“You’ll have to stand on tiptoe to slide the ring at the center of your restraints onto the hook. Do it.”

Her chest moved as her breathing came in short gasps while her gaze traveled around the room again before finally coming to rest on the one over her head.

I walked over to the locked chest and took the key from my pocket. “I already told you, I don’t like to repeat myself,” I said as I bent to unlock it. I raised the lid, taking out what I needed. This was the usual. Gia was no different than the others. They always had trouble obeying at first.

I put the lid down and held the crop close to my leg so she wouldn’t see it. When I reached her, I took one of her wrists and raised both arms to secure her on the hook.

“No.”

She immediately started trying to free herself. It was futile, but what the hell. She could wear herself out. I already knew she’d be a slow learner. The fighters always were.

“Yes,” I said, moving around her.

She tried to follow me but on tiptoe, she was slower. I wondered if she even saw the first strike come because at the sound of leather striking flesh—a sound my sick brain loved—she sucked in a breath and went stock-still.

“Do I have your attention?” She tried to turn this way and that, wriggling to lean away. I raised my arm again and this time, struck the side of her hip.

“Stop!” she cried out.

I gripped her arm, turned her to face away from me, and brought it down three more times over her still panty-clad ass.

“Please! It hurts!”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

I struck again, this time spinning her to face me and marking the fronts of her thighs.

She screamed. I wondered how much of that was shock, although the crop could sting like a motherfucker, and I wasn’t being gentle. No sense in coddling them.

“More?” I asked.

“No!”

I laid one more stripe across her thighs anyway. “No, what?”

“No, please, no!”

“Well, hell. Maybe you’re not as slow a learner as I’d pegged you to be.” I tossed the crop onto the bed and adjusted the crotch of my pants. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes widened as she watched. “Now don’t move.”

I looked her over, checking for bruises, finding several, all of which seemed to be a few days old. No fresh cuts, nothing that needed anything other than time to heal. Although time was limited.

Turning her, I touched the imprint of the shoe on her side. She hissed when I pressed. “You must have pissed someone off.” I chuckled.

“He didn’t appreciate my knee in his crotch.”