Transmigrated Into A Women Dominated World

"There now," she purred, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "That's a much better welcome, don't you think, Zae?"

"Yes, it is," he murmured, his voice a little rough. His eyes drifted from her captivating face downward, following the elegant line of her body as she lounged on the sofa. The silk of her dress had ridden up her thigh, revealing the delicate, black lace top of a thigh-high stocking held in place by a garter strap.

Marceline followed his gaze and her smile widened, full of amusement and invitation. "See something you like, Zae?" she whispered, shifting her leg just enough to give him a better view. "Honey, if you're going to stare that hard, you might as well touch."

A slow grin spread across Zaeryn's face. He leaned forward, his hand coming to rest on her thigh, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the lace through the sheer fabric. He could feel the firm, warm muscle beneath. "There's just something about stockings on a woman who knows exactly what she's doing."

Marceline's eyes glinted with mischief. "Oh? So you have a thing for stockings, do you?" She deliberately let her gaze travel across the room to where Kayla was still perched on the counter. "In that case, you must be admiring your aunt Kayla over there, too. She's wearing them as well, and I must say, her legs look absolutely stunning today."

Zaeryn's hand recoiled from Marceline's thigh as if it had been burned. "No, I wasn't—" he stammered, his cheeks flushing.

Taken completely off guard, Kayla jolted, her head snapping up. For a fraction of a second, the cold mask fell away. Her eyes widened, and her gaze instinctively flickered down to her own legs, a flicker of surprise and something unreadable—was it contemplation?—in her expression. It was as if she were seeing herself through his eyes for the briefest moment.

Then, just as quickly, the familiar scowl snapped back into place, harder than before. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Stop it," she snapped, her voice tight with anger. "That's not even funny."

Marceline simply waved a dismissive, elegant hand, her smile never losing momentum. Her attention turned completely to Zaeryn, her eyes sparkling with delight as she leaned in closer to him on the couch. "Oh, but he was staring, darling. Weren't you, Zae?" she purred, ignoring her daughter's fury. "Come on, tell me.

What do you like most about her? The long legs? Or perhaps it's that fierce glare she gets? Isn't she just irresistible?"

Zaeryn could feel the heat rising in his own cheeks. This was getting more awkward by the second. "Marcie, that's not true. Stop it," he said, his tone firm but pleading.

The last thing he wanted was for Kayla to think he was attracted to her.

Marceline let out a rich laugh, thoroughly enjoying the chaos she had created. "Oh, listen to you two," she said, patting Zaeryn's knee.

She looked at him, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Why are you so flustered, Zae? Can't I have a little fun?"

Then, her gaze shifted back to Kayla, who was still standing rigid with offense. Marceline's grin turned even more wicked."And you, Kayla?" she asked, her voice dripping with playful innocence. "Getting all red-faced over a little compliment. Don't tell me you're flustered too?

Kayla's face, which had been flushed with embarrassment, hardened into a mask of pure ice. "Flustered?" she scoffed, the word dripping with venom. "Don't mistake my disgust for embarrassment. There's a difference."

Despite her cold words, the faint red blush lingering on her cheeks betrayed her, a detail Marceline clearly savored.

Just as Marceline was about to fire back with another tease, Ysmeine's calm voice cut through the tension. "Kayla, can you come and help me with this sauce? I need your opinion on the seasoning."

Kayla shot one last, unreadable glare at Zaeryn from her perch on a stool at the low counter separating the kitchen from the sitting area. With a stiff nod to Ysmeine, she slid off the stool and crossed the short distance to the stove where Ysmeine stood, her steps sharp against the tiled floor.

Zaeryn let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, slumping back against the sofa cushions.

Marceline simply laughed, a low, satisfied sound. "She's so easy to tease," she murmured. "And so are you."

"That wasn't funny," he grumbled, folding his arms.

"Whatever," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. Her laughter softened into a sultry purr as she shifted closer on the sofa, her thigh pressing warmly against his. She placed a hand on his knee, her fingers drawing slow, deliberate circles. "Oh, lighten up, Zae. You both turned the same shade of red. It was adorable."

"I'm not adorable," he muttered, though his voice had lost its edge. He tried to lean away, but she held him in place with a deceptively gentle grip.

"Of course you are, the most adored." she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder. Her hand slid from his knee, moving higher up his inner thigh with a confidence that made his breath catch in his throat. The intoxicating scent of her perfume enveloped him, a rich floral haze that clouded his thoughts.

Her lips brushed against his ear as she whispered, her voice a low, husky promise.

"But don't worry. When it's our turn to have some fun, I won't tease you nearly as much."

Marceline pulled back slightly, her playful expression softening into one of genuine, matriarchal concern. Her hand stilled on his thigh, and her eyes searched his. "So," she began, her voice losing its teasing cadence, "did you already decide how you will grow stronger?"

Zaeryn looked at her, having not expecting this sudden shift of conversation. And it shifted his mood a little bit from playful to serious. "I don't... not really," he admitted. "But I have an idea."

"And what is it?" she pressed, her curiosity piqued.

From a few meters, Ysmeine turned to them, her own face etched with concern. "A plan?" she asked, stepping towards him. "What plan, Zaeryn?"

Kayla walked back to where she was sitting earlier, and although she was acting as if she couldn't careless about the conversation regarding his life, it was safe to say that sometimes she was terrible at it.

Now the center of attention, Zaeryn met their gazes with a newfound resolve. "I'm considering becoming a consort."

A slow, wicked grin curved Marceline's lips, her eyes glinting with delight. "Really? A Consort?" she purred, her voice rich with approval. "A bold choice, Zae, and a clever one.

"Absolutely not," Ysmeine said, her expression horrified as she stepped closer to Zaeryn. "A consort? That's not a good idea, it's a death sentence. Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be? You'd be putting yourself at the mercy of powerful, possessive women who see you as property. You could get hurt."