Page 12 of Bound By His Name
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.
