“No! You must not remove my modesty cloth!” you shriek with all the angst you can muster. “They will stone me to death in my homeland!”
The guard looks on at your tantrum with stoic reserve as she holds you in her unyielding grip. You struggle in tempo with your tears, wondering how much she must work out to have such impressive bicep strength. Maybe she drinks protein shakes?
“And where is your homeland?” she asks.
“Transylvania,” you reply sarcastically. You shouldn’t be sarcastic. It’s the worst possible time to be sarcastic, but yet here you are, giving into the wild temptation to say something really really silly. What’s wrong with you? Maybe you need medication.
“Never heard of it, which means you’re unlikely to go back there to be stoned,” she states with impeccable logic as she draws your panties down to your knees, leaving you bared to her stony gaze. You can feel by the cool breeze on your nether regions that she can see everything the good goddess gave you. If you’ve ever been in a more embarrassing situation in your life, you can’t remember it. She hikes her knee up a little, dashing your hopes that you might maintain a little modesty throughout this ordeal and you hear her mutter something indistinguishable under her breath.
“You should know that I believe you, girl,” she says, surprising you.
“You believe me?” You crane your head around to look at her and see that her expression is incredulous in the extreme.
“Yes.” Your eyes widen as you feel her casually trace a finger across your bare, shaved mons. “This is most strange.”
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