Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 441: Camilla’s Cleavage as Master’s Pillow

Camilla's eyes widened in surprise. The reality of her position struck her once more: she was a slave. Without rights. Without voice. Only what I allowed her. She gulped down her fear—her face turning a deeper shade of red—before dropping her gaze downward.

"Whatever... Master provides..." she murmured, her tone quivering from the excitement of yielding.

I raised her chin—making her lock eyes with me.

"It's fine," I replied, my voice gentler this time, nearly tender. "You can share with me. What is it you desire?"

Camilla paused—then ran her tongue over her lips, her words soft yet sincere.

"Master... I'd like chicken fries too..."

I inclined my head—deliberately, pleased—and gave a quick wink to Angela, Mira, and Lisa.

"Alright," I announced. "I'll head out to fetch the items. You all remain here. Watch over Nicole. Relax. I'll return shortly."

I began to move off—already facing the entrance of the cave.

Camilla's fingers darted forward—grasping my wrist with a soft yet steady hold.

"Master..." she uttered fast, her gaze sparkling with sly intent, with eager desire. "Allow me to join you... to assist in carrying the goods. As your slave... it's my duty. I beg you."

I halted.

Gazed at her from above—noticed the scheming intent hidden in her obedience. She yearned to trail after me. Yearned to observe. Yearned to discover the source of the food—how I conjured chicken fries and cheese pizza from nowhere while other survivors struggled for pure water or unspoiled meat.

Comprehension dawned on me right away.

She remained Drake's spouse—still linked to their secret scheme. She sought information. The hiding spot of the supplies. Evidence. Advantage.

I nearly reprimanded her—nearly pointed out that slaves follow orders, they don't request.

Yet then it came to me.

Drake and Megan—still concealed nearby, beyond those trees. Indicators blinking on my map interface. Nearby. Dangerously near. Murmuring. Scheming.

A notion ignited—keen, devious.

I grinned—gradually, like a hunter—and bent close so her ears alone caught my words.

"Fine," I whispered near her ear. "Come along then, slave. Stay close. And don't force me to haul you by that plump rear if you lag."

Camilla quivered—her eyes gleaming with what she believed was hidden victory.

"Yes, Master," she sighed, quickly matching my pace at my side.

We headed to the cave's opening—her high heels tapping unevenly against the rock, her skirt bunched high, her reddened buttocks swaying and bouncing with each stride.

Trailing us:

Mira looked up—her gaze connecting with mine briefly. She read my expression. Got it. Offered the slightest affirmation—full of faith, wordless—before returning to Nicole, drawing her child nearer beneath the cover.

Angela grinned slyly—shadowy, aware—already grabbing an extra cover to lay across Lisa's legs as if preparing for entertainment.

Lisa ran her tongue across her mouth—staring at Camilla's undulating hips.

"Grab more fries on the way back," she shouted behind us. "We'll require stamina for what's coming."

I offered no reply.

I emerged into the dimming light—Camilla clinging close to me, her sturdy leg rubbing against mine per step, as if wary of losing her way in the strange landscape. Her enormous breasts mashed into my arm, her peaks rubbing against the flimsy crimson cloth with each breath. The outfit remained pulled up from before—scarcely hiding the bottom of her rear—and the warmth from her pussy seeped through where it touched my side.

Near the closest group of twisted pines, two figures stirred—faintly seen, yet clear on my display.

Drake—crouched behind the sturdy trunk on our left side, form hunched, his coat merging with the tree's skin.

Megan stood beside the tree concealing Drake.

Ideal.

I reduced my speed on purpose—steering Camilla so we positioned ourselves mere inches from the trunk, near enough that one full inhale would send her scent of excitement directly to them.

Camilla's breasts collided firmly against my back as I halted abruptly. A gentle, husky "Ahmm..." escaped her—part groan, part startled cry—her peaks dragging across my back through the fabric.

I pivoted gradually—confronting her directly, shielding the tree from her sight, but ensuring the position exposed all to Drake and Megan.

I raised her chin using two fingers—compelling her deep, shiny eyes to meet mine.

"Camilla..." I breathed, my tone deep and gravelly, projected just far enough. "Master can't restrain himself much longer. Why not aid Master... here and now? If you please me... I could grant you... a special treat."

Her eyes dilated hugely—her breathing stuttering, causing her huge breasts to heave like ocean swells. She remained unaware of their presence—unaware her spouse lurked within arm's reach, peering from the foliage. Thoughts whirled in her head; it showed in her open mouth, in her squeezing legs.

Offer her form exposed in the wild?

Or devise a reason—stall, divert, gain moments to uncover the true origin of the provisions?

Prior to her choice, I acted.

My palms fell to her waist—clenching firmly—then rose, coarsely and claiming, enclosing her vast breasts over the material. I kneaded—firmly—fingers circling her thick, erect peaks until they protruded sharply against the scarlet cloth.

Camilla inhaled sharply—"Mas... Master..."

I stayed silent.

I plunged my face into her cleavage—nose buried in the plush, heated cleft, breathing in the earthy, briny aroma of her flesh blended with a trace of scent from the celebration she'd attended pre-apocalypse.

She flinched—spine curving, palms clutching my arms unsure if to repel or draw me in.

"M-Master...!" she cried softly, tone breaking, legs chafing rapidly. "Here...? Out... in the open...?"

I rumbled into her flesh—incisors brushing the top of one mound.

"Here," I declared, volume set for the concealed observers. "Exactly here. Drop to your knees, slave. Take your Master's cock in your mouth till it floods your gullet. Prove your thanks for the meal, the shelter, the protection. Prove your value to me."

Camilla's legs wobbled a bit—she steadied on my arms, shaking fiercely. Her pussy dripped so much the aroma hit me—dense, womanly essence wafting up.

I avoided glancing at the tree.

No necessity.

Drake's reaction formed in my mind:

Expression contorted in rage—jaws locked tight enough to pain his molars—hands fisted, coat taut over his back as he resisted charging forth to reclaim her.

Observing his partner—his formerly elegant, event-bound partner—groaning like a slut, breasts bursting from her attire, peaks rigid and pleading, legs shiny from her excitement as she readied to kneel for someone else.

And Megan—positioned next to him—panting heavily, blouse undone, peaks piercing dark mesh, legs clamped as she despised her growing dampness from the sight.

I trailed one palm along Camilla's spine—grasped her rear once more—squeezed till her cries grew, pelvis thrusting ahead.