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There's a warehouse where I take them.  It's dark and full of old junk.  I honestly don't know who owns it and I don't really care.  I'm not usually there very long and when they discover the squirming, miserable mess of a woman I leave behind, I just move on to another building.  I've done this for a while now.

She's tied to a folding chair.  Green shirt and blue jeans.  She's cute.  I like that.  Doesn't make me feel bad one bit.  I tied her to the chair, arms and ankles, knees together to give her a false sense of safety.  You know, play with her brain for a bit.  Let her think this may end without too much screaming.

I come in and change her gag.  The ballgag isn't as useful as a pair of panties held in by electrical tape.  Nowhere near as useful.  She struggles against me, but I add a little rope here and there to keep her more still.  Eventually, I will get tired of this and begin removing things: some of the rope.  Her clothes.  My pants.