Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 453: Nicole Covers the Pervert’s Eyes

Megan’s eyes filled with fresh tears. She looked around—saw everyone watching—then dropped the blanket with shaking hands.

Her torn cop shirt hung open—black lace bra fully exposed, tits spilling over the cups, nipples stiff against the thin material from the cold and lingering shame. The crotch of her pants was ripped wide—black panties visible, damp and clinging to her swollen pussy lips.

She quickly crossed her arms over her chest—trying to hide—but it was useless. Everyone had already seen.

She bit her lip—tears spilling—then stammered, voice breaking:

"Can... you turn around...? Please... I feel so... exposed... I know it’s my fault, but... I can’t... I just can’t..."

Nicole couldn’t take it anymore.

She stormed over—small but furious—stood on her tiptoes, and slapped both hands over my eyes.

"Turn around, you pervert!" she yelled, voice cracking with righteous anger. "You have a wife... and even my mom is your... girlfriend... are you still not satisfied, leecher...?"

I didn’t resist—let her spin me around, hands warm and trembling over my eyes.

Behind me came the soft rustle of fabric—clothes dropping to the stone—quick, panicked breaths—Megan pulling on the new jeans, the shirt, the jacket. The blanket stayed on the ground.

A few seconds later, Nicole lowered her hands—still glaring up at me.

I turned back around slowly.

Megan stood there—dressed now—jeans a little loose, shirt baggy, jacket zipped halfway up. She looked almost normal again—except for the red eyes, the tear tracks, the way her hands still shook.

She looked at Angela, Nicole, Mira, and Lisa—voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.

"I’m sorry..." she said, tears falling freely now. "I’m so sorry... for everything. I was supposed to protect people... instead, I pointed a gun at you. I let Drake threaten your family. I... I failed. As a cop. As a person. I just wanted to help... but I went too far. I know I don’t deserve your kindness... but thank you. For the clothes. I promise... I will never speak of this place to anyone."

She wiped her eyes—voice cracking.

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

"Take that bastard out," I said. "And you do whatever you want with him. Throw him away or take him with you. He’s your problem now."

Camilla jerked forward—"Master, that—"

I slapped her fat ass—hard—SMACK—the sound echoing off the cave walls.

Camilla yelped—jumping, tits bouncing under her half-fixed dress—then quieted instantly, eyes dropping submissively.

"Don’t forget your promise," I said coldly. "I promised to save your husband’s life. I didn’t promise to take care of him. So think carefully before you say another word."

Camilla bowed her head—silent, trembling.

Lisa stepped forward—expression hard but oddly calm. She walked to Megan, reached into her waistband, and pulled out the gun I’d taken from her earlier.

Without a word, she tucked it back into the waistband of Megan’s new jeans—surprising everyone, especially Megan.

Lisa met her eyes—voice flat but not unkind.

"I don’t like to keep other people’s dirty stuff," she said.

Megan stared at the gun—then at Lisa—tears welling again.

"Thank you..." she whispered, voice thick with gratitude and shame. "I... I really don’t deserve this. After everything I did... you still..."

She couldn’t finish—sobs catching in her throat.

Megan turned, bent down, and awkwardly hoisted Drake’s limp body over her shoulder. She staggered a little under the load, blanket long forgotten.

She looked back once—eyes meeting mine—then Mira’s—then Nicole’s—then walked out into the darkening night.

The cave mouth swallowed her silhouette.

Silence fell again.

Camilla stood frozen—watching her husband disappear—tears still falling.

Nicole looked at me—anger gone now, replaced by something quieter, more confused.

Mira squeezed my arm—grateful.

Angela smirked—already reaching for another slice of cold pizza.

Lisa just watched the entrance—gunless now—her expression unreadable, arms crossed tight over her chest like she was holding herself together after handing over the weapon she’d been itching to use.

Angela sauntered over then, hips swaying with that lazy, predatory grace she always had after a long day of chaos.

She pressed her body flush against my side—soft, warm tits squashing deliberately against my arm, stiff nipples dragging across my sleeve like little points of fire. Her hand slid up my chest, fingers tracing slow circles over my heart while she purred right into my ear.

"Husband..." she murmured, voice thick with mock concern and real mischief, rubbing her heavy breasts even harder against me so I could feel every jiggle.

"Are you worried about Officer Megan? Look how dark it is outside... night’s falling fast. What if she gets lost in those woods? What if some animal smells the blood on her clothes... or the fear between her legs... and decides she’s easy prey? Why don’t you escort her back... make sure she arrives in one piece...?"

I glanced toward the cave mouth—where the last sliver of purple sky was quickly being swallowed by black. Megan had only been gone a few minutes, but the path back to the survivor camp was rough: rocky, uneven, full of shadows and things that hunted when the light died.

I exhaled through my nose—half amusement, half calculation.

"I was thinking of going back anyway," I said, voice low. "It won’t be long before she gets into trouble."

Nicole looked up sharply from where she sat beside Mira—still wrapped in her blanket, cheeks flushed from food and the lingering shock of the day.

"What do you mean?" she asked, voice small but edged with suspicion.

I reached over and flicked her forehead lightly with my finger—playful but firm.

"Ouch!" she yelped, rubbing the spot with a pout, glaring up at me.

I chuckled—low and dark—leaning down so my face was closer to hers.

"What do you think will happen when Megan returns to those survivors wearing brand-new clothes—clean jeans, fresh shirt, jacket—while everyone else is still in rags?" I asked, voice calm but cutting.

"They’ll be jealous. Suspicious. Hungry. They’ll look at her and think: ’She compromised herself. She became his slave. She’s not willing to share the spoils with us.’ Some of them will beg her for scraps. Others... will try to take them. And a few—the desperate ones—might decide she’s the reason they’re still starving. They’ll turn on her. Fast."

Nicole’s eyes widened—anger flickering back to life, but now mixed with something colder: understanding.

"That’s... that’s awful," she whispered. "They’re supposed to be her people..."

"People turn on each other when they’re starving," Mira said softly, arm tightening around her daughter. "Dexter’s right. Megan’s walking into a trap she helped build."

Angela’s hand slid lower—fingers tracing the waistband of my pants while she pressed her tits harder against my arm.

"So you’re going to rescue the damsel in distress?" she teased, lips brushing my jaw.

"My big, strong husband... playing hero again. Just make sure you come back to me after. I want to ride you while you tell me how you saved her... how she cried and thanked you... how she begged not to be left alone in the dark..."