Reliance

From the Writer of T r u s t U s.

R E L I A N C E

I pointed the pistol towards the ceiling and slowly lowered my forehead to rest directly on the barrel. Down on my knees, my hands trembled to hold the firearm steady. In just a few seconds, the pain would be gone. No more name-calling. No more taunting. No more bruises from the constant school yard beatings. No more not fitting-in. I could leave it all behind.

If only I wasn't still too chicken to load my brother's gun, I'd have a chance to be able to end the pain forever. Sobbing, I let the barrel slide away from my forehead and down to my knees. Although still alive to face yet another day of torment, I had gained at least some sense of control. Wiping the tears from my face, some anxiety and hopelessness had left me. I placed the gun back in my brother's chest and went back upstairs to my room.

Two weeks later things had only become worse. For some reason, the taunting and name calling from classmates became even more frequent and more intense.

I started skipping lunch to go hideout in the library to avoid my multitude of enemies.

Having managed to survive most of the day, I unwillingly made my way to gym class. My whole body became queasy at the thought of another day of dodge ball even though I had developed a strategy of pre-maturely leaving the court by pretending I had already been hit.

Surprisingly, I was relieved to discover that I was not going to have to play dodge ball due to a special presentation we were having on self-esteem, self-reliance, and suicide prevention. The gym instructors each gave half-baked presentations in an attempt to seriously address the topics but it was obvious that this was something they weren't invested in. Their speeches were choppy and lacked continuity; their skills were more suited for physical contact than verbal presentation or intellectual thought. I was counting down the minutes for school to end when surprisingly, a young man stood up to talk further on the subject. He explained that he was from another school in the same district but was volunteering to go around to area schools to speak on suicide. He had shoulder length long brown hair and brown eyes. His persona seemed to address both worlds: he looked like he was physically fit and he talked in a manner that showed intelligence.

As he began talking about the time he attempted suicide, I became captivated by the vulnerability of his seemingly strong persona. He went on to discuss how he was able to get help from his father, who he had initially been too scared to talk to. In the end, his father had turned out to be extremely understanding. He said he owed his life to his father; his number one fear of talking to his dad about the subject had actually been the act that saved him.

He stressed that there is always hope and help out there and that there are many understanding people even if it does not seem like there might be. In concluding, he stressed that he would always be available should anyone need to talk and left flyers with his contact information.

His presentation in no way made me feel like I would ever be able to stop my horrible school experiences; but, he did offer me hope that I was not alone.

Once the school bell rang, most of the kids hurried to exit the gym having had no interest in the subject at all. I noticed the young man was talking to the gym teachers although it was obvious the instructors were just putting up face. Curiously and a bit unsure of whether I should or not, I slowly made my way to the front table and quickly grabbed a flyer, pressed it in my pocket without even looking at it, and joined the masses struggling out the doors.

I read the flyer when I got home: "Reliance. Self-reliance does not exclude relying on others. Duluth Roth, Student & Friend, 555-3237, droth@westcityhighschool.com"

I folded it and put it in my desk drawer.

As the weeks went on, I began to find that my hard times at school kept reminding me of Duluth's charismatic presentation. After being tormented all day at school -- this time for not knowing what `jerk-off' meant -- I decided to email Duluth. After several re-writes and edits, I finally sent:

"Dear Duluth: Thanks a lot for the great presentation you did at Central City High School. I am really sorry to hear that you had to go through such a hard experience. I know life can be very hard sometimes. I am so glad that you were able to get through it with the help of your dad and am also impressed that you are willing to go around and share your experience. Keep up the good work. Your fan, Tyler."

Later that night, I saw the name, "Duluth Roth" in my email in-box. Anxiously, I opened the email: "Hey Tyler! I am so glad you found value in the presentation. I'd like to talk to you. What is your phone number? I hate email. --Luth"

His email frustrated me. I didn't really want to start talking to him on the phone as I knew I'd get awkward and not know what to say or talk about. Or worse, I'd have stuff to say and he'd find out how much of a geek and nerd I am. I naturally faced enough rejection from people; I didn't want to start inviting it. So I decided to just let it go. I deleted his email.

Two days later I got another email from Duluth. This one said, "Tyler, what's your phone number? I need to talk to you."

I wasn't exactly sure what to do. It sounded urgent so instead of emailing him again, I pulled out the flyer and started to dial his number.

"Hello," a male voice answered.

"Is Duluth there?" I squeaked.

"Yea, this is Luth."

"Hey, this is Tyler, I got your email message," I explained.

"Hey Tyler, listen, I need to talk to you but I got to run some errands right now. How bout you give me your address and I'll stop by while I'm out."

I wasn't sure what to say.

"It's important," he continued.

He was in a hurry to get off the phone and although I didn't sense that anything was wrong with him, I didn't want to risk making a wrong decision with him. So I gave him my address and was next going to try to ask him more about the situation like what was going on, or what time he thought he'd be here, or if he was sure he couldn't just tell me on the phone, and a whole bunch of other questions that were in my head, but he interrupted, "Ok, I'll see you soon," and then hung up the phone.

I didn't know what to do before he got there so I just sat and thought. I'd glance out the window every now and then.

About twenty minutes later a car slowly approached and slowed to a stop. I recognized Duluth as soon as he stepped out of the car. Soon the door bell rang and I opened it.

"Tyler?" Duluth asked. I nodded and he extended his hand in a firm handshake.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Hey I just really wanted to meet you in person. You're like the only one that seemed to appreciate what I was doing. No one ever cares. I'd been thinking of stopping the programs but then your email really made me feel good about it."

"Of course, no problem, you do really well," I expressed, "But couldn't you have told me that over the phone?" I questioned.

"Nah, I don't like email and phone and if you hadn't met now, then it probably would have never happened. People always flake out, you know?" Duluth paused not wanting to offend and added, "Well, I'm not saying...well, let's just say I am a very impatient guy when it comes to important stuff, you know?"

"Sure," I responded.

We hung out at my house for awhile and got to know each other better. Duluth went in to more details about his suicide attempt and I actually shared a few things with him regarding my life. I didn't over-burden him with information but I did share that I had experienced bullying at school from time to time and that my brother had an unloaded gun that I'd look at once in awhile. I told him that I'd never ever be able to go through with anything, let alone actually load the thing, but that I had looked at it every now and then. I just wanted him to know that he wasn't crazy for the stuff he had thought of and tried doing to himself. Before he left, he invited me to hang out with him during the next weekend.

On Friday, Duluth picked me up from school and we went to his house and hung out in his room. He showed me a lot of his "Reliance" stuff including posters and pamphlets he had made. At the bottom of one of them, it even said "Dr. Roth."

"You're not a doctor!" I exclaimed.

"Nah," he replied, "That's my dad. He's helped me out some putting all this together. I had to put his endorsement on it!"

We then began talking more about how hard life can be especially during school. I spilled that people had made fun of me for not knowing what "jerk-off" meant. He smiled at me and asked in an inquisitive yet endearing way: "You really don't know what it means?"

Defensively I replied, "Well I'm sure it has something to do with sex."

"Hey, it's ok," he replied, "I can show you what it is."

He then leaned closer to me and put one of his hands on my shoulder. His other hand, he placed on the button of my jeans and unsnapped it. He then tugged on my pants which made the zipper go down half way and my underwear to creep out some.

Then he moved his hand away to undo his pants. As he began to lower his underwear and expose his cock and balls, he told me to go ahead and do the same. I slowly exposed myself as he began slowly stroking his dick. "All you do is rub it back and forth, that's all it is, no big deal," he stated. "Go ahead. Try it," he added.

Oddly, I put my hand on my penis and tried to do what he was doing to his. "Nah, nah," he said as he grabbed hold of my dick with his other hand and began stroking me, "like this." He was rhythmically stroking his dick and mine at the same time.

It was then that his bedroom door opened and in walked his father.

Duluth quickly let go of my flesh and zipped up his pants. Stunned, I slowly managed to do the same.

His father just looked at us. He was extremely dominant. His frame was large and built and he had a dark goatee. When he finally did speak, his voice was solid and firm: "Who is your friend?"

"Ah, ah, this is Tyler," Duluth managed to say.

Dr. Roth neared me and shook my hand saying, "Hi Tyler. I'm Doctor Roth." It was a very firm and solid grip.

"Nice to meet you," I awkwardly responded.

"Let's give Tyler a ride home now," Dr. Roth stated to his son while holding open the door.

Duluth got up and I followed. Dr. Roth closed the bedroom door and followed us down the stairs to the garage. Once home, I tried to emulate what Duluth had started to do to my dick but I wasn't skilled enough on how to do it. I gave up.

I did not hear back from Duluth. On Wednesday of the following week, I decided to call him. His father answered and took my message saying Duluth would have to call me back. On Sunday I finally got a call back. Duluth wanted to hang out again. He picked me up and we went to his house. After hanging out in his room for a few minutes, I finally asked him why it had taken so long for him to call me back. I was also curious as to if his father said anything to him about what we had been doing.

Duluth became quiet and unsure of what to say. I became comforting towards him, which was a natural reaction due to the bond we had been forming. He suddenly became defiant as if to say that I was over-reacting. "Let me show you something," he suggested, "Promise you won't freak out."

I nodded.

He then began pulling up the soft navy comforter of his bed and pulling it down, which revealed attachments that were on the sides of his bed. He grabbed on to one and worked his fingers over it. It was a clunky piece of some kind of leather. I finally realized it was a thick leather cuff. The outside layer was stiff brown, almost orange-ish leather. The inside of the cuff was soft and cream colored. It was also puffed out revealing the thickness of the padding underneath the leather. Holes ran the length of the strap and a metal prong was on the end of the strap. Apparently, once the strap was folded over someone's wrist, the prong could be pushed through one of the holes and then latched in place with a small cap that was attached to a smaller leather strap that folded out from the cuff.

Duluth's cotton sheets were striped navy blue and white. The leather cuff stood out like a red banana and seemed so out of place. The contrast was further emphasized by the fact that there were three more leather cuffs protruding from the sides of the mattress. There were four leather cuffs in total: two near the middle of the bed and two at the foot of the bed.

"These are what saved me from killing myself," Duluth stated.

"But it's also the punishment I got from trying to jerk off with you," Duluth continued.

I asked, "You're dad put you in these?"

"Yup; One week," he answered.

"Huh?" I asked.

"That was my punishment: one week in these things," Duluth added.

I didn't understand how he could have done it. I asked a ton of questions like how he was able to sleep, how he ate, and even how he went to the bathroom. He became defensive and argued that it was not that bad. He seemed to express mixed feelings about the tools that had both saved his life and been used as his punishment.

"Lay down. I'll show you they are not bad at all," Duluth instigated.

I resisted.

"Just one cuff, just lay down and you'll see," Duluth persisted.

I didn't like seeing him worked up. I felt so bad for Duluth. He was such a boy and such a man. And yet he was neither. He was so vulnerable and yet so strong. He was wild and in captivity at the same time.

Letting go of the leather cuff he walked over to the side of the bed nearest me and sat down. "Come here," he said.

I stood still.

"Just come here," he continued while reaching his arm out to meet my hand. I let his soft strong fingers lightly clench hold of my fingers and slowly draw me near. I stepped towards him as he lightly pulled me down to sit along side him. The entire length of our thighs gently pressed in to each other. Still holding my hand with one hand, he reached around my back with his other. The length of his arm was hugging me but his hand extended past me to clench on to the leather cuff. I was wedged between his body and his arm holding the cuff.

"Hey Duluth I'd rather not. I believe you that it probably wasn't too horrible," I stated.

He unfolded the leather cuff to fully expose the puffy cream interior of the strap.

"They are so soft inside. Just feel it," he suggested.

He guided my right hand to the cuff and began wrapping the creamy leather around my wrist. He was right, it was so soft. It clung to me like a magnet.

"Besides, it's only one cuff," he explained.

He forcefully tugged the restraint tightly around me exposing the thick orange outside layer and inserted the prong in to one of the holes. He then moved around my body to stand up and lightly pushed me down on to his bed. "Lye back so I can adjust it right," he explained.

I let my back gently lay on the firm yet soft embrace of his cotton sheets and soft pillow. I wanted to understand how it locked on but before I could comprehend the system, he was finished adjusting it and moved his hands away. I tugged on the strap but the metal cap now held the cuff firmly in place around my wrist. I could no longer see the prong, which must now be fully locked in the hole and capped. The leather was so soft around my wrist. The cotton sheets were bliss and I imagined I could easily fall asleep in his bed.

"See it's not so bad," he observed.

"How does it lock and unlock," I asked.

"I'll show you with the other one," he suggested.

"No Duluth, I want out now. Show me how it unlocks," I asked.

He began walking over to the other side of the bed towards the other cuff near my left wrist. As soon as I saw him approaching, I moved my left arm to my cuffed right arm to try to work the mechanism to release the leather cuff strapped tightly around my wrist.

Duluth explained, "It won't come off without the key. Well, even if you had the key, its hard to work the mushroom head of the prong out of the small hole in the leather strap with only one hand. You really need two free hands to be able to pry it off. But you don't even have the key so sit tight."

In panic, I frantically began yanking on the leather cuff. The orange outer layer was so hard that nothing I was doing was causing any give. The shiny metal of the cap was solid and was firmly locked around the prong. I couldn't even tell how a key would unlock the thing even if I had one. I was able to wedge my finger slightly between my wrist and the cuff but my finger disappeared in the thick creamy padding, which disabled me from being able to wedge slack. It was like the padding firmly molded to anything that pressed on it to ensure no free space.

Duluth had now grabbed hold of the other leather cuff and was working the sturdy leather contraption with his hands preparing it for my wrist.

"Nice and easy, ok Ty," Duluth suggested as he slowly grabbed hold of my left bicep and gently began tugging my arm towards him. I did my best to hold my arm tight to keep my wrist away from the cuff.

But as he slowly began increasing the pressure of his force, my left arm slowly began to give way to his relentless tug.

"You can't stop me with your other hand already strapped in. I already know.

It's how my dad does it. Gets one cuff on me and then I'm cooked," Duluth explained.

And he was right. I tried thrashing around with my entire body to stop him from locking me down further. But there was no getting away from the fact that I was already firmly anchored to the bed with the gentle embrace of the firm first cuff.

Soon I felt an initial cool touch of the creamy padding on my left wrist and then the tightness of the cuff being wrapped and locked around me. Now I was stuck on my back for good.

Duluth then hiked up my pants and firmly tugged the cuffs near the end of the bed around my ankles. With each additional cuff, my fighting became less and less worthwhile.

Satisfied with getting me entirely strapped in, Duluth said, "I still wanna show you how to jerk off."

"Ah, come on Duluth, stop playing around already," I protested.

He climbed up on to the bed and sat on my thighs and instantly began prodding the outside of my jeans with his hands.

Having not learned from our previous mistakes, once again, I saw his bedroom door creep open and in walk his father. Duluth jumped off the bed instantly with fear. While the first time we had been caught his dad's face held no expression, this time his face looked very angry.

"I- I- I wasn't doing anything," stuttered Duluth. "I learned from my lesson Sir."

"Why is he tied up?" the Dr. demanded.

Duluth searched for an answer.

"You're not supposed to be playing with those," his father ordered.

"No dad, dad it's not what you think. I wasn't disobeying you," Duluth squealed.

"You aren't supposed to even tell anyone about those," the doctor further instructed.

Duluth struggled for words and slowly articulated, "Tyler needed help dad. He's been, he's been having trouble at school, just like I did, and he's been having thoughts. I just laid him down like you did me - to save him."

His dad glanced at me as his anger subsided marginally. "Is this true?" he asked me.

I struggled with what to say. On one hand, I did not want to play any more games or help justify the embarrassing situation Duluth had put me in. On the other hand, I didn't want Duluth or I to get in to trouble. Doctor Roth was physically strong and exhibited an extremely masculine persona. I did not want to find out what he was capable of doing to both of us for doing something wrong. So I decided to back up Duluth's story. "It's true," I replied, "He didn't do anything wrong."

Seemingly convinced, Dr. Roth motioned for Duluth to leave the room with him.

Butterflies filled my stomach. A few minutes later Duluth returned alone just as care-free as ever. I felt very relieved that his dad must have believed him and that Duluth must have come to set me free.

I noticed something in Duluth's hand. My instinct was that it was something to help unlock me. At initial glance, it appeared to match the cuff restraint system.

Just like before, Duluth sat up on top of me and lifted what he was carrying near the top of my head.

"Did he believe you?" I eagerly asked.

"Yup," Duluth smiled, "But, I had to tell him everything for it to work."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Your problems at school, all the stuff you confided in me, your brother's gun," Duluth fragmentally listed.

"Ah man, you shouldn't have said all that," I complained.

"He wasn't going to believe me unless I did," he explained.

I tugged on the cuffs and tried pushing up on Duluth's body to communicate that I wanted him and the cuffs off of me. "Let me out. Where's the key" I asked.

"Dad's got it," Duluth replied as he brought the piece he was holding down over my eyes and near my mouth. I felt the same soft padding around my wrists being pressed against my lips. I felt Duluth wrap the brown leather piece around my head and heard Velcro closing together at the back. I was still able to talk although I couldn't move the piece off.

"What is this thing?" I angrily asked.

"It's a spit guard. My dad always puts it on me so I don't spit back at him," he explained.

It seemed effective. It was like a mask although it only covered the lower portion of my head. The brown leather ended just below my eyes. It partially encapsulated my nose although I could breathe through two nose holes. While my lips were free to move, the leather framed itself around my mouth, which prevented me from being able to bite or spit something out.

I began to ask Duluth to get the key from his dad when the bedroom door opened and once again in walked Dr. Roth.

Recognizing his father's authority, Duluth quickly scampered off of the bed as his father neared my side.

"Tyler, you know we are here to help you. You know we want things to get better for you," the doctor stated in a more sympathetic tone than I had ever heard from him. However, a strong sense of dominance still inflected his resonance.

As he neared closer, peering past the top brown leather edge of my new mask, I could see the doctor was holding a syringe. He prepared it and guided it towards my bare arm.

"What, what are you doing?" I panicked.

Concentrating on his work, the doctor did not reply.

Desperate I fought the restraints like ever. Duluth grabbed hold of my arm to steady it for the syringe. In extreme panic I shouted, "Duluth just wanted to show me his restraints. I really didn't want to kill myself or anything. We lied to you! It was all a lie!"

Dr. Roth pressed the needle in to my arm. The liquid disappeared in to my vein. Dr. Roth finally said something: "There will be plenty of time to talk all about it tomorrow."