Date: Sun, 7 Mar 2004 09:27:08 -0500 (EST) From: "Publishing@TomCup.com" Subject: Stephen Miller's Journal by Tom Cup - Chapter 11 A/Y - Incest Copyright 2000-2004 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 ********************************************************************** What's New at TomCup.com? 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Check it out at http://www.tomcup.com! coincidental. ********************************************************************** 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 11 Hitting Games December 26, 1992 Jon woke me this afternoon. I must admit if he hadn't I would have gone the whole day without eating. I had a massive hangover and ran to my bathroom to vomit as soon as I was lucid. My stomach purged, I was able to eat a couple of lightly scrambled eggs before heading back to bed. December 28, 1992 I spent most of yesterday in bed. Dr. Ritten came up and checked on me. He can be so charming that sometimes I feel silly being suspicious of him. He sat on my bed, massaging my back, and running his hand through my hair, telling me how precious I am to him and the boys. God, he even asked, "You know we love you Stephen?" before kissing me and leaving the room. But I can't get the picture out of my mind. Where is Mrs. Ritten? Is she really off doing research? December 31, 1992 Mom called today. I had the overwhelming urge to tell her I wanted to come home. I didn't. I realize now that it isn't Dr. Ritten keeping me here, or the videotapes that he has of me with the boys. No, I am staying because a part of me wants to stay. A big part. There is something about living on the edge that I really like. I love the sex. God, it is so good. I never know what to expect. This morning as I was preparing breakfast Robbie came down to help. We decided on bacon, eggs, and pancakes. We had the pancakes and the bacon in the oven, and were finishing the eggs, when Jon came downstairs. "I don't want bacon," he said. "Too bad," Robbie answered, "that's what you're getting." "Fuck that, I want sausage." "I got your sausage for you right here." Robbie said and turned to face Jon, while grabbing his cock, and thrust his hips forward. "Bring that thing over here. I've got an oven you can stick it in." Robbie laughed. "Perv!" "Come here and I'll show you who's the perv!" I tried to concentrate on the breakfast, but they started wrestling about, grabbing each other's cocks. Robbie pretended that he was trying to fight Jon off but it was evident that he wasn't. He gave up pretence and wrapped his arms around Jon's neck, and they shared a long and passionate kiss. "Looks like Stephen has a sausage that needs an oven," Jon said. It was true had I was achingly hard. They howled with laughter. They began to grind into each other, humping their harden cocks against one another, to tease me about my excitability. I was frustrated by the display. I wanted to be able to place reason in front of me like a wall that would withstand the onslaught of eroticism that flows so freely in this house. But I couldn't. "Well, well," Dr. Ritten said, entering the room, "What is going on here? Robbie, Jon, shame on you for wallowing on the floor in your good clothes! Get up the both of you and get those clothes off!" Jon and Robbie giggled as they performed their striptease. Dr. Ritten smirked and winked at me. The table was cleared and Jon stuck his sausage in Robbie's oven. Dr. Ritten watched as he ate his breakfast. I watched and wonder what it would take for me to leave this house. January 1, 1993 Last night wasn't filled with the celebration of the New Year. I was surprised to find that Jon, Robbie and I were going to celebrate it alone. Dr. Ritten had an engagement. "Sometimes," Robbie informed me, "the grown-ups get together by themselves." "It really pisses me off," Jon said. "Gawd," Robbie said, "how can you be that way?" "What way?" "Upset just because you're not the center of the fuck scene for one night?" Jon shrugged. "I like being the center of the fuck scene. Don't you?" Robbie shook his head. "That's not what I mean. You know what I mean. Be happy for him for once. Dad deserves to have some fun too." "Oh, since when did you become his advocate? Oh, I get it, since he convinced Stephen to stay!" "Shut up!" Jon laughed. "Don't mind him Stephen," Robbie said, "He's just jealous because I'm your favorite." "I never said I have a favorite," I said, "I love you both." "Oh really," Jon said, "OK, here's a choice for you then^Å" "Stop it Jon," Robbie said. "Tonight," Jon continued, "we will do anything you want, anything. Your wish is our command, but you can only have one of us." "No!" Robbie said. "You can only have one of us," Jon continued, "You have to choose which one of us will be your toy and which one of us will have to be confined to his room." "I can't do that," I protested, "It's New Year's eve. We should all be together and celebrate." "You have to do that," Jon said, "If you don't choose then we will all be confined to our rooms." "I'm not playing this game," I said. "I don't want to play either," Robbie said. "So," Jon said, "What you are saying is that you choose each other over me!" "That's not what we are saying at all," I said, "we just don't want to play this game." "We?" Jon said, "Who is we? You and Robbie, right?" "Stop it Jon," Robbie said, "You're acting like^Å" "Like who Robbie? Like Dad? A few minutes ago you were his advocate now it's bad to act like him. Oh, I see it's because I'm picking on your precious Stephen. Now it's bad to be like Dad." "Stop it Jon!" "Which will it be Stephen, me or Robbie? Or have you chosen already?" "I'm not going to choose between you two." "So you'll sleep alone?" Jon asked. "No Stephen! Don't answer! Please!" Robbie cried. "Wait a minute," I said, "All I want is for us to have a good evening together. That's all." "Sorry can't have that," Jon said, "The rules clearly state that you must choose or forfeit both Robbie and me." "We never agreed to those rules!" I protested. "Those are the rules of the game," Jon said calmly, "One can't change the rules in the middle of the game." "Who said we were playing?" "You and Robbie aren't playing?" Jon asked, "So I guess I'm out." He turned to leave. "Come on Jon," I said, "Don't be like that." "Like what? I'm a good loser. You choose Robbie over me. I understand." "Stop it Jon," Robbie pleaded, "Please, let's have a good evening." "I'm sure you and Stephen will have a good evening. I'll be in my room. Fair's fair." "No! Stop it," Robbie cried, and turned to me, "Pick him. Please, just pick him." "But ^Å" I started to explain again that I hadn't chosen anyone, but Robbie was clinging to me sobbing, begging me to pick Jon. "OK, you win Jon. I choose you." Jon turned towards us. I shushed Robbie. Jon grinned at us. "See Stephen," Jon said, "You do love him best. You'll do anything to make Robbie happy." "I hate you," Robbie said. "No you don't little brother and you know it. "Yes I do! You're just like^Å" "Like Dad?" Jon said. "I didn't say that." "But you were going to. Yes, Robbie, I might be like Dad but so are you. You're fucking with Stephen's head as much as anyone." "Shut up. I'm tired of your stupid head game!" "Oh really? OK, take him," Jon said, "He's yours. He bores me anyway." "Wait a minute," I said, "That's not the game. I chose, you're mine for the night." "Please, Stephen," Jon said, "Don't try to grow a pair of balls now. You're too old." "Shut up, Jon," I said, "You're mine for the night. You'll do everything I tell you. My wish is your command, remember? You can't change the rules of the game." Jon smirked. "OK Stephen. What do you want me to do?" "First apologize to Robbie." "What? I'll do no such thing." "Yes you will. You made up the rules now play by them. Apologize. Now!" I'm not sure what came over me. Maybe it was all the talk about being made the center of a head game. Maybe it was watching Jon manipulate Robbie and me just as his father was manipulating us all. Whatever it was, I felt control for the first time since I had come to the house. Jon's eyes showed that he feared that control. What I did next I am sure was wrong but I couldn't help myself. It was erotic in the most shameful manner. But Jon confessed later that he loved every minute. "I'm sorry, Robbie. There are you satisfied." "No," I said, "I'm not. You still seem to have bad attitude about this all, even though you started it. I think you need to be taught a lesson. Go to Robbie's room, strip and get down on all fours." "Hey that's not fair," Jon protested, "You can't confine me in Robbie's room, Robbie has to^Å" "I can confine you in Robbie's room as long as Robbie is in there also. Nothing in the rules forbids us all being in the confine person's room. Now go and do what I said. Robbie you go too. I'll be there shortly." "Where're you going Stephen," Robbie asked. "To the Rec room to get a ping pong paddle." Jon's eyes enlarged. He started to protest but I pointed toward Robbie's room. Jon's face became stoic as he and Robbie marched off. Robbie tried to whisper something to him but was pushed away. I don't think that I had really planned on spanking Jon. I had in mind teasing him with the recklessness of his tormenting of Robbie and me. But when I entered the room and saw him on all fours, his perfect boy ass in the air, something came over me. I swatted him without warning. His yelp thrilled me. Robbie curled up in a corner of his bed, his back against the wall, staring wide-eyed at the proceedings. "Now," I asked, "are you going to be a good boy from now on?" "Never," Jon said arrogantly. I shrugged and swatted him again. "What did you say," I asked. "I said I'm never going to be good." Another swat. Jon sucked in breath through his teeth. "That's not the answer I'm looking for, now is it?" I waited for an answer; getting none I swatted him again. He moaned and I noticed his penis jerking hard. "You little perv," I said smiling, "You're getting off on this." I swatted him again. His ass cheeks glowed hot red and bucked back and forth. "Well," I said, " what do you have to say for yourself. You're getting off on my spanking you, aren't you?" I swatted him again for emphasis. "Answer me." "Yes," Jon breathed. Again the paddle met his ass. "Is that how you answer your master?" "No^Å no sir." "Now apologize to Robbie for your earlier misbehavior." "I'm very sorry Robbie. Please forgive me." The color had left Robbie's face. I knew something was wrong but I couldn't tell what. I turned back to Jon. "That was good Jon," I said, "but you have been a very naughty boy for a very long time. You'll have to make things up to Robbie and me." "I'll do anything^Å.Ouch!" I was really getting into the part. The previous whacks were given with a strong dose of restraint. The last one was meant to show that I really was in control. "You will not speak unless I tell you. Do you understand?" "But that one really hurt Stephen^Å Ouch! Come on!" "Do you understand Jonathan?" I asked again, raising the paddle. "Yes," Jon said as a tear fell from his eye, "Yes sir." "The game isn't so much fun now is it." Jon wagged his head. I raised the paddle, threatening to strike him again. "Answer me!" "No sir! No sir, its not." "Don't hurt him Stephen," Robbie said, "I forgive him." "But I haven't," I said. "I don't like this game Stephen," Robbie said, "Please. He's crying. I don't like this." "I'm OK," Jon said. I shook my head and spanked him twice. I ignored the tears that fell from his eyes. If he had gotten up, or stormed out of the room, I think I would have stopped the game but Jon stayed in position. "Please Stephen," Robbie begged, "You're hurting him." "Am I hurting you Jon? Do you want the game to stop? You may speak." "I'm OK sir," Jon said, he forced restraint into his voice, "We don't have to stop the game." I gave Jon another swat, not very hard but hard enough that he grunted and then sucked in breath through his teeth. "No!" Robbie cried, "Please stop. I don't want you to hurt him. Please Stephen. You can make him do anything. Please, make him do something else! Don't hit him anymore. Please Stephen don't hit him anymore." I relented. Robbie was crying hysterically, curled up in the corner of his bed. I told Jon he could get up. I tried to comfort Robbie. He hugged himself and cried. Jon stood as a statue where he had risen. "Come on Robbie, it's OK," I pleaded, "The game's over. All's forgiven." I looked to Jon for help. "May I speak," Jon asked. "Yes," I said, "the game's over. I don't want to play. Robbie's to upset. You're free." Jon nodded and climbed on the bed with Robbie and me. Robbie lunged into his arms, weeping. "I don't like hitting games," Robbie cried, "I don't like hitting games." "I know," Jon said, "I'm sorry. I should have thought. I'm sorry." "I don't want to lose you." "You're not going to lose me. Stephen wouldn't hurt me for real. Would you Stephen?" "No," I said, "I wouldn't." "That's what they said about Mommy," Robbie said. "Be quiet Robbie," Jon said, "Just be quiet." "I don't like hitting games. I don't like hitting games." "OK," Jon said, "No more hitting games. We promise. Right Stephen?" "Yes we promise," I said. "See," Jon said, "Everything's all right. It was fun having Stephen in charge for once. He wasn't really hurting me. I liked it." "No more hitting games," Robbie cried. "No more hitting games," Jon and I agreed. ********************************************************************** 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." Available at Barnes and Nobles Bookstores, Amazon.com, your local independent bookseller, or from Tom Cup.com. Tom Cup's "Of Our Teenage Years" is scheduled for publication and release in paperback in the Spring of 2004. Check it out at http://www.tomcup.com!