Sol ignored Camelia's brief protest and guided her into a position he wanted, her upper body resting on the bed while her lower body was raised slightly. The sight of her—her pale skin and white underwear—made him pause in admiration, and he couldn't help but run a hand along her curves.
Despite the innocence of her clothing, it was obvious she was already deeply affected by the moment. Rather than rushing, Sol took his time. With a touch of mana, he neatly tore open a small section of the fabric, revealing her vulnerability. Camelia gasped at the sudden exposure, and a soft sound escaped her when he traced a careful finger along her most sensitive place.
Her reactions—shivers, soft breaths, and quiet moans—fueled Sol's desire. He knew she trusted him, and they had already established boundaries and safe words long ago. Before going further, however, he intended to give her a release to ease the "punishment" that was to follow.
Sol teased her skillfully, focusing on the places he knew would overwhelm her. Camelia quickly lost the ability to stifle her voice; the pleasure was too much. When she finally reached her limit, her entire body tensed as she climaxed, leaving her trembling and breathless. Sol watched her with quiet satisfaction.
After she recovered, he reminded her in a low voice that they were about to begin—following the same rules as always. She nodded, and Sol instructed her to count. He administered a series of light but firm swats, never enough to truly hurt her, but enough to combine sensation and anticipation. Between each set, he soothed or teased her, sending her deeper into a haze of pleasure and confusion.
By the twentieth strike, Camelia was completely undone. Her mind was foggy, her breathing uneven, her entire body responsive to every touch. Sol noticed how much she was enjoying it and abruptly stopped, knowing it was more of a reward than a punishment for her. She looked back at him in confusion and frustration, practically pleading as the denied climax grew unbearable.
He tugged lightly on the mana bindings, shifting them into a simple collar, and ordered her to come to him on all fours. Though embarrassed, Camelia obeyed, already flushed and shaking. Her disheveled appearance and torn clothing made her look even more irresistible to him.
At his command, she removed her bra, revealing herself completely. When she reached him, he stroked her hair and gently praised her, calling her a "good girl." For Camelia, the words and the dominance in his voice left her trembling with eagerness.
When he told her what he wanted next, she agreed breathlessly, addressing him with an honorific she had never used before. She moved closer, intent on pleasing him, and though her technique was still inexperienced, her enthusiasm and ability to sense his reactions made up for it. He brushed her hair back so he could see her face—soft, dazed, and devoted—and the sight stirred a powerful mix of affection and possessiveness in him.
As he neared release, he warned her, and she pulled back just in time. The result left her face and hair messy, but she didn't complain. Sol watched her with a sense of wonder and desire, struck by the contrast between her normal regal composure and her current vulnerable, intimate state.