Page 25 of Red Flagged
On her knees, wrists bound behind her back, hair tumbling over her shoulders like a curtain, she did exactly that. The faint tremor in her hands was the only sign of nerves; her chin stayed tilted up, eyes blazing at me even from below.
I hummed, low in my chest and approving of her display. “A fucking vision, Aurélie. That’s what you are, even when you’re being a goddamn menace.” My accent thickened with need, the vowels rougher, slurred at the edges, because restraint wasa distant memory now. Becauseshewas my breaking point. Always had been, always will be.
“There’s still something we need to talk about, mon cœur.”
The crop sat light in my hand, but the weight of the moment pressed heavy on my chest. That line she’d thrown at me in front of the cameras—the only thing you know how to be is a world champion—still echoed in my head. She’d wanted a jab that could get under my skin. And she had.
“That little performance for the cameras…” I pressed the crop against her collarbone, dragging it down between her tits. “You took it too far.” Her lower lip wobbled. “The only thing I know how to be is a world champion?” I sneered, voice dripping with mockery. “No, my love. I know how to be the man who breaks you apart and puts you back together. I know how to be your Dom.”
“World champion?” I dragged the leather tip down her cheek, over her throat, stopping just above her nipple. “That’s all you think I am?”
“No, Callum?—”
I snapped the crop across her thigh, just hard enough to make her flinch. “Not Callum. Not here.”
Her breath came out in a shudder. I circled her. “Here are the rules, baby. In here, I am not Callum or Callum Fraser.” I paused in front of her and used the crop to tilt her chin up. “I’m not just a world champion. I am Cal—your Cal—or your Dom. Do you understand?”
Then, slowly, she squared her shoulders, licked her lips, and gave me what I wanted.
“This is your show,” she whispered. “I’m at your mercy. I shall obey and bask in the torture… my Dom.”
Heat shot through me so fast it made my vision swim. I stepped in, fisting her hair at the base of her skull until hermouth parted in a soft gasp. Her head fell back, body arching at my will.
I owned her in every goddamn sense of the word.
“That’s right,” I murmured against her ear. “Not world champion. Your Dom. And you, ma petite—” I struck again, on her other thigh this time, making her whimper— “you’re my submissive. You count. You obey. You take every stroke until you remember exactly who you’re on your knees for.”
Her eyes fluttered shut. “Yes, my Dom.”
I smiled darkly. “Good girl. Now count, submissive.”
She flinched as the crop struck her thigh, but didn’t make a sound. Not yet.
I stepped back just enough to take her in. The trembling muscles in her arms. The arch of her back. The way her chest rose and fell with each breath, nipples hard and flushed, thighs slick and parted just enough to tempt me toward madness.
Thiswas what submission looked like. Not weakness. Not fragility. But power, handed over with intention.
“I’m going to make you feel it,” I told her, brushing the crop along her hipbone. “Not just the sting. Not just the pleasure. I want you to feel me in your bones tomorrow. I want you to ache where only I’ve touched you.”
“Ouais, my Dom,” she whispered, voice thick with arousal.
I gave her a moment of silence. Not mercy, just space to need it more. One clean, precise blow between her legs. The flat leather of the crop landed against her inner thigh and kissed against her slit, just enough to graze the arousal dripping out of her.
Her body jerked violently, knees shifting against the carpet, arms straining against the binds behind her back. A shocked little gasp tore from her lips, followed by a tremor that rippled across her entire body. It was like watching electricity light her up from the inside out.
Chills scattered across her skin, pebbling over her shoulders, her back, the tops of her thighs. I watched them rise. That one hit—gentle, but precise—had done something to her. Something intimate and powerful.
She blinked, breathless.
Then I struck again, the soft snap of leather against her skin echoing in the room. “Aurélie,” I snarled. “Count.”
She shivered, hair falling into her face and clinging to her cheeks. “One,” she gasped.
I smiled, pleased with her reaction. “Good girl.”
I positioned myself behind her. Another lash, this time across the swell of her ass. A perfect line already rising, red and hot and fucking beautiful. She moaned, louder now, hips jerking as she struggled to keep still.
Not from fear. Not from pain.
