Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 444: Drake’s Lustful Mistake

My gaze shifted between her, Drake, and Camilla sequentially.

Then, a slow, icy smile spread across my face—one filled with a touch of pity.

"Very well," I said in a hushed tone. "Search the place. Tear everything apart. Be my guest."

Megan blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden compliance.

"Are you... honestly letting us?"

I shrugged, tossing a single shoulder up in a cavalier motion.

"Why not? You possess the firearm and the manpower. My latest slave is standing right there, eager to point out every secret hiding spot she claims to have spotted. Go ahead. Look. Dig. Break anything that suits your fancy."

Drake narrowed his eyes, radiating suspicion.

"You’re far too composed," he remarked slowly. "What is the catch?"

I let out a low chuckle. "So, what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Motherfucker..." he growled once more. He took a predatory step toward Angela, his hands flexing as if he were already imagining his grip upon her.

"Tell us where the supplies are hidden. Right now. Otherwise, I might just take something else in exchange. Your women seem like they know how to please a man. Perhaps it is time they satisfied someone who isn't a coward hiding behind petty tricks."

Nicole let out a terrified whimper, burying her face deeper into Mira’s chest.

Mira’s voice snapped like a whip. "Do not even think about looking at them like that, Drake. Do not you dare."

Angela remained unmoved. Slowly, she tilted her head in a predatory fashion, her lips curling into a dangerous, amused smirk. "Go ahead, try it," she purred, her voice like velvet wrapped around tempered steel. "Come closer. Let us see what unfolds when you reach for what belongs to me."

Lisa cracked her knuckles, her eyes locked onto Drake as if she were already visualizing the sound of his bones snapping. "Take one more step," she murmured, "and I’ll shatter every finger on your hands before you lay a digit on her."

I turned to Megan, who still held her gun trained on my chest. Her face was pale and conflicted, with duty and guilt warring within her gaze.

"Officer Megan," I said quietly, my voice slicing through the heavy tension. "Is that what you intended? Is this your concept of 'sharing'? Allowing him to threaten my women with sexual violence while you stand by, weapon in hand? Is this your version of justice?"

Megan’s weapon wavered, dipping just a fraction. Her face remained drained of color, torn by the internal conflict clearly showing in her green eyes.

"Drake, that is enough," she snapped, her voice raspy with strain. "Back away. Now. We did not come here to harm anyone. We are here for food. Not... certainly not this."

Drake answered with a harsh, ugly laugh, taking another step toward Angela regardless of Megan’s plea.

"Why bother?" he sneered at her. "He can toy with my wife—fondle her breasts, slap her rear until it turns red, make her moan like a bitch in heat—why should I be denied? Fairness is only right, is it not? He stole what was mine. Maybe I will take what is his. Perhaps I will bend one of these sluts over right here and—"

Megan stood paralyzed in a dilemma, unsure of her next move.

I made my move.

There was no warning, no monologue.

In a silent shimmer of cerulean light, the magical tool materialized in my palm; the cube unfolded, its edges sharpening into a refined, razor-thin blade in less than a heartbeat.

I slashed once—a clean, surgical horizontal arc at chest level.

Drake’s scream tore through the cave—high-pitched, animalistic, and shattering—as both of his hands dropped to the stone floor with dull, meaty thuds, severed perfectly at the wrists.

Blood sprayed in bright, arterial jets, splattering the floor mats, the wooden crates, Camilla’s exposed thighs, and Nicole’s blanket. The severed stumps pulsated rhythmically, rhythmically pumping crimson with every frantic heartbeat.

"AAAAAHHHH—MY HANDS—! FUCK—MY FUCKING HANDS—!"

Drake crumpled, his knees buckling. He stared at the bleeding stumps in mute shock, his jaw hanging open in a voiceless scream before the agony set in fully, causing him to howl and roll aside as a dark lake of blood spread beneath him.

Camilla shrieked, "NO—! DRAKE—!" She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering helplessly over the gushing wounds, blood coating her fingertips and soaking the fabric of her red dress. "No—no—no—please—!"

Megan swung her weapon toward me, her arms trembling violently.

"You—!" she shouted, her voice thick with panic and revulsion. "You absolute monster—!"

I activated Eternal Vitality; my skin shimmered with faint blue energy, turning my frame impenetrable as the bullets bounced harmlessly off me like rain against steel.

I lunged, possessing speed beyond human limitations, closing the gap in a mere blur.

My left hand clamped firmly around the barrel of her gun, twisting it upward and wrenching it from her grasp with a metallic screech that forced a gasp from her lips. She staggered back, losing her balance, but I was already upon her.

I shoved her down with force, her back slamming against the stone floor as the air left her lungs. I pinned her wrists above her head with an iron-like grip and pressed my knee into her stomach, holding her flat while I held the confiscated gun, its barrel pointing aimlessly toward the ceiling.

Megan thrashed, fueled by fury and terror, her legs kicking at thin air.

"Let—go—!" she wheezed, her voice raspy. "You cut his hands off—! You—!"

I gazed down at her, maintaining a calm, cold, and almost bored expression.

"You pointed a weapon at me," I said calmly. "You allowed him to threaten my women. You sent Camilla in here to spy and betray me. Are you genuinely surprised that I brought this to an end?"

Tears of fury, guilt, and fear welled in Megan’s eyes.

"We only wanted food..." she whispered, her voice faltering. "For the children... for Paul..."

I stood slowly, the weapon dangling loosely from my hand.

"You could have simply asked," I noted. "I made an offer. A fair trade. Bodies for safety. You chose this path instead."

Turning to Lisa, I issued my command in a steady, authoritative tone.

"Lisa... seize Megan. And this traitor, Camilla. Hold them. Ensure they do not move."

Lisa acted as if she had been anticipating the order. She grabbed Megan’s wrists, wrenching them behind the officer’s back in a singular, fluid motion, while pinning her face against the stone with a knee to her spine. Megan grunted and struggled, but Lisa was far stronger, faster, and utterly merciless.

Simultaneously, Lisa reached out her free hand to grab Camilla by the hair, yanking her head back until the woman let out a yelp.

"Remain still," Lisa hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "You wanted to play the spy? Now, witness exactly what happens to those who betray us."

Camilla sobbed, her cries loud and hysterical—"Drake—! No—no—no—please—!"—but she offered no resistance; she was incapable. Blood covered her palms, her dress, and her knees as she knelt in the expanding puddle.

Drake continued his frantic, high-pitched wailing, his body convulsing as blood continued to leak from his stumps.

"Stop his noise," I ordered, my tone flat and devoid of emotion.

Lisa delivered a swift, powerful kick to his ribs. The impact silenced his scream into a choked gurgle. His eyes rolled back into his head and his body slumped sideways, the bleeding continuing to ooze from his neat, severed wrists.

Camilla shrieked again, "NO—!" and lunged toward him, but Lisa pulled her hair with greater force, pinning her back to her knees.

"Stay down, whore," Lisa growled. "You do not get to offer him comfort. Not after you moaned for the Master while he looked on."