Read Online A House of Cards: Deconstructing Ethan by J. P. Barnaby - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. P. Barnaby
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with myself, horrified at my abuse of her. She was only trying to help me. I knew then that I would never have a normal relationship with a woman.
He had ruined me.
Gary was not happy with me after that night with her, so I had taken to spending my free time on the roof of our dorm. I spent hours just looking over at the fifteen-story drop, trying to will myself onto the ledge.
Then, with one essay, my life changed.
My psych professor had asked me to stay after class one afternoon. was anxious to get back to the roof. I thought maybe today would be the day. The feeling was particularly strong after writing that fucking essay on trauma. We were supposed to interview someone in our life that was coping with trauma. Well, since I didn’t have anyone in my life and I was a walking fucking poster child for trauma, I wrote the paper, changing some key details, about myself. Suddenly, he was calling me in to talk about it. I was sure I was going to fail and that would just kill my grade point average for medical school. So, I agreed to stay and talk to him.
“Ethan, I wanted to talk to you about your interview subject,” he said gently, sitting in a chair in front of my desk. I nodded. He sighed, “How did you choose the name Bryant?”
I gaped at him. Not sure how he knew, I figured there was no point in lying to him. “A street sign I saw as I came into town,” I answered, looking at the floor. He laughed and said something about his family’s love of affectation.
“I’m not going to tell anyone, Ethan. I think I may be able to help you.”
I looked up, almost rolling my eyes. “No one can help me. Shrinks, therapy, pills – they’ve tried. I am beyond the reach of help.”
“No, Ethan. I was talking about something a little less…conventional,” he said and I could hear the smile in his voice. I was intrigued in spite of myself.
“But, Professor Bryant – I don’t think I can be helped. I’m so damaged.” I said with a small bubble of hope starting to grow in my chest.
“Ethan – call me Stephen.”
Journal Entry – Coping Mechanism
Over the next few weeks, Professor Bryant, or Stephen as I called him, explained to me about the Dom/sub community that he was a part of. He explained that my reaction during my first time was normal given my trauma and that he thought maybe a different type of coping mechanism was needed because of the extreme nature of my abuse. We talked about hard and soft lists and about different options that I had for starting in the community. He thought that pairing me with a female Domme would be better given my history and we added men to my hard limits list. For some reason, he felt that may not always be the case, even though I assured him that wouldn’t change.
I wondered why, given my obvious need for control, he didn’t think it was better to start me off as a Dom. It seemed like a better fit for me, with what we had talked about. I didn’t know if I could…perform as a submissive. I was trying to gain control, not submit it. He explained that in a relationship like that, a submissive had all of the control. He felt that was the best place for me to start, that maybe I shouldn’t have responsibility over someone else for a while; it would help me learn to trust.
One night after Gary had gone out, my other suitemate approached me and told me he’d noticed I’ve been spending a lot of time with Stephen. nodded, wondering what he could possibly know because I knew Stephen would never divulge the content of our conversations; he was like my therapist now -one of the only therapists I had ever known that was truly trying to help me. My roommate said that he also knew Stephen and that the Professor had asked him to talk to me about being a submissive. I was astonished. Ryan was shy and unassuming; he spoke softly, but with purpose. He told me about his Mistress and about some of the things they did. Mostly, he talked about how it made him feel. He was so in touch
He had ruined me.
Gary was not happy with me after that night with her, so I had taken to spending my free time on the roof of our dorm. I spent hours just looking over at the fifteen-story drop, trying to will myself onto the ledge.
Then, with one essay, my life changed.
My psych professor had asked me to stay after class one afternoon. was anxious to get back to the roof. I thought maybe today would be the day. The feeling was particularly strong after writing that fucking essay on trauma. We were supposed to interview someone in our life that was coping with trauma. Well, since I didn’t have anyone in my life and I was a walking fucking poster child for trauma, I wrote the paper, changing some key details, about myself. Suddenly, he was calling me in to talk about it. I was sure I was going to fail and that would just kill my grade point average for medical school. So, I agreed to stay and talk to him.
“Ethan, I wanted to talk to you about your interview subject,” he said gently, sitting in a chair in front of my desk. I nodded. He sighed, “How did you choose the name Bryant?”
I gaped at him. Not sure how he knew, I figured there was no point in lying to him. “A street sign I saw as I came into town,” I answered, looking at the floor. He laughed and said something about his family’s love of affectation.
“I’m not going to tell anyone, Ethan. I think I may be able to help you.”
I looked up, almost rolling my eyes. “No one can help me. Shrinks, therapy, pills – they’ve tried. I am beyond the reach of help.”
“No, Ethan. I was talking about something a little less…conventional,” he said and I could hear the smile in his voice. I was intrigued in spite of myself.
“But, Professor Bryant – I don’t think I can be helped. I’m so damaged.” I said with a small bubble of hope starting to grow in my chest.
“Ethan – call me Stephen.”
Journal Entry – Coping Mechanism
Over the next few weeks, Professor Bryant, or Stephen as I called him, explained to me about the Dom/sub community that he was a part of. He explained that my reaction during my first time was normal given my trauma and that he thought maybe a different type of coping mechanism was needed because of the extreme nature of my abuse. We talked about hard and soft lists and about different options that I had for starting in the community. He thought that pairing me with a female Domme would be better given my history and we added men to my hard limits list. For some reason, he felt that may not always be the case, even though I assured him that wouldn’t change.
I wondered why, given my obvious need for control, he didn’t think it was better to start me off as a Dom. It seemed like a better fit for me, with what we had talked about. I didn’t know if I could…perform as a submissive. I was trying to gain control, not submit it. He explained that in a relationship like that, a submissive had all of the control. He felt that was the best place for me to start, that maybe I shouldn’t have responsibility over someone else for a while; it would help me learn to trust.
One night after Gary had gone out, my other suitemate approached me and told me he’d noticed I’ve been spending a lot of time with Stephen. nodded, wondering what he could possibly know because I knew Stephen would never divulge the content of our conversations; he was like my therapist now -one of the only therapists I had ever known that was truly trying to help me. My roommate said that he also knew Stephen and that the Professor had asked him to talk to me about being a submissive. I was astonished. Ryan was shy and unassuming; he spoke softly, but with purpose. He told me about his Mistress and about some of the things they did. Mostly, he talked about how it made him feel. He was so in touch
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