Oh, boy. This isn't going fast enough. I grab ahold of your shoulder, press the gun up to your neck, and begin dragging you down the stairs. It takes a lot of effort not to let you trip and fall. Up close I can really see how hot you look, even clothed casually.
"I don't know what's in your basement," I say reasonably. "It's your basement, you tell me."
By the time we reach the bottom of the stairs I'm pushing you from behind, the gun still trained on your neck. "C'mon, c'mon, faster would be better.."
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You can struggle, or not. If you do fight me, I won't mind..
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