<strong>The Training grounds Mira  Maschor, Variani</strong><br/><br/>As the girl swoons into his arms, Maschor keeps the pressure on the artery for a few seconds longer. He doesn't want her entirely unconscious, but certainly too woozy to fight back. And he laughs.<br/><br/>"She looks lovely when she's nearly asleep, don't you think Mira?"<br/><br/>It's not easy to maneuver the limp girl into the training chair. Sometimes he has to let her stir a little before taking the fight out of her again. Sometimes he drags her like a great big doll - its all terribly inelegant. Once she's in - effectively with her legs in a kneeling position but her upper body as if she was in an arm chair - his fastens straps around her ankles and wrists. Then he steps back and stretches slightly.<br/><br/>"There now - well worth the effort I think. She's quite beautiful - it's going to be thoroughly enjoyable breaking this one."<br/><br/>He begins fastening other straps now, one around her waste, another around her armpits and above her breasts. It is almost painful for him not to touch them. She's recovering her senses and he doesn't want her to know he is thoroughly enamoured of her breasts. Later on, that will become quite apparent. The bruises will tell their own tale.<br/><br/>"Ah, water, wonderful. And ice too? Mira, you are a delight, you think of everything. Put that down on the desk for me please. Oh, and - while you are over there, could you reach into the box and find me a gag. I'm specifically looking for the rough hide one with the flannel lining. It should be with the others, but it looks a little less used."