Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 283: Tyler’s Torment

Nathalie’s breathing became ragged, her frame quivering as she felt my seed trailing down her thighs. Her rear was still pulsing around me, her heat throbbing from the lingering waves of her climax. "I-I didn’t—! Hmmm—!" Her words fractured, her fingers grasping at the empty air as if she could somehow reverse the reality of what had occurred.

However, the moment had passed.

Tyler’s expression was a distorted mask of betrayal and dread. He shook uncontrollably while witnessing his mother—her form still possessed by my cock, her backside leaking my essence, her folds dripping with the fluid of her own forbidden pleasure. "M-Mom...?" He spoke in a fractured whisper, his eyes wide with utter shock.

A low groan escaped me as my cock continued to twitch deep within Nathalie’s rear, my cum filling her and marking her as mine. "That’s it," I muttered, my tone a dark vow as I finally withdrew. My seed spilled from her opening, her thighs shimmering with the evidence of our shared release. "You took every bit of it, didn't you, Nathalie?" My fingers traced the curve of her backside with possessive intent. "Every. Single. Drop."

With a wet pop, I pulled my cock from her rear. Thick strands of my cum immediately began to drain from her stretched, open hole, rolling down her shaking legs.

Nathalie’s strength failed her, and I allowed her to slump to the ground, her body folding like a discarded doll. She collapsed onto her hands and knees, her breath hitching in jagged, sobbing gasps. Her nails scraped against the cold tiles as if she were trying to tunnel out of this nightmare.

"This isn’t who I am..." she whimpered through a cracked voice, her entire body trembling violently. "This is not me..." Her tears mingled with the cum dripping from her backside, forming a pool beneath her on the floor. The heavy scent of lust and degradation filled the room. She attempted to curl into a ball, her shoulders heaving with cries as she tangled her fingers in her hair, desperate to tear the memory from her mind.

Yet the evidence was undeniable—her rear remained slightly agape, my cum leaking out in thick, humiliating droplets as her thighs stayed slick with it. The floor beneath her was a chaotic mess—her own juices, my seed, and the shame of her actions all swirling together in a filthy, wet puddle.

Angela knelt down beside her, her fingers catching the cum dripping from Nathalie’s rear before bringing them to her lips, licking them clean with a slow, purposeful moan. "Oh, but it is you, Nathalie," she crooned, her voice thick with cruel pleasure.

"This is exactly your nature." Her hand gripped Nathalie’s chin firmly, forcing the woman to look at her. "A squirting, cum-soaked slut who craves cock in her ass and relishes it." She leaned closer until her lips brushed Nathalie’s ear, her voice a sinister whisper. "And you belong to us now."

Nathalie’s breath hitched again, her body reacting as Angela’s words pierced through her. "N-No..." she wailed, her spirit broken, her fingers shielding her eyes as if to block out the truth. But there was no escape. Not while her rear was still leaking my fluid, and not while her body still hummed with the echoes of ecstasy.

I moved closer, my cock still wet with her moisture, my voice a deep, velvety growl. "Lie to yourself as much as you want, Nathalie," I murmured, my fingers winding into her hair to tilt her head back, forcing her to gaze up at me.

"But your flesh knows the reality." My free hand slid downward, fingers pressing against her cum-slicked rear, feeling the way the muscle twitched around the void. "And we know it too."

Nathalie’s sobbing devolved into a broken whimper as she felt my touch, her backside clenching instinctively. "I-I didn’t ask for this..." she managed to choke out, her voice heavy with disgrace.

"No," I conceded with a dark purr. "But you desired it." My fingers pressed firmly against her rear, my thumb swirling through the cum leaking from her. "And you accepted it." My voice dropped to a low whisper against her ear. "All of it."

Angela’s laughter rang out, a cold and victorious sound. "And you are going to take it again," she mocked, her hand yanking Nathalie’s hair back to force eye contact. "Because you are our property now, Nathalie." Her voice cut like a blade. "And we are nowhere near finished with you."

Tyler remained on the hospital bed, his body curled up as his raw, desperate sobs filled the air. Then I noticed it—a dark, expanding stain on his medical gown. Blood was soaking through from his crotch, the fabric sticking to the wound.

My hold on Nathalie tightened, and my voice became a low, commanding growl as I looked toward Angela. "Get Max. Immediately." My tone permitted no hesitation. "Tyler needs a hospital right now." I moved to retrieve my clothes and pull them on.

Angela’s grin vanished for a split second before she nodded, her voice sharp as she barked commands into her radio. "Max. Bring the medics. Tyler is bleeding out. Move!"

I carried the limp Nathalie into a nearby room, her body heavy against mine and her breath hitching as I placed her on the bed. The sheets were clean and sterile—the polar opposite of the filth we had left on the floor outside.

I moved a strand of sweaty hair from her face, speaking in a tone that was softer but still absolute. "Don't worry," I whispered, my thumb tracing her cheek. "Your son is safe. Max will handle it." My fingers lifted her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Just rest."

Her gaze was vacant, her lips parted as if she intended to speak, but no sound came out. She only let out the quiet, trembling breaths of a woman who had been shattered and remade within an hour.

My voice became a whisper against her ear. "And do not contemplate anything foolish." My grip on her hair tightened just enough to emphasize my point. "No suicide. No escape. No clever ideas." My voice was as sharp and unyielding as a blade.

"Because if you do..." I let the threat linger, my eyes shifting toward the door where Tyler’s faint, agonized whimpers could still be heard. "Your son will die."

Nathalie’s breath caught, her body tensing for a moment before she gave a weak nod, her fingers clutching the bedsheets. She remained silent. Words weren't necessary. The message had been received.

I stood up, my gaze lingering on her for a second longer before I turned and exited. Max was already present, accompanied by two soldiers, with Tyler’s unconscious body held in his arms. Blood had completely saturated the gown, but Max remained focused and professional. "Hospital. Now," he ordered, his voice brooking no delay.

I watched as Tyler was hurried away, his pained cries fading down the corridor. Then I turned back toward the room where Nathalie lay, her body curled inward, her breathing shallow.