A pistol

You step back as Emma bends toward the floor to put her little purse down. Suddenly she spins around holding a small revolver in her hand. “I don’t think so, you pervert. Get your hands up.” You instinctively do what she orders. As you look at her, you have a fleeting thought that she wouldn’t do it, but her icy glare lets you know she’s serious.

Emma keeps her eyes fixed on you as she slowly walks towards the table. Grabbing two sets of handcuffs, she throws them at your feet. “Very slowly, pick those up and cuff yourself to those two pipes over there so that you are facing me.” You do as Emma orders, your hands cuffed to a pair of pipes running from the ceiling to the floor about four feet apart with your back against the cold rough wall.

Emma walks up to you and checks the cuffs before putting her gun away. “Good boy,” she says condescendingly as she pats you on the head. “You wanted to play, let’s see what you brought to play with.” Emma takes hold of your belt and opens your pants, sliding them to your ankles. Your boxers soon follow, leaving your flaccid cock hanging in the breeze. “Well, that’s not very impressive, now is it?” she says as she grabs your cock and balls and gives a firm squeeze. She then pulls your shirt over your head to expose your chest.

You hadn’t counted on Emma being this bold, and it has you feeling very nervous.