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Chapter - 147 Lady Mirana Figarland. (R-18)
🕑 Added 2025-05-25 18:11:28 +0000 UTCThe golden sun dipped beneath the clouds as Lakeman stepped into the heart of his new villa.
Mariejois stretched endlessly beyond his towering glass windows, its white towers glowing in the last light of day.
This palace wasn’t decorated with ostentation like those of other Celestial Dragons.
His estate was quiet, precise, and absolute—made to be ruled from, not admired.
Tonight was not a night of speeches or servants.
Tonight was a celebration of flesh.
He entered the grand chamber in silence.
Velvet curtains fluttered at the edges of the wind. Silk cushions surrounded the wide, low platform that served as his throne. Incense smoldered in golden dishes, filling the air with warmth and desire.
He said nothing.
Only shrugged off his robe. It slid down his muscled frame and pooled around his feet with a soft whisper.
He stood naked in the center of the room.
And said calmly—
“Come, my bitches.”
Robin was first to obey.
Graceful and silent, her dark violet gown slipped from her shoulders, revealing the smooth curves of her breasts, her slender waist, the quiet hunger in her gaze.
She knelt before him and kissed his lower belly, her lips trailing downward.
Lily followed on all fours, her silver hair brushing against the polished marble as she crawled. She reached his cock, licking from base to tip with deliberate reverence.
Slrrrp… Mwah… Slrrrp…
Scarlet leaned into his side, her robe parting to reveal her soft breasts. She kissed his neck and moaned softly against his ear, “Welcome home, Master…”
Jade slithered forward on her powerful mermaid tail, her glowing scales glinting in the firelight. She lowered her face to his feet, her warm tongue pressing to his skin as she moaned faintly.
Sofia dropped to her knees, cupping his cock between her heavy, pillowy breasts. “Let me feel you again,” she murmured, pressing them tight around him.
Fwwp… squish… fwwp…
Stella danced through them all, her body oiled and bare, her hips circling in slow, sensual rhythms. Her fingers grazed her slick folds with each step.
And far from the center, standing near a silk curtain in silence—
Viola watched.
Dressed modestly in her blue robe, she stood quietly in the corner. Her violet eyes were wide, her expression expectant.
She was still not yet at her peak beauty, mature, ripe for Lakeman's taking. And so she said nothing.
She only observed from corner of the room.
Lakeman sat down on the silk-covered bed and spread his legs.
Robin leaned in and kissed his thigh, soft and steady.
Lily sucked the head of his cock slowly, her lips full, her breath warm.
Slrp… slrp… glck…
Sofia began moving her breasts, up and down, coating him in the softness of her cleavage.
Scarlet kissed his lips, grinding her hips against his thigh.
Jade wrapped her tail around his ankle and moaned as her lips pressed to his calf.
Stella fell to her knees, her fingers buried between her legs, her body trembling as she touched herself.
He reached down and lifted Lily by the waist.
With one movement, he slammed into her.
Pah!
She screamed.
“Ahh! Master! Y-yes!”
He began pounding her, hard and deep, her tight cunt soaking his cock as her body bounced on his lap.
Pah! Pah! Pah!
Robin leaned in to kiss his shaft between thrusts.
Scarlet moaned into his mouth, her nipples brushing his chest.
Sofia groaned, her breasts bouncing as she pressed them tighter.
Jade whined softly as she licked his ankle again, too aroused to stop.
Stella was already gasping as her fingers slipped deeper inside her.
Schlick… schlop… squish…
Viola never moved from the curtain.
She stayed still, but muffled moans escaped from her lips.
Her hands inside her robe as she slowly played with her wet pussy, her eyes watching their debauchery out across the chamber.
The moans, the slapping sounds, the wet sucking and cries of pleasure—they echoed through the air.
Lakeman used each one in turn.
Robin rode him slowly and silently, trembling from the inside.
Scarlet bent over the couch, her thighs trembling as he fucked her hard.
Sofia moaned as her belly filled again and again with his seed.
Jade licked his chest as she came, her body shuddering around her own tail.
Stella cried out as he filled her ass and came down her throat, her moans messy and thankful.
Slap.
Squelch.
Glck.
Plap.
Slrrrp.
They lay ruined by midnight.
Slick with sweat and cum.
Collapsed in the light of the candles.
He stood by the open balcony, looking down at the world of nobles and thrones.
Behind him, the only sounds were the soft breathing of his women.
And Viola, still watching from the shadows as she watched how he took her sister and other women.
Lakeman spoke only once, his voice quiet and absolute.
“Mariejois will fall for me. One celestial dragon woman at a time.”
………….
The next day.
The streets of Mariejois shimmered in quiet gold under the rising sun.
White marble roads stretched between towering villas, and the capital’s gentle breeze carried the faint scent of rare flowers.
Robed figures strolled in small clusters—Celestial Dragons in their ornate garments and masks, accompanied by lines of slaves and servants.
But when Lakeman walked among them, the air changed.
He moved alone.
No guard. No bubble.
Only Robin and Lily followed behind, steps measured, eyes down, veiled in elegance and submission. Even with their beauty on full display, they were unnoticed—because all eyes were drawn to him.
Other Celestial Dragons paused as he passed.
Some nodded slowly.
Others whispered.
But none dared approach.
Not now. Not anymore.
He was no longer the weak boy who left Mariejois, two years ago.
He was taller. Hardened. His stride held purpose. His gaze, when it passed over them, made men flinch. And within their noble bloodlines, they could all feel it—
Lakeman’s presence stood nearly equal to the Five Elders.
And today, he walked the sacred city for one purpose:
To find his next toy.
She appeared near the Grand Fountain, where white swans circled the shallow pool and noblewomen gathered to speak of bloodlines and slave markets.
She stood apart from the others.
Draped in white satin robes embroidered with golden roses, her figure was elegant—tall and slim, with subtle curves.
Like all Celestial Dragons, her face was veiled behind a glass mask, but her delicate fingers, visible beneath sheer gloves, curled with grace and purpose.
She was not laughing like the other women.
She stood still, watching the fountain.
Beside her knelt a line of servants—one polishing her boots, another holding her parasol, a third fanning her gently.
Lakeman stopped mid-stride.
His blood-red eyes narrowed slightly.
There was something about her. Something that sparked faint recognition.
And then it clicked.
Lady Mirana Figarland.
A noble daughter of the ancient Figarland line.
Unmarried. Reclusive. Renowned in whispers not for her power—but her pride. Known to reject every suitor.
Distant even from other nobles. They called her "the Unspoiled Flower."
Lakeman tilted his head slightly.
“Unspoiled, is she?”
“Let’s fix that.”
He walked toward her without breaking stride.
The swans drifted aside.
The other noblewomen fell silent.
Her servants looked up—then scrambled to bow.
Mirana turned slowly, her head tilting behind the glass veil as she looked toward the man approaching her.
Their eyes met.
And though she could not see his full expression, nor he hers—something passed between them.
Her spine stiffened.
She had heard of him.
She had heard the whispers.
“The prodigy.”
“The one who conquered Sabaody.”
“The boy the Five Elders treat like kin.”
But she had never seen him in person.
And she had certainly never felt her heart skip before at the mere sight of someone.
Lakeman said nothing.
He simply stopped three steps before her, his gaze falling down her body, then rising again—slow and confident.
“I expected better posture from someone wearing the Figarland name.”
His voice was quiet.
But every noble around them froze.
Mirana’s lips parted beneath the veil—but no words came.
No one spoke to her like that.
Ever.
She had spent her entire life shielded from command, challenge, and want.
But now…
She stood there.
Frozen.
And as Lakeman turned away, walking on with his hands in his pockets, she exhaled like she’d been holding her breath the entire time.
“Who… does he think he is?” she whispered.
“Why did I feel… weak?”
Lady Mirana stood frozen by the Grand Fountain, the murmur of water and flapping of swan wings falling distant around her.
Lakeman had already walked away.
He hadn’t asked for her name.
He hadn’t even acknowledged her bloodline.
“He spoke to me like I was beneath him…”
Her delicate fingers curled tighter around the lace edge of her parasol.
She turned her face away from the other noblewomen, though behind her glass veil, no emotion could be seen.
But her heart…
It was pounding.
Faster than it ever had.
She is Lady Mirana Figarland, sister of the red-haired future emperor known to the seas as Shanks.
Daughter of the man who commanded the Knights of God, sworn sword of the World Government’s most sacred secrets.
No one dared speak to her with anything less than reverence.
She had received proposals from celestial dragons’ families, commanders, and even a minor Elder once hinted at favor.
She refused them all.
She had been called cold.
A porcelain doll.
A flower that refused to bloom.
But now…
That man.
Lakeman.
He hadn’t bowed.
He hadn’t complimented her.
He hadn’t even tried to court her like the others.
He’d simply walked past her like she was a servant—and worse, criticized her posture with a tone of quiet authority.
As if… she were already his.
Back in her private chamber, Mirana sat before a tall mirror.
Her servants gently removed her outer robes, layer by layer, revealing pale skin beneath translucent lace.
She didn’t speak.
Didn’t acknowledge them.
Her mind was far from Mariejois.
“He thinks himself above me? Because the Five Elders dote on him? Because he conquered pirates?”
“Because the world whispers his name now?”
“No… I will not be pulled into someone else’s gravity.”
And yet—
As she stood, her robe falling open slightly at the chest, she glanced at herself in the mirror and whispered:
“Why do I feel like I’ve already submitted… just from his gaze?”
Her cheeks flushed.
She turned away.
The next morning, she did not go to the Grand Fountain.
She lingered near the outer arcades where highborn nobles rarely strolled.
And when she saw him again—calmly walking down the promenade, alone except for two veiled women at his sides—she turned away, but didn’t walk.
Her hand clutched her parasol tighter.
Her breath caught.
“He doesn’t even glance at me now.”
That stirred something more painful than being insulted.
It made her chest tighten.
“He forgot me already…?”
No.
He hadn’t forgotten.
She knew it.
She could feel it.
He was waiting.
Letting her twist.
And for reasons she couldn’t admit—not even to herself—
She liked it.
………….
The sun hung high over Mariejois, its golden rays filtering through ivory pillars and casting long, solemn shadows across the sacred gardens.
Birds chirped from within flowered hedges, and guards in crisp uniforms lined the quiet roads in reverent silence.
It was not the kind of day for a scandal.
But Mirana Figarland walked through the estate gates of Saint Lakeman without sending notice, without a herald, and without fear.
At least, that was how it appeared on the surface.
Inside, her heart whispered in ways she didn’t yet understand.
She told herself it was to assert dominance.
To remind him who she was. To teach him that she was not someone to dismiss after a single glance.
“I am not his servant or a whore. I am a Figarland.”
She wore a robe of soft violet, tight around the waist, sheer at the shoulders.
A lace veil covered her mouth, her amber eyes sharp behind the delicate mask.
But as the guards at Lakeman’s door bowed and allowed her inside without hesitation, doubt trickled in.
Why didn’t they even question me?
Has he already ordered that I be allowed in… whenever I want?
She stepped into the quiet, high-ceilinged hallway, every surface immaculate, polished. The scent of incense and warm skin filled the air.
And from deeper inside the villa—
she heard it.
Moans.
Low. Loud. Wet.
A woman’s voice cried out between gasps and sobs of pleasure.
Pah.
Pah.
Pah.
The rhythm of flesh slapping against flesh echoed down the marble corridor.
Mirana froze.
The sound was unmistakable. The kind of sound she had never heard in her noble life.
She turned to leave.
She didn’t.
Instead, drawn by a gravity she refused to name, she walked.
Each step slow.
Each breath caught in her throat.
The doors to the main chamber were half-open. She reached them—
And saw.
Scarlet was sprawled across the grand couch, naked save for a golden collar around her throat. Her body arched, breasts bouncing with each thrust.
Her hands clutched the edge of the cushions as she cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks, lips parted in adoring agony.
Lakeman stood behind her, one hand buried in her thick hair, the other gripping her hip as he rammed into her ass without pause.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
“Ahhh! Master! More—more—ruin your princess!”
Mirana’s heart thudded.
Princess?
That’s… Scarlet of the Riku royal line.
She was royalty.
Now she… begs like a dog.
Lakeman didn’t even glance up.
He kept thrusting, slow and brutal.
Scarlet screamed.
And from behind the open curtain, Mirana stared—eyes wide, frozen in place.
Her lips parted.
But she made no sound.
She should have left.
She didn’t.
She should have looked away.
She couldn’t.
Scarlet's moans were too raw.
Too real.
The slaps of skin echoed through Mirana’s chest, vibrating against her ribs.
Her thighs clenched.
She didn’t know why.
But the image—Lakeman’s hand in Scarlet’s hair, her ruined dignity, her helpless ecstasy—seared itself into Mirana’s mind like branding fire.
And then—
Lakeman looked up.
Their eyes met.
He didn’t stop moving.
Didn’t even slow down.
He simply locked eyes with her…
And smirked.
Scarlet screamed again, convulsing.
And Mirana?
She took one slow step back.
Then another.
And fled the villa in silence.
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