Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

I leaned over her, my chest pressing against her back, my lips brushing against her ear. ”Yes, Ma’am...” I growled, my voice low and rough, my cock pounding into her ass, stretching her, owning her like the fucking property she was.

”Your slave will fuck you until you scream like the fucking whore you are...” My teeth grazed her neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark, a hickey blooming on her skin like a fucking brand. Marina moaned, her body arching against me, her ass pressing back against my cock like a fucking invitation.

”Ahh... fuck... yes...” she cried, her voice breaking, her fingers tangling in my hair, yanking me closer like a fucking leash. ”Bite me, slave... mark me... make me yours...” Her tongue darted out, licking my lips, claiming me, owning me like the fucking master she was.

”I want everyone to see...” she murmured, her voice thick with lust, her eyes dark with possessiveness. ”I want everyone to know... that I own you... and you own me... like the fucking sluts we are...”

The water pounded against our skin, the steam filling the bathroom like a fucking cloud. Marina’s ass was red, swollen, glistening with sweat and cum, her hole stretched around my cock, milking me, begging for my release. I thrust into her, hard, deep, punishing, my balls slapping against her clit with every movement.

”Fuck... Dexter... I’m gonna cum...” she gasped, her voice breaking, her fingers clawing at the tile like a fucking animal.

”Cum in my ass, slave... fill me up... make me yours...” Her body tensed, her ass pulsing around my cock, and with a final, hard thrust, I came, my cum pumping deep inside her, filling her, claiming her like a fucking king.

The heat of my release was intense, the sensation of her ass milking me, squeezing every fucking drop from my cock.

Marina’s body sagged against the cold tile, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her skin flushed and glistening under the scorching water.

Her ass was still clenching around my cock, milking the last drops of my cum like a fucking vacuum, her hole swollen and red from the punishment I’d given it.

The water cascaded over us, washing away the physical evidence of our filthy passion, but the scent—musky, sweet, intoxicating—lingered in the air like a fucking ghost, clinging to our skin, our hair, our very souls.

She turned her head to look at me, her eyes dark with satisfaction, her lips curling into a wicked smirk that sent a jolt of lust straight to my cock.

”Now... dry me off, slave...” she commanded, her voice dripping with authority, her tongue darting out to lick the water from my chin like a fucking cat grooming its prey.

I nodded without a word, my cock still half-hard and glistening with her juices. I lifted her into my arms, her body light against my chest, her dress still riding up around her hips, her pussy dripping with my cum.

The feel of her skin against mine was electric, the heat of her body seeping into me as I carried her out of the shower and toward the sink.

I grabbed a towel, the fabric soft and plush, and began to dry her gently, reverently. Her skin was sensitive, tingling from the spanking, the fucking, the pleasure.

She winced slightly as the towel brushed against her red, swollen ass, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into my touch, her eyes half-lidded, her breath slowing as the exhaustion of our session finally caught up with her.

I dried every inch of her—her neck, her collarbones, her tits, her stomach, her pussy, her ass—my hands lingering on her skin like a fucking worshipper at an altar.

Her nipples were still hard, her pussy still swollen and dripping, the evidence of our passion impossible to hide. When I reached her ass, she hissed slightly, her body trembling as I dried the cum and water from her hole, the towel coming away stained with our filth.

”Mmm... gentle, slave...” she murmured, her voice soft but commanding, her eyes locked onto mine. ”It’s sore...” she admitted, her lips curling into a smirk.

”But worth it...” She paused, her fingers tracing the hickey I’d left on her neck, her touch possessive. ”Now... clothes...” she said, her voice firm. ”I need to sleep...”

I nodded, helping her into a fresh set of clothes—a silk nightgown that clung to her curves like a second skin, the fabric transparent enough to hint at the nipples beneath, the swollen state of her pussy.

She collapsed onto the bed, pulling the blanket over herself, her eyes already drifting closed. ”I am going to sleep...” she murmured, her voice drowsy, content.

I watched her for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing with the memories of our filthy encounter—the spanking, the fucking, the moans, the cum. Then, I checked the time—8:30 PM. There were still thirty minutes until my meeting with Eleanor.

I changed my clothes quickly, my cock still aching from our session, my body covered in the scent of her arousal.

The shower had washed away the physical evidence, but the memory of her—her taste, her touch, her commands—lingered like a fucking brand. I grabbed my phone, my eyes flickering to the message with the location Eleanor had sent.

My mind raced with possibilities—what did she want? What game was she playing? Was this a test? A reward? A punishment?

I stepped out of my room, the hallway dimly lit, the air cool against my skin. The White House was quiet at this hour, the halls empty except for the occasional guard or maid.

Lila, Beth, and Cindy were standing nearby, their postures rigid, their eyes scanning the surroundings like fucking hawks. They noticed me immediately, their expressions shifting from focused to suspicious in an instant.

I approached them, my voice calm, authoritative. ”Get yourselves familiar with the surroundings...” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. ”And Ma’am’s habits...” I paused, my eyes flickering between them.

”Check what the prohibited things related to Ma’am—allergies, preferences, anything are...” My voice was firm, my posture commanding, despite the filthy memories still fresh in my mind.

Lila stepped forward, her eyes narrowed, her voice sharp. ”You...” she said, her tone accusatory, her hands clenching at her sides. ”Tell the truth—what are you doing here? What happened to Diana?”

I chuckled, my voice light but firm. ”Lila...” I said, my eyes locking onto hers. ”You are an agent—act like one...” I paused, my tone hardening slightly. ”The mission given to you related to Diana is over...” I shrugged, my voice dripping with amusement. ”Why are you so fixated on it?”

Lila’s expression darkened, her fingers clenching into fists. ”I... I don’t know how you got here...” she said, her voice tinged with frustration, her eyes flickering over me, assessing, judging.

”I personally checked your details when I checked out Diana...” She paused, her voice rising slightly. ”You are really just a rich playboy...” Her tone was disbelieving, accusatory. ”When did you become a bodyguard?”