Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 451: Nicole’s Fiery Accusation

I slowed my movements, offering a shake of the head that seemed steeped in measured disappointment, before I reached down to adjust my pants. I tucked my still-swollen member away with deliberate, sluggish care.

"Did you honestly believe you could simply desire it... and have it handed to you?" I inquired softly, my tone saturated with a cruel, mocking amusement.

"You haven't earned it yet, slave. You must grovel for it. Betraying me, playing the spy for that pathetic excuse for a husband, and smuggling a firearm into my refuge... that is not the way good girls earn their pleasure. That is the way they earn their discipline."

Camilla’s breath hitched in her throat, her expression a fragile battleground between shame and sudden, sharp arousal. I remained indifferent to whether her reaction was feigned or a genuine, aching response; the result was unchanged. Her thighs clamped together spontaneously, seeking to soothe the empty, throbbing void between them, only succeeding in coaxing more slick to trail down her inner legs.

Without uttering another syllable, I turned and strode out of the darkness of the cave.

As I emerged into the dying glow of the day, Angela caught my eye, peeking around the jagged cave entrance. She stood unabashedly nude, one hand absent-mindedly grazing her nipple as she observed the aftermath with dark, predatory intensity.

Behind her, leaning against the gnarled trunks of nearby trees, stood Mira with Nicole held close, the thick blanket draped over the girl acting like a protective shield. Beside them, Lisa held her arms tightly crossed, her expression hardened into a mask of stone. Megan trailed the group, her face ashen and eyes swollen from weeping, clutching her shredded clothing beneath her blanket.

Angela spotted me, letting out a performative cough—a teasing, theatrical gesture as if she hadn’t just been a captive audience to her partner shattering another woman’s world.

"Is the... business finished?" she asked, her voice dripping with a calculated, mock-innocent cadence, while her lips curled into a wicked smirk.

I offered a noncommittal shrug, posture composed and relaxed.

"Oh, indeed... I’ve stabilized Drake’s condition," I replied. "He shall survive. For the time being."

My gaze drifted toward Megan, who continued to shroud herself in the blanket as if it could preserve her crumbling dignity. I let out a brief, dry chuckle.

"You didn't flee," I remarked, tilting my head thoughtfully. "Courageous. Or perhaps just foolish."

Megan cast a glance toward Lisa, then back to my face, her voice thin and trembling.

"Do you think I lacked the desire...?" she whispered. "It was just... I could not abandon them. Not after everything that has occurred."

Before anyone could offer a rebuttal, Nicole’s voice pierced the air, sharp-edged, indignant, and shuddering with righteous fury.

"You are a criminal..." she cried, stepping away from Mira's protective embrace as her blanket slipped from one shoulder. "How... how could you possibly perpetrate such a thing... to him... to any human soul...?"

Her eyes were dilated and furious, still rimmed with the redness of her tears, yet they blazed now with an accusatory light.

I met her stare with a cool, unflinching steadiness.

"You are pinning the blame on me?" I asked in a low cadence. "For shielding you and your mother? Or would you prefer that you and your mother were violated by that wretched Drake? Because that was precisely what he was threatening. Right before your eyes. In front of everyone present."

Nicole’s fiery defiance stuttered, then fizzled into nothingness. Her shoulders sagged, her voice descending into a mere murmur.

"You... you were not required to be so merciless..." she pleaded, her voice thick with supplication. "You could have halted his actions... without... without severing his hands..."

I offered a slow, almost sympathetic shake of my head.

"You are remarkably naive," I stated, devoid of malice. "Mercilessness is the singular dialect men like him comprehend. He was deaf to reason. He was deaf to persuasion. He understood only the sting of pain. Now, it is a lesson he will never erase from his memory."

Mira stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Nicole’s shoulders to draw her back into a close hold.

"Nicole... that is enough," she commanded, her tone gentle yet resolute. "Dexter is merely endeavoring to keep us safe. Have you paused to consider what would befall us if Dexter were not here to serve as our protector? Had Drake achieved his aims? We would be the ones stained with blood. We would be the ones broken. Dexter performed what was necessary. For us."

Nicole shifted her gaze from her mother to me, then briefly toward Megan, her anger dissipating into a hollow, bewildered state.

Megan gulped audibly, clutching her blanket tighter.

"It is entirely my burden to bear..." she whispered, her voice fracturing. "I should have interfered sooner. I should have... I was cowardly. I offer my apologies."

Lisa let out a sharp, disdainful snort.

"Be silent," she snapped. "Cease this drivel. We were all witnesses and listeners to the entire affair. Do not put on an act of innocence. You are more detestable than Drake. You are a hypocritical wretch—aiming a weapon at us while cloaking yourself in the guise of a hero. At the very least, he was forthright about his intent to violate us. You lurked behind the pretense of 'justice'."

Megan recoiled, fresh tears spilling over, but she offered no rebuttal.

I exhaled, feeling the weariness of the drama, and clapped my hands together once.

"Enough," I declared. "Let us partake in the lunch we were promised."

I turned on my heel and stepped behind a nearby cluster of trees, vanishing from their sight for a heartbeat.

Through a simple act of will, I accessed the system storage—my balance of Pervert Points remaining substantial following the recent windfall—and manifested:

A gargantuan, steaming cheese pizza—overflowing with cheese, featuring a golden crust, and bubbling as if only seconds removed from an oven. A bucket of crispy chicken fries—perfectly seasoned and still crackling with heat. Four frost-covered bottles of Coke—beads of condensation clinging to the glass.

Everything was sourced directly from the System’s Supermarket Store—fresh, thermal, and flawless.

I returned with my arms heavily laden, depositing the feast onto a flat slab of rock near the cavern’s mouth.

Nicole and Megan stood transfixed, jaws slack, eyes bulging.

"How... by what means is this even possible...?" Nicole murmured. "How is it still scalding...? It defies all reason..."

Mira, Angela, and Lisa merely chuckled, already reaching for slices.

Camilla emerged at that moment, having clumsily readjusted her ruined dress, which still clung revealingly to her curves, marred by stains of blood and the fluids of her distress. She appeared drained and chastened, yet her eyes flickered with hunger at the sight of the meal.

I beckoned her forward.

"Approach, my slave," I said, my voice calm yet saturated with authority. "Consume something. You shall require your vitality... for the trials that lie ahead."

Nicole muttered beneath her breath, "Pervert..."

Camilla stepped forward, appearing hesitant and downcast, and I handed her a portion of chicken fries and a chilled Coke.

She accepted them with trembling digits—her eyes darting toward the limp, unconscious form of Drake within the cave—before locking eyes with me.

"My gratitude... Master,” she whispered.

I gestured toward the food.

"What are you waiting for?" I demanded of them all. "Eat."

Nicole was ravenous; she tore into the pizza as if she had not tasted sustenance in eons, cheese trailing in long, viscous threads as her cheeks bulged. She swallowed a long draft of Coke, letting out a resounding burp, then flushed a deep, vibrant red when the others turned their eyes toward her.

"What...?" she mumbled, swiping at her mouth.

Everyone shared a soft, relieved chuckle, while Mira tenderly smoothed back her daughter’s hair.

"Mother did not deceive you," Mira said softly, offering a smile through the remnants of her tears. "You truly are secure under Dexter's care. We shall suffer hunger no longer."

Nicole offered a hesitant, tiny nod before diving back into her meal.

I turned my gaze to Megan, still cocooned in her blanket, her eyes bloodshot.

"My apologies," I remarked, tone almost sympathetic. "I have no provisions for thieves."

Megan swallowed, her throat bobbing, before she averted her gaze and curled herself tighter within the fabric.

Angela took note of this, stepping forward and extending a slice of pizza and a scattering of fries.

"Here," she offered, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. "Accept this. We aren't as devoid of heart as you suggest."

Megan studied the offering—then stared at Angela—her eyes brimming with renewed tears.

"Thank you..." she whimpered, her voice fracturing. "I am sorry... for the past transgressions... I merely intended to secure supplies and distribute them... to the other survivors... There are children among them... my judgment was simply clouded..."

She cast a tentative look in my direction before she reached out to take the food.

Angela shot me a sidelong glance, a silent plea hanging in the air.

I conceded with a single, sharp, reluctant nod.

Megan took the pizza with unsteady hands and consumed it in small, measured bites, moisture raining down upon the crust.

Nicole watched her for a moment, then shifted her attention back to her own portion—the vitriol stripped away, replaced by something far more subdued.

The cave entrance remained open, Drake’s unconscious shell still splayed within the shadows.

Yet here—upon this stone under the encroaching twilight—we shared a feast.

Pizza. Fries. Cold Coke.