Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 446: Camilla’s Kneeling Apology

I observed Drake. He remained alive but unconscious, his chest rising and falling in shallow, jagged rhythms.

Where the glowing knife had cauterized his wrists, the charred stumps no longer bled in heavy streams, though blood continued to seep sluggishly into the pool beneath him. His complexion was pallid and his lips wore a blue tint; even in his state of oblivion, severe shock and agony were etched into his features.

With a flat, final tone that echoed through the blood-tainted cavern, I turned my attention to Lisa.

"Toss him outside," I commanded. "Find somewhere deep in the jungle. Let the beasts consume whatever remains of him."

Lisa acknowledged with a brief nod, moving forward as her muscles flexed while she stooped to grip his ankles.

Camilla lunged toward us, desperate and hysterical. She cast her semi-nude body into the space between us, her bare breasts swinging with every frantic motion as she scrambled on her knees through the cooling gore.

Her massive Mexican breasts—heavy, dark-nippled, and full—swayed pendulously with each desperate movement. Her nipples stood thick and erect, reacting to the chill of the air and her lingering arousal, shifting like ripened fruit waiting to be harvested.

Her thick thighs brushed together, and her lace panties were darkened and soaked at the crotch, clinging in an obscene manner to her swollen, wet labia.

"Wait... no!" she cried, her voice cracking as tears cascaded down her flushed cheeks, landing upon the upper curves of her heaving chest. "He... he will perish... please... spare him... I beg you... I will do anything... anything at all!"

She dropped lower, pressing her forehead against the blood-slicked stone right by my boots. Her massive breasts squashed against her own folded arms, and her nipples scraped the abrasive floor, leaving thin crimson streaks in the mess.

Her round, plush Mexican derriere—still displaying the vivid warmth of my handprints—jutted upward as she bowed. Her cheeks parted just enough to reveal the sodden gusset of her panties clinging to her dripping slit.

"Please, Master..." she sobbed, her voice raw and shattered. "I implore you... prevent his death... he is my husband... I beg of you... I shall be whatever you desire... I will crawl... I will spread... I will choke on your cock every single night... just keep him alive..."

I shook my head, my expression cold and unbending.

"I am sorry," I said softly. "Even if I could preserve his life, I lack the desire to do so. He should never have targeted my wife. He threatened to violate Angela. Lisa. Mira. He even regarded Nicole as if she were mere flesh for the taking. That breaches a boundary. Some lines, once crossed, leave no path back."

Camilla’s sobs transitioned into a frenzied, desperate wail. With trembling hands, she reached behind her, unfastening her lace bra in one rapid movement.

It fell away instantly. Her enormous Mexican breasts were liberated—heavy and swaying, with wide, crinkled dark areolas and thick nipples that thrust outward like ripe berries, undulating hypnotically with every jagged breath.

She shoved her dress down over her wide hips until it pooled at her knees, leaving her clad only in the transparent, soaked lace panties that adhered to her swollen, leaking cunt.

"I am ready to be your slave..." she choked out, her voice raw with grief and total submission. "Your slave... please... just let him live... I will do absolutely anything... everything... every hole... every night... I will plead... I will crawl... I will allow you to fuck my fat Mexican ass until I am unable to walk... I will suck you clean after every other woman... please..."

Her heavy breasts jiggled with every sob, her nipples brushing against her forearms as she clutched herself. Her ass cheeks clenched and released, making the red handprints glow even more vividly against her warm, brown skin.

I raised a hand.

"That is enough," I stated, firm yet devoid of anger.

She froze, half-naked and trembling, with tears dripping onto her bare breasts and tracing paths through the deep valley between them.

I analyzed her—truly looked at her—before shifting my gaze back to Drake’s pale, bleeding form.

"I may be able to save him," I said quietly. "But this is your final chance. Never forget the vow you made today. You belong to me now. Entirely. No more deception. No more betrayals. Or the next time... my retribution will not end at his hands."

Camilla nodded frantically, her face drenched in tears as she crawled forward through the blood on her knees.

"Yes... Master... thank you... thank you..."

I signaled for Lisa to stop; she released Drake’s ankles and retreated a few steps.

I retrieved the magical tool from my pocket with a quick flick of my wrist, the cube unfolding into that same razor-sharp blade. Megan’s eyes widened; she and Camilla both stared, attempting to decipher how it appeared, but I moved with such speed that I palmed it back into my sleeve as if it had never existed.

They could only speculate that I had hidden it somewhere upon my person.

I gathered dry timber from the small stockpile near the back wall, arranged it in a rough circle on the stone, and ignited it with a lighter from my pocket. The flames flared up quickly, small yet intense.

I plunged the knife into the fire, the blade turning cherry-red in seconds.

Drake stirred with a moan, his eyes fluttering open just as I retrieved the glowing metal.

I knelt, straddling his chest to pin him down, and pressed the flat side of the burning blade against one of his wrist stumps.

The sizzle was instantaneous; flesh seared, and blood hissed and popped from the heat.

Drake awoke with a high-pitched, animalistic scream, his body convulsing beneath me.

"AAAAAHHHH—FUCK—IT IS BURNING—STOP—!"

"Camilla—restrain him!" I barked.

She scrambled over—still topless, her huge breasts swaying heavily—and dropped to her knees beside his head. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pressed her bare, heavy chest against his back, fighting to keep him still while he thrashed and howled.

"Drake—stop—please—stay still—!" she sobbed, tears splashing onto his face, her thick nipples dragging across his shirt as she strained to hold him down. "It is for your own benefit—please—!"

The stench filled the cave—a thick, choking mixture of scorched meat, metallic blood, and charring skin.

Nicole whimpered, "You are so cruel... you..."

Mira whispered urgently, "Do not watch, baby... do not look..."

I cauterized the second stump, working even faster this time. Drake’s scream crested into a ragged, broken gurgle before his eyes rolled back in his head, and he went limp, having fainted from pain and blood loss.

I stood up, the knife cooling and its blade tarnished with ash.

"Clear out," I ordered in a flat tone. "Everyone except Camilla. Give us some breathing room."

Lisa guided Megan and the others toward the rear tunnel—Nicole clinging to Mira, while Angela and Lisa flanked them defensively.

Only Camilla remained, kneeling in the pool of blood, topless, her massive Mexican breasts heaving with every sob, nipples dark and thick against her brown skin, her ass swaying rhythmically as she rocked in her grief.

I acquired the medicine from the store interface and produced it. I opened the container to reveal two white capsules—a painkiller and a sedative—along with a small, faintly luminous green tablet. The healing pill. It cost me 1000 Pervert Points—a steep price, though well worth the investment.

Drake had utility while he was alive.

A broken man, stripped of his hands? He could still bear witness. He could still suffer. He could still serve as a reminder to everyone of the consequences for crossing me. And if I ever required leverage over Camilla again... he would be the perfect tool.

I knelt, tilted his head back, and forced the pills down his throat with a swallow of water from the basin. He coughed weakly before reflexively swallowing.