My world to Free-use

**Chapter 250**

The door stood open.

Tanya stood in the doorway, one hand still on the frame. She was the same age as Martha, but very, very different from her. Especially in some feminine aspects. Her chest had filled out noticeably, fuller, heavier than before, straining against the simple top she wore. Her black hair, the same shade as her mother’s, fell loosely around her shoulders. Her expression sat somewhere between confusion and alarm as her eyes took in the scene on the bed.

I was still buried to the hilt inside Tara. My aunt’s lean body remained on her knees, chest and face pressed into the mattress, black hair a damp mess across the sheets. Her breathing was slow and heavy, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. She gave no sign that she had even registered her daughter’s voice.

Tanya’s gaze moved over her mother’s raised hips, the way my body was pressed against her from behind, the clear evidence of sweat and fluids on the sheets.

“What are you doing?” she repeated, sharper this time.

I kept one hand resting on the small of Tara’s back, steadying her. I did not pull out immediately. The State of Completion was already fading; I could feel the familiar shrinking begin. Within moments, my cock softened and reduced to the small, ordinary stub that every man in this world possessed. Only then did I ease back and withdraw.

A thick trickle of white followed, running down from Tara’s thoroughly used pussy. She made a small, incoherent sound but did not lift her head or speak. Her body remained limp and oversensitive, still lost in the aftermath.

I sat back on my heels and calmly looked at Tanya.

“I was massaging her,” I said evenly. “She asked for it. Her body was carrying a lot of tension.”

Tanya’s eyes narrowed. She stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind her without being asked. Her gaze flicked again to her mother’s raised, glistening hips and the clear mess on the sheets.

“Massage?” she said. “You seem like you were hitting her. She looks… wrecked. And she’s not even answering.”

“She’s exhausted,” I replied. “The technique goes deep. It releases everything at once. Noble women use it when ordinary methods stop working. Your mother needed it.”

I was dearly hoping the excuse would work, but how hard could it be to deceive a young, teenage girl?

Tanya crossed her arms, the motion pushing her fuller chest upward. The soft weight of her breasts shifted noticeably with the movement. “She looks like she can barely move. That doesn’t look like any massage I’ve ever heard of.”

“Because you’ve never seen a proper one.” I kept my voice calm, almost instructional. “Come closer. Look at her back. The tension is gone. That is the point.”

Tanya hesitated, then stepped nearer to the bed. Her eyes moved over the lean, sweat-damp lines of her mother’s body, the relaxed set of her shoulders, the way her breathing had finally evened out, the complete lack of the rigid posture Tara usually carried. I think she had finally passed out. Probably.

“She’s completely out of it,” Tanya muttered. “I’ve never seen her like this.”

“That means it worked.” I rested a hand lightly on Tara’s lower back. The older woman only made a soft, wordless sound, signaling she was still in her senses. “She asked me to continue earlier. She said the first time helped more than she expected. This was simply… more thorough.”

Tanya was silent for a long moment. Her eyes kept drifting, almost against her will, to the wet evidence between her mother’s thighs and the way Tara’s compact ass still twitched faintly.

“It looks intense,” she said at last, quieter.

“It is.” I met her gaze directly. “But it leaves the body lighter afterward. Your mother was carrying too much. This was the fastest way to take it out of her.”

Tanya bit her lower lip. The fuller shape of her chest rose and fell a little with each breath. “And it doesn’t hurt?”

“Not once the body adjusts. The first moments can feel strange. After that it becomes… something else.” I let the words hang for a second. “If you want, I can show you the beginning of it. Just the preparation. You can stop whenever you want.”

Tanya’s eyes flicked to her mother’s limp form again, then back to me. The conflict was clear on her face, worry, curiosity, and something else she probably did not yet have a name for.

“Just the beginning?” she asked.

“Just the beginning,” I confirmed. “You stay in control.”

Another long pause. Then Tanya gave a small, almost reluctant nod.

“All right. But only the beginning. You better not hit me.”

“I won’t. Sit on the edge of the bed first,” I said. “Facing me.”

Tanya climbed onto the mattress carefully, avoiding her mother’s legs, and sat as instructed. Up close, the differences from Tara were even clearer. Where her mother was lean, hard, and marked by battle, Tanya’s body was soft and delicate, the physique of a mage rather than a warrior. Her skin looked smoother, her shoulders narrower, her waist more slender. But her chest was the opposite of delicate. The full, heavy weight of her breasts pressed against the thin fabric of her top, the soft curves clearly larger than what someone her age usually carried.

I sat beside her and reached up without hurry. My hands settled over the full shape of her breasts through the cloth, testing the soft weight of them. Tanya’s breath caught at the first touch.

“This is part of it as well,” I said quietly. “Tension gathers in more places than just the back and hips. Noble women have the entire body worked.”

I squeezed gently, feeling the soft give of her flesh under my palms. Her breasts were warm, heavy, and sensitive, far fuller than her mother’s small chest. When I brushed my thumbs across the peaks, I felt her nipples stiffen through the fabric. Tanya’s lashes fluttered. A small, uncertain sound left her throat.

“They’re… sensitive,” she whispered.

“I can tell.” I continued to knead them slowly, lifting the soft weight, pressing my fingers into the plush flesh, rolling the stiffened nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. Each careful squeeze made her breathing deepen. The delicate line of her neck and collarbone flushed faintly.

I slipped my hands under the hem of her top and pushed the fabric upward. Tanya did not stop me. The full, bare weight of her breasts spilled into my hands, soft, warm, and heavy, the pale skin marked by faint pink tips that had already hardened. I cupped them properly now, no cloth between us, and began to caress them with more focus. My fingers sank into the soft flesh, lifting and squeezing, thumbs circling the sensitive nipples in slow, deliberate motions.

Tanya’s eyes had gone half-lidded. Soft, breathy sounds escaped her with every pass of my thumbs. Her back arched almost unconsciously, pushing her chest further into my hands.

“That feels… strange,” she murmured. “But not bad.”

“It isn’t supposed to feel bad.” I leaned in slightly and continued working her breasts, squeezing the heavy, soft flesh, pinching the nipples just enough to draw sharper little breaths from her. One hand stayed on her chest while the other slid down her side, feeling the soft, delicate curve of her waist.

I spent a long time there, simply caressing and kneading her full breasts, watching the way the soft flesh moved under my hands, listening to the quiet, increasingly unsteady sounds she made. When I finally released them, her nipples were tight and flushed, and a faint sheen of warmth had spread across her chest.

“Lie on your stomach now,” I said. “At the edge of the bed. Same as Aunt.”

Tanya obeyed, still breathing a little faster than before. She stretched out on her stomach near the edge of the mattress, arms folded under her head, the full weight of her breasts pressing into the sheets. I moved behind her and drew her lower garments down. The fabric slid over the surprising curve of her ass, rounder and fuller than her age would suggest, soft rather than muscular, the cheeks plush under my hands when I rested them there. Her ass didn’t rival Martha’s, but it sure did rival Sandra’s. A little softer than hers even.

I spread them gently. The tight pink ring of her asshole and the neat, completely untouched folds of her virgin pussy came into view. Both were already faintly flushed from the attention I had given her chest.

I placed both hands on the soft, round cheeks of her ass and began to knead them the same way I had her breasts, slow, thorough, spreading, and squeezing the plush flesh.

“This is where the deeper work begins,” I said.

Tanya exhaled shakily against the sheets. The soft, delicate line of her back rose and fell under my gaze as I continued to work the full, youthful curves of her ass, preparing her for everything that would follow.

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