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punished?”
    “I—I don’t know.” Rae’s mind was whirling, her heart beating high in her throat.
    Sam leaned in close so she could feel his breath on her cheek. She tried to turn her head away, but the belt restricted the movement. She closed her eyes.
    “It’s because you spoke out of turn, Rae. You can’t seem to keep your fucking mouth shut.”
    He stepped back, again flicking the whip in the air, the leather braid so close she could feel the swish of air it caused near her thigh. In spite of her fear, Rae stared at the little whip, mesmerized. At last she tore her gaze away to look at Sam, who was smiling, a slow, easy smile that would have been sexy if his eyes weren’t so hard.
    “You said this morning I couldn’t just tie you up and give you thirty lashes, remember?”
    Was it really only this morning? Only this morning that she’d awoken, thinking about how in just another few weeks she’d finally be out of the jam she’d backed herself into? Was it only this morning she’d blithely sailed into Sam’s office, only to be blindsided by his accusations and ultimatums?
    Another slap to her cheek jerked Rae back to the present. “Answer. The. Question.”
    “Yes!” Rae gasped. “Yes, I remember.”
    “And you were wrong, weren’t you?”
    God, I fucking hate you. “Yes.”
    Sam nodded, cocking an eyebrow. “Thirty days, thirty lashes. I like it. That’s what you’ll get now. Thirty lashes, one for each day you are here. You’ll count for me. Count out loud each stroke of the whip you so richly deserve.”
    He flicked the tail so suddenly she didn’t even realize he’d done it until the line of fire moved over her thigh. “Ow!” she cried.
    “Count!” he barked.
    “One! Ow! Two!” The second stroke licked her other thigh, leaving a trail of pain.
    He moved behind her, the crack of the leather against her ass making her jump in the split second before the pain registered in her brain. “Fuck!” she screamed.
    “Fuck is not a number,” Sam replied, his tone amused. “So we start again at one.”
    Rage edged its way past fear at that moment. If she could have, she would have strangled him. Instead, as the whip curled cruelly around her left thigh, she cried, “One!”
    Ten more blows, five on each ass cheek, though the order was random. Each time the leather struck, Rae jerked against her restraints and cried out, the belt at her throat choking her. Desperately she tried to keep count, calling out the numbers, tears of impotent fury coursing down her cheeks.
    He returned to face her. This time the lash caught the underside of one of her breasts, snaking over the skin. Rae screamed.
    “Count,” Sam hissed.
    “Twelve,” Rae cried quickly, terrified he’d make her start over. “Please,” she entreated. The whip struck, finding her other breast. She screamed, unable to help it, but she managed to gasp, “Thirteen.”
    He struck her thighs, a stripe of fire on each leg before again moving behind her. For a while he concentrated on her ass, which was easier to tolerate than anywhere else, though it still stung plenty. At twenty-eight he returned to stand in front of her. She was breathing hard, dizzy with pain and fear, her body slicked with sweat.
    “The last two,” Sam said. “And then you’ll thank me for taking the time to correct you.”
    The flick was sudden, the pain excruciating as the tip of the whip made contact with Rae’s right nipple. She howled, forgetting to count, forgetting language altogether. Then her left nipple exploded with pain.
    Her heart was thundering in her ears, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Count,” she heard him admonish, as if from a distance, though his mouth was close to her ear.
    Somehow she forced her lips to comply, desperate for this to be over. “Twenty-nine,” she whispered. “Thirty.”
    When he unbuckled the belt, her head fell forward, her hair hanging down in her face. He crouched down and released the ankle cuffs. Her