He stared down at her, on her back beneath him, her arms tied behind her back. He was beginning to have a shadow of a doubt that she might be the government spy he'd assumed she was, but years of paranoia enforced by his parents convinced him he must be thorough. He stood up just long enough to turn around and take a seat straddling her belly. Reaching down with his knife, he sliced down one hip of her jeans and on down the leg of the levis. "If you don't want this knife to slip and slice open your flesh, better stop kicking," he threatened her. Taking no chances, he grabbed her other leg and wrapped an arm around it, holding it up against his chest as he sliced the knife down that side, from the ankle to the waist. There was nothing to prevent him now as he stood and yanked away the tattered remnants, leaving her topless and in underwear and boots.
He moved a few steps away and carefully examined the jeans, peering closely at the clasps and any decorative buttons, then feeling the fabric for implanted bugs. Once again, all seemed completely normal. He was feeling a little frustrated at his inability to find the tracker, assuming there was one. On the other hand, seeing the increasingly naked girl writhing on the ground below him was an exciting sight. "Boots," he said simply. He forced her over on her belly. One at a time, he planted a foot against the back of her knee, bent her leg up and pulled off the boot. He felt around the material and inside the soles, finding nothing. Of course, there still might be something built inside the hard heels, he thought. But there was no way really to find that short of tearing the boots into pieces. He didn't want to go to that trouble, but he'd make sure they left the boots behind when he moved her to the next location.
He looked down at her again. The only thing left was... "Cavity search," he mumbled. He pulled a disposable sterile glove out of a drawer and slipped it over one hand as he felt her eyes on him.