Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 493: “Aaaah… Dexter!” – Helena’s Anal Yelp

Helena unleashed a piercing shriek from her throat, as if she were facing certain death. "Aaaaaaaaah—! No! Dexter—!"

My hand drifted downward leisurely, landing a solid, resounding smack on her full, succulent rear—echoing sharply through the space.

"Enough with the screaming," I remarked, my tone utterly composed and faintly disinterested. "Nothing took place. See? Not a single mark."

Peter staggered back until his spine collided forcefully with the wall. The firearm in his quivering grasp vibrated so intensely it seemed ready to tumble from his slick fingers onto the ground any second. His gaze bulged with sheer, raw insanity, pupils swollen in horror as his world fell apart.

"No... What in hell are you...?" he rasped, his voice rough and cracking. "This can’t be happening... It’s impossible... I fired at you right in the head and torso! The bullets... they crumpled like empty cans! What the fuck are you?! Some goddamn monster?!"

He retreated one final unsteady step, his foot snagging the rug’s border. With a panicked cry, his knees buckled, and he toppled heavily to the ground, scrambling rearward until he huddled miserably against the wall’s foot like a trapped rodent.

A serene smile curved my lips, chilling yet tinged with mirth. I tilted my head toward Helena, still quaking within my embrace, her tender form molded snugly to me.

"Helena..." I murmured, my words deep, silky, and laced with perilous tenderness, "Do you truly wish to remain with him? That spineless, gutless trash who’d end you whenever he panics? Or... would you rather be mine? Utterly. Safeguarded. Possessed. Treasured beyond his wildest dreams."

Helena’s breathing caught abruptly. Her eyes flicked to Peter—the one who’d vowed to destroy her existence, who’d filmed her desperately wiping my blood, who’d gripped her every moment through dread and coercion. Then they returned to me, scanning my features, witnessing the invincible might no projectile could pierce.

Following a prolonged, quivering silence, her words emerged faint and unsteady at first, then solidified with frantic determination.

"I... I don’t want to live like this anymore. He terrifies me daily. I’ll go with you. I’ll be yours... if you’ll take me."

"You fucking backstabbing slut!" Peter bellowed from the floor, his features contorting in fury, agony, and treachery. "After all I endangered for you?! You’re just gonna open up for this abomination once more?! You filthy tramp! I should’ve finished you off too!"

I let out a sinister laugh, deep and menacing, then approached Peter unhurriedly. He attempted to scramble away, hauling his shattered limbs, but I merely raised my boot and stomped down with devastating power on both shins. The gruesome snap of fracturing bones resounded across the room.

"AAAAAAAH—! NO! FUCK! MY LEGS! IT HURTS— AAAAAAH! STOP! PLEASE, STOP—AAAAAAAAH!"

Peter’s tortured howls ripped through the apartment as he twisted on the floor, anguish tears flooding his twisted visage.

With a mere thought, I accessed my system storage and retrieved the Magical Tool. At my mental order, it gleamed and swiftly grew into a vicious, icy-steel restraint device—complex metallic straps and bindings crafted for total restraint.

I tossed it toward Peter offhandedly. The contraption soared like it possessed life and clamped onto him with flawless mechanical accuracy.

Metal shackles clamped around his wrists, ankles, neck, and midsection, savagely compelling him into a degrading kneel. His arms were yanked excruciatingly behind, legs folded awkwardly under him, and his head fixed rigidly ahead, immovable. Only his mouth remained free to move.

Peter’s wails morphed into enraged, stifled snarls as the trap constricted ruthlessly, rendering him utterly powerless and vulnerable.

I faced Helena again, her stare fixed on the nightmarish display with bulging, incredulous eyes, lips parted in astonishment, a palm over her mouth.

"What’s got you so shocked?" I queried, arching a brow with light entertainment.

Helena gulped heavily, grappling to comprehend the unbelievable chaos before her. "This... this is genuine magic... How’d you pull that off? One moment you lay dead, next you’re impervious to bullets, and now this... What are you really, Dexter?"

I laughed lightly and drew nearer once more, my aura overwhelming the space. "Why not resume what that fool so abruptly halted?"

My palm trailed down her spine, tracing her hip’s swell, and audaciously grasped her lush, curved backside, kneading it commandingly over her skirt. "You can’t fathom how eagerly I’ve awaited reclaiming this, Helena."

She blinked dazedly, face blooming with shame. "What... what was interrupted?"

Without responding verbally, I slid my hand beneath the edge of her skirt, snagged my fingers on the waistband of her flimsy panties, and gradually tugged the material aside.

My middle finger drew playful loops around her snug, wrinkled asshole, sensing its quiver beneath my caress.

Next, with purposeful leisure, I nudged the pad of my finger against the stubborn ring and eased inward—bit by bit—expanding her hot, smooth depths while my palm pressed steadily against her buttock.

"Did you forget so soon?" I whispered huskily into her ear.

Helena released a startled, humiliated cry blended with a timid groan—"Aaaah...! D-Dexter...!"—her cheeks blazing scarlet as her body naturally gripped my probing finger. She twisted in my hold, plainly ashamed that this unfolded right before her restrained husband.

Peter, compelled to witness every instant from his pinned kneeling stance, growled through bared teeth, his voice rough and overflowing with powerless wrath.

"Motherfucker...! You sick bastard! Get your filthy hands off my wife! Aaaah... I’ll kill you! I swear I’ll rip your fucking throat out! Helena, you slut—don’t you dare moan for him! Stop it right now!"

I completely disregarded Peter, steadily thrusting my finger further into Helena’s tight asshole, bending it just a bit to draw another gasp and whimper from her. "Keep yelling, Peter. The only thing you’re going to do tonight is watch your wife become my personal anal slut... all over again."