Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

The remaining soldiers stood frozen, their faces pale with terror, their weapons trembling in their grips. Blood pooled around the bodies of their comrades, the metallic scent of it thick in the air.

I turned to them, my expression calm, almost amused, as I wiped the blood from my knife with the tattered remains of my shirt. ”Surrender now,” I said, my voice low and measured, ”and you can still save your lives.”

Their guns clattered to the floor in unison, the sound echoing like a death knell. They slumped to their knees, their hands raised, their voices shaking. ”We... we surrender, master,” one of them stammered, his eyes wide with fear. ”We surrender.”

I chuckled, the sound dark and knowing, as I gestured toward Walter with the tip of my knife. ”Don’t let him run away,” I said, my voice dripping with amusement. Walter was still sprawled on the ground, his body trembling, his pants dark with urine, his breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps.

But I had no intention of killing him myself.

I turned and walked toward the bathroom, my boots crunching over broken glass and spent bullet casings. I knocked on the door, my knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. ”Angela,” I called out, my voice steady and reassuring, ”it’s me. I’ve taken care of everything. Don’t worry.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the door creaked open just a crack, a pair of wide, cautious eyes peeking out. When Angela saw me standing there, her breath hitched. Her gaze flicked over my bloodied, shirtless torso, lingering on the muscles defined by years of violence and power.

A faint blush crept into her cheeks, but she quickly looked away, her expression hardening as she composed herself.

”Let’s go,” I said, my voice soft but firm. ”I’ll take you to see your enemy.”

I pulled her out of the bathroom, my hand firm on her arm. The moment she stepped into the main room, her eyes widened in horror.

The scene was a nightmare—bodies strewn across the floor, blood splattered on the walls, severed heads rolling like grotesque marbles. Angela’s stomach lurched, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, her face turning green. But then her gaze landed on Walter.

He was still on the ground, his body shaking, his clothes soaked in urine, his eyes wide with terror. The sight of him seemed to steady her. The nausea faded, replaced by a cold, burning rage.

”Go,” she said, her voice trembling with fury as she turned to me. ”Kill him.”

Walter’s head snapped up, his face twisting in shock as if he’d seen a ghost. ”No... no, Angela... why are you doing this?” he stammered, his voice breaking.

Angela’s hands clenched into fists, her nails biting into her palms. ”Why am I doing this?” she repeated, her voice rising, her eyes blazing with tears and fury. ”You killed my husband.”

Walter’s face went slack, his mouth falling open in shock. ”You... you knew?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Angela’s laughter was a sound torn from the depths of her soul—bitter, shattered, and raw with the kind of pain that never truly heals. ”I know,” she whispered, her voice trembling like a fragile thread ready to snap.

”I’ve always known.” Her body shook, not with fear, but with the weight of years of suppressed rage and grief. She took a step forward, then another, her eyes locked onto Walter with a focus so intense it burned. ”And now,” she said, her voice low and trembling, ”you’re going to pay for every single second of it.”

She didn’t ask for the knife. She didn’t even look at me as she reached out, her fingers brushing against mine before she snatched the blade from my grip. The cold metal seemed to steady her, grounding her in the moment, in the reality of what was about to happen.

She gripped the handle so tightly her knuckles turned bone-white, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. The blade gleamed wickedly in the dim light, a silent promise of the vengeance she had dreamed of for so long.

”You and your son,” she said, her voice breaking, tears streaming down her face. ”You took everything from me.” Her free hand pressed against her chest, as if trying to hold her shattered heart together.

”You didn’t just kill my husband—you killed the last piece of me that could still love, still hope.” Her voice cracked, her body trembling with the force of her emotions. ”You made me heartless... even in my daughter’s eyes. She looks at me, and all she sees is the emptiness you left behind.”

Walter scrambled backward, his hands slipping on the blood-slicked floor, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. ”Angela, please—” he choked out, his voice breaking, his eyes wide with terror. ”I didn’t know you—”

”You knew!” she screamed, her voice raw with agony. ”You knew exactly what you were doing! You knew, and you didn’t care!” Her grip on the knife tightened, her entire body shaking with the force of her rage.

”I pretended. I smiled and acted like I didn’t know the blood on your hands was my husband’s!” Her voice dropped to a whisper, thick with tears. ”But I knew. Every. Single. Day.”

She lunged.

The knife sank into Walter’s chest with a sickening wet sound. He gasped, his body jerking as the blade pierced his flesh, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

Angela didn’t stop. She pulled the knife out and stabbed again, her breath coming in ragged sobs. ”You took him from me!” she cried, her voice breaking as she drove the knife deeper. ”You took him from her!” Another stab. ”You took everything!”

Walter’s body convulsed beneath her, his hands feebly trying to push her away, but she was beyond stopping. The knife plunged in again and again, each thrust punctuated by a desperate, heart-wrenching cry. ”Why?!” she sobbed, her tears falling onto his bloodied chest.

”Why did you do it?! Why?!” Her voice was a mix of fury and despair, her body wracked with sobs as she kept stabbing, kept poking the knife into his heart, as if she could somehow undo the past with every thrust.

”Angela...” Walter gagged, blood bubbling from his lips, his voice barely a whisper. ”I—”

”Shut up!” she screamed, her voice raw and broken. ”You don’t get to speak! You don’t get to explain! You don’t get to do anything but die!” The knife sank in again, her entire body shaking with the force of her grief. ”You ruined us! You ruined everything!”