Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 346: Sell Your Wife

Previously on Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks...

The survivors erupted in emotional relief upon recognizing Jack, Mira's husband and a military pilot, who had hijacked a plane to pursue them through the rift and survived the crash. He disclosed that the anomaly had hurled them into 10,000 B.C., with the government sealing the portal in panic, deeming them lost without any rescue effort. Empty-handed but resolute, Jack instilled a sliver of hope that the rift could reopen, igniting outrage and wary doubt among the stranded group as they confronted their utter isolation.

My eyes fixed on the group, lingering especially on Mira—her power, her rebellion, the firm line of her lips in resolve. A shadowy, claiming urge twisted within my chest. She belonged to me.

Consequences meant nothing to me. The aftermath didn't faze me. I advanced, a conceited, derisive grin on my face, my tone hushed and threatening, slicing the strain like a blade.

"Hey, Jack..." I elongated, my voice playful yet mocking, "I've got a proposition for you." I cocked my head, staring straight at him, my eyes shining with mirth.

"How about you sell your wife to me?" I shrugged casually, my grin warping. "I'll look after her. Food. Safety. Survival." My tone fell to a murmur, silky and perilous. "What do you say? Fair trade, right?"

The open space went still.

Mira's features drained of color, her fists balling up, her gaze whipping to me, blazing with fury. "You bastard—"

Jack leaped up immediately, his expression contorted in enraged revulsion. "You motherfucker!" His punch hurtled at me, swift and wrathful, yet I seized it in mid-swing, my hold like steel, unbreakable. Our faces hovered close, his breath scorching and furious, his stare aflame with loathing.

"Tsk. Tsk." I whispered, my tone icy yet entertained. "Such fury over a mere query."

"Mere?!" Jack growled, tugging his fist away, though I clamped down, my digits pressing into his wrist. "You repulsive scum—"

"Oh, come on," I laughed softly, my eyes shifting to Mira, who remained rigid, her expression a veil of dread. "It's a solid offer. You escape the weight of protecting her." My grin contorted. "And I claim her."

"NEVER!" Mira shrieked, her cry hoarse, breaking the quiet. She moved ahead, her fists tight, her frame quivering with anger. "I'm not some item to barter! You twisted bastard—"

I chuckled deeply and ominously, delighted by her resistance. "Oh, Mira..." I whispered, my gaze sweeping over her, owning and ravenous.

"You claim that now..." My voice flowed smoothly, teasing. "But desperation alters folks. Starvation alters them." I bent closer, my murmur intimate. "And before long, you'll plead for this arrangement."

Jack bellowed, yanking his arm loose, his foot snapping out in a savage strike toward my side. I spun aside, dodging the hit, then retaliated with a quick, accurate boot to his torso. He reeled backward, slamming onto the earth with a groan, his features screwed up in agony.

"Why the rage, Jack?" I whispered, my tone ridiculing and entertained. "I'm merely suggesting a fix." I looked at Mira, my grin chilly. "A path for your survival."

Jack hauled himself upright, his breathing rough, his words harsh and poisonous. "Mira..." he rumbled, his gaze darting to her, "Did this beast touch you? Did he harm you?"

Mira denied it with a shake of her head, her tone icy and conclusive. "He's a bastard." Her eyes flashed to me, revulsion etched on her features. "But he hasn't touched me. Ignore him."

I laughed lightly, shaking my head, my stare dwelling on her. "Yet," I whispered, my grin warping.

The rest held back from challenging me. They were aware of my gun. They knew I wouldn't hesitate to fire it. But Paul? Paul refused to yield.

He advanced, his words keen and bold, piercing the strain. "You've gone too far, Dexter." His stare bored into me, steadfast. "You're not the sole one armed."

I faced him, my grin unchanging, my voice silky and menacing. "Oh, Paul..." I whispered, my tone derisive.

"But mine's already aimed your way." I slipped a hand into my coat, unhurried and intentional, drawing the pistol and letting it catch the sun's rays. "And I never miss."

Silence gripped the clearing, the strain winding tight like a serpent poised to lunge. The others observed, their complexions ashen, breaths suspended. They grasped the reality—I wielded control here. And I had no qualms about enforcing it.

Mira rose, her cheeks heated with wrath, her words hushed and toxic. "You're twisted."

Jack growled, forcing himself to stand, but I paid no mind. I pivoted away, my grin cool and entertained, the gun dangling loosely in my grasp.

"You think this is funny?" Jack snarled, his voice rough, quaking with fury. "You think you can seize whatever you desire?"

I halted, looking over my shoulder at him, my eyes frigid and resolute. "I don't think, Jack." My tone rang final and hazardous. "I know."

Mira positioned herself between us, her words keen and incisive. "Enough." Her gaze pierced me, bold and fearless. "You don't possess me. You don't possess anyone."

I sneered, my stare fixed on hers. "We'll see."

The group lingered in shocked quiet, the burden of my statement suspended in the atmosphere. They recognized the fact. They knew the rules had shifted.

Tension thickened the woods, the breeze laden with moist soil and fading fire smoke. The others scattered about, faces drained, glances shifting among me, Jack, and Mira. I observed Mira drawing Jack and her kin aside, her hips moving with a boldness that curled my mouth into a wicked smirk.

Women like this intrigue me.

Her poise, the spark in her gaze—she posed a test, and I thrived on tests. She believed herself secure, thought she could escape me. But in time, she'd discover. In time, she'd realize no one lay outside my grasp.

I activated the World Map feature, noting each position—Angela, Lisa, Mira, Jack, Paul, Megan, Kai—every one a token in my scheme.

Time to craft my strategy. I'll separate them, prey on their flaws, and dismantle them.

Beginning with Mira. She'll belong to me.

From the group's fringe, I watched, arms folded, face impassive. The provisions were so few now, scarcely sufficient for one more day. Yet alarm remained a indulgence we couldn't indulge. Not at this point.

Megan struck her palms, her tone resolute and unwavering, overriding the group's whispers. "Alright, everyone, listen up!" she declared, her manner brooking no dissent. The others faced her, expressions blending dread and need.

"So, with Mr. Jack’s information, we know we’re in 10,000 B.C.," she started, her voice composed yet commanding.

"But according to my guess, it should be the end of that era. Otherwise, we would’ve encountered dinosaurs by now." She halted, allowing the idea to settle. "So, no need to panic."