Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

”Look at us! We’re skin and bones, covered in this shit-sand that never washes off. I haven’t slept more than four hours straight in weeks without dreaming of choking on dust. And you... You want to dangle it? Make us beg?”

I raised a hand—casual, stopping her cold, but I didn’t step back. Let her feel the heat radiating off me, the way my gaze dropped deliberately to the sweat trickling down her neck into that shadowed cleavage, imagining how she’d taste there, salty and desperate.

”I didn’t say I wouldn’t share,” I corrected smoothly, voice dropping lower, rougher, like gravel under boots.

”I said, why should I. There’s a difference, Officer. Out here, nothing’s free. Not water. Not food. Not a soft bed to fuck in after a long day of surviving. But I’m a reasonable man. I’m offering a trade.”

”Supplies. Food—canned meats, fresh fish grilled over a fire. Medicine for Paul, enough to knock that fever flat. Clean clothes, baths in water so pure you could drink it mid-fuck without worrying about dysentery. A place to rest that isn’t this wind-whipped hellhole. In return...”

I let my eyes drift over her again—slow, appreciative, lingering on the flare of her hips under the belt, the way her thighs flexed in those worn pants, imagining them spread wide, her cop’s resolve cracking as I buried my cock deep.

Megan’s face twisted—anger flashing hot and bright in her green eyes, cheeks flushing under the dirt as my words landed like a slap. She took a half-step forward, fists clenched at her sides, the abandoned duty belt still slung over her shoulder like a trophy she wasn’t ready to surrender.

”One has to be my slave...” I repeated, voice low and deliberate, letting each syllable sink in. ”This is my offer. And it only applies to the females. If it’s accepted, come with us. Eat. Rest. Fuck. Live. If not... suit yourself. Stay here. Starve. Cough up blood. Watch the kids waste away. Your choice, Officer.”

Megan’s breath came out in a sharp, furious exhale. ”How can you be so heartless...?” she hissed, voice cracking on the last word.

”You stand there with your clean clothes and your dripping harem, dangling paradise like it’s a fucking carrot, and the price is our dignity? Our bodies? You think that’s fair? You think that makes you a savior or just another warlord with a hard-on for control?”

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t raise my voice.

”I’m not a philanthropist,” I said calmly, meeting her glare without blinking. ”I’ve said enough.”

Then I turned my back on her—deliberate, dismissive—and walked straight to Mira.

She was crouched slightly, still holding Nicole tight, one hand stroking her daughter’s hair while the girl trembled against her chest. Mira’s voice was soft, pleading, maternal, despite the limp in her step and the faint tremor in her thighs from everything I’d done to her.

”Nicole... come with me,” she whispered, cupping her daughter’s tear-streaked face. ”I will take care of you... Just trust Mom, okay? I know it’s been hell. I know I left. But I’m here now. I’ve got a place—safe, warm, food every day. You don’t have to be scared anymore. Please, baby girl... come with me.”

Nicole’s lower lip quivered, eyes huge and glassy—flicking between her mother’s face and the rest of us: Angela lounging against my side with that lazy, satisfied smirk, Lisa watching everything with dark, hungry eyes, Megan still frozen a few paces away, breathing hard.

Before Nicole could answer—before the word ”yes” or ”no” could even form—Jack spun around.

He’d been facing the sea the whole time, shoulders rigid, refusing to look at the woman he’d once called wife. Now his face was thunder-dark, veins bulging in his neck, eyes bloodshot with rage and something uglier—betrayal, maybe, or just the slow rot of a man who’d lost everything and blamed the wrong person.

”Bitch,” he snarled, voice low and venomous, stepping forward with clenched fists. ”That’s enough. Get away from my family.”

Mira straightened—anger flashing across her face like lightning. ”She is also my daughter,” she shot back, voice rising, sharp and unyielding. ”And I am just—”

Jack didn’t let her finish.

He lunged—arm rearing back, open hand already swinging in a vicious arc aimed straight for her cheek, the same way he’d probably hit her before, back when she still belonged to him on paper.

I moved faster.

My hand shot out—catching his wrist mid-swing with a crack of bone against bone. He grunted in shock; I twisted hard, forcing his arm down, then drove my other palm across his face in a brutal, open-handed slap that echoed like a gunshot over the beach.

The impact snapped his head to the side. Blood instantly bloomed at the corner of his mouth—bright red against pale skin. His knees buckled; he dropped hard to the sand, spitting crimson onto the grains.

The camp went dead silent.

Bill rushed forward—eyes wide with panic—grabbing his father’s arm to haul him up. ”Dad...!”

Jack staggered to his feet—supported by his son—blood trickling down his chin, lip already swelling. He wiped it with the back of his hand, staring at me like he wanted to tear my throat out.

I stepped between him and Mira—body shielding her and Nicole completely.

”Why are you laying hands on my woman?” I asked, voice low, almost conversational, but every word edged with ice. ”Listen carefully. She is mine. You already insulted her. Divorced her. Threw her away like trash. You don’t get to touch her anymore.”

Jack’s chest heaved—breath ragged, eyes wild. He spat blood onto the sand, then looked past me to Nicole.

”Nicole,” he barked, voice cracking with desperation now. ”Get back here. Stay away from her. She is not your mother anymore. She’s... she’s his whore. Look at her—limping, reeking of him, dressed up like some slut. She chose him. She left us. Don’t you dare go with her.”

Nicole flinched—hard—tears spilling over her lashes in silent streams. Her small hands fisted tighter in Mira’s jacket, knuckles white. She looked up at her mother—searching, terrified—then at her father, then at me.

The girl was shaking so badly I could see it from where I stood.