Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Angela stepped forward—naked, unhurried—picking up the discarded gun from where I’d dropped it. She checked the chamber—calm, professional—then pointed it casually at Camilla’s head.

”Move again,” she said sweetly, ”and I’ll blow your pretty little brains out. Master might forgive you eventually. I won’t.”

Mira pulled Nicole’s face against her chest—shielding her daughter’s eyes from the blood, from Drake’s stumps, from the gun.

”Close your eyes, baby,” Mira whispered, voice shaking. ”Don’t look. Just breathe.”

Nicole was in shock, broken—but obeyed, clinging tight.

I crouched—eye-level with Megan now—gun barrel tapping her cheek lightly, almost gently.

”Look at me,” I said.

Megan’s eyes snapped to mine—wide, furious, terrified.

”You chose wrong,” I told her quietly. ”You could’ve been part of this. Warm. Fed. Safe. Instead, you chose a gun. You chose him.” I nodded toward Drake’s unconscious, bleeding body. ”Now look at him. Look at what happens when you threaten what’s mine.”

Megan’s breath hitched—tears spilling over.

”Please...” she whispered. ”The kids... Paul... they’ll die without food...”

I stood—slow, deliberate.

”Then beg properly,” I said. ”On your knees. Like Camilla. Show me how sorry you are. Show me you’ll do anything to earn forgiveness.”

Megan stared—horrified, silent.

Camilla sobbed harder—forehead pressed to the bloody stone.

”Master... please...” she whimpered. ”I was wrong. I betrayed you. Punish me. Use me. Anything. Please...”

Lisa tightened her grip on Megan’s wrists—twisting just enough to make the cop gasp.

”Beg,” Lisa ordered. ”Or I start breaking fingers.”

Megan’s shoulders shook—then slumped.

She slid to her knees—slow, defeated—head bowed.

”I’m... I’m sorry,” she whispered—voice cracking. ”I was wrong. I shouldn’t have... I just wanted to help them. Please... don’t hurt anyone else. I’ll... I’ll do whatever you want. Please.”

I looked down at her—then at Camilla—then at Drake’s unconscious form.

Then I smiled—slow, cold, victorious.

”Good,” I said softly. ”Now we can talk.”

Lisa and Angela exchanged glances—dark, satisfied.

Mira held Nicole tighter—shielding her still.

I looked at Angela—still naked, skin glowing in the low amber lamp light, eyes dark with the thrill of violence—and spoke calmly, voice carrying through the blood-scented cave.

”Angela... help this Megan,” I said, nodding toward the pinned cop. ”Didn’t she do anything? Even if she had the gun, she didn’t stop Drake. She stood there while he threatened to rape my women. Now I want to see who can save her. Tear her dress apart.”

Megan’s face crumpled instantly—tears spilling over as soon as the words left my mouth.

”No... no...” she sobbed, voice breaking, body jerking uselessly against Lisa’s iron grip. ”I’m sorry... please... let me go... I didn’t mean... I didn’t want any of this... please...”

Angela stepped forward—slow, predatory—her bare feet silent on the stone. She reached down, fingers curling into the collar of Megan’s already half-unbuttoned cop shirt.

With one vicious yank—fabric ripping loud and sharp—the shirt tore open down the front.

Megan’s black lace bra was exposed—simple, practical, but stretched tight over her full, heaving tits. Her nipples were already stiff—traitorous peaks pressing against the thin material, betraying the heat between her legs even as she cried.

Megan gasped—high, panicked—arms instinctively trying to cover herself, but Lisa wrenched them back behind her spine, forcing her chest out.

Angela didn’t stop.

She grabbed the waistband of Megan’s uniform pants—fingers hooking into the belt loops—and tore downward with brutal force. The zipper screamed; the fabric split along the seams. Megan’s black panties came into view—simple cotton, already damp at the crotch—then her toned thighs, then the dark triangle of trimmed hair above her swollen lips.

Megan cried out—raw, humiliated—quickly crossing her legs and trying to cover her pussy with trembling hands.

”No—please—don’t—!” she sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks, body shaking violently. ”I’m sorry... I’m so sorry... just stop...”

I watched her cry—really watched.

The rage that had burned in me moments ago—the cold fury when Drake threatened my women—cooled just enough for pity to creep in.

I raised a hand.

”Angela... step back.”

Angela paused—mid-motion, fingers still curled in the torn fabric—then released Megan with a soft, disappointed sigh. She stepped away, eyes still hungry, but obedient.

Megan stared up at me—sobbing, confused—hands still cupped desperately over her exposed cunt and tits, knees drawn up as far as Lisa’s grip allowed.

I walked over—slow, deliberate—picking up the thick wool blanket from the nearest sleeping mat. I shook it out once, then draped it over her trembling body, tucking it around her shoulders like a shield.

Megan flinched at first—expecting violence—then froze when the warm fabric settled over her skin.

She looked up—eyes wide, red-rimmed, tears still falling.

I shook my head—gentle now, almost regretful.

”I’m sorry,” I said quietly. ”It was just... I was angry. Furious. He threatened my women—my family. I lost control for a second.”

Megan blinked—tears clinging to her lashes—voice barely a whisper.

”You... you’re sorry...?”

I crouched—eye-level with her—keeping my voice low, steady.

”I don’t like to force others,” I said. ”Do you really think I’m that kind of person? If I really wanted to be like that... why didn’t I force any woman with a gun? Why didn’t I take what I wanted the moment I flew in? I gave choices. Always. Trade. Consent. Safety for loyalty. That’s all I ever asked.”

Camilla—still kneeling in Drake’s blood, hands red, dress soaked—looked up sharply.

”What about me?” she choked out, voice raw with grief and anger. ”Didn’t you force me...? You made me call you Master... you groped me... slapped me... made me beg...”

I met her gaze—calm, unflinching.

”Think about it carefully,” I said. ”It was actually you who said you were willing. You ran to me. You begged to be my slave. You dropped to your knees outside without me asking. I didn’t force you to do anything. You chose—to spy, to betray, to lead them here. You came with a heart full of plans to harm my women. I only took what you offered.”

Camilla’s eyes blazed—red-rimmed, furious, tears mixing with the blood on her cheeks.

”You... you didn’t have to hurt him like that...” she whispered, voice shaking. ”How can you... How can you just cut off his hands...? He’s my husband... the father of my children...”

I shook my head—slow, final.

”I will not let him go,” I said quietly. ”He tried to touch my bottom line. Angela. Lisa. Mira. Nicole. They are my women. My family. Anyone who dares to think about harming them—even threatening it—I will send them to death. No hesitation. No mercy.”

Camilla sobbed—broken, defeated—forehead dropping to the bloody stone again.

Megan stared at me—blanket clutched tight around her torn clothes, tears still falling.