Chapter 452: Megan Begging For Clothes

After we finished eating, the rock we’d used as a makeshift table was littered with empty pizza boxes, crumpled fry wrappers, and half-drunk Coke bottles sweating in the late afternoon heat.

Nicole was slumped against Mira’s side—stomach full for the first time in forever—cheeks flushed from the cold drink and the rare sensation of being warm and safe.

Angela lounged back on her elbows, still naked, one leg kicked up lazily, licking cheese from her fingers with slow, deliberate swipes of her tongue.

Lisa sat cross-legged beside her, picking at the last slice, smirking every time she caught Megan stealing glances at the food.

Megan sat a little apart, blanket still clutched tight around her shoulders like a shield. Her torn cop shirt hung in useless rags underneath, black lace bra peeking through the ripped fabric, panties visible where the crotch had been torn open earlier.

Every small shift made the blanket slip, flashing more skin, and she kept yanking it closed with trembling hands.

I caught her staring at me—eyes dark, conflicted, flicking between my face and the ground.

"What?" I asked, leaning back on one hand, voice casual but edged. "Are you thinking of surrendering to me...?"

Megan’s head snapped away so fast her blanket slipped again—exposing the upper swell of one breast before she yanked it back up.

"No..." she said quickly, voice tight. "I would never be your slave... Never..."

I shook my head—slow, almost amused.

"Okay," I said. "Don’t forget what you said."

I turned to Camilla—still kneeling near the cave mouth where I’d left her earlier, dress haphazardly pulled back into place but stained with blood and her own squirt, massive tits straining the torn fabric, fat Mexican ass still marked red.

"Camilla," I said, voice calm but commanding. "Let’s go take a look at your husband."

Camilla’s head jerked up—eyes red-rimmed, fresh tears clinging to her lashes. She nodded once—small, obedient—and rose shakily to her feet, thick thighs rubbing together, panties still visibly soaked.

We all walked toward the back of the cave where Drake lay—still unconscious, stumps seared black and crusted, breathing shallow but steady thanks to the healing pill and painkillers. The smell of burnt flesh lingered faintly under the metallic tang of blood.

Megan followed—blanket clutched tight—then stopped short when she saw him.

Her eyes widened—shock cutting through her exhaustion.

"How... how did you save him?" she whispered, voice cracking. "It’s so... magical... He lost that much blood. He should be dead. Or at least in shock. How is he still breathing...?"

I chuckled—low, dark—leaning against the cave wall with my arms crossed.

"Why should I tell you?" I asked, tilting my head. "You pulled a gun on me. Threatened my family. Why do you deserve answers?"

Megan’s jaw clenched—guilt and frustration warring on her face.

"You..." she started—then stopped, swallowing hard. "Fine. Keep your secrets."

I looked at her—then down at the blanket she was still clutching like a lifeline.

"You should go back," I said quietly. "I don’t take any freeloaders."

Megan’s eyes widened—panic flashing.

"I can’t go back like this..." she whispered, voice trembling.

I teased her—a slow smile curling my lips.

"So do you expect me to give you clothes?" I asked. "Just dream."

I straightened—voice turning serious.

"Don’t forget to put the blanket back before going out," I added. "Wouldn’t want the whole camp seeing what a desperate little thief looks like with her tits and cunt hanging out."

Megan’s face burned—hands clutching the blanket tighter, panic rising.

"How... how can I go out in this...?" she whispered, voice cracking. "I’m practically naked... they’ll see everything..."

Mira stepped forward then—sliding her arm through mine, pressing her soft, warm body against my side. Her full tits squashed warmly against my arm, the thin fabric of her top doing nothing to hide how stiff her nipples had become from the lingering tension. She leaned in close, lips brushing my ear, her breath hot and shaky.

I whispered back—low enough that only she could hear—"So you want me to give her clothes... sure. But I want my wife’s asshole tonight... nice and deep, the way you like it when you’re trying to be quiet."

Mira blushed instantly—deep crimson flooding her cheeks and spreading down her neck. She couldn’t help but glance sideways at Nicole, who was watching her mother act so cattish toward me—clinging to my arm, pressing her curves against me like a needy girlfriend. Nicole’s eyes were wide, a mix of confusion and disapproval.

Mira coughed—awkward, flustered—and whispered back, voice trembling with embarrassment and reluctant arousal:

"When Nicole is asleep... I will help my husband... I’ll be quiet... I promise... just... please give her the clothes..."

I nodded with a slow, satisfied smile—"Ok... It’s a deal." We kept it quiet—whispered so no one else caught the filthy promise between us.

I turned my attention to Megan—still wrapped in the blanket like a shield, eyes red-rimmed, body trembling from shame and cold. Her voice came out small when she finally spoke.

"I... I really am sorry," she whispered, barely able to meet my eyes. "I never wanted it to go this far. I just... I was scared. For the kids. For Paul. I thought... if I could just get some supplies..."

I cut her off—voice firm but not cruel.

"Fine," I said. "I’ll get you some clothes. But remember—if you reveal this location to anyone when you go back... I will kill you. Slowly. And I’ll make sure you watch your precious camp burn first."

Megan’s eyes filled with fresh tears. She nodded quickly, swallowing hard.

"I won’t... I swear on my life... I just want to go back and help the others. I never meant to hurt anyone here..."

I stepped out for a moment—behind the nearest trees—opened the system storage and pulled out a simple outfit: dark denim jeans, a plain gray long-sleeve shirt, and a black jacket. Clean. Practical. Nothing revealing.

I walked back and tossed them at her feet.

"Here," I said. "Now get out of here."

Megan looked outside—the sky had turned deep purple, stars already pricking through. Darkness was falling fast. She didn’t want to stay here—didn’t want to face more humiliation—but she also didn’t want to walk back to camp practically naked.

She sighed—resigned, voice cracking with emotion.

"Can... you go out for a bit...? I... need to change..." she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Please... I can’t... I can’t do it in front of everyone like this... I already feel so... dirty... so ashamed..."

I chuckled—low, mocking.

"You’re really something, Officer Megan... asking me to get out of my own place."

I showed her my eyes—dark, amused—and said:

"If you want to change, change it. Otherwise, I think you don’t need those clothes..."