Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Before I could say anything more, the bedroom door suddenly opened. Daisy stepped inside quickly but quietly, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Her expression was alert and tense, one hand resting near the gun hidden under her jacket.

”There is movement in the hallway...” she whispered urgently, her eyes darting between us. ”I heard footsteps — at least two people. They stopped near our suite door for a few seconds before moving again. It doesn’t sound like hotel staff.”

The intimate atmosphere that had been building between Madeline and me shattered instantly, replaced by sharp, cold tension. Madeline’s body stiffened beside me, her hand instinctively gripping my arm tighter. The scratch on her forearm was forgotten as fresh fear flashed across her face.

I moved fast, positioning myself between the two women and the door. ”Lights lower,” I ordered quietly. Daisy dimmed the remaining lamps while I listened carefully, straining my enhanced senses.

Sure enough, faint but unmistakable sounds began to drift through the thick walls of the presidential suite from the living room area. The soft, deliberate creak of floorboards under careful, measured footsteps echoed like whispers of impending doom.

Low, muffled voices spoke in urgent, clipped tones—professional, emotionless, the kind of voices that belonged to men who had done this many times before.

Interwoven with them was the subtle, repetitive click-click-click of a high-end professional lock-picking tool working meticulously on the suite’s main door. Each tiny metallic scrape sent fresh jolts of adrenaline surging through my veins.

”Stay behind me,” I told Madeline firmly, my voice low and commanding as I guided her quickly toward the far side of the large, king-sized bed.

I positioned her low to the ground, using the heavy mattress and the solid, ornate wooden frame as an improvised cover.

My mind raced at lightning speed, calculating every possible outcome. Backup couldn’t possibly have arrived this fast—not even close. This had to be the assassins, or worse, the very people who had ordered the hit, coming to finish the job while we were trapped like rats in a cage with no easy way out.

I drew my pistol smoothly from its holster, the familiar weight comforting in my grip. Beside me, Daisy had already raised her own weapon in a perfect two-handed grip, her stance rock-solid as she shielded Madeline with her body while staying ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

The tension in the room was suffocating, thick enough to choke on. Madeline’s breathing was already coming in short, panicked gasps. Her wide, terrified eyes darted around the room, her hands trembling as she clutched at the edge of the bedspread.

I activated Eternal Vitality to its absolute maximum, pouring every ounce of power into the ability without hesitation. A burning surge of raw, godlike energy flooded through my veins, consuming a significant portion of my remaining lifespan in exchange for near-invincibility.

My muscles became denser than reinforced steel, my bones unbreakable, my skin virtually impenetrable to anything short of heavy artillery.

At this level, not even a direct hit from high-caliber weaponry or explosives could do more than bruise me. The power hummed through every cell in my body, sharpening my senses to an almost superhuman degree.

The footsteps grew louder, approaching the bedroom door with predatory patience. Then came the chilling sound of guns being cocked—multiple ominous click-clack sounds echoing through the hallway like a death knell. The doorknob rattled and began to turn slowly, deliberately.

I pressed my back flat against the wall beside the door, heart steady as a metronome, gun raised and ready. Daisy and Madeline stayed low behind me, their breathing rapid and shallow. Madeline’s soft whimpers were barely audible, but I could feel the terror radiating off her in waves.

The door exploded open with a violent BAAM! The force of the breach sent splinters of wood flying across the room.

The first thing I saw was the black barrel of a suppressed pistol peeking through the gap. Before the intruder could even step fully inside or properly aim, I fired.

My shot was precise and merciless—a single bullet slammed into the man’s forehead with a sickening crack. He dropped instantly like a puppet with its strings cut, collapsing heavily onto the carpet in a grotesque spray of blood and brain matter.

Madeline let out a piercing, involuntary scream that tore from her throat. ”Nooo! Oh God—” Her voice cracked with raw horror as she clamped both hands tightly over her mouth, but the sound still escaped, high-pitched and filled with shock. Her entire body convulsed in terror, eyes bulging as she stared at the fallen man.

Tears streamed down her cheeks instantly, her face pale as death.

She shook uncontrollably, curling tighter into herself behind the bed, whispering frantic, broken prayers between sobs. ”This can’t be happening... this isn’t real...”

Without wasting a millisecond, I burst out of the bedroom like a predator unleashed. In the living room, two more heavily armed men were already swinging their weapons toward me. Time seemed to slow as adrenaline and my enhanced abilities sharpened my perception to razor focus.

I moved with explosive speed. My first shot caught the second man squarely in the center of his chest. The impact threw him backward violently into a glass coffee table that shattered spectacularly in a shower of glittering shards.

The third man managed to squeeze off a panicked shot that bounced harmlessly off my invulnerable shoulder with a metallic ping. I put two rounds into him—one in the chest, one in the head—before he could fire again. He crumpled against the wall, leaving a dark red smear as he slid down lifelessly.

The presidential suite fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the faint dripping of blood onto the carpet and the distant wail of city sirens far below. Smoke curled lazily from the barrel of my gun.

I exhaled slowly and walked back into the bedroom. ”It’s clear,” I said, my voice calm but edged with steel.

Madeline was huddled on the floor in a tight ball, both hands clamped so tightly over her mouth that her knuckles were white. Her eyes were enormous with sheer terror, filled with hot tears that poured down her face in rivulets. Her entire body shook violently, like she was having a seizure from the trauma.

She kept staring at the three dead bodies sprawled in the living room, unable to look away, her chest heaving with silent, hysterical sobs. Every few seconds, another choked scream or whimper escaped her despite her efforts to stay quiet.

”They’re... they’re dead... oh my God, the blood... I can’t... I can’t breathe...” Her voice was a broken whisper, laced with disbelief and overwhelming shock. She rocked back and forth slightly, her elegant dress now disheveled and stained with tears.