The Valentines

IX

William raised his head. The room was pitch black, and it was warm. He didn't remember how he got where he was, wherever that was. He wasn't even sure if he was in the manor anymore. Not being able to see anything didn't help him identify the place at all.

He was suddenly aware that he couldn't actually move. Beyond lifting his head and tilting it, he was entirely immobile. Briefly he wondered if this was a session. Esmé had never done this to him before though. He always had some sort of movement, and she very rarely gagged him with things. She liked to hear him beg and whimper for her.

Something about this was off, but he wasn't sure what. It was then that he could hear the sound of heels, clipping on tile. Their playroom floor wasn't made of tile, was it? He found he couldn't quite remember.

Esmé came into view, dressed in a long black coat. Her hair was pulled up in an elegant bun which she usually wore for really important meetings. He tried to call out for her, but couldn't even make a sound in his throat. She paid him no attention at all, shrugging the coat off her shoulders to reveal a form fitting black dress. It was modest, and William wondered whether she had come from a funeral instead of a meeting. The only funeral that he knew about was one of her family members, but she wasn't going to that. Plus, he remembered, that had been a couple months ago now.

At this moment, a strange man William had never seen before walked in. The man was dressed in a black suit, and he had taken his suit jacket off, in the process of undoing his cufflinks as he walked towards his wife. Esmé had her back to the man and wouldn't be able to see him coming. William tried to move to alert her, so she wouldn't be startled by him and accidentally hurt him, but he still couldn't move or speak, and it was beginning to get on his nerves.

The man wasn't as big as William was, in fact he seemed quite small when compared to the incredibly muscular man. He didn't even seem to be as tall as William was, who was judging all of these things by Esmé's height. In the back of his mind, William knew this was not the type of man Esmé would go for, but the thought was swamped by confusion.

To William's immense surprise, the man wrapped his arms around Esmé, concealing her from his view, but she didn't lash out. There was a soft sigh from her, but he could no longer see her and that distressed him. If this was a session, he didn't like it and he wanted it to stop.

Now.

Hatred for this man filled him. William did not want another mans hands on his wife. A woman was a different story entirely, and it wasn't about him and what he liked to see. Esmé was bi, and she leant heavily towards women. It was her personal preference. It was what she wanted. She didn't want to be touched by another man, she didn't want anybody but William. At least, that's what she had told him all these years.

No, William shook his head. There was absolutely no way Esmé was willingly allowing this to happen. She wouldn't. The man in the suit stepped back and spun Esmé around. William could see them both now. The man pulled her in for a kiss, which was the last straw for William.

Using as much of his strength as he could, he willed himself to move against the restraints. In his mind he was rocking and pulling, yanking his arms and his legs, but in reality he wasn't moving at all. In his mind he was shouting, he was yelling, he was straining his vocal cords, but in reality he was silent.

He hated this so much.

Tearing his eyes away from the scene in front of him, William looked down in frustration. What exactly was holding him back? What could possibly be strong enough to hold him back? He had broken restraints before when he had to, so why couldn't he do it now?