The Prince’s lips left her mouth, but instead of a gentle embrace, he introduced her to the art of shibari bondage. Her dry rotted clothes fell away as he guided her to the velvet expanse of the bed, his dark hair contrasting with the golden light of the opulent chamber. Beauty blinked, the haze of a hundred-year sleep still clinging to her mind, as he produced a coil of rough, natural jute.

“You belong to me now, little bird,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration that shivered down her spine. “Every inch of this skin, every breath you take, is my property.”

He worked with a clinical, rhythmic precision. The rope bit into her pale flesh, carving deep, red channels across her pert breasts, hoisting them upward until the nipples peaked, hardened by the cool air and the friction of the fiber. He twisted the cords in intricate patterns, the shibari bondage tightening her limbs into a forced, vulnerable submission.

As the knots multiplied, Beauty felt the world recede. The opulent gold leaf of the walls and the scent of ancient lilies dissolved into a blur. She drifted into a heavy, warm subspace, a mental fog where the only reality was the pressure of the rope and the commanding presence of the man above her. Her thoughts slowed to a syrup-like crawl, her consciousness floating in a sea of surrender. The shibari bondage acted as an anchor, grounding her in a paradox of restriction and liberation.

“Do you like the feel of the hemp, Beauty?” he asked, his thumb grazing her jawline.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice sounding distant even to herself. “I feel… gone.”

“You are exactly where you need to be.”

A sudden, sharp pressure bloomed in her lower abdomen, cutting through the narcotic bliss of her subspace. The long sleep had left her bladder full, and the constriction of the ropes pressed firmly against her pelvic bone.

“My lord,” she whispered, a flush creeping up her neck. “I… I have to pee.”

The Prince didn’t scoff or mock her. Instead, a tender smile touched his lips. He leaned down, kissing her forehead before sliding his strong arms beneath her bound form. He lifted her effortlessly, her blonde hair cascading like a silk waterfall over his forearm.

“I will take care of everything,” he whispered.

He carried her across the room to a porcelain chamberpot. With practiced ease, he maneuvered her bound body, holding her steadily over the rim. Beauty let out a long, shuddering sigh as she finally released the tension, the warm stream splashing against the porcelain. The vulnerability of the act, combined with the rigidity of the shibari bondage, sent a fresh wave of heat through her core.

When she finished, he didn’t simply set her down. He took a soft, dampened cloth and carefully wiped her clean, his touch lingering and possessive. He ensured every drop was gone, treating her with a devotion that bordered on the religious.

“Now,” he whispered, carrying her back to the bed. “We begin the real lessons.”