Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 443: Drake’s Desperate Supply Hunt

Drake’s countenance twisted—fury erupting with raw intensity across his face. He moved closer, exhibiting a protective, possessive posture, his hand hovering near her shoulder as if he intended to snatch her away yet hesitated to make physical contact.

"Camilla, disregard him," he stated, his voice low and urgent, his gaze drifting to me with palpable malice. "He is nothing but a failure now. A desperate man hiding behind cheap tricks and idle threats. Have you located his supplies? Confirm that you discovered where he conceals everything."

Camilla shook her head—an abrupt, frustrated gesture, her robust thighs still quivering from their earlier encounter.

"I am unsure," she whispered, her voice strained. "However, he somehow secured a comfortable bed within this cave. There is even a working lamp, glowing brightly as if connected to an electrical source. He was taking me to retrieve sustenance—chicken fries, pizza, the works. He claimed it was a secret."

Drake’s eyes narrowed—calculating and greedy—a flicker of victory cutting through his lingering rage.

"So, he cached his provisions outside," he mumbled, casting a glance at the rocky landscape beyond the cave entrance. "A hidden stockpile. Clever, yet clearly not clever enough."

Megan shook her head emphatically, her determination unshakable as she leveled her gun at me and advanced.

"Impossible," she insisted firmly, her voice carrying the weariness of an officer who had dealt with countless deceivers.

"How could he cache them outdoors? Anyone could stumble upon them accidentally. Wildlife might ravage them. Exposure to the elements would destroy the bulk of it within hours. It must be inside this cave. He is manipulating you—spinning games and controlling us like marionettes. Consider the facts: a bed, a lamp, and food he simply retrieves on command? It is all concealed within these walls. He has been mocking us the entire time."

She pivoted the firearm slightly—still aimed at my torso—while her eyes darted briefly toward Camilla.

"Move aside, Dexter," Megan demanded, her tone like cold steel. "We are entering. We are reclaiming what is necessary. No more deceptions. No more servitude. No more of your deranged power games. Camilla, lead the way. Expose the cave and reveal where he keeps the actual stash."

Camilla hesitated, her eyes flickering toward me for a fleeting heartbeat with an unreadable expression before she gave a single nod.

"Yes... Officer," she replied softly, turning on her heel.

Camilla began pacing toward the cavern entrance; her scarlet mini-dress remained bunched obscenely around her ample hips, her muscular thighs brushing against each other with every rhythmic stride.

The crimson handprints I had etched onto her brown buttocks glowed like fresh marks under the waning orange twilight, jiggling gently with each motion. Her heels clicked irregularly against the stony ground, her feminine core still glistening, with slick, shining trails coursing down her inner thighs as if she had been teased for hours.

Megan’s voice pierced the silence—sharp and commanding, though containing a faint undercurrent of nervous tension.

"Dexter, proceed," she commanded, the gun barrel remaining locked onto my back. "Keep it steady and deliberate. Avoid any erratic movements. Ensure your hands remain visible."

I raised my palms slightly—exuding a casual, almost bored air—then commenced walking. The weapon tracked me like a shadow, the frigid steel inches from my spine.

We entered the shelter.

The cave’s amber light flickered weakly near the rear wall, casting elongated golden shadows across the spacious sleeping mats, the meticulously stacked (though now suspiciously hollow) supply crates, and the gentle flow of water into the natural basin.

And there they stood.

Mira, Angela, Lisa, and Nicole were gathered together.

The moment they beheld us, the atmosphere shifted sharply.

Lisa took an instinctive step forward, her eyes narrowing at the presence of the firearm.

Mira’s arm pulled Nicole closer. "Officer Megan... what is the meaning of this?" she inquired, her voice calm yet possessing a maternal iron beneath the initial shock. "Lower the weapon."

Angela’s gaze drifted past me, fixing squarely on Camilla. Her smirk became razor-sharp and vitriolic.

"It is this strumpet," she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "Along with her spineless husband. Observe her—dress hiked up to her waist, ass branded like a harlot’s, and her core still weeping. You truly believed you could outsmart us, Camilla? You thought you could spread for my husband, cry out like a nymphomaniac, and then betray him from behind?"

Lisa’s fists tightened until her knuckles turned ivory. "Betrayed us for what? A measly handful of rations? You were prepared to satisfy his needs right there in the open—begging for it—and now you march in here with a gun? You are pathetic."

Their primary concern was not my safety; they understood my capabilities. They had witnessed the jetpack and sensed the raw power vibrating beneath my flesh. However, the sting of betrayal remained. Camilla had moaned for me. She had called me Master. She had allowed me to leave my mark upon her. And now, she stood there with a gun aimed toward us.

Megan’s complexion flushed—guilt manifesting for the first time. The aim of her gun wavered slightly, though it remained held high.

"Our intentions are not to inflict harm," she stated rapidly, her voice rugged yet sincere. "I give you my word. We merely require you to share some of your supplies. That is all. You possess beds, lamps, food, and water. We have children perishing under the elements. Paul is succumbing to fever. We are not scavengers; we are simply desperate."

Drake, who had remained silent thus far, stepped forward, his eyes scanning the cavern like a man who assumed victory was already his.

"I shall locate the supplies," he announced coldly, making his way toward the crates.

He scoured the cave surroundings, peered beneath the bedding, and even overturned the mattress, yet discovered nothing beyond a few folded blankets.

He turned rigid, then swiveled toward Megan and Camilla, his expression contorting.

"Perhaps he was being truthful," he muttered, his voice tight from agitation. "Those supplies must be cached somewhere in the exterior. Within the rocks. Beneath a tarp. Somewhere in the vicinity."

Megan shook her head—decisive and certain—the gun still tracking my every move.

"No. That remains illogical. How could he stockpile actual food—chicken fries, pizza, Coke—outdoors? The wildlife would claim it. Rainfall would ruin it. Another survivor would eventually uncover it. It must be inside. Hidden caches. Secret panels. Something of that nature. He is toying with us."

She pivoted the barrel slightly, her eyes locking onto mine.

"Reveal it, Dexter. The genuine stash. The crates. The rations. Quit the nonsense. Tell us—or we shall begin dismantling this sanctuary."

Drake cursed under his breath. "Damn it all. He must have relocated it."

Angela let out a low, mocking laugh, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed beneath her bare breasts.

"Incredible. You truly believed you had him," she purred, her eyes glittering. "You dispatched your little wench in here to moan, spread, and spy... and all she achieved was a welted ass and a soaked crotch. How pitiful."

Lisa stalked forward, her movement slow and predatory, her gaze locked onto Camilla.

"You referred to him as Master," she said quietly, her voice venomous. "You pleaded for his flesh. You reached climax on his fingers just moments ago. And now you stand there feigning that you were merely playing a role? Your deceit is as transparent as your loyalty."

Camilla flinched, shame flaring with renewed heat, yet she stood her ground.

"I performed what was necessary," she snapped. "For sustenance. For survival. You would act identically."

Megan’s firearm wavered once more—guilt and hostility battling for dominance across her features.

"Enough," she commanded. "We are not here to debate ethics. We are here to secure provisions. Dexter—this is your final opportunity. Disclose the location of the true cache. Otherwise, we shall commence the destruction. We begin with that lamp. Then the bedding. Afterward, we shall dismantle every inch of this cave until we find it."