Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 711: Maya’s Secret Diary

I suddenly asked, "Mom... I’ll explain it to you once I come home... Okay?"

Victoria growled, "You... you are not seduced by that bitch, are you...? Dexter, that person is not what you think. She wears a mask over her face... Just like she tricked me... After learning from me... about our company and clients, the first thing she did was stab me in the back... So don’t believe anything she says..."

I sighed. "Okay... Mom... There’s something I found out... I’ll show you when I come back."

Victoria grumbled, "Okay... Come back soon... Don’t let that bitch get into your head..."

I put the phone down. I could hear the pain in Mom’s voice—the betrayal, the anger. But I couldn’t blame her. Anyone in her position would feel the same.

I texted Kevin: "Tell them you asked me to do something... and I’ve been helping you..." I did that because Marina and Madeline would be worried if I disappeared all of a sudden.

His reply was instant: "Yes, Master..."

Instead of driving home, I used Godspeed, running in the direction of Maya’s villa. I had to see her, observe her, read her thoughts.

In milliseconds, I was standing in front of Maya’s villa, the address pulled from the AI data. I vibrated my body, becoming invisible, my form flickering as I phased through the walls.

The villa was empty. Maya wasn’t home yet—she was still on her way, since it had only been 15 minutes since she left the auction.

I walked around her room, my eyes scanning for clues. And then I noticed it—a diary peeking out from under her pillow.

I pulled it out, flipping it open. It was new, only two weeks’ worth of entries. But even in those, Mom’s name appeared often—though Maya never called her "Teacher". She used Victoria.

I put the diary back in its exact position, then searched further. And there, stacked in a corner, were years’ worth of diaries.

I pulled out the diary from seven years ago, the leather cover worn from years of secret handling. The pages smelled of old paper and ink, but beneath that, I could almost scent Maya’s longing—sweet, painful, and unfulfilled.

The first entry was innocent, almost childlike in its admiration.

"Today was my first day as the teacher’s assistant. She is wonderful. So smart, so intelligent... I am not even a fraction of her. But still, she is patient with me. Teaching me. Guiding me. I feel... lucky. Like I’ve been given a gift I don’t deserve."

But as the days passed, the entries grew more intense, her feelings deeper, her words more desperate.

"I don’t know what’s happening to me. Every time she walks into the room, my heart races. I can’t breathe. Today, she was reviewing some documents, and she bit her pen between her lips... God, she looked so cute. My stomach flipped. My hands trembled. I had to look away before she noticed..."

Then, the confession—raw, unfiltered, terrified.

"I think... I’m in love with her. I never thought I was like this. I’ve never felt this way about anyone—man or woman. But with her... It’s different. It’s everything. But she’s married. She has a family. I can’t destroy that. I can’t hurt her. So I’ll bury this. I’ll hide it. Forever."

The entries that followed were a mix of ecstasy and agony—moments of stolen glances, accidental touches, the torture of being so close yet so far.

"Today, she touched my shoulder. Just for a second. But it burned me. I wanted to lean into her. I wanted to turn around and kiss her. But I couldn’t. I froze. And then she walked away, and I hated myself for not being brave enough."

"She was wearing that blue dress today. The one that hugs her curves. I couldn’t stop staring. I imagined what it would be like to run my hands over her waist, to pull her close... But then I remembered—she’s not mine. She’ll never be mine. And it hurts so much."

"Sometimes, when she’s not looking, I let myself imagine. What if she felt the same? What if she looked at me the way I look at her? But then I remember—she’s straight. She’s happy with her husband. And I’m just... nothing to her. A nobody."

The pain in her words was palpable, each entry a knife twist of longing and resignation.

"I dreamed about her last night. We were alone, in her office. She pulled me close, her lips on mine... I woke up with my heart pounding, my body aching. And then I cried. Because I know it’ll never happen."

"I hate myself for this. For wanting her. For loving her. But I can’t stop. She’s everything to me. My sun, my moon, my whole world. And I’m just... nothing."

Then, the entries took a darker turn—fear, desperation, the realization that she could never have what she wanted.

"I can’t do this anymore. Every day, I die a little more. Watching her. Loving her. Knowing I can never have her. But I can’t leave her either. I need her. Even if it’s just... being near her."

"Today, she smiled at me. Just a small smile. But it lit up my whole day. I clung to it. Like a drowning woman to a lifeline. But then I remembered—it wasn’t for me. It was just... kindness. And it broke me all over again."

And then, the day everything changed—the day she was kidnapped.

"NO. I can’t let them hurt her. I have to do everything to protect her. Even if she never knows. Even if she hates me for it. I love her too much to let anything happen to her. So I’ll play their game. I’ll be their puppet. And I’ll hate myself for it... but I’ll do it. For her."

The entries after that were heartbreaking—filled with guilt, depression, and the slow erosion of her soul.

"I stole from her today. I hurt her. And it killed me. But I had to. If I didn’t, they would’ve destroyed her. And I can’t let that happen. Even if it means I lose her forever."

"I wish she knew. I wish she understood. But she never will. And I can’t tell her. Because if I do... they’ll kill her. And I can’t live with that."

Some pages were stained with tears, the ink bleeding where her emotions had overwhelmed her. The last entry before the kidnapping was the most devastating of all.

"I love you, Victoria. More than anything. More than life itself. And I always will. Even if you hate me. Even if you never know. I’ll protect you. Always. No matter what it costs me."

I put the diary back, my heart heavy, my mind reeling. Maya wasn’t just protecting Mom out of loyalty or guilt. She was doing it out of love—a love so deep, so desperate, that she was willing to sacrifice everything for it.

And Mom had no idea.