Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks-Chapter 448: Drake’s Humiliation

I chuckled low in my throat—dark, satisfied—and sat down on the edge of the wide sleeping mat, legs spread wide, elbows resting on my knees.

The thick blanket still carried the faint warmth of the others who’d been here minutes ago. My cock was already straining hard against my pants, thick outline visible, throbbing with the rush of power and the sight of Camilla’s broken submission.

I looked down at her—still topless, massive Mexican tits hanging heavy and swaying with every shaky breath, dark nipples thick and erect, fat ass still glowing red from my earlier slaps, soaked panties clinging transparently to her swollen pussy lips.

"Crawl over," I commanded, voice low and final, patting my thigh once. "On your hands and knees. Show your husband how a real slave greets her Master."

Camilla hesitated—one heartbeat—then dropped fully to all fours.

Her heavy tits swung pendulously beneath her as she began to crawl—slow, deliberate—knees sliding through the drying blood on the stone floor.

Every movement made her massive breasts jiggle obscenely, nipples brushing the cold ground, leaving faint wet trails from her own tears and sweat.

Her thick Mexican ass swayed side to side—cheeks clenching and releasing, red handprints stark against her brown skin—panties riding up between her plump folds, exposing more of her dripping cunt with each humiliating inch forward.

Drake—still slumped against the wall, stumps seared black and useless—watched in horror. His face twisted—tears streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the dried blood on his chin.

"No... Camilla... don’t..." he begged, voice raw and cracking. "Don’t do this... please... I beg you... don’t crawl to him... don’t let him... don’t..."

Camilla didn’t look at him.

Her eyes were locked on me—glassy, humiliated, aroused—tears still falling but her hips rocking slightly with every crawl, like her body was already betraying her mind.

Meanwhile, in the corner of my vision, the Pervert Insight overlay shimmered into focus—blue text glowing faintly:

[Pervert Insight Suggestion – High Reward Opportunity] Make Camilla squirt over her husband’s pathetic face.

Reward: 100,000 Pervert Points.

Condition: Camilla must add at least one sarcastic remark mocking her husband during the act.

I chuckled again—darker this time—cock twitching harder at the sheer depravity of it.

Drake’s pleas grew more desperate as Camilla reached my feet.

"No... Camilla... please... don’t... I’m your husband... don’t do this to me... don’t let him win..."

Camilla paused—kneeling between my spread legs now—massive tits hanging heavy, nipples brushing my thighs through my pants. She looked up at me—eyes red-rimmed, lips trembling—but there was a flicker of something else there too: heat, shame, surrender.

I reached down—cupped her chin with two fingers—tilted her tear-streaked face up until those dark, glassy eyes met mine. Her massive Mexican tits still heaved with every shaky breath, dark nipples thick and erect, glistening faintly with sweat and the remnants of her earlier humiliation.

"You should do what a sex slave should do," I said, voice low and rough, thumb brushing slowly across her full lower lip. "Do you need me to teach you everything... step by step? Or are you going to be a good girl and remember your place?"

Camilla’s breath hitched—fresh tears clinging to her lashes. She glanced sideways—quick, guilty—toward Drake’s slumped, handless form against the wall. His charred stumps still oozed sluggishly; his face was pale, eyes wide and pleading.

"Master... not here..." she whispered, voice cracking, barely audible. "My husband... he... is right there... please..."

I leaned in closer—lips brushing the shell of her ear, hot breath making her shiver.

"Don’t you think this is more exciting?" I murmured, letting my free hand slide down to cup one heavy tit—squeezing just hard enough to make her gasp.

"Your pathetic husband watching while you kneel for a real man? While you choke on a cock that actually makes you wet? I promise you... I’m definitely better than him. You’ll know once you’ve tried it. You’ll feel it. Every thick inch. Every thrust. You’ll forget his name while you’re gagging on me."

Camilla blushed deeper—crimson spreading from her cheeks down her throat to the tops of her bare breasts. Her nipples tightened even more under my palm, betraying her.

I pulled back just enough to let her see—let her eyes drop to the thick, obvious bulge straining against the front of my pants.

"What are you waiting for?" I asked, voice teasing, edged with command. "Your erotic body has already made my cock hard. Look—it’s even visible through the pants. So fucking hard for you. Free it. And suck it."

Camilla’s gaze flicked downward—locked on the heavy outline of my cock, the head clearly defined against the fabric, a faint wet spot already forming at the tip.

Drake’s voice cracked across the cave—raw, desperate, pleading.

"Camilla... don’t... do this... please... I beg you... don’t... I’m your husband... please..."

Camilla sighed—soft, broken—but her eyes stayed on my bulge. Slowly—trembling—she placed both hands on my thighs, fingers digging into the muscle like she needed something to hold onto.

She leaned forward—tits swaying heavily beneath her—fingers fumbling with my belt buckle, then the button, then the zipper. The sound of metal teeth parting was loud in the quiet cave.

She tugged my pants down just enough—black boxer-briefs stretched tight over the thick length of my cock, the head flushed dark and leaking through the fabric.

Camilla hooked her fingers into the waistband—hesitated one last heartbeat—then pulled them down.

My cock sprang free—heavy, veined, thick, curving upward, the swollen head already glistening with precum.

She gasped—sharp, involuntary—"So big..."

Her eyes widened—pupils blown—lips parting as she stared at the sheer girth, the way it throbbed in the open air, veins pulsing along the cock.

I chuckled—low, smug—reaching down to stroke myself once, slowly, letting a bead of precum drip down the head.

"Aren’t you happy?" I teased, voice dark and amused. "Seeing your expression tells me I’m much better than your husband. Look at you—drooling already. Bet your cunt’s clenching just thinking about how this would stretch you open. Bet you’ve never been this wet for him."

Camilla’s blush burned hotter—spreading down her throat to the tops of her massive tits. She swallowed hard—throat working visibly—but didn’t deny it.

Drake’s broken sob cut through the silence.

"Camilla... please... don’t... don’t touch him... don’t..."

She glanced at him—once—eyes filled with guilt, shame, and something darker.

Then she looked back at my cock—thick, hard, waiting.

Slowly—trembling—she leaned forward.

Her full lips parted—hot breath ghosting over the head.

And then—slowly—she took me into her mouth.

The wet heat enveloped me—her tongue swirling tentatively at first, then bolder—lips stretching wide around my girth as she sank deeper.

I groaned—low, satisfied—hand sliding into her dark hair, guiding her rhythm.

"That’s it," I murmured. "Suck your new Master like a good slave. Show your husband how much better I am. How much wetter you get for a real cock."

Camilla moaned around me—vibrations traveling straight down my cock—her massive tits swaying beneath her as she bobbed, nipples brushing my thighs.