Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 667: Watching Madeline Piss

Madeline clung to me with surprising strength, as if I were the only solid thing left in her world. I remained still, letting her hold on as long as she needed. Her body was warm and soft against mine.

I could smell the faint, intoxicating mix of her perfume, the adrenaline-induced sweat on her skin, and the subtle scent of her hair. Her full breasts pressed firmly against my chest with every shaky breath she took, the thin fabric of her dress doing little to hide the warmth and softness of her body.

I slowly wrapped my arms around her in return, one hand gently stroking her back while the other rested on her waist. Her shivering gradually began to ease as she melted deeper into the embrace.

The room felt smaller, the air thicker with tension and unspoken emotions. My earlier internal thoughts about seduction resurfaced stronger than ever—this vulnerable, beautiful woman who had once been so arrogant was now seeking comfort in my arms.

”You’re safe with me,” I murmured into her hair, my voice low and reassuring. I let one hand trail slowly up her spine, feeling the delicate curve of her back through her clothes.

Madeline responded by pressing even closer, her breathing growing slightly heavier as her body molded against mine.

She didn’t speak for a long moment, simply holding on as if afraid I might disappear.

I could feel her heartbeat racing against my chest, matching the growing heat building between us. The silk sheets beneath us whispered softly as I shifted slightly, pulling her more comfortably into my lap so I could hold her better.

Madeline finally lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine.

They were no longer just filled with fear—there was gratitude, vulnerability, and a new kind of hunger flickering in them. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed. The powerful Madeline had been stripped down to her most raw, human self... and she was clinging to me like I was her savior.

I brushed a strand of hair away from her face, my fingers lingering on her soft cheek for a moment longer than necessary. ”I’ve got you,” I whispered, letting the moment stretch, feeling the undeniable chemistry crackling in the air between us like electricity.

For a brief second, I pulled back slightly, pretending to shift into professional bodyguard mode. I stood up and turned away, giving her space as any dutiful protector should.

But Madeline rose from the bed and walked toward the luxurious en-suite bathroom. She didn’t close the door behind her. Instead, she simply sat down on the toilet seat, clearly visible from where I stood.

I turned my back fully toward the bathroom out of courtesy, but the large decorative mirror mounted on the wall opposite the bed betrayed everything.

From my angle, I had a perfect, unobstructed view into the brightly lit bathroom while Madeline, focused on herself, couldn’t see me or the mirror’s reflection from her position.

My pulse quickened as I watched her through the reflection. Madeline lifted the hem of her elegant dress up to her hips, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her black lace panties.

She slowly pushed them down her smooth thighs and let them slide all the way to her ankles, the delicate fabric pooling around her high heels.

She adjusted her posture on the toilet seat, leaning slightly forward with her legs parted, her bare pussy now fully exposed in the mirror’s clear view.

Then it started.

A soft, initial trickle emerged from between her legs, quickly building into a strong, steady stream of piss. The sound was surprisingly loud and intimate in the quiet marble bathroom — a clear, hissing spray that echoed off the tiles with a sharp, continuous psssssssssshhhhh sound.

It started powerful and forceful, the golden stream splashing vigorously into the water below, creating a rhythmic, bubbling gurgle as it hit the surface.

The noise filled the space, raw and unfiltered: a wet, steady hiss mixed with the occasional higher-pitched tssss as the pressure varied slightly.

Madeline let out a tiny, involuntary sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing as the stream continued flowing strongly for several long seconds. The sound intensified for a moment as she pushed a little harder, the forceful jet creating louder splashes and ripples in the toilet bowl.

I could hear every detail — the continuous hiss, the changing pitch as the flow remained thick and steady, and the subtle pattering as droplets hit the porcelain. It went on far longer than I expected, a long, uninterrupted release that spoke of how much tension she had been holding since the ambush.

The golden stream gradually began to weaken, slowing into a lighter, intermittent trickle with softer, intermittentdrip... hiss... dripsounds. A few final drops fell, and she shifted her hips slightly, squeezing out the last remnants with a quiet, final pssshhht.

The entire act felt incredibly intimate and vulnerable — the powerful Madam Madeline, reduced to this natural, private moment, completely unaware she was being watched.

After she finished, Madeline reached for the toilet paper, tore off a few sheets, and carefully wiped her pussy with slow, thorough strokes — first from front to back, then gently patting the sensitive area dry.

She inspected the tissue briefly before dropping it into the bowl and flushing.

She then pulled her lace panties back up her legs, the elastic snapping softly against her smooth skin as she adjusted them into place with a delicate wiggle of her hips.

Finally, she stood up, smoothed down her dress over her thighs, and walked to the sink. She washed her hands thoroughly, then splashed cool water on her flushed cheeks and neck, trying to calm the lingering heat and embarrassment on her face.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she called out in a low, slightly embarrassed voice, ”I am done...”

I turned around smoothly to face her. My eyes immediately caught something I hadn’t noticed before — a thin, angry red scratch running along her forearm, probably caused by the shattered glass from the car window during the ambush or from when we crashed into the store. It wasn’t deep, but it looked fresh and slightly raw against her fair skin.

Madeline noticed where my gaze had landed. She glanced down at her own arm and quickly tried to brush it off. ”It’s nothing,” she said, attempting to sound dismissive.

I stepped closer, gently taking her wrist in my hand to examine the scratch under the soft bedroom lighting. ”You were not hurt anywhere else, right?” I asked, my voice filled with genuine concern as my thumb lightly traced the skin just beside the mark.

Madeline shook her head, though her breath hitched slightly at my touch. ”No... I am alright. It’s just a scratch.”