Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 303: Game With Jennifer

Discarded armaments and the charred remains of those foolish enough to defy me lay scattered across the earth.

I lingered for a moment, observing as the mayhem subsided, before my voice sliced through the quiet like a sharpened edge:

"Are you guys ready to die?"

The few survivors were paralyzed by pure dread. Their eyes stretched wide and their breathing faltered before they turned as one, fleeing like a receding tide.

I made no move to intercept them. Terror is frequently a more potent instrument than slaughter. There was no gain in killing them all—leaving them to exist in perpetual fear was far more useful.

I shifted my attention to Max. As he pushed himself up from the dirt, blood smeared his lip, yet his gaze glowed with a fierce, unshakable loyalty. "Manage them," I commanded, my tone cold and resolute.

"My previous terms still stand—women are permitted to enter the fortress. Their lives will continue as before. They will work, eat, and flourish." I paused, my eyes scanning the lingering remnants of the crowd who had not yet run. "However, the men remain outside. That is the absolute rule."

Max gave a firm nod, using the back of his hand to wipe the blood away. "Understood, boss," he replied, his voice remaining stable despite the surrounding turmoil. "And for those who refuse to comply?"

A smirk played on my lips, my eyes flashing with a predatory glint. "Then they lose the privilege of living within these walls. It’s that simple."

Angela approached me, her hand grazing my arm. "Dexter," she murmured, her voice soft yet filled with an underlying worry, "you must be drained. Let’s go rest." Her fingers moved lightly over my skin in a gesture that felt both soothing and possessive.

I let out a long breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline still vibrating through my frame. With a single thought, I withdrew the machine gun into the system storage; the firearm vanished into thin air as if it were a ghost. The terror of the crowd was thick enough to touch, but I had far more pressing matters to attend to.

Lisa chauffeured us back to Angela’s manor—the former estate of Walter, which now belonged to us. I couldn't help but appreciate the irony. The man who once commanded this domain had perished by my hand, and now his sanctuary was my prize. The mansion rose up before us, its majestic facade standing in sharp contrast to the brutal chaos we had left behind.

Upon entering, the fragrance of a morning meal—coffee, toasted bread, and sweet pastries—greeted us. Three women were gathered in the dining area: Nathalie, Jennifer, and Emily. Jennifer and Nathalie were huddled over their food, speaking in low tones, but Emily’s head whipped around the moment we walked in. Her gaze snapped to Angela and then to me, her curiosity quickly replaced by a sharp impatience.

"Where’s Mike?" she demanded, her voice piercing the morning calm. "You promised he’d be here by now. Where is he?"

Angela smirked, wrapping her arm around my waist as she faced Emily. "Don’t worry," she purred, her tone thick with mockery, "you’ll meet him soon. Just be patient, Emily." Her fingers traced a slow path along my side, an unspoken claim of ownership that no one in the room could miss.

Nathalie abruptly pushed her plate aside and stood up. Her voice was strained, filled with a desperate plea. "Can you please take me to see Tyler? I’ll do anything you want. Please." Her eyes were wide with anxiety, her frame shivering slightly as she awaited my response.

I reached out, my fingertips just barely touching her cheek. Her skin felt soft and warm, though she recoiled at the contact, her breath hitching in her throat. "Finish your breakfast," I said in a low murmur, gentle yet commanding. "Then I’ll take you to him. Okay?"

Nathalie’s wide, yearning eyes met mine, and some of the tension left her shoulders. "Okay," she whispered, her voice shaky but submissive.

I turned my attention to Jennifer, my voice shifting. "Jennifer... come with me for a moment. I have something to say to you. In private."

Jennifer hesitated, looking toward Emily, who was visibly nervous. However, after a brief pause, she followed me into the room. Her gait was slow and filled with doubt, her eyes darting between me and the exit as I shut the door. The sharp click of the lock resonated in the quiet room, causing her breath to hitch in a panicked, jagged rhythm.

"What are you doing?!" she cried out, her voice sharp with a mix of terror and rage. "Why are you locking the door?!" Her hands balled into tight fists, her eyes searching the room wildly.

I turned back toward her, my expression calm and nearly mocking as I leaned against the doorframe. "Calm down," I said, my voice smooth and measured. "Mother-in-law."

Jennifer’s face flushed a deep crimson as her fury hit a breaking point. "Mother-in-law?! I am not your mother-in-law!" she hissed, her voice vibrating with anger.

"What kind of twisted game is this?! Who do you think you are?!" Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her knuckles turning white from the force of her clenched fists.

I lifted my hands slightly, keeping my voice quiet but firm. "Ok... ok, don't worry. Things aren't what they seem." I paused, allowing my tone to become softer, almost comforting.

"Can you close your eyes? I have a surprise for you. I guarantee you’ll like it." I watched the emotions flicker across her face—confusion, distrust, and a small spark of interest. "It concerns Mike."

Jennifer’s breath caught. "Mike...?" she whispered, her voice wavering. She paused, her eyes flickering toward the door as if looking for a way out. "Don’t you dare try to take advantage of me," she threatened, her voice trembling but resolute. "I swear, I’ll scream. I’ll—"

I gave a patient nod, my gaze steady. "I promise, Jennifer. Just trust me for one second."

She swallowed hard, her throat moving with the effort, and after a tense silence, she finally closed her eyes. Her entire frame was stiff, her breathing shallow and frantic.

I started to undress slowly, the sound of moving fabric echoing in the silence. Jennifer’s brow furrowed. "What is that noise?" she asked, her voice tight with suspicion. "What are you doing?" Her fingers twitched at her sides, poised to either strike or run.

"It’s nothing," I whispered, my voice tranquil. I wanted to conduct a test—to see if Jennifer could identify me through touch alone. After all, she had spent countless hours with him, knowing every inch and every detail. Would she recognize it?

I closed the distance between us, the air thick with tension. My breath fanned against her ear as I whispered, "Jennifer... do you remember?"

She flinched, her body shivering. "Remember what?" she demanded, her voice breaking. "What are you—? Don’t you dare—!" Her hands flew up as if to shove me away, but she stopped, frozen by her own uncertainty.

"Shhh," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Just... tell me. Do you recognize this?" I gently took her hand, guiding her fingers to brush against me.