Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 436: The Price of Paradise

"See us? We’re nothing but skin and bones, smeared with this endless shit-sand that clings forever. I haven’t gotten more than four hours of solid sleep in weeks without visions of dust choking me. And you... You plan to tease with it? Force us to plead?"

I lifted a hand—relaxed, halting her abruptly, yet I held my ground. Allow her to sense the warmth emanating from my body, the manner in which my stare slid purposefully to the perspiration sliding along her neck toward that dim cleavage, picturing her flavor there, salty and yearning.

"I never claimed I wouldn’t share," I clarified evenly, my tone lowering, becoming grittier, akin to stones crunching beneath footsteps.

"I asked, why should I. There’s a distinction, Officer. In this wilderness, nothing comes without cost. Not water. Not food. Not a comfortable bed for screwing after enduring a grueling day of mere survival. Yet I’m a fair guy. I propose an exchange."

"Provisions. Food—tinned meats, newly caught fish roasted on flames. Remedies for Paul, sufficient to crush that fever completely. Fresh garments, soaks in water so clear you could sip it during sex without fear of gut rot. A spot to relax that isn’t this gale-battered wasteland. In exchange..."

My gaze wandered across her form once more—leisurely, admiring, pausing on the curve of her hips beneath the belt, the tension in her thighs within those frayed trousers, envisioning them parted broadly, her officer’s determination shattering as I plunged my shaft profoundly.

Megan’s expression contorted—fury blazing intensely in her emerald eyes, face reddening beneath the grime as my statements struck like a blow. She advanced a partial step, hands balled at her hips, the discarded duty belt hanging from her shoulder like a prize she refused to relinquish.

"One must become my slave..." I echoed, tone subdued and intentional, permitting each word to penetrate deeply. "This is my proposal. And it extends only to the women. Should it be embraced, join us. Dine. Recharge. Couple. Survive. If rejected... do as you please. Remain here. Hunger. Hack up blood. See the children fade. Your decision, Officer."

Megan expelled a harsh, enraged breath. "How can you be so heartless...?" she whispered fiercely, her voice breaking at the end.

"You stand there in your spotless attire with your oozing harem, waving utopia like a damn carrot, and the toll is our honor? Our flesh? You believe that’s just? You figure that positions you as a rescuer or merely another tyrant obsessed with dominance?"

I remained unmoved. Kept my volume steady.

"I’m no charity case," I stated placidly, locking eyes with her without wavering. "I’ve spoken plenty."

With that, I pivoted away from her—purposefully, scornfully—and headed directly toward Mira.

She knelt a bit, clutching Nicole closely, one arm smoothing her child’s locks as the girl quaked against her bosom. Mira’s words were gentle, beseeching, motherly, even with the hobble in her gait and the subtle quiver in her legs from all I’d inflicted on her.

"Nicole... come along with me," she murmured, cradling her daughter’s damp, tear-marked visage. "I’ll look after you... Just believe in Mom, alright? I know it’s been torment. I know I departed. But I’m back. I have a haven—secure, cozy, meals daily. No more fear for you. Please, little one... join me."

Nicole’s bottom lip shook, her eyes wide and misty—darting from her mother’s features to the group: Angela reclining near me with that indolent, content grin, Lisa observing all with shadowy, ravenous glances, Megan rooted a short distance off, panting heavily.

Prior to Nicole responding—before any "yes" or "no" could emerge—Jack whirled about.

He’d been gazing at the ocean throughout, posture stiff, avoiding the sight of the woman he’d formerly labeled his spouse. Now his countenance was storm-shadowed, cords standing out in his throat, gaze red-rimmed with fury and a darker emotion—treachery, perhaps, or simply the festering decay of a fellow who’d forfeited all and pointed fingers wrongly.

"Bitch," he growled, tone hushed and poisonous, advancing with gripped fists. "That’s sufficient. Leave my kin alone."

Mira rose—wrath sparking over her features like a bolt. "She’s my daughter too," she retorted, pitch elevating, keen and firm. "And I am simply—"

Jack cut her off.

He charged—arm pulling back, flat palm already arcing in a savage swipe targeted right at her face, just as he’d likely struck her previously, during the era when she was still legally his.

I reacted swifter.

My fingers extended—seizing his wrist during the swing with a snap of bone on bone. He groaned in surprise; I wrenched fiercely, yanking his limb downward, then slammed my opposite hand into his cheek with a savage, flat smack that rang out like a rifle blast across the shore.

The force jerked his head aside. Crimson surged at the edge of his lips—vivid against ashen flesh. His legs gave way; he collapsed heavily onto the sand, coughing scarlet onto the particles.

The entire camp fell utterly quiet.

Bill dashed ahead—eyes bulging with alarm—seizing his father’s limb to pull him upright. "Dad...!"

Jack lurched to standing—propped by his boy—blood dripping along his jaw, mouth puffing already. He smeared it with his hand’s reverse, glaring at me as if eager to rip my jugular.

I positioned myself between him and Mira—frame blocking her and Nicole entirely.

"Why are you striking my woman?" I inquired, tone quiet, nearly casual, yet each phrase laced with frost. "Hear this well. She belongs to me. You’ve already offended her. Ended your marriage to her. Discarded her like garbage. You no longer have rights to lay a hand on her."

Jack’s torso rose and fell—breathing uneven, stare frenzied. He hawked blood to the sand, then peered beyond me toward Nicole.

"Nicole," he commanded, voice splintering with urgency now. "Return here. Keep distance from her. She’s no longer your mom. She’s... she’s his harlot. See her—hobbling, stinking of him, clad like a tramp. She picked him. She abandoned us. Don’t you follow her."

Nicole recoiled—sharply—tears cascading down her cheeks unchecked. Her tiny fists clenched harder into Mira’s coat, joints blanched. She gazed upward at her mom—questing, fearful—then to her dad, then to me.

The child trembled so intensely that it was visible from my position.