Date: Sat, 06 Dec 2003 02:18:45 -0500 From: Tom Cup Subject: Stephen Miller's Journal by Tom Cup - Chapter 8- A/Y, Incest Copyright 2000-2003 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ What's New at TomCup.com? 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Check it out at http://www.tomcup.com! ************************************************************************ The Paratwa Partnership, Inc. is a publication and marketing agency and is not responsible for the content of the Tom Cup Library, TomCup.com or its affiliate sites, or stories written by Mr. Cup or his associates. ************************************************************************ Stephen Miller's Journal by Tom Cup Chapter 8 Confusion December 15, 1992 I finished midterms. How I did, who can tell? I don't know. If I flunk out maybe I'll have to go home but I don't know if I could do that. My parents would be so disappointed. They sacrificed so much so that I could get here. How could I now flunk out? Of course I don't think that I have. I just haven't done as well as I could have. Truthfully, I'm preoccupied. Jon's warning really bothers me. I mean it's one thing to think that Dr. Ritten might turn me over to the police or have me committed to an asylum but quite another to think that he might physically harm me. That's what Jon was suggesting, unless I misread everything he'd been saying. December 16, 1992 So at dinner last night I mention that I am not so sure how I did on my midterms, right? So guess who shows up at the house today? Dr. Mitchell, the fucking Dean, OK! He has me bent over the couch fucking me while asking me all kinds of questions about my classes. "So... uhn .... you ... uhn ... think you .... uhn ...Oh, yeah that's good ...." Anyway, Dr. Ritten and the Dean `explained' the situation to me. Seems I am a `good boy' and show `real potential' all I need to do is keep my nose clean and play along and, "We'll take care of the rest," the Dean said as he and Dr. Ritten nodded to each other. So he fucked me, blow one load and then had me suck him hard again so he could fuck me again. My grade point average went from a C- to a B+ and I'm getting a Dean's grant. No more Work-Study; there are better uses for my time, I was told. December 17, 1992 The phone rang about 8:30 this morning. Dr. Ritten had me take the call in his office. "I don't understand," Mom said, "You couldn't come home for Thanksgiving and now you're not coming home for Christmas? Is something wrong, Stephen?" "No Mom, nothing's wrong." "Are in some kind of trouble?" "No." "You haven't gotten some girl in trouble have you?" "No Mom! It's nothing like that I..." "Stephen?" Mom had given the phone to Dad, or Dad had become impatient and taken it from her, I didn't know which but now he was on the phone. "Hi Dad." "What's going on? You be straight with me." "Nothing's going on Dad. I just can't get away right now. I have responsibilities. You know. I have a job. I can't just leave." "You're sure that's all to it. You're not in some kind of trouble?" "No Dad. I swear." I hated myself for lying to them. I want so badly to tell them that I did need help but I couldn't. It wasn't just the fact the Dr. Ritten sat listening as I talked to them. Even if he hadn't been there I would have said the exact same things. This was a mess I couldn't ask my parents to help me to resolve. I couldn't explain it to them. I couldn't hear my Mom crying and couldn't stand the thought of Dad's shock. God, I planned to tell them one day about my `sexual preference' -- I fucking hate that term. Like I prefer to be gay. That's such shit -- but I couldn't do it now. Not while I was under Dr. Ritten's thumb. "That was wise," Dr. Ritten said after I hung up the phone. "Thank you sir." "You must have mixed feelings about things." "Yes sir." "Lock the door." I locked the door and began to undress but Dr. Ritten said that he simply wanted to talk with me. He began by asking me how I felt about being gay. "I don't know," I answered truthfully, "I knew I was before all this began but I hadn't really done much." "Tell me about when you first realized you were gay." "I don't really know when it first hit me. I think it was a gradual thing." "So you've never had a boyfriend?" "Not really." "Not really? What does that mean?" "I guess I fooled around with one boy back home but we weren't boyfriends." "What would you say you were?" "I don't know. We were just fooling around." "Hmmm... but you liked it more than he did?" "I suppose. We just jacked off together once or twice and once we did each other for a while but he didn't really seem interested after those few times." "But you were?" "Yes. But I didn't want to appear over eager." "You didn't want him to think you wanted him, that you were gay?" "Yes. I suppose." "Suppose he had invited you to play again, you would have done it then, wouldn't you?" "Yes." "So you would have been willing as long as he initiated things?" "Yes." "How old were you Stephen?" "I think we were ten or eleven. I think." "So you knew at that age?" "Yes sir. I think so." "Were there indications earlier?" "I don't know. I don't think I really thought about it. Not until after I fooled around with Jeff." "Jeff? That was his name?" "Yes sir." "Why do you think I'm asking you these questions, Stephen?" "I don't know." "I want you to think about the pattern of your life; and I want you to think about what you've been doing here." "I'm just doing what I'm told." "Are you? Are you sure that's all to it? Are you sure you are being forced?" "Yes... I mean..." Dr. Ritten smiled. "I didn't force you to be with Robby and Jon. I didn't force you at Halloween to go out to the gazebo. You did those things on your own." "But the other stuff..." Dr. Ritten sighed. "You are trying so hard to convince yourself that you are trapped, that you want this to stop, that you want to escape; but you don't, not really. Think about it, Stephen. Don't just give me a knee jerk answer. Do you really want this to stop?" To my surprise I shook my head. I mean I sat there acknowledging ... what? That I liked what was happening? In a way I did. I liked it because I didn't have to initiate anything. At eighteen, I'm having more sex than I could hope for. "You see," Dr. Ritten said, "I only gave you an excuse to do what you wanted. You did Dean Mitchell because it benefited you. You do the others that I send your way because it too benefits you. You enjoy being dominated; you enjoy being told what to do. If you look deep within yourself you will see that what I am saying is true. It's the reason you eventually went to Jon. You liked what was happening and you wanted more. I'm not a monster, Stephen. I simply don't like people deceiving themselves. You like sex, gay sex more precisely, and that's OK. It doesn't make you a bad person or a pervert or abnormal or any of that other bullshit. Can you understand that?" "Yes." "But you don't believe it?" "I ... I don't know. I'm confused." "Of course you are. But the truth is that it adds to your excitement. Sex is a confusing business. Your senses go haywire. It's the confusion that you desire. The fact that I have those tapes, the fact that Jon and Robby are underage, the fact that you fucked the Dean to get better grades, all of it excites you because it is taboo. It your knowledge of the taboo and your willingness to break it that adds to your sexual confusion. Stephen, you love being confused. Tell me, isn't the confusion of this conversation exciting you?" I nodded. I don't know when it happened but sometime during the conversation I had become erect. Dr. Ritten smiled at me. I felt out of control and embarrassed. How had he managed to talk me into an erection? I thought that the worse part of this situation was having sex with Dr. Ritten but here I was excited beyond belief. "I won't force you but if you want I would like you to come and sit on my lap." It was as if I was in a trance. I rose, went to him and sat across his lap. He hugged me and I found myself kissing him. I willingly spread my legs as he caressed my thigh. He pulled his lips away from mine and looked in the eye. "It's your call Stephen," he said, "Do you want me to take you to the couch?" "Yes," I said as tears of submission fell from my eyes. "Are you sure?" "Yes sir." I was trembling as Dr. Ritten undressed me. I couldn't understand how I could fear him and at the same time desire him. He took my cock into his mouth and sucked me slowly. I groaned. His tongue slowly circled the head of my cock and poked at the slit. He teethed down the shaft and then sucked on my ball sac. I spread my legs wider. My ass lips quivered. Confusion flooded my mind. I was supposed to be figuring a way out of Dr. Ritten's servitude but I was reveling in it. He lifted my ass and tongued my hole. I surrendered to the sensations. I didn't even notice when Dr. Ritten replaced his tongue with his cock. I found myself grinding my ass back onto him, determined to receive his praise, determined to please him. The confusion of my behavior, my vacillation over desire to escape and desire to stay, my wavering as to the danger that Dr. Ritten posed, was replaced with the confusion of orgasm. Dr. Ritten plunged into me grunting and laughing. I clung to him giddy at being filled by him while expending my own pleasure in leaping hot flashes. December 18, 1992 Robby is furious with me. He says I let his father `mind fuck' me. Maybe he's right. I don't know. The more I think about what Dr. Ritten said yesterday, the more it sounds like the truth. I mean, if I really believe that Dr. Ritten will eventually use the tapes anyway, shouldn't I just leave and take my chances? If I really believe that he's capable of physically hurting me, isn't that even more reason to take my chances with the cops, maybe go home and turn myself in there? But I stay. And it's true that after the initial shock of discovering that he knew what was going on and had been taping me, I enjoyed being used. Robby says his Dad is playing me, manipulating me with mind games. "Think about it, you schmuck," Robby said, "He offered to let you decide if you would sit on his lap. He let you decide whether or not you guys would fuck on the couch. Did he ever say, `if you want to leave, Stephen, you can go? No. And he won't. Wake up." I can't break free to examine whether the danger is real, imagined or staged. It occurs to me that Robby and Jon may still be playing roles in a game, masterminded by Dr. Ritten, designed to keep all involved sexually stimulated. If that's the case, I've fallen for it; hook, line, and sinker. Robby and Jon seem so sincere but they seemed sincere when they first set me up. So how do I know I'm not still in the midst of a game? I truly don't know what to believe anymore. Dr. Ritten is right. The confusion, fear, anxiety, mystery and speculation are immensely arousing. With each new development in my life here, I become more fearful, and more aroused. I find I enjoy the stimulation, the constant fight or flight, on the edge of destruction, emotion that is jettisoned during the ecstasy of orgasm, and then rebuilt slowly by the tensions of the household until it is ready to be released once more. But I need to know that I am not going to wake up and discover this hasn't been a game. I don't want to wake up and find myself in jail or an asylum or worse. I need to think this through. I have to think this through. ************************************************************************ Send comments to: comments@tomcup.com To support this and other stories by the author, join at http://www.tomcup.com. If you like this story, check out Tom Cup's "Calvin: A Coming of Age Story." 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