Stripped of dignity and composure, Camelia, the revered Daughter of Castitas, found herself bound to a chair. Her wrists were shackled, her body positioned in a way that left her overwhelmed with shame. The orchestrator of this display, Sol—the unabashed prince—looked upon her with a mix of affection and mischief.

Despite her embarrassment, Sol could sense that she had not resisted. Her trembling voice gave her away as she questioned why he had bound her. Sol, however, reminded her that it was something she secretly longed for, evident in the kind of books she kept in her collection.

He explained calmly that what they were doing was built on trust, introducing a code word—“Lustburg”—that would stop everything instantly if she ever felt overwhelmed. Camelia hesitated, torn between denial and the truth of her own reactions, but Sol pressed her with authority, demanding she address him as “Master.” Shaken, she complied, her face flushed with shame.

Sol teased her relentlessly, pushing her to admit desires she had buried deep within herself. Though she tried to resist, her body and emotions betrayed her, and finally she confessed that she had always dreamed of such things. Under his command, she even repeated words that made her tremble with both humiliation and release.

Yet, just as Sol was about to take things further, Camelia invoked the safe word. Instantly, he stopped—because above all, this game of dominance and submission relied on trust. Concern replaced his commanding tone as he asked if she was hurt, but Camelia reassured him she wasn’t. Instead, she revealed a hidden reason: she needed to preserve her purity for an upcoming ritual.

Her admission left Sol conflicted. He desired her deeply, yet he respected the bond of trust they shared. What followed was not only a test of restraint but also the recognition of something far greater—the complex balance between love, desire, shame, and respect.