Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 672: Madeline’s Injured Thighs

~4 minute read · 1,095 words
Previously on Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks...
After narrowly escaping a helicopter crash, Dexter, Madeline, and Daisy land in a car, sustaining injuries. They steal a vehicle and find refuge in a motel. While Daisy attempts to contact the White House, Dexter tends to Madeline's injuries. He then discovers Daisy has a severe stomach wound from a shard of glass, which he painfully removes.

After the initial disinfection, I worked quickly but carefully. I pressed clean gauze firmly against the wound to staunch the worst of the bleeding, then wrapped a tight pressure bandage around Daisy’s midsection, securing it with medical tape.

The white fabric quickly turned pink as some blood continued to seep through. Daisy’s breathing remained ragged, her body shivering from shock and blood loss.

She let out soft, pained whimpers with every shift, her eyes half-closed. "Hurts... can’t breathe right..." she murmured weakly.

Once the bandage was secure, I placed both hands gently over the wound, pretending to simply apply pressure while secretly channeling a controlled, subtle pulse of Eternal Vitality directly into her.

I kept the ability hidden—no glowing effects, no obvious signs—making it look like I was just holding the dressing in place and whispering encouragement.

The power worked quietly beneath my palms, accelerating her body’s natural clotting and beginning the healing process from within. The internal bleeding slowed dramatically, then stopped entirely.

The torn tissues started knitting together at an enhanced but imperceptible rate, ensuring she wouldn’t bleed out or go into shock.

I maintained the contact for a long minute, speaking softly to mask what I was doing. "You’re going to be okay, Daisy. Stay with us. Breathe slowly... that’s it." Neither Madeline nor Daisy suspected anything beyond standard first aid and my calm demeanor. To them, it was simply me applying firm pressure and expertise under pressure.

Daisy’s tense body gradually relaxed as the hidden healing took effect. The agonizing, stabbing throbbing in her stomach slowly eased into a manageable dull ache. Her deathly pale face regained a hint of natural color, the cold sweat on her forehead beginning to dry.

Her breathing, which had been shallow and ragged, grew steadier and deeper. She blinked slowly, looking up at me with genuine surprise, softening her usually stoic features.

"It... it doesn’t hurt as bad now," she whispered, her voice still weak but filled with quiet amazement. "The burning... It’s fading. How...?"

"Pressure and the bandage are doing their job," I replied casually, keeping my voice even and matter-of-fact so no one would question the rapid improvement.

I maintained a calm, professional expression, slowly removing my hands from the bandage as if I had simply been applying firm pressure the entire time.

Inside, I was satisfied that the worst had been stabilized. The subtle pulse of Eternal Vitality had done its work discreetly—clotting the blood, reducing inflammation, and kickstarting healing—without any visible glow, warmth, or other telltale signs. Neither Daisy nor Madeline suspected a thing beyond standard first aid under pressure.

Madeline rushed forward now that the immediate crisis had passed. She knelt beside the bed, her knees scraping painfully against the cheap carpet, and gently took Daisy’s hand in both of hers.

"You scared me so much..." she said, her voice thick with lingering fear and relief. Tears slipped down her cheeks again as she squeezed Daisy’s fingers. "Thank God you are okay."

I looked at Daisy with a firm but caring nod. "You take rest now. You’ve done more than enough tonight. I’ll help Ma’am with her injuries."

Daisy tried to protest weakly, her eyelids already growing heavy. "But sir... Ma’am’s safety..."

"Rest," I repeated gently, but leaving no room for argument. "That’s an order."

I turned my attention to Madeline and asked her softly, "Come sit on the edge of the bed, Ma’am. Let me take care of those scrapes."

Madeline nodded shakily and sat down on the worn mattress, wincing as the movement pulled at her injuries. I went down on my knees in front of her, positioning myself carefully between her legs for better access.

Her dress had ridden up slightly from all the chaos, revealing badly scraped knees—raw, red, and dotted with dirt and small pebbles. I took a fresh cotton ball, dipped it in alcohol, and gently wiped the wounds.

Madeline hissed sharply at the sting, her hands gripping the bedsheet. "Ahh... that burns!" she gasped, her body tensing. But she didn’t pull away, trusting me completely. As I cleaned the second knee, I moved higher, tending to the nasty cut along her thigh.

The motion caused her dress to slide further up, fully exposing the smooth skin of her upper thighs and a glimpse of her delicate black panties underneath. The contrast of the dark lace against her skin was striking in the dim motel lighting.

Madeline gasped again, this time softer and more surprised, a faint blush creeping across her tear-streaked face. Her breathing quickened as she became acutely aware of how close I was. "Dexter..." she whispered, her voice a mix of vulnerability and something deeper.

Then her eyes fell on my forearm. The deep tooth marks from Daisy’s bite were still visible, blood slowly drying around the impressions. Her expression shifted instantly from embarrassment to concerned guilt.

"Your arm... Oh no, look at those tooth marks. Let me help you," she insisted, her tone determined despite her own pain.

Before I could respond, Madeline reached for the first aid supplies. With trembling but gentle hands, she mirrored what she had seen me do. She cleaned the bite wound carefully with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, dabbing softly around the marks.

"Does this hurt?" she asked worriedly, glancing up at my face. "I’m so sorry.... Does it hurt?"

"It’s nothing," I reassured her quietly, though the sting was real. "I’ve had worse."

She didn’t listen. She applied a thin layer of antiseptic cream with careful fingers, her touch surprisingly tender and lingering a little longer than necessary. Then she wrapped a clean bandage around my forearm, securing it neatly with tape.

As she worked, her black panties remained partially visible, and she made no immediate move to adjust her dress, too focused on tending to me.

The intimate moment hung heavy in the small motel room—Madeline’s soft breaths, the faint scent of alcohol and her perfume, and the quiet sounds of Daisy resting on the other side of the bed.

When she finished, Madeline kept holding my bandaged arm for a few extra seconds, her eyes meeting mine. "Thank you... for everything tonight. For saving us, for taking care of Daisy, for not leaving me behind." Her voice cracked slightly, fresh emotion welling up. "I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this."