Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 453: Nicole Covers the Pervert’s Eyes

Megan’s eyes welled with fresh tears. Glancing around the room—realizing everyone was watching—she released the blanket with trembling fingers.

Her ragged police shirt hung open, leaving her black lace bra fully exposed. Her breasts spilled over the fabric, and the nipples stood rigid against the thin lace due to the biting cold and her lingering humiliation. The crotch of her trousers was torn completely apart; her black panties were visible, damp and clinging to her swollen feminine lips.

Wrapping her arms across her chest, she futilely attempted to shield herself from their gazes. Everyone had witnessed it already.

Biting her lip as tears streamed down her cheeks, she stammered, her voice shattering: "Can... could you turn around...? Please... I feel so... exposed... I understand it is my fault, but... I simply cannot... I just cannot bear it..."

Nicole had reached her limit.

She stomped over, diminutive yet furious, and standing on her tiptoes, she slammed both palms over my eyes.

"Turn around, you pervert!" she shouted, her voice cracked with righteous indignation. "You possess a wife... and even my mother is your... girlfriend... do you still find yourself unsatisfied, you leech...?"

I remained passive, allowing her to rotate me, her hands feeling warm and slightly unsteady against my vision.

Behind me, a soft rustle of fabric echoed as items dropped to the stone floor—accompanied by rapid, panicked inhalations—as Megan struggled into the fresh jeans, the shirt, and the jacket. The blanket remained discarded.

Moments later, Nicole withdrew her hands, though she continued to glare at me.

I turned around with slow deliberateness.

Megan stood before us, now fully clothed in the oversized jeans, baggy shirt, and a half-zipped jacket. Aside from her reddened eyes, the lingering tear tracks, and the way her fingers still shook, she almost appeared composed.

She looked toward Angela, Nicole, Mira, and Lisa, her voice barely rising above a broken whisper.

"I am sorry..." she muttered, fresh tears falling. "I am so sorry... for everything. I was sworn to protect these people... instead, I leveled a weapon at you. I allowed Drake to threaten your family. I... I have failed. As an officer. As a human being. I only intended to help... but I crossed a line. I realize I am unworthy of your mercy... but thank you. For the clothing. I swear... I will never reveal the existence of this place to another soul."

She wiped her face, her voice fractured.

I observed her, then turned to Camilla, and finally back to the unconscious form of Drake.

"Remove that bastard," I stated. "Do as you please with him. Discard him or drag him back with you. He is your burden now."

Camilla lurched forward—"Master, that is—"

I delivered a sharp slap to her rounded backside—SMACK—the report ringing out against the cave walls.

Camilla let out a sharp cry, jumping as her breasts bounced beneath her makeshift dress, before she went instantly quiet, her gaze dropping in total submission.

"Do not forget your commitment," I said, my tone glacial. "I vowed to preserve your husband’s life. I did not pledge to cater to him. Choose your next words with extreme caution."

Camilla lowered her head, trembling in silence.

Lisa stepped forward, her features stern but oddly serene. She approached Megan, reached into her waistband, and retrieved the sidearm I had disarmed her of earlier.

Without a word, she slid it directly into the waistband of Megan’s new jeans—a move that stunned everyone, Megan most of all.

Lisa locked eyes with her, her voice flat yet devoid of malice.

"I have no desire to keep another person’s refuse," she stated.

Megan stared at the weapon, then up at Lisa, her tears returning.

"Thank you..." she whispered, her voice choked with a mixture of gratitude and self-loathing. "I... I truly do not deserve this. After all I have done... you still..."

She trailed off, sobs obstructing her throat.

Megan spun around, knelt, and awkwardly hoisted Drake’s inert body across her shoulders. She stumbled slightly under the strain, the blanket entirely forgotten.

She glanced back once—locking eyes with mine, then Mira’s, then Nicole’s—before marching out into the gathering darkness.

The mouth of the cave swallowed her silhouette.

A heavy silence returned.

Camilla remained motionless, watching her husband vanish, tears still streaming down her face. Nicole looked at me; her previous anger had evaporated, replaced by something quieter and more perplexed. Mira gripped my arm in gratitude. Angela smirked, already reaching for a slice of leftover pizza.

Lisa continued to stare at the entrance, her expression unreadable now that she was unarmed, her arms folded tightly across her chest as if holding herself together after parting with the weapon she had been so eager to use.

Angela sauntered over, her hips swaying with that characteristic lethargic, predatory grace she adopted after a long day of chaos.

She pressed her body firmly against my side—her soft, warm breasts squashing against my arm, their stiff tips dragging like embers against my sleeve. Her hand crept up my chest, her fingers tracing slow patterns over my heart as she purred against my ear.

"Husband..." she murmured, her voice dripping with mock concern and unmistakable mischief, grinding her heavy breasts against me until the sensation was undeniable.

"Are you concerned for Officer Megan? Look at how dark the sky has become... night draws in quickly. What if she loses her way in the woods? What if some predator catches the scent of the blood on her clothes... or the fear between her legs... and decides she looks like easy prey? Why not escort her back... ensure she reaches her destination safely...?"

I looked toward the opening of the cave, where the final, faint purple sliver of twilight was being consumed by the black of night. Megan had only been gone a few heartbeats, but the trail leading to the survivors’ camp was precarious—rocky, uneven, and riddled with shadows and lethal things that thrived after sunset.

I exhaled through my nose, feeling both amused and calculating.

"I had intended to head back regardless," I stated, my voice low. "It will not be long before she finds herself in peril."

Nicole glanced up sharply from her spot beside Mira, still cocooned in her blanket, her cheeks flushed from the meal and the persisting shock of the events.

"What are you implying?" she asked, her voice small yet tinged with suspicion.

Reaching out, I flicked her forehead playfully but firmly.

"Ouch!" she cried, rubbing the spot with a pout as she glared up at me.

I chuckled—a dark, low sound—and leaned closer until my face was merely inches from hers.

"What do you imagine will occur when Megan returns to those survivors clad in pristine clothing—clean jeans, a fresh shirt, a jacket—while everyone else remains in rags?" I asked, my tone calm but biting.

"They will be envious. Paranoid. Famished. They will look at her and conclude: 'She compromised her morals. She became his thrall. She refuses to share the spoils with us.' Some will grovel to her for remnants. Others... will attempt to seize them. And a few—the truly desperate ones—may decide she is the reason they continue to starve. They will turn on her. Quickly."

Nicole’s eyes went wide—the anger returning, though now tempered by a more chilling realization.

"That is... that is monstrous," she whispered. "Those are supposed to be her people..."

"People savage one another when they are starving," Mira added gently, her arm tightening around her daughter. "Dexter is correct. Megan is walking into a trap of her own design."

Angela’s hand drifted lower, her fingers dancing along my waistband while her chest pressed harder against my arm.

"So, are you off to rescue the damsel in distress?" she teased, her lips brushing my jawline.

"My grand, mighty husband... playing the hero yet again. Just be certain you return to me afterward. I want to ride you while you describe how you saved her... how she wept and uttered her thanks to you... how she pleaded not to be abandoned alone in the dark..."