BEING NOBODY

I stood just inside the front door looking down at my heavily bandaged hands. As I felt the throb from the sutures in my left hand, I felt disgust at myself as I thought about how I'd behaved that afternoon.

Lifting my head, I looked over at Brian, who was pretending to be very interested in looking through the mail. I might've believed he was interested in it, if his hands hadn't been shaking so much, or if he hadn't had those lines of worry on his face.

I looked back down at my hands and waited. Surely there would be an explosion soon. He'd been so calm at the ER and on the drive home, that I knew it wouldn't last. I'd screwed up again and he had reason to be angry.

I thought back to that afternoon and sighed with weariness. I remembered how I'd become so upset after an argument with one of my friends that I'd smashed my hands, palms first, through a window at Joe's Bar. Impulsively, stupidly, and with my rational mind blurred with feelings that I didn't know how to handle, I'd crashed my hands through the thick glass, not caring that I'd get hurt doing it.

I also remembered how I'd stood there with blood dripping onto the shards of gleaming glass beneath my feet. And then how everyone had looked at me in absolute horror. I'd stood and watched the blood streaming from my hands, as if from a long ways away, not feeling anything at all.

As I stood there shifting from foot to foot, with Brian a few feet away seemingly entranced by the day's mail, I wanted to tell him how sorry I was.

I looked over at him and hoped he'd just look back. I didn't blame him for not looking at me though, because this wasn't the first time I'd done something like this. And we'd talked about it, and we'd tried to figure it out, and I'd made promises: "I swear I won't ever do that again"...I promise I'll control myself next time"..."I promise."

But I would let him and myself down, every time. It might take a month or even two, but I always did. When I felt powerless enough, nothing else mattered. When my mind went up into the top of my head, I'd do things that I couldn't even control. It didn't matter who else was around, because it's like they weren't even there. I finally shook myself out of my self-absorbed musings and looked over at Brian. I waited for him to finish up with the mail, and hoped he would at least talk to me.

"Brian," I finally said to him, when he didn't speak for some time, "I really am sorry."

He looked at me and shook his head slowly, then looked back down at the mail. "There's nothing to say that hasn't been said before, Alex," he said in a soft, cool voice. "Now, be a good boy and go sit on our bed. I'll be there soon."

I started to protest but thought better of it. His tone of voice, though quiet, hadn't encouraged any more discussion.

I walked past him and went into the bedroom. Flipping on the light switch I went and stood in front of our floor length mirror and looked at myself. I shook my head in disbelief at my reflection. I was a sight. Between the blood smears on my face, where I'd put my hands up, and the spots on my jeans, I looked like an extra from a bad horror movie. My dark hair was sticking out in all directions, and I had a small bruise on my face. I had no idea where that came from.

Tiredly, I sat on the bed and waited for Brian. I couldn't bite at my nails since they were covered, so I nibbled at my lip, as I fidgeted anxiously.

Would he yell at me? Would he finally give up on me? I knew I deserved whatever he did, because I'd let him down again. It wouldn't have mattered at all if it was just me, but he was my whole world now, and so it mattered. It mattered because he seemed to think that I mattered. And if he thought that, then who was I to spoil that fantasy?

I held my aching hands close to my chest and rocked back and forth slightly. Whatever they'd given me at the hospital, seemed to be wearing off now, and I hoped Brian would remember to bring my bottle of pain pills in when he came in.

I heard his footsteps in the hall and I tensed as I waited for him. When he entered I saw that was carrying a box. He walked over and after setting the box on the bed, put a hand on my head and began petting my hair. It was a comforting gesture but one that brought tears of shame to my eyes.

"I'm so sorry," I choked out.

Brian took his hand from my hair and put it over my mouth. "Shhh," he murmered.

I didn't try to say anything more, and after a minute or so, he removed his hand. "Do you know what it would be like if you had someone controlling your every move?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head, not knowing what he as getting at. "Do you know what happens to people who can't control their own actions? Someone else does it for them, and Alex, that's where you're headed." He paused and looked seriously at me. "You can talk now if you want," he said softly.

"I don't care," I muttered tiredly. "Sometimes I really wish someone would do that because it's getting too hard for me." He smiled softly, patiently. "You're being honest and I appreciate that. Now we're going to see if that's what you really want, after all. Now no more talking. You are completely in my control now."

I watched with amazed interest and mounting concern, as he started rummaging around in the cardboard box.

The first thing he pulled out was a length of light-colored rope. His face had a look of concentration on it as I gazed up at him. Next he pulled out a roll of duct tape. It dawned on me then, that he might be planning to use those items on me!

"What're those for?" I asked quickly.

He didn't answer. Instead he kneeled down in front of me and began to remove my shoes, and then my socks.

As he stood up, he grasped my arm and pulled me up with him. Then slowly and gently, he unclasped and unzipped my jeans. He didn't make eye contact as he tugged my jeans down to my feet.

"Step out of them," he said, sounding somewhat distracted.

I obeyed him even though I didn't know what was going on. Was I going to be spanked? I was confused, because even though we'd agreed a long time ago, that I needed some structure--which included punishment--he'd never spanked me for this kind of thing. Besides, why would he need the rope and the duct tape if he was going to spank me? And why wasn't he talking to me in depth about the problem, or letting me explain and apologize? Usually when I messed up like this, he had plenty to say. I was starting to become disoriented by this change of routine.

"Brian, what's going on?" I asked him, knowing my voice sounded as unsteady as I felt.

He looked at me then with a gentle and sweet smile. "Do you trust me to try teach you something?" he questioned. I looked into the depths of his amber eyes and could see only concern in them.

"Yes," I answered, my voice husky with anxiety. "If you-"

"Shhh," he whispered and rubbed his thumb across my cheek. The next thing I knew he was tugging my t-shirt over my head. This wasn't something he usually did before spanking me, nor was taking off my shoes and socks. I tried my best to figure out what was up as he slid his fingers into the waistband of my underwear. He slipped them down quickly and then had me step out of them.

I watched him pick up the rope as I stood there shivering slightly.

"Sit on the bed, baby," he told me as he got a pair of scissors out of the box. He was holding the rope now and I knew for sure he was going to tie me up. I just didn't know why.

I had told him that I trusted him, and I honestly did, but he knew I hated bondage of any kind, that even being hugged against my will made me feel terribly helpless. I swallowed a lump of fear, as I watched his every move.

"What's going on?" I repeated, as he knelt down once more in front of me and began to wrap the rope around my ankles. He didn't answer as he securely bound them, and then used the scissors to cut the extra length of rope.

He stood up and then lifted my legs off the floor. "Scoot up further onto the bed and put your head on the pillow," he commanded as he looked into my eyes.

I obeyed and he lifted my legs gently onto the bed as I scooted. I lay on my back and tried to see what he was doing as he rummaged in the box once again. He came close to my side and bending over me he fastened some sort of padded restraints on my hands. He was very careful and they felt secure but not tight.

"Where'd you get those?" I asked in confusion. He used rope for different things around the house but why would he have padded restraints?

"Try to shut up now, Alex," Brian said softly. "There's no need for you to talk. You know I'd never hurt you."

"My hands are hurting," I managed quickly before he could tell me to shut up again. "Can I have my medicine?"

He nodded and then removed my bottle of pills from the box. He'd thought of everything apparantly! The thought that he'd remembered my medicine soothed me and I felt my tense body relaxing a little.

"Be still while I get a cup of water from the bathroom. I'll be right back," he told me sternly as he quickly left the room.

So he hadn't thought of everything after all.

I lay still like he told me, flexing my wrists to test the restraints. Why wasn't I hysterical about being tied up like this? I wondered. This situation seemed surreal to me but I wasn't panicking yet. I told myself that maybe it was the shot of pain-killer they'd given me at the hospital.

Brian returned a minute later and sitting beside me on the bed, lifted my head and gave me my meds. Then he carefully placed my head back down on the pillow and kissed my cheek before standing up again. I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment then opened them again when I heard the distinct sound of the duct tape being ripped from the roll.

I started to panic then. "Now look," I said, my voice coming out louder than I meant it to. "I don't want you to use that tape!"

He came and stood beside with a piece of the silver tape in his hands and looked down at me. "It's for your own good, and you don't get to decide anymore, remember?" he said in a quiet, low voice.

I didn't say anything else. I'd said I trusted him, after all, but my heart was thumping wildly in my chest.

After he placed the duct tape over my mouth, I felt truly helpless. and I was.

Brian slowly and carefully rolled me over on my side. He pulled my legs up at the knees 'til I was lying in a fetal position. Then he turned off the light and crawled into bed beside me. He pulled the comforter up over us and then snuggled up behind me. Pulling his knees up behind mine and then wrapping an arm around my waist, he whispered one word into my ear... "Sleep."

I stirred a few times during the night to feel Brian checking my bonds. He seemed satisfied after he would check and would lie back down close to me and hold me as I fell back to sleep.

I awoke early and as I glanced over at the window, saw faint light edging through the blinds. Still feeling quite drowsy, I moved my legs to try and straighten my knees, and then felt my left hand throb painfully. I needed one of my pills.

I tried to tell Brian about it but the tape muffled my voice completely. I moved around restlessly, hoping he would feel my movement and wake up. It worked. I heard a soft, long sigh and then he got up and turned the light on.

I lay there blinking as my eyes adjusted themselves to the unexpected light, and once more tried to tell him what I needed.

He sat beside me and slowly removed the duct tape from my mouth. "You need a pill," he stated. "I'll leave the tape off as long as you don't speak."

I nodded, as he lifted me into a sitting position. After he gave me my pill he turned the television on and told me he was going to make breakfast.

"Don't try to move from there," he quietly warned me as he left the room.

As I sat there with the morning news blaring on the tv. I tried to figure out what was going on here. Was this some new kind of punishment that Brian had devised? It was rather extreme if it was. The main problem was that he wouldn't talk to me about it, which wasn't like him. I just couldn't figure it out, and after my pain medicine kicked in I stopped trying to think about it at all. I was beginning to feel drowsy and relaxed. I actually think I nodded off a few times.

The next thing I knew Brian was standing there with a tray. He set the tray on the bed next to me and then turned the tv off.

I looked at breakfast. It looked really good. Bacon and eggs, with a few nicely buttered triangles of toast. I smiled. It was my favorite breakfast in the world.

As Brian came over and picked the tray up, I worried that he was punishing me by tempting me with the food, and that he was going to take it away now. He sat down though, and put the tray on his lap.

I looked down meaningfully at my hands, indicating for him to release them. After all, how else could I eat?

He shook his head slowly and then picked up a piece of toast and held it up to my mouth. I started to balk, but my hunger was stronger than my indignity at being fed, and I chomped down eagerly on it. As I chewed, I looked at him, hoping he would make eye contact with me. He didn't. He simply continued, calmly, to feed me another bite as soon as I swallowed the last. As my hunger abated, my eyes filled with tears of indignation and confusion. Why was he doing this to me?

Suddenly I'd had enough! Impulsively I stood up, which wasn't easy since I didn't have the use of my hands to help me, and started screaming at him.

"What the hell are you doing, Brian!? I don't understand this!" I yelled at him as I started to lose my balance. I heard the tray, and everything on it, clatter to the floor as he caught my fall.

The next thing I knew I was upended over his lap, as he arranged my hands, out of harms way.

SLAP!SLAP!SLAP!

Hard, crisp spanks fell on my bottom, as I twisted and writhed.

"Stop it!" I shouted as I tried my best to get away.

Brian held me firmly around the waist as he applied smack after stinging smack to my squirming cheeks, making me groan with pain.

When he finally finished, my butt was stinging and I was exhausted from my struggles.

"No more tantrums," he said as he lifted me off his lap and helped me to lie on the bed.

Grabbing up the silver roll of tape he quickly ripped a long length of it from the roll and then holding me by the back of my hair with one hand, he began to wrap it around my mouth and then around the back of my head. He continued wrapping it around and around, even though my mouth and chin were completely covered by it already. I looked at him wide-eyed, afraid he was going to keep on forever. When he finally stopped, he savagely--at least it seemed that way to me--ripped the tape from the roll, and tossed it aside. I watched him sullenly, feeling a tremendous amount of resentment at his rough treatment, but he didn't appear to notice as he checked my hands and feet, once again, and then knelt down, putting the dishes back on the tray.

He didn't give me a parting glance as he picked it up, turned off the light, walked out, and shut the door noiselessly behind him.

As I lay there, feeling drowsy from my earlier pill, I felt a warmth inside of my body that I was unnacustomed to. Usually I felt cold inside, no matter what time of year it was. I started thinking how I could get to like the feeling.

After a while though I had to take a leak. As time passed and Brian didn't return, I started to worry. Surely he was bound to know that people have to go to the bathroom, especially when they first wake up in the morning. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became at his thoughtlessness.

Realizing there was no way to let him know that I had to pee, I became frantic with the fear that I was going to be left too long and that I would wet myself. So, I did the only thing I could think of to get his attention. I rolled myself off the bed and hit the hardwood floor with a loud thud, causing a jolt of pain to flow through me. "Mmmmph," I groaned, glad that I hadn't landed on my face at least. If I had I'd probably be suffocating and he wouldn't even know it. A blind panic filled me at the thought.

The bedroom door flew open and Brian rushed to my rescue. Grabbing a pair of scissors from the cardboard box, he knelt beside me and quickly cut through the tape over my mouth and ripped it away. "What happened? How'd you fall?" he demanded, his breath quick and hot on my face.

"I had to pee," I informed him, my voice oozing indignation, my mouth and chin stinging where he had torn the tape off. "If you tape up my mouth like that, how am I supposed to let you know when I need something?"

Grimly, he hoisted me up and deposited me, none too gently, back onto the bed. Rolling me onto my side he then began to administer some very hard slaps to my bare butt.

"OW!" I yelled in stunned outrage. "Goddammit! Why are you doing that? I had to pee and I didn't know any other way to let you know! What do you want me to do next time, Wet the bed?"

I had expected my words to bring him to senses and that he would admit that I was right, that I had done what I had to do in order to let him know I needed something. I waited for his words of apology, but they didn't come.

SMACK! A hard slap rang out, and almost instantaneously I felt a sharp sting on the back of my left thigh.

I gasped. "Brian, stop it now!" I ordered, worried that he was losing his mind.

A shudder of pain went through me as he delivered an equally hard spank to my right thigh.

I gasped at the shock and sting of that whack. "Well, what do you want me to do? Wet the bed?" I repeated between gasps of pain. "You're the one that taped my mouth. You should at least be responsible enough-"

I didn't get to finish my tirade as his palm landed on my butt three times in succession, causing me to shut up long enough grimace in pain.

"You need to stop questioning me Alex," he growled, after spanking me a few more times. "After all you haven't done a very good job taking care of yourself lately. So, now I'm doing it for you, and you need to accept what I decide to offer you." With those words, he rolled me onto my back. "You no longer make your own choices, you forfeited that right with your actions at the bar, yesterday. So, If I decide to leave you until you wet the bed, then that's just how it's going to be. Do you understand?"

I nodded, my bladder feeling as if it was going to burst at any moment.

His face softened slightly as he grasped my upper arms and helped me to to my feet. "I've decided to take you to the bathroom," he told me as he began to unfasten my feet.

It was strange how truly grateful I felt at his words.

As he stood me in front of the toilet I pushed my hands up in front of his face impatiently, waiting for him to release the restraints.

He laughed softly. "That wouldn't be very sanitary for those bandages on your hands, even if you could manage it," he told me in a very reasonable tone.

I closed my eyes, totally embarrassed, as he helped me. Afterwards he filled the bathtub and then gave me a bath. My bandages weren't supposed to get wet so he placed my bound hands on my my head as he soaped me up. I had to admit there was something kind of soothing about being bathed. The water was warm and his hands were gentle yet capable as he washed me all over.

As he was toweling me off, he smiled at me. "I'll let you wear your underwear today if you'll try to be good boy," he told me with a sparkle of amusement in his gold-brown eyes.

I was shocked at how happy the prospect of being allowed my underwear made me. I nodded eagerly and waited for him to go get them.

A few minutes later I was lying back in bed, on my stomach this time. My feet were securely retied, and my hands were elevated on a pillow. Brian informed me it was time for a nap as he put a sleep mask over my eyes. I could hear him moving around the room as I sighed and tried to relax. What if someone broke in or what if there was a fire? Could he keep me safe? I worried about these things a little as I began to fall asleep. But I trusted him. I knew he wouldn't let anything happen to me...even if he did forget to take me to the bathroom this morning, I thought, still a little resentful about that.

I dreamed that I was standing with a group of people I didn't know. They were surrounding me and demanding to know what I was doing there, and who I was. "Nobody!" I screamed at them and then as I watched their faces as they began to laugh. Louder and louder until it was just a dull roar in my ears. I lashed out then trying to make them shut up and the next time I looked at my hands they were bloody, but the roaring laughter continued.

When I awoke a feeling of immense relief went through me. Just a dream, I told myself as I struggled to turn over. I heard movement in the room and felt the mask being slipped from my eyes. I blinked as Brian helped me onto my back. Then I noticed the tray on the bedside table and realized how hungry I was.

Brian didn't say anything as he sat me up and fed me a sandwich and some milk. I eagerly ate and then took the pill that he offered me. I didn't feel the same indignation I'd felt at breakfast when I was fed. Who knows why, but that's the way it felt. Somehow easier to take now. And the silence was somehow becoming natural and comfortable too. And how many times had I been around people and wished that I could just disappear because I knew I was expected to talk, but it was so hard for me. Noone ever knew hard it could be to talk because it wasn't that hard for them. But now I couldn't talk so the pressure was gone.

The rest of the day was similar. I just lay in the darkened room and slept. I remember that at one point Brian put a pair of headphones on me and turned on some soft music, but basically I just wandered around inside my mind that whole Saturday.

That night there was a storm and I woke up, feeling scared, and started whimpering through the tape that Brian had reapplied before bedtime. A flash of lightening made its way through the mask and I yelped. I guess Brian woke up because he wrapped his legs around me and held me very tightly. I listened as the storm raged outside. Every time the thunder boomed I would jump as my heart thudded in my chest. The fear I felt was indescribable and primal. The storm seemed all the more dangerous because I couldn't see, or talk or move. Silent tears coursed down my cheeks as I lay there, knowing what it was to be completely helpless. My total well-being dependent on someone else.

Another crack of thunder, very close by, and I frantically writhed and twisted, only to be pinned more firmly by Brian's muscular legs. I lay there terrified and feeling like I was falling through a dark chasm of massive terror. Finally, out of sheer exhaustion, I fell asleep.

Sunday was much the same as Saturday. I was fed, helped with my bathroom needs, turned over and checked on. On Sunday night Brian undid my bonds and without saying anything, helped me lie gently over his lap.

With firm strokes, he rubbed my body. From the nape of my neck to the soles of my feet, his big, warm hands rubbed me. It felt invigorating and yet relaxing.

I flexed my legs and feet and then stretched them out. The absence of the rope felt strange but good.

I wanted to ask him why he'd done all of this, but I didn't know if I was supposed to talk yet. I went to sleep as he rubbed my back.

Monday morning, as he was helping me get ready for a doctor's appointment, I kept looking at him and hoping he would say something about the meaning of the weekend. About what I was supposed to have learned from it or something.

"Brian," I said softly to him as he helped button my shirt, "why did you tie me up like that?"

He smiled and kissed me. "If you think hard enough about it, you can figure it out" he answered with a sparkle of amusement in his eye.

I laughed unsteadily, confused by his words, and then because I didn't know what to say to that, I decided not to say anything at all. Instead, I just leaned into him and kissed him back.

We stayed like that for a couple of minutes and then he pushed me gently away. Grasping my wrists in his hands firmly, he held them in front of my face so I had to look at them.

"Look at what you did!" he said sternly.

I looked at the bandages. "I'm sorry," I muttered.

Brian shook my wrists gently in his grasp as he looked solemnly at me. "I'm worried that you're going to end up in the psych ward, or jail if you don't begin to control yourself better. I couldn't stand that, and as much as you think you want someone to shoulder your responsibilities for you, I don't think you'd make it in either of those places."

I shrugged. "Brian we've talked about this before. I don't do those things on purpose. My head is in some other place and I can't control it."

He nodded slowly. "OK, well you'd better be really sure of that, buddy, because I won't allow this to continue anymore, and I will not tolerate your doing violence to yourself, or anyone else ever again. If you don't maintain control over yourself, I'll do it, but it won't be on your terms. So you need to think about that."

I was stunned. "Are you saying I can control it?" I asked resentfully.

"I'm saying that there is a point when you have a choice. Your responsibility is to be aware of what your triggers are and to figure out techniques to avoid getting to the point of losing control. I also think it might be easier if you were under medical care, but you always refuse when it's offered. That is a very poor choice in my opinion, but is your choice to make."

"I don't know...." I said vaguely, hoping that would shut him up.

"You had better figure it out, then!" he said harshly. "Or you are going to spend a lot of time at the tender mercies of my rope and duct tape."

He rubbed the palm of his hand in slow circles on my chest, as he looked in my eyes. Then shook his head slowly. "OK Alex," he said as a sudden grin appeared on his face. "Are you going to go get in the car, so we can go to your appointment? or do I have to hog-tie and throw you in there like a wild animal?"

I furrowed my brows as I wondered if he'd really do that. Not wanting to chance it I quickly got into the passenger side.

copyright © 2003 Tris Revision copyright © 2008 by Tris