Moments later, a female CP0 agent stepped into view—her face hidden behind a pale white mask, her lithe form wrapped in a sleek black uniform.
It was clear she served under Stussy's direct authority.
She approached Otohime's fainted body, glancing once at the tank—now stained with blood and gore.
"This stimulation should be enough," she said coolly, her voice echoing through the room.
With a graceful motion, she scooped Otohime's limp form into her arms and turned to leave.
The other guards stepped behind her, ignoring the unconscious Celestial Dragon.
Their orders were clear: show Otohime the cruelty of the Celestial Dragons… but leave her untouched for their true master.
—---------
Back in his private chamber, the air was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and submission.
The silken sheets were in disarray.
Naked bodies lay sprawled across the vast bed and on the thick carpets, their soft moans and exhausted whimpers filling the room.
Lakeman remained at the center of it all—his lean, powerful body gleaming with sweat as he stood beside the bed.
Before him knelt two trembling princesses, their faces flushed, eyes glazed with lust and exhaustion.
One worked his shaft with her tongue, the other suckled on his balls with trembling devotion.
"Good sluts," he murmured lazily, leaning back against a padded headboard.
His crimson eyes half-closed—not from weariness, but from sheer satisfaction.
And through it all, he remained connected to his vast telepathic network—a casual thread of his mind ever linked to Stussy and Shakky.
Now, Stussy's voice whispered seductively into his thoughts.
"Master, it is done. Queen Otohime was locked in the glass tank alongside several other mermaids. We released the piranhas as instructed. The scene was... devastating."
For a brief moment, a flicker of sadistic satisfaction curled across Lakeman's lips.
"Several mermaids were eaten alive. Otohime's heart couldn't bear it—she fainted. Our CP agent retrieved her body. One of the guards neutralized the Celestial Dragon when he demanded her death. She is safe, untouched… as you commanded."
Lakeman let out a slow exhale, fingers tightening in the princess's hair as she moaned around his shaft.
"It went perfectly then," he answered through the link, his voice calm and amused even as the second princess kissed along his thigh.
"Her trauma will deepen. When the time comes, she will cling to me willingly. Good work."
"Thank you, Master. Shall we proceed to enslave the royal families tonight?"
"Yes… do it."
And with that, he shifted his attention fully back to the decadent scene before him.
"Now... where was I?" he murmured aloud, voice dripping with dark amusement.
He grabbed the first princess by her hair and shoved her down forcefully onto his cock, grunting with pleasure as she gagged and drooled.
Gawk
Slurp. Slurp.
GawkGawk
Her throat convulsed beautifully around him.
Meanwhile, the second princess squealed as he pushed her onto the bed, spreading her thighs wide.
"You'll both entertain me until I'm satisfied."
And Saint Lakeman's debauchery resumed in full force.
By late afternoon, the entire room had transformed into a temple of indulgence.
Bodies glistened with sweat and cum—queens, princesses, noble ladies, pirate captains—all moaning mindlessly in various states of exhaustion.
Some lay collapsed on the bed, leaking from every hole. Others knelt in rows, waiting for their turn with wide, worshipful eyes.
Lakeman stood over them, a glass of fine wine in one hand, his hard cock glistening with the essence of countless women.
He felt no fatigue—his Demigod-level body capable of endless pleasure.
A young queen approached timidly, eyes pleading.
"Master... may I serve you?"
With a crooked smile, he beckoned her forward.
"Come. Prove your worth."
She crawled to him eagerly, her noble pride long since broken.
And so the debauchery continued.
Through the late afternoon and into the evening, Saint Lakeman claimed woman after woman—mouths, cunts, asses—leaving no beauty untouched, no hole unexplored.
As the first stars began to glitter in the Mariejois sky, Lakeman leaned back on the bed at last—dozens of broken beauties sprawled around him in various poses of submission and worship.
He let out a low, satisfied laugh.
'Otohime is broken. The royal families will soon be under my control. The queens of the world will serve me willingly… as these do.'
He took another sip of wine, crimson eyes glowing.
And the night… was still young.
Even as twilight deepened into full night over the towering spires of Mariejois, Lakeman's private chambers remained a scene of endless, rolling debauchery.
By now, the room was thick with heat, sweat, and sex—the air heavy with the scent of submission.
Lakeman, still seated in the center of the vast bed, his powerful form gleaming with exertion, showed no signs of slowing.
His stamina was boundless—his Demigod-level body unburdened by fatigue.
Around him, the once-proud women of the world lay in various states of broken bliss—queens, princesses, noble ladies, pirate beauties—some sprawled limply, others clinging to him, desperate for another taste.
The door opened softly.
Robin and Lily, having returned from their evening training and dinner, entered the chamber in silence.
They were met with the sight of their master towering amid a pile of debauched flesh—crimson eyes glowing, body slick with the essence of countless women.
Without hesitation, the two beauties exchanged a knowing glance—and with practiced grace, stripped away their garments.
"We've returned, Master," Robin murmured softly, her emerald eyes smoldering with need.
"Please… let us serve you," Lily added, her voluptuous figure swaying enticingly as she crawled onto the bed.
Lakeman's gaze flickered with amusement.
"Come, then," he said lazily, voice rich with authority. "You will join the others."
And so they did.
Through the long hours of the night, Robin and Lily worshipped him with fierce devotion—mouths, breasts, tight holes offered up one after the other, eager to be claimed.
They moved seamlessly among the other maids and broken nobles who still had strength left to serve.
Again and again, Lakeman's rod plowed into them—Robin's tight, scholarly cunt, Lily's pillowy, yielding ass, their moans mixing with the chorus of the others.
"Aah... Master... aaah!"
"Please… more… fill me!"
The pile of bodies around him grew ever larger—maids and slaves fainting one by one as they reached the limit of their endurance, their forms collapsing in sated, dripping exhaustion.
Yet their master remained unsatisfied—taking girl after girl, his hunger seemingly endless.
Meanwhile…
In the shadowed corridors of the vast residences prepared for the royal families attending the Reverie, two figures moved like wraiths in the dark.
Stussy and Shakky, clad in sleek black cloaks, their beautiful forms hidden beneath, shuttled swiftly from one estate to the next.
Empowered by the telepathic network Saint Lakeman had gifted them, they communicated silently with their CP0 subordinates, coordinating every move with precision.
Their mission was simple: reshape the minds of every ruler and royal family member they could reach—binding their loyalty, love, and obedience to Saint Lakeman alone.
But they had to work carefully.
Their every action had to remain unseen by the Five Elders, the Knights of God, and most of all, by the shadowy figure of Imu himself.
Their work required subtlety—slow, patient weaving of new thoughts and compulsions deep into their targets' minds.
Throughout the night, they moved from estate to estate.
In some cases, the rulers themselves were the targets—kings, queens—their wills broken and rewritten beneath Stussy's seductive gaze or Shakky's hypnotic whispers.
In others, it was the rulers' family members—princes, princesses, influential nobles—none were spared.
"You will love him… serve him… obey only him," Stussy would whisper softly into the ear of a trembling queen as her pupils glazed over.
"Your loyalty is his alone," Shakky murmured, pressing her palm to a young kings's forehead as invisible tendrils of will reshaped his mind.
Hour by hour, the work continued.
In each estate, they left no trace—only perfect, loyal subjects who would continue to act outwardly normal… until called upon by their master.
Through their telepathic link, they whispered to their master, even as he remained locked in the throes of indulgence.
"Master… by dawn, we have fully converted twelve royal families," Stussy reported, her voice tinged with satisfaction.
"All were reshaped without incident. None among the Five Elders, the Knights of God, or Imu noticed our work."
"Excellent," Lakeman replied lazily through the link—even as his rod plunged once more into Robin's eager mouth, her eyes rolling back in bliss.
"Continue tomorrow night. No need to rush. I want them all mine… thoroughly."
"As you command, Master," came the unified reply from Stussy and Shakky.
And so the first night of the Reverie passed—with the world's rulers unknowingly falling deeper under Saint Lakeman's shadow.
And within his bedchamber, the night of endless debauchery continued, undiminished.
As the first rays of dawn began to pierce through the high arched windows of Lakeman's private chamber, the once-grand room had become a scene of utter carnal ruin.
Across the massive bed and scattered over the plush carpets, queens, princesses, noble ladies, and maids lay in a tangled heap—bodies glistening with sweat, holes leaking his thick seed, faces frozen in expressions of blissful exhaustion.
Some were limp and unconscious, others weakly twitching in post-orgasmic tremors, their minds and pride thoroughly shattered.
In the center of this decadent tableau, Lakeman lounged lazily against the grand headboard—his body still powerful, utterly unspent, his crimson eyes glowing faintly.
A half-empty goblet of wine rested in his hand.
His cock—still hard and slick with the essence of countless women—rested proudly against his chiseled abdomen.
He exhaled a slow, satisfied breath.
"A good night."
Just then, the chamber doors opened soundlessly.
Two shadowy figures stepped inside—graceful, composed, their movements fluid.
Stussy and Shakky had returned.
Their mission throughout the night had succeeded—twelve royal families already converted to Lakeman's perfect tools.
Now they entered to report… and to offer themselves.
They paused briefly at the threshold, gazing upon the ruined beauties sprawled around their master.
Soft smiles curved their lips.
"He has outlasted them all once again," Shakky thought with a sultry gleam in her eyes.
"Of course, he would," Stussy echoed silently.
With practiced grace, they both removed their black cloaks—revealing their luscious forms beneath.
Stussy's hourglass figure, encased in a tight black corset and stockings, her silver hair cascading freely.
Shakky's rejuvenated body, clad in a sleek red bodysuit, her toned thighs gleaming, her jacket falling away to bare her full curves.
Their eyes locked onto Lakeman's imposing figure.
"Good morning, Master," they purred in unison, voices laced with desire.
Lakeman smiled faintly.
"Perfect timing."
Without a word, he crooked a finger—beckoning them forward.
They obeyed immediately.
As they climbed onto the vast bed—stepping over the limp, spent bodies of their fellow slaves—the scent of sex thickened around them.
Stussy straddled his lap, grinding her soaked slit against his shaft.
Shakky pressed herself to his side, capturing his mouth in a slow, hungry kiss.
Through their telepathic link, they whispered simultaneously:
"Twelve families converted. No traces left behind. None suspect a thing."
"Good," Lakeman replied with a low chuckle. "Now… reward yourselves."
And so they did.
The morning fun began.
Pah.
Pah. Pah.
Lakeman's thick cock plowed into Stussy's eager cunt, the silver-haired beauty riding him with desperate, wanton moans—her shapely hips slamming down against his lap.
"Aahh... Master... more... ahhh!"
At his side, Shakky knelt, wrapping her lush breasts around his face—pressing her hard nipples to his lips, moaning breathlessly.
"Please, Master… drink me..."
Lakeman seized one nipple between his teeth, biting and sucking as his hands gripped Stussy's waist—pounding upward with increasing force.
Pah.
Pah. Pah.
Cum already leaking from her gaping hole, Stussy shuddered violently—her voice cracking as she screamed her release.
"Aaahhhh! I'm cumming! Master!"
Without pause, Lakeman shifted her off him and pulled Shakky onto his cock—thrusting into her tight, wet hole with brutal strokes.
"Yes... yes, Master! Use me... claim me!" she cried, her legs locking around his waist.
The two loyal toys of the Demigod moaned and writhed beneath his relentless assault—serving him with every ounce of devotion.
Around them, the spent bodies of queens and nobles remained motionless—holes leaking, faces slack with exhaustion.
But for Saint Lakeman, the night's indulgence was far from over.
He claimed Stussy and Shakky again and again—mouths, cunts, asses—using them thoroughly as the morning light grew brighter.
Their minds burned with pleasure—slaves in body, heart, and soul—serving the master who would soon rule the world.
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