a distressed child. I sat
with Jason held tight to me for what seemed like an eternity.

Eventually Jason's sobs began to subside and he released his boa
constrictor hold from around my neck. As he withdrew from me I was able lo
look into the blue depths of his eyes. Whist red rimmed from his ordeal the
depth of his gaze held me. It felt as though I could drown in the depth of
these cobalt orbs. Slowly a small smile spread across his face. " I new you
would come for me " he said.

"Why" was the only response I could make?

This coursed him to giggle in the way a much younger boy would have.

"We all know about you" he said "We all now how you watch us around the
shows, the looks you give when you think no ones looking, how you've always
got time for any of the young lads, those you lent a few bob to when they
were skint, how you're always good to those working for you and what you
did for Eric last summer"

This shocked me I'd taken a lot of time and effort to ensure that had
remained a secret.

Eric used to be a porter round the fairs. He worked for anyone and everyone
doing whatever came up. I must confess I had always had a soft sport for
Eric. I think it must have been a combination of the close-cropped dark
brown hair the well turned limbs and the tight young bum. Please don't
think I'm just that shallow though. Some of the conversations I'd had with
Eric showed what a thoughtful young man he was.

 His dream was to set up on his own, buying and selling like the
dealers. He was always after one or other of the specialist dealers to take
him on as an apprentice. You have no idea how long and hard I agonised over
taking him on myself. But I knew that if he was around me 24 - 7 I would be
unable to resist the temptation to touch him up.

That was not on at all. Firstly it would ruin the friendship I was building
up with him, secondly it would not be fair of me to put him in that
position and thirdly, perhaps most importantly of all I was unable to
accept that side of me.

Whilst I was prepared to look at the pictures on line, buying the movies
and magazines I was unable to let anyone else into that aspect of my
life. The fact that I was attracted to boys and young lads repulsed me in
so many ways. Why could I not be "normal" why did it have to be me? This
affliction (as I saw it then) had coloured all the aspects of my life. It
meant I never felt able to let anyone close to me, could never let anyone
with the walls I had built around myself.

So whilst I had many friends and acquaintances there was no one with whom I
could unlock the chasms of my soul. This had led to various phases of
self-destructive behaviour, ultimately leading to how I had damaged my
knee, which consequently changing my life forever.

Over the course of a few weeks and innumerable bottles of claret I reached
the conclusion that I could not risk taking on Eric.

However, in the meantime Eric had persuaded one of the other dealers to
take him on. This brought me a great sense of relief, the fact that the
decision had been taken away from me. This did not last when I found out
which dealer it was.

Derick Withernshaw was one of the most corrupt dealers on the circuit. He
did little or nothing that was legit and further to my horror he'd got Eric
to sign indenture papers with him. That meant Eric had contracted himself
to work for Derick for a set length of time for practically nothing, plus
the indenture was worded in such a way that Derick had no obligations at
all to Erick. This meant he was able to use Eric as virtual slave
labour. Whilst indenture was not particularly enforceable at law the nature
of Derick's business was such that he would not make recourse to the law
should Eric leave, rather he would have a number of heavies do him over.

Anyway things went from bad to worse for Eric and in an effort to buy
himself out of the indenture he managed to run up large gambling debts with
various unsavoury characters. This was over the course of a few months
during which I was on a buying tour rather than selling around the fairs
and so was unaware of his situation.

When I came back on the circuit Eric was destitute still slaving for Derick
and in order to service his gambling debts had basically become a rent boy.

When I found out about this it simply broke my heart that such a nice lad
was reduced to selling his arse in order to keep various thugs from beating
him to a pulp.

I immediately decided to solve his problem for him.

Derick was the easiest to sort out. I had known for a very long time that
he had offloaded some gear belonging to one very nasty London villain. So a
quick phone call to the "smoke" got Derick on the run very quickly, leaving
Eric free of that particular burden. The fact he left all his papers behind
when he left the country meant a few matches and there was no trace of
Eric's indenture.

His gambling debts were a little more tricky. I took me a week to find out
who he owed money to and an awful lot of fast talking to get them to sell
his debts to me, without them revealing who had bought up his markers. This
was not a cheap operation but I could not let Eric continue as he was.

The last operation was the trickiest of the lot. I got a friend who had an
antiques shop in Oxford to offer Eric an apprenticeship. Whilst he was
happy enough to do this for Eric it cost me a whole load of favours to get
him to agree, also not to tell Eric who had lined this up for him.

So after a hectic few weeks I had solved Eric's problems for him and set
him on the path towards the career he so desperately wants. I occasionally
get progress reports from my mate in Oxford telling me how he's getting on.

The fact that this was common knowledge around the fairs shocked me. I had
been so careful that I was sure no one knew what I had done.

When the revelation about Eric had sunk in I thought about the other stuff
Jason had said. Was I so obvious in eying up the boys? I thought I had been
terribly discreet.

My hand reached for the mug and I took a long drink, desperately wishing it
was something a lot stronger than tea.

In the moment this revelation had taken place Jason's eyes had not left
mine. In place of the hurt I had seen before there was now a look of mild
amusement.

Unable to speak, I held his gaze for as long as I could but found my eyes
beginning to mist up. At this he placed one soft hand upon my cheek and
kissed me upon the other.

This broke down each wall I had been so careful in constructing for as long
as I could remember. The sobs that then racked my body were
uncontrollable. I found myself crying into the tousled blond hair of this
injured boy almost as though I were the child and he the adult.

As my emotions began to subside I was able to see that Jason had also been
crying in tandem with me. With his eyes still wet he smiled at me and said,
"We always new you liked boys but could never figure out why you didn't do
anything about it. There's plenty of other benders on the circuit that have
hands like octopuses. If you work for them they have always got hands on
you but you've never touched any of us"

What could I say, how could I respond to that statement coming from a naked
boy who was somehow sat upon my lap. During our emotional turmoil the
blanket I Had wrapped him in had fallen away and he had sat in my lap
without my noticing or shrinking from such intimate contact.


Staring back into his sapphire eyes I whispered " how could I ever hurt any
of you, how could I do anything you did not want, how could I do something
so wrong, how could..........." My voice trailed off and I began to shake
with the pent up emotion inside of me.

Jason simply responded by pulling my head to his shoulder, holding me to
the warmth of his naked body.

We remained in this position until I had regained a little control of
myself. Almost shyly I raised my head from his shoulder " I'm so very sorry
I shouldn't be here with you like this, how can you forgive me doing this
to you, how can you bare to be near filth like me 'I'm so sorry" I went on
in this vein until Jason suddenly slapped me in the face.

This sudden shock brought me up cold.

"What are you on about" he almost spat

"How can you bare to be near a bloke who thinks what I do about boys" I
responded

"Yes so"

"You know I want to do things with you do things to you, to any boy"

"Do you want to do what Frank did" Jason curtly responded

"I couldn't hurt you, hurt any boy. But I want to touch you, hold you, damn
it have sex with you!!!!! That's why I don't understand how you can be near
me"

At this Jason got shakily off my lap and stood looking down at me.

"How can you think such things about yourself? Why would any boy not want
you for his friend? Look what you did for Eric, look what you've done for
me tonight. What so very wrong about wanting a boy that you have to beat
yourself up about it"

This little revelation struck home "you mean I don't revolt you"

He responded with a smile that was like a candle piercing the blackest
night. "If you had only seen instead of just looking from a distance you
would have realised there are lads just like you, who want the same thing,
who have tried to get you to do things with them but it was like you were
unable to see this"

This statement appeared to have tired Jason for he sat down next to me and
took hold of my hand "there's nothing some of us wouldn't do for you" and
with this statement Jason fell back onto the couch and slumping against my
shoulder slipped into the deep sleep from which he had only just awakened.

Carefully I lay Jason down upon the couch and after checking his bandages
covered him with the blanket.

These revelations had left me in turmoil, so grabbing a bottle of malt from
the shelf I limped to the caravan door. Sitting heavily upon the top step I
took a long swig from the bottle.

Slowly the reality of the night's events began to sink in. I had come close
to beating a man to death, I had a naked boy in my caravan who realised I
was a boy lover with all that this implied and I was now sat on the front
door step like some degenerate redneck trying to drink myself into a
stupor.

Whilst the first two scenarios were fact and unalterable I did not have to
sink to the level of the third and so I replaced the cork in the bottle and
let it slip from my fingers to the ground below.

As I am not given to self pity the outburst I had delivered that evening
were totally out of character and caused me to examine myself in greater
depth than I had ever done before.

The two character traits I am least comfortable with had both surfaced that
evening. Firstly, my ability to do violence. Admittedly that was the result
of my studies and remained locked away until needed. This I could cope
with, but the second was an entirely different matter. My love for boys.

Jason had unwittingly captured my heart, nocking down all my defences in
the process with a few simple words and a single kiss. This forced me to
view aspects of myself that I had buried, I thought forever.

I must have sat in contemplation for a good couple of hours for when heard
Jason begin to stir in the caravan behind me all my muscles protested as I
rose to go inside to him.

By the time I had levered myself off the doorstep he was sat up on the
couch stretching and yawning. He rather reminded me of a lion cub I had
seen on a wildlife documentary.

I was greeted with a soft smile and I asked him how he was feeling

"Like someone's cut me with a razor" came the sarcastic response, softened
by the smile upon his face.

Crossing the caravan I sat down next to him and he instantly took hold of
my hand. "Where's Frank" he quietly asked?

"Probably lying in his own blood and filth" I responded "Its highly
unlikely that he will come anywhere near you ever again, particularly if he
wants to keep all his anatomy intact"

"What did you do to him?" Jason enquired with a look of revenge on his
face.

"Its better that you don't know" I responded patting his cheek.

With this simple gesture all the colour drained from Jason's face

"If Franks done in what's going to happen to Ryan" The amount of panic in
Jason's voice was palpable. "He's going starve"

I had to hold Jason down to stop him running out of the caravan. "Calm down
whose Ryan" I asked

"He's my little brother," cried Jason "Frank always keeps him locked up in
his house while we are at a fair to stop me running away"

"Don't worry we will go and get him" I tried to reassure Jason.

"But I don't know where the house is"


End of chapter the second