Baccarat was on all fours, her face pressed into the mattress as she looked over her shoulder at Jason.
Behind her, Jason watched her work of art as he stared at her pussy oozing its baby batter.
"Spread those cheeks more."
Bate~
Jason commanded, slapping Baccarat's ass and watching it ripple.
"Hmmm"
Baccarat moaned and spread her cheeks, giving Jason the view of her puckering hole and her pussy oozing his cum.
Jason slipped his hand around Baccarat's waist and guided his cock towards the girl's shy ass, rubbing the tip against her entrance.
"Jas- Daddy, be gentle. It's my first time in there."
"Relax, luv, I know what I'm doing."
With his cock already lubricated with Baccarat's love juices, Jason began to press his way into her virgin hole.
"Hssss, p-daddy." She whimpered as cold sweat broke out on her forehead.
With the experience of someone who has eaten many back doors, Jason brought his hand to Baccarat's clit and began to rub it between his fingers while releasing a slight vibration to give pleasure and relax the sphincter muscles.
Feeling Baccarat's asshole relax with his intrusion, Jason sent a subtle vibration through Baccarat's body and aligned his 30-centimeter penis with his asshole.
"Ahh, slowly, papa-"
Like a war hammer, Jason penetrated Baccarat's well-protected doors deeply, making the air rush out of his lungs.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah~"
Baccarat's eyes rolled back as she let out the biggest scream of pleasure of her entire life and squirted wildly - her brain practically melting as she lost the strength in her body and fell forward while drooling.
She thought anal sex would be painful, but all she felt was the greatest pleasure of her entire life when Jason shoved his penis deep into her anus.
What she didn't know was that Jason used his vibration manipulation to turn all the pain of penetration into pleasure. This is one of the dark sexual techniques he uses on enemy villains to turn them into masochistic sluts.
In the right measure, it is not harmful and only enhances the sexual experience, but if Jason overdoes it, they will associate the act of feeling pain with pleasure.
While Baccarat was still babbling with her face in the blankets and drooling, Jason pulled her by the hair and smiled at her debauched expression, completely lost in pleasure.
With a slight smile, Jason caught Baccarat's lips with his and sucked on her tongue as he began to move back and forth, eliciting moans of pleasure from her overloaded mind.
Jason played with Baccarat's body as if she were a violin.
"Aaaann, s-yes."
Baccarat's brain rebooted as Jason continued pounding her ass mercilessly. She was already wild with pleasure and started thrusting her hips at Jason, wanting to be penetrated harder and harder.
Jason obeyed and threw her back on the bed in the doggy position. Holding her waist firmly, Jason slowly pulled his cock out, leaving only the head at Baccarat's entrance, and penetrated her hard, making her ass ripple.
Baccarat's eyes bugged out as she bit down on the comforter to hold back her moans, but even that wasn't enough. Baccarat was becoming more and more addicted to the pleasure of anal and knew she couldn't go back.
She moaned as Jason moved his waist to shove his cock deeper into her, his hands never resting, caressing her breasts, playing with her nipples between his fingers, with each thrust, Jason shoved his cock deeper and deeper into Baccarat's ass, until the orgasm came with the last penetration.
"I'm going to come, luv."
Jason said as he increased the intensity and slammed mercilessly into Baccarat's ass while watching the ripples his ass made when it met his pelvis.
"Come inside!"
Before Baccarat could finish, Jason poured his cum inside her ass, the sensation of the hot milk making her moan and cum along with him.
Baccarat collapsed on the bed as Jason's cock shot out of her hot, tight walls and painted the caramel-colored brunette's back white.
Jason looked down at Baccarat's asshole and smiled as he saw how it hung open with milk leaking out and flashing at him. Despite having seen this scene many times before, it never gets boring.
Seeing Baccarat tired, Jason lay down on her side and let the brunette rest. After all, all three of her holes had been properly fucked.
==
A colossal dog-shaped ship docked at the gleaming port of Gran Tesoro, drawing the attention of everyone present. There was no doubt — that eccentric and imposing vessel could only belong to the Marine hero: Garp the Fist.
There were murmurs. Confusion. The War of the Best was about to begin — the world trembled on the edge of chaos — so what was a pillar of Justice doing at a floating casino? But the sharpest observers, those who read between the lines, knew exactly why he had come.
He had come for one man — Jason.
The same man who, in a single afternoon, executed a Celestial Dragon live for the entire world to see. The same man who crippled an admiral with his bare hands and still had the audacity to strike the untouchable Five Elders. While the world's greatest powers struggled to rise from the ashes he left behind, Jason simply... vanished.
And where was he found?
Relaxing like a tourist. Taking a vacation in the most luxurious casino in the world, laughing between bets. At his side, a former Celestial Dragon — now nothing more than his personal servant — carried his drink and followed him like a trained puppy.
Jason toyed with the gods and walked away unscathed. Now, the Marine hero had come to see with his own eyes the man who dared to defy the world.
Wearing his signature white officer's coat and a relaxed expression that clashed with his destructive reputation, the Marine hero descended the ship's ramp as if visiting an old friend. A half-eaten cookie rested between his fingers. He chewed slowly. Slowly, but with purpose.
Just minutes later, the swift and elegant steps of Gild Tesoro echoed across the gleaming pier, flanked by his security and ornately dressed staff. His smile was polished, nearly natural — but his eyes betrayed a poorly disguised tension. Sweat trickled beneath the pure gold collar of his suit.
"Garp-san!" Tesoro said, spreading his arms wide. "What an unexpected honor to have you aboard my humble city-ship! Tell me, what brings you to Gran Tesoro? A bit of fun before the storm, perhaps?"
Garp stopped a few steps away. He didn't answer immediately. He simply took another bite of his cookie.
"Nice casino," he said, glancing around with disdain. "Would make a fine battlefield."
Tesoro's smile faltered for a split second.
"N-naturally, you're free to go wherever you please. No door is closed to a Marine hero. But allow me, please, to arrange a suite for you… and anything else you might desire. We're here to serve."
Garp scratched his chin with a thoughtful look.
"Hm… Jason's still here, isn't he?"
Tesoro froze. The name felt like a cold blade sliding down his spine. He replied with the forced calm of a man walking on thin glass:
"Yes. He's still… enjoying our services. Apparently, he won a lot of money yesterday."
And now he's having fun with my employee.
Obviously, Tesoro didn't say that last part out loud.
Garp finally smiled. But it was one of those smiles that never reached the eyes.
"Then I guess it's time to settle things, huh?"
Without waiting for a response, Garp began walking — straight into the casino.
Tesoro stood frozen for a moment, pale. His guards looked at him, waiting for orders. But Tesoro just shook his head, muttering through clenched teeth:
"Who did I offend to end up with both of those monsters in my casino?"
==
Jason lay on the bed of his golden suite, arms folded behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His body seemed at ease, but his awareness never slept. His divine sense stretched across the entire Gran Tesoro like an invisible web — he felt everything. Every coin tossed, every muffled breath in the VIP rooms, every cheat at the blackjack tables.
And he felt her, too.
Sharlia.
The former Celestial Dragon who now served him as an obedient maid. But at that moment, she was kneeling in a side room, her breathing unsteady, her voice tense as she whispered to a disguised Cipher Pol agent.
— H-he's already here?
Her voice, once arrogant, now sounded like a quiet prayer.
— Yes, Saint Sharlia. Vice Admiral Garp is already aboard.
The agent replied, handing her a dark hood.
— Please… use this to conceal your identity.
Years ago, this man would have been dead. Not just him — his wife, his children, maybe even his neighbors — anyone who dared suggest that a Goddess like Sharlia should hide from public view.
But now?
Sharlia didn't scream. She didn't pull out a golden pistol or order executions. She simply stared at the hood for a few seconds… and took it in silence.
She put it on with trembling hands, covering herself completely. Not out of shame — but from the foolish hope of escaping the shadow that now ruled her existence.
'Maybe… maybe once I'm away from him… I can order that insolent man's death — and wipe out his entire bloodline,' she thought, a flicker of her old cruelty lighting up inside her. 'But for now… now I just want to leave.'
Jason could crush that plan as easily as one swats a fly.
All it would take was a thought.
A single thought, and the Cipher Pol agent's head would burst like a ripe melon under pressure.
Another thought, and Sharlia would collapse into a deep sleep, only to awaken once Garp had already left and the world was quiet again.
But… where was the fun in that?
Jason didn't want just control.
He wanted awareness.
He wanted Sharlia to feel.
To feel hope.
To taste the sweet flavor of freedom drawing near, like sunlight warming skin that had known only the cold of submission.
And that's why he did nothing.
He let her.
Let her whisper to the agent. Let her put on the hood with trembling fingers. Let each step toward the exit feel like a silent victory.
Because he wanted to watch her rise.
Like Icarus.
He wanted to see her believe she could escape with her waxen wings, believe the sky was within reach — that salvation could be found above the clouds.
And only then, when she was closest to the sun, feeling the warmth of freedom on her skin —
Jason would pull her back.
Not with violence. Not with rage.
But with coldness.
Ripping her from the sky and casting her back into the abyss where she belonged.
So that she would understand, once and for all:
It doesn't matter how high she flies.
It doesn't matter who she's with.
It doesn't matter how many "gods" try to protect her.
She will never escape Jason.