Chapter 5
Anya
The note sits on the tray beside my untouched breakfast. The handwriting is precise and recognizable.
East wing by midnight. Wear a white slip.
There is no signature. There doesn’t need to be.
I stare at it longer than I should with my fingers resting on the edge of the porcelain plate, my tea long since gone cold. I don’t need to guess what the note means. I already know.
And I want this.
The white slip is thinner than I remember. I hold it up to the firelight and see straight through it. My nipples harden at the thought of him seeing them, though I know—after last time—he won’t even reach for them.
That’s what makes it worse, or perhaps it’s better, I can no longer tell.
I wear it anyway, with nothing underneath.
By the time I reach the corridor leading to the east wing, the rest of the house is still. My footsteps feel too loud on the stone floor, even though I’m barefoot.
I pause outside the door. There are no guards or any noise. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and step inside.
The room is huge, draped in velvet and flooded with firelight. Candles flicker across every surface with mirrored walls capturing the glow and multiplying it. It’s warm in here, almost too warm. My skin prickles immediately.
In the center, an armchair faces the largest mirror. Lev sits in it, legs crossed, hands folded loosely on his lap. He doesn’t stand when I enter, he barely even flinches.
His eyes move over me once.
“You wore it,” he says.
“You told me to.”
He gestures to the second chair, placed to the side and a few feet from the mirror. I don’t sit as my body is too jittery.
He reaches for a small velvet box on the table beside him. When he opens it and lifts out something, I recognize it immediately.
It’s a remote-controlled vibrator, small, sleek and silver.
“I’m not going to touch you,” he says, calm as ever. “Not tonight.”
“Then what are you going to do?” I tremble slightly.
His gaze lingers on the toy before shifting to my legs.
“I’m going to watch and guide. I’ll make you understand how much you want to be touched.”
I don’t answer but my heartbeat answers for me. I take to my seat just as he speaks again.
“May I?” he lifts the toy between two fingers.
I nod without hesitation.
Lev rises and slowly and deliberately steps in front of me. He crouches just enough to slide the toy under the slip and between my thighs. His fingers are steady as he adjusts it, and I feel the chill of metal just before he lets go.
That’s the only time he touches me.
He returns to his seat after and picks up the remote.
I don’t look at him but at myself instead.
At first, the vibration is soft and barely there. Nevertheless, my thighs press together instinctively, and I breathe a little deeper, trying not to move or react.
In the mirror, I see myself flinching slightly.
“Don’t run from it,” Lev says. His voice is quiet, but it reaches me clearly. “You’re here to feel it. Let it happen.”
He’s still seated with his posture unchanged. The remote rests easily in his hand, as if he could go hours like this.
The room quickly fills with the sound of my moans, each one louder than the last. I buck against the toy, grinding harder as the pressure builds.
"Look at yourself," he commands, his voice firm yet gentle. I turn my head towards the full-length mirror, seeing my flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, and parted lips. The slip shifts against my skin, and I see the way the fabric outlines my breasts and how my nipples press against the thin silk.
My body writhes on the chair, lost in pleasure, yet completely exposed under his watchful eye. My reflection is hypnotic. I watch myself squirm and writhe, the vibrator working relentlessly against my clit.
"Don't stop now," he orders, his voice steady. I take my eyes back to him and gasp slightly as I see a growing bulge in his pants.
Oh, how much I want him to just fuck me in this moment.
“Spread your legs,” he speaks again.
I do.
The next setting is stronger.
I bite down on my bottom lip and steady my hand on the nearest chair for balance. My breath catches, and the edge comes fast—faster than I thought it would.
But he dials it back, letting it slip away.
I whimper without thinking.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Now we start over.”
It’s cruel and absolutely perfect.
Lev teases the edge again and again—building, holding, pulling back—until I stop caring what I look like. My body forgets everything but the ache between my legs and the rhythm of his voice.
“Look at yourself,” he says.
I watch my own face twist in pleasure. I see how badly I want it. I see what he sees.
“Touch your breast.”
I lift my hand and do as I’m told.
The moment my palm brushes over the peak, the vibration hits a high frequency, and I nearly drop to my knees.
“That’s it,” he says. “Stay with it. I want to watch you come apart without me laying a hand on you.”
With a sudden jolt, I realize Lev has turned it up even higher.
A cry escapes my throat, raw and primal. "Oh fuck!" I shout, my hips bucking wildly as the intensity becomes almost unbearable.
The room is filled with the slick sounds of wet flesh meeting vibrating silicone. My thighs are quivering as I lift my ass up to meet the relentless toy.
At this point, I don’t need more.
My hand drops between my legs, just to anchor the pressure. I keep the toy in place, barely moving, hips circling, rocking in slow, desperate rhythm.
A gasp escapes me as my legs shake, and then I fall.
It happens hard, a sudden, wracking orgasm that makes my thighs buckle and my body jerk forward toward the mirror. My palms hit the glass as I ride it out, my cheek pressing against the cool reflection, breath clouding the surface in a wave.
When I manage to lift my head, Lev is still in the chair, fully clothed and calm.
He sets the remote down gently on the table beside him.
“You looked beautiful giving up,” he says. “Next time, you’ll beg to be touched, won’t you?”
Then he stands and walks out, leaving me trembling and still pressed to the mirror.