SSS-Class MILFs And Their Yandere Daughters, I Want Them All!

Chapter 449: Who Needs A DJ Set, When You Have Breasts?

Nadia’s heart was racing right now.

He had called her beautiful.

He had said it so naturally, so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And the way he had phrased it—like a literal fairy from the heavens—it was so poetic, so sincere, that she felt something warm spread through her entire body.

She wanted to smile. To laugh. To hug him. To—

But instead, she bit her lip.

’Control. You have to control your emotions.’

’If you let this happiness spread, there will be an disaster. The whole building will shake. The meeting will be ruined.’

She focused on breathing. On calming her racing heart and keeping the joy contained.

Mika watched her struggle with amusement. Then his expression changed, becoming slightly mischievous.

"What about the mechanisms I put in that dress, Nadia? The ones that made random songs play? I put arrays into the fabric specifically for that purpose."

Nadia’s composure returned.

"Oh, I took care of those."

There was a hint of smugness in her voice.

"I had a specialist remove all of them. The dress is completely normal now. No more silly songs."

Mika’s smile widened, as he took a small step closer and asked,

"You think so?"

Nadia’s eyes narrowed in wariness.

"I know so. I was very thorough. The specialist went over every inch of the fabric."

Mika took another step.

"Well, I hate to break it to you...but you’re wrong."

Before she could react, his finger darted out and poked her stomach.

Nadia gasped—more from surprise than pain.

"Mika, what—"

But before she could finish—a song began to play.

[Close your eyes, don’t you fear,

Morning light is drawing near,

Stars will fade, but dreams will stay,

Guiding you through every day.]

A nursery rhyme. Silly, childish, utterly undignified.

Nadia stared down at her dress in disbelief.

"How—"

Once again he didn’t let her and Mika’s finger moved again, poking her thigh.

[Tick-tock tree, by the sea,

Drops a leaf on top of me,

I laugh once, I laugh twice,

Catch the wind and roll the dice]

Another song. Another nursery rhyme.

He then pressed her knee. Another.

[Flip-flop frog on a log,

Dancing through the morning fog,

Hop once, hop two,

Splash a silver drop of dew]

Her sides. Another.

It was like her dress had become an MP3 player, each hidden trigger unleashing a different melody.

Nadia grabbed his hand to stop him in a fluster before asking,

"Mika! How...How did you do this? I had a specialist go over everything! He said he removed all of them!"

Mika shrugged.

"No matter how good your specialist is, he’s not good enough to detect all the arrays I put in. He might have removed a few of the obvious ones. But I’m very thorough."

He tapped her waist.

Another song.

"And very patient."

Her shoulder.

Another.

"And very, very creative."

Her arm.

Another.

Nadia stood there, surrounded by nursery rhymes, her dress chirping away like a music box.

She should have been horrified.

The idea that she had been walking into diplomatic negotiations with hidden prank mechanisms embedded in her clothing was mortifying.

And yet—

She couldn’t help but smile.

Because this was Mika. His work. His touch. His presence woven into the very fabric of her lucky dress.

And honestly, when she had removed those arrays years ago, she had felt like she was erasing a part of him. A part of their history. She had regretted it, but she had been too embarrassed to keep them.

And now she knew they had never really left.

She looked at the dress with new eyes.

"Mika." She said slowly. "How do I activate them? Which places trigger which songs?"

He blinked, surprised by her curiosity.

"Well, here—" He pointed to a spot near her waist. "—poke there and a song plays."

She did. And a lullaby played.

"And here—" Her knee. "—another one."

A children’s counting song.

And then she continued to poke around her body by herself. She was like a child with a new toy, poking herself in various places, delighted when music emerged, surprised when nothing happened.

"Why don’t some of them work?" She frowned, pressing again.

Mika laughed.

"Because not every spot is a trigger! They’re placed in specific patterns. I designed it that way."

Nadia continued exploring, her fingers tracing the fabric, pressing here and there.

Most spots did nothing.

But every so often, her finger would hit the right place, and another song would play, and her eyes would brighten just a little.

"How many songs are there?" She asked, not looking up from the dress.

"A hundred and seven."

She paused.

"A hundred and seven nursery rhymes and children’s songs?"

"And some folk music. And a few songs from that cartoon you used to watch with me. The one with the singing animals."

Nadia’s hand dropped to her side.

She looked down at the dress.

This dress. This gift from her son, given to her so many years ago. She had worn it to countless meetings, had considered it her lucky charm, had treasured it for what it represented.

But she had never known.

She had never known the depth of the work he had put into it. The hundreds of tiny arrays woven into the fabric, the intricate patterns, the care and attention and sheer effort that had gone into creating something so complex.

He had been a child when he made this.

A child, creating something that professional specialists couldn’t fully unravel.

She looked at the dress, and she saw it differently now. Not just a gift. Not just a lucky charm.

A piece of her son. Something he had made with his own hands and it filled her with pride.

But just as Nadia was feeling all warm and wholesome, her heart full of gratitude and affection for her son—Mika had completely different plans.

He had decided it was time to make another move.

Time to catch her off guard.

So, before she could react, he stepped behind her.

His hands found her waist, fingers wrapping around her, and he pulled her back against his chest.

Nadia’s breath caught.

This was—this was not something Mika usually did. He had always kept his distance, maintained his walls.

Even now, with all the progress they had made, he had never been this...intimate. This close.

"What is this, Mika?" She asked, her voice coming out softer than she intended. "What are you doing?"

She looked up at him, and her heart was racing.

If this had happened before—before the kiss—she would have simply been confused.

But right now, her heart was racing.

She could feel it pounding against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat that she couldn’t control, couldn’t suppress.

Her skin was warm where he touched her and her thoughts were scattered, fragmented, unable to form coherent sentences.

She was on edge.

And she was desperately trying to hide it.

Mika looked down at her, his expression playful, almost innocent—but his eyes held something else.

Something that made her pulse quicken even more.

"You know..." He said conversationally, as if he wasn’t holding her against his chest. "...along with all the other arrays I installed in this dress, there’s one that’s quite special."

Nadia’s mouth was dry but she still asked,

"W-What do you mean? What’s so special about it?"

"You see, this one is quite unique since you can properly interact with it." He explained as he pulled her soft body closer. "The harder you press it, the louder the song gets. The softer you press, the quieter."

He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear.

"And depending on the angle, the frequency changes. The notes shift. You can basically do a remix just by how you press."

Hearing this, she was curious—the part that was always fascinated by his creations, wanted to know more.

But another part of her, a part she didn’t fully understand, felt something else. Something that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall.

She looked down at her dress.

"Which part?" She asked, her voice carefully neutral. "Is it here?" She touched her belly. "Or here?" Her fingers brushed her thigh. "Maybe here?" She pulled the shoulder strap slightly, exposing more of her collarbone.

She looked up at him.

"Which part is it, Mika?"

His smile changed.

It was subtle—just a shift, just a deepening—but Nadia saw it. His eyes grew darker. His expression became something that was no longer playful.

"It’s right here." He said softly.

His hands moved.

They slid up from her waist, slow and deliberate, until they reached her chest. And then—

He grabbed both of her breasts through the fabric of her dress!

Nadia’s body went rigid.

Her mind went blank.

Her breath caught in her throat, and a sound escaped her lips—a small, strangled sound that was almost a squeak.

"Mika—"

"Just listen." He said, his voice calm, as if he were giving a lecture. "Listen to the song."

She heard it. A soft melody, playing from somewhere in the dress, a tune she didn’t recognize.

"Now watch." He said carefully. "When I press harder, the volume increases."

He squeezed.

Her breasts pressed against his palms, soft and full, and she felt a jolt of sensation that made her knees weak.

The song’s volume rose, just as he had said—but she wasn’t listening to the song anymore. She was listening to her own heartbeat, pounding in her ears.

"And when I release, it goes down."

He relaxed his grip. The volume faded.

"Up and down." He murmured, squeezing again. "Up and down. You can control it completely. Just by pressing."

He squeezed. Released. Squeezed. Released.

Her chest rose and fell with his movements, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She could feel her skin heating, her body responding in ways she didn’t fully understand as her son groped her breasts.

She tried to speak. Tried to tell him that this was strange, that he should stop, that the demonstration was enough.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Because she couldn’t speak at the moment and her mouth was sealed.

This was because her emotions were spiraling. Churning. Building pressure inside her like steam in a sealed vessel. She could feel them pressing against her control, threatening to burst free.

If she opened her mouth—if she let herself feel, let herself speak, let herself react—she would lose it.

All the power she had been holding back for decades would erupt.

The building would shake. The ground would crack. The tsunami warnings would blare across the continent.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Not today. Not now. Not when everything she had worked for was finally coming to fruition.

So she focused. Channeled everything into control. Breathed. Counted. Held herself together by sheer force of will.

Mika, meanwhile, was having the time of his life.

He squeezed. Released. Squeezed. Released.

Watched the way her breasts responded, the way they pushed against his palms, the way her cleavage swelled with each compression.

"Up and down." He narrated, his voice light, playful. "Volume goes up. Volume goes down. Like a conductor leading an orchestra."

He squeezed harder, held it, let the song swell.

Then he released, let it fade.

"See how it works?"

He looked at her face. Her expression was frozen, but her eyes—her eyes were anything but.

They were wide, dark, full of something she was desperately trying to hide.

And seeing her like this—he knew exactly what she was going through.

He knew about the war inside her between desire and duty, between wanting to react and needing to stay still.

He knew because he had planned it.

He thought about how her sisters would have reacted in this scenario, before all of this started.

Yelena would have slapped his hands away and yelled at him—and then forgiven him five minutes later.

Fauna would have been so innocent, so trusting, that she wouldn’t have even realized it was inappropriate. She would have let him grope her for hours, thinking it was just a demonstration.

But Nadia?

Nadia was different.

She had the same sense of propriety as Ylena. She knew this was wrong, knew they shouldn’t be doing this.

But unlike Yelena, she couldn’t articulate those thoughts. She couldn’t push him away, couldn’t scold him, couldn’t express her discomfort.

Because the moment she tried to speak—the moment she let her true emotions out—the world would feel it.

Earthquakes. Tsunamis. Cataclysms.

She was basically trapped.

Completely and utterly trapped, in a prison of her own power, unable to do anything but stand there and let it happen. And Mika had the key.

Of course, the array that he was talking about now was real, but he had actually just installed it now.

But Nadia had no way of knowing that or anything going in Mika’s mind, so she could only let him blatantly misuse her weakness.

"Now, watch this." He said, his voice light, instructional. "If I press the left one harder and the right one lighter, the frequency changes."

He demonstrated—meaning he squeezed her left breasts so hard that she whimpered and simply caressed her right breast.

And just like he said, the song shifted, the melody warping into something different.

"And if I reverse it..." He switched the pressure. "...it changes again."

The song followed his commands.

He moved his hands again, sliding them up, cupping her more fully.

"And for the bass drop..."

He said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"...I have to drop the breasts."

Before she could process what that meant, he lifted her breasts in his palms—and let them drop.

They bounced, soft and full, settling back into his waiting hands.

The song responded with a deep, satisfying bass note that seemed to vibrate through her entire body.

Nadia bit her lip. Hard.

She could feel her nipples tightening under the fabric of her dress, could feel her body responding in ways that made her want to disappear.

And still, she couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t do anything but stand there, trembling, while her son continued his demonstration.

"There are also certain points..."

Mika said, his fingers moving to the tips of her breasts.

"...that trigger specific notes."

He poked her left nipple.

A high, clear note rang out from the dress.

He poked her right nipple.

Another note, slightly different.

He poked them in sequence—left, right, left, right—and the dress played a simple, cheerful melody.

Nadia’s lips parted.

"Mmmm—!"

A sound escaped—something between a whimper and a gasp—and she quickly pressed her lips together again.

Her face was burning. Her entire body was burning. The blush she had been fighting spread across her cheeks, down her neck, across her chest.

She was blushing.

Actually blushing.

The woman whose face was a mask of stone, whose feelings were so carefully hidden that even her closest family couldn’t read them—was blushing.

She looked at him.

And in her eyes, he saw it.

Pleading.

Wordless, desperate pleading.

’Please. Stop. I can’t. I can’t handle this. Please.’

He had her exactly where he wanted her.

Trapped. Helpless. Unable to speak, unable to move, unable to do anything but feel.

He knew he should stop.

He knew he had pushed far enough.

But he also knew that this was the most emotion she had shown in years. Maybe in her entire life. And he wanted to see more.

He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing her ear.

"One more thing..." He whispered.

Nadia’s eyes fluttered closed.

She waited for what would come next—bracing herself, steeling herself, preparing for whatever new assault he had planned.

But then—

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Lady Nadia? The delegates are assembled and they want to talk you about some changes."