Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 447: Camilla’s Sweaty Pussy

Within a few moments, the pain medication took effect—his body went limp, and his breathing began to stabilize. The sedative blunted the sheer trauma of the situation. The healing pill put a stop to the infection, halted the blood loss, and ensured he stayed among the living long enough to feel the weight of his regrets.

His eyelids flickered open—hazy and unfocused—before the harshness of reality caused them to snap into sharp awareness.

He cast his gaze downward at the cauterized, bandaged stumps where his hands used to be.

Then, his eyes fixed on Camilla—she was kneeling topless beside him, her ample breasts exposed and swaying, with tears and blood streaking her face and dripping down onto her dark nipples.

Next, he looked up at me.

He attempted to speak, though his voice was raw and shattered.

"It’s... entirely because of you... you... degenerate bastard..."

I grabbed Camilla by the waist and pulled her into me—her bare, heavy breasts pressed against my chest, with her large nipples brushing against my shirt.

I kissed her with brutal intensity, claiming her as my own; my tongue pushed past her lips while my hand dropped down to knead her thick Mexican ass once more. I squeezed the marked cheek with such force that she let out a whimper into my mouth, her hips thrusting forward against my thigh.

Drake tried to lunge at us, letting out a scream, but without his hands, he was unable to raise his own weight. He toppled sideways—his stumps waving in the air—howling with a mixture of rage and total helplessness.

"LET HER GO—! YOU BASTARD—LET HER GO—!"

I broke our kiss; Camilla was gasping for air, her lips swollen and glistening, her eyes clouded with tears and the echoes of arousal.

I peered down at him, a cold and slow smile spreading across my face.

"Camilla sold herself to me," I declared clearly. "She did it to spare your life. You owe her your gratitude. She pleaded on her knees—offered every part of her, every single night, her entire being—just so I would keep you alive. So thank her, Drake. Thank your wife for transitioning into my sex slave... all for your sake."

Drake’s cry morphed into a jagged, beaten sob.

Camilla shuddered against me—tears flowing down her flushed skin—but she made no move to retreat.

Instead, she leaned further into me, her massive Mexican breasts flattening firmly against my torso; they were warm and soft, her dark nipples scraping my shirt with every uneven breath she took.

Her hips gave a single, involuntary rock—grinding her wet cunt against my thigh through the thin, stained lace of her panties. Her thick ass muscles contracted under my firm grip, and the red handprints on her skin grew more vibrant as my fingers dug deeper into her flesh.

"I’m so sorry..." she whimpered—addressing Drake, the blood-spattered cave, and the entire world—her voice snapping like fragile glass.

Drake—still slumped on his side, his seared stumps oozing—finally collapsed onto his back. He inhaled in rapid, desperate gasps. His eyes—wild and glassy from the shock—met mine. Then, in a hoarse, fractured rasp that barely resembled a human voice, he uttered:

"Finish me... please..." he implored, his voice choked with blood and tears. "I cannot bear to exist like this... with no hands... no nothing... just end it... please..."

I let out a low, dark, and almost gentle chuckle.

"You really should have considered the consequences at the very start," I replied, my voice steady and conversational.

"Threatening to violate my women. Ogling Nicole like she was your next target. You crossed a line, Drake. Lines of that sort... they don't offer mercy, and they don't simply fade away. They certainly don't let you leave this place in one piece."

I licked my lips slowly and deliberately, while my eyes drifted down to the quivering body of Camilla held against me.

My free hand slid between her thick thighs, my fingers grazing the sodden lace of her underwear before slipping underneath. I dragged one finger across her engorged slit, pulling a long, broken moan from the back of her throat.

"Aaaaaaaaah...!"

She bucked against me, her ass clenching tightly under my other hand, and her breasts jiggled as she tried to suppress the sound, failing miserably.

I withdrew my finger slowly, holding it up so we could both see it glistening with her thick, clear juices that hung in sticky threads between my digits.

I presented it right in front of Drake’s eyes—close enough that he could detect her musky, intense scent of arousal, which sliced through the metallic stench of blood.

"Observe," I remarked softly, almost kindly. "Your wife is just putting on an act. But she’s such a slut... I’d wager she’s even more aroused than I am right now. She’s dripping like a broken pipe while her husband bleeds out on the floor."

Camilla’s breath caught—her eyes wide with terror.

"I... I’m not..." she stammered, her voice trembling, her cheeks turning a deep crimson.

I brought my damp finger even closer, rotating it so the light caught the wet sheen.

"Then what exactly is this?" I inquired in a low, biting tone.

Camilla stared at the shiny finger—then at Drake—then back at me. Her blush intensified, creeping down her neck to the tops of her exposed, heaving breasts.

"It’s... it’s just sweat..." she whispered, her voice cracking in desperation. "Yes... only sweat... because of the scorching heat... the fire in the cave..."

I offered a slow, cruel smirk, twisting my finger until the sticky strands snapped.

"Is that so?"

Camilla nodded frantically, her tears falling more rapidly.

I leaned inward, my lips brushing her ear.

"You don't need to persuade me," I murmured. "Perhaps you should explain it to your husband."

Drake’s already glassy eyes widened further. His voice was raw, broken, and filled with fury.

"You slut..." he rasped, his stumps twitching uselessly. "You... total slut... moaning for him... dripping like a common whore... while I’m bleeding out..."

Camilla flinched violently, as if he had physically struck her.

"No..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "Drake... I... I had no choice... I did it for you..."

Drake let out a bitter, wet laugh, coughing up blood.

"For me? You sold your body to him... begged to be his slave... let him mark your skin red... let him finger you right in front of me... and now you claim it’s ‘for us’? You aren't my wife anymore. You’re nothing but his cum-dump. His filthy little whore."

Camilla sobbed, loud and shattered, dropping her forehead back onto the stained stone.

"I’m sorry..." she wailed. "I’m so sorry... I never wanted this... I just wanted to keep you alive... to save your life."

I pulled back, observing both of them.

Camilla—topless, breasts heaving with every sob, dark nipples hard and erect, her thick ass still marked with red and shivering.

Drake—maimed, defeated, bleeding, glaring at his wife as if she were a complete interloper.

The cave returned to silence, save for Camilla’s quiet weeping and the rugged, labored gasps of Drake.

I crouched down—eye-level with Camilla—and gently tilted her chin upward with two fingers.

"You made your own choice," I said quietly. "You were the one who pleaded. You were the one who offered everything. And I accepted. Now, you will live with the outcome."

She gazed up at me—her eyes red, glassy, and utterly resigned.

"Yes... Master..." she breathed.

I rose to my feet and turned toward the others.

Lisa still held Megan—her firearm tucked away in her waistband.

Angela watched the scene, her dark eyes filled with evident satisfaction.

Mira pulled Nicole closer, shielding her from the brutal sight.

I turned to Drake for one final word.

"You are breathing right now only because she begged for your sake," I told him. "Do not forget that. Every single time you look at those stumps. Every time you witness her on her knees for me. Remember who saved you... and remember who exercises ownership over her now."

Drake let out a fractured, wordless sob, his head slumping back against the stone floor.

I turned my attention to Camilla.

"Clean yourself up," I commanded. "Then come to me. On your knees. Demonstrate to your husband just how thankful you are that I allowed him to remain alive."

Camilla nodded, slow and shaky, as fresh tears dripped down onto her bare, heavy breasts.

"Yes... Master..."