Take off his pants

Stewart freezes. The voice is unmistakably Chantelle’s, but none of this makes any sense.

“Did you hear me? I said take off your pants!” she says again, before taking her hand off his mouth and stepping in front of him, holding a dagger, menacingly.

“Chantelle?” Stewart starts, but Chantelle lunges toward him with the sharp blade, stopping just short of his neck.

“What part of ‘not a word’ don’t you understand?”

In a daze, Stewart unfastens his pants and allows them to fall to the floor. Under any other circumstances, he would have undressed without hesitation before Chantelle. Indeed, since Ciguapas do not wear clothing themselves, he frequently undressed without needing to be enticed. The sight of her perfect, naked, blue body never failed to fill him with desire. Even now, in this surreal situation, he could not help but appreciate a certain eroticism from being **** into near nudity by this knife-weilding beauty.

Chantelle steps closer, studying Stewart’s face, before turning her eyes downward. She lowers the knife in movement with her gaze, until it is pointed directly at his crotch. “Do not move,” she commands, “or I will turn you from a rooster to a hen with one flick of my wrist.”

Stewart doesn’t have to be told twice. Even without the knife, Chantelle would be a formidable **** to be reckoned with. Despite her feminine form, her Ciguapa strength and agility would allow her to overpower most grown men.

She squats down before Stewart, examining his genitals carefully. “Spread your legs,” she commands. If there wasn’t an **** imposter tied up on the floor right now to remind Stewart of the crisis at hand, he would have a raging hardon at this moment. He was never really into BDSM or anything like that, but he now saw why so many people were.

Obediently, he moved his feet apart, and Chantelle pushed his balls aside with the flat edge of the dagger. Looking carefully at his groin, Chantelle gasped, dropped the dagger, and got up, throwing her arms around Stewart’s neck.

“Oh, it is you! I feared the worst!”

“Does that mean I can speak again?” Stewart asked. Chantelle did not answer, but covered his face with kisses as she held her naked body tightly against him.

“What happened here?” asks Stewart, when he can finally free his mouth from hers. Chantelle looks at the bound imposter as Stewart retrieves his pants and puts them back on.

“It was horrible, my love, in so many ways!” Stewart had never seen her so emotional, and he urged her to sit next to him on his bed as she fought to get her tears under control.

He glanced at his door. He desperately wanted to know what happened, but wondered if he should make sure no one was approaching.