Continue the beating. She’s not letting up.

The Champion pauses for only a second to wrap your arms around the top rope, keeping them immobilized and useless as she goes to work on you.

“Don’t go anywhere!” Roxie jokes, ducking out of the ring and rummaging under the apron for a moment. When she comes out, she’s strapping on a pair of bright pink boxing gloves.

“Ready or not, here I come,” she says in a mocking singsong, and unleashes a boxing clinic on your hapless body. She’s punishing you with everything in the book, from jabs to uppercuts to crosses to hooks. She doesn’t even seem to be favoring a particular arm, each hitting with the same staggering **** as the other.

“You’re not in my league and you know it,” she taunts as her attack continues.

She’s right. You have no answer to her punches. She’s completely having her way with you, in the exact opposite of the way you’d hoped for.

But you realize something through your daze: she’s not hitting as hard as before. You’re still being knocked silly, but not beaten into unconsciousness. There’s no way Roxie is slowing down, so she must be pulling her punches—toying with you to keep you conscious for further domination.

The realization is terrifying, but more than a little exciting as well.