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Chapter - 146 Blessing Shakky. (R-18)
🕑 Added 2025-05-25 17:17:46 +0000 UTCShakky knelt between Lakeman’s thighs, her body quivering from hours of divine use.
Her throat was raw, her pussy sore, her ass red and stretched—and yet she begged for more.
She had screamed herself hoarse.
She had swallowed enough cum to fill her womb twice over.
And still, her mind was blissful. Clear.
Her soul, rewritten.
“I’m yours, Master… I was always meant to be yours…”
Lakeman’s hand rested gently on her head. He ran his fingers through her dark hair, slick with sweat.
“You’ve fallen well,” he said calmly. “But now… it’s time I raise you.”
She looked up, eyes wide with reverent awe.
“Raise me…?”
He stood, and she instinctively knelt lower.
Lakeman held out his palm, and from it, a radiant emerald glow emerged.
The chamber grew still.
Even the other women—Robin, Lily, Stussy, Scarlet—paused, watching in silent reverence.
“This is the law of life,” he said. “Purified. Refined. Complete.”
He touched Shakky’s bare chest.
Her body arched violently.
Green light exploded from her skin, wrapping her in a cocoon of living energy.
Flowers sprouted around her knees. Vines curled across the stone floor. Even the air itself pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat.
Her body trembled as the years reversed.
Her mature curves tightened. Her skin turned radiant and smooth. Her face flushed with youthful energy. Her waist narrowed, her breasts perked, her thighs filled with spring.
Shakky—once a woman in her forties—now glowed with the irresistible beauty of her early twenties.
Stronger. Sleeker. Perfect.
Her aura surged.
Power. Real power.
Lakeman’s life law didn’t just reverse her age.
It evolved her existence.
Her strength spiked upward through the Vice Admiral threshold, breaking into true Admiral-tier combat power.
She gasped, flexing her fingers as her body adapted to its newfound peak.
“Master… this… this is too much…”
Lakeman’s hand moved again, withdrawing a pale gray thread from her chest.
“I am removing your connection to death,” he whispered.
The thread dissolved in his hand.
Shakky’s pupils dilated.
Her breath caught.
She felt… hollow, yet anchored. Untouchable.
“I… can’t die now…”
“No,” Lakeman said. “Even if your limbs are torn. Even if your heart stops. Even if your body is shattered into pieces—you will remain alive.”
Her throat bobbed in awe.
“But if your body is turned to dust,” he continued, “you will remain conscious. Feeling. Trapped. Until I come for you.”
Her nipples hardened at the thought.
“That’s terrifying… and perfect.”
Finally, he pressed a third palm to her spine—glowing with a shimmering silver-gold hue.
“Now I grant you the Law of Time.”
Her body shivered violently.
Her bones tingled.
Her muscles reset.
“If you’re ever injured… and fail to recover fully within sixty seconds, your time will rewind—restoring you to your unbroken, peak state.”
The blessing sealed itself into her existence.
She gasped.
Moaned.
Collapsed to her knees.
“I’m immortal…”
“You are,” Lakeman confirmed. “Just like Stussy.”
He knelt beside her, cupping her face, his voice low and possessive.
“Your body is mine.
Your thoughts are mine.
Your future… now exists only through me.”
“You will never age.
You will never die.
You will heal from everything.
You will outlive empires, generations, the world itself.”
“And through it all…”
He leaned close, brushing his lips over her ear.
“You will remain… my loyal slut.”
Shakky’s eyes welled with tears of joy.
“I… I want nothing else…”
The emerald glow had barely faded from Shakky’s skin.
She knelt before Lakeman, breath shallow, her fingers trembling with the weight of her transformation.
Her youthful body radiated warmth—tight, toned, glowing with life and power. She could feel it in her bones: strength beyond anything she’d known, healing surging in her veins, and time itself watching her with obedience.
Her body had become divine flesh, sculpted by the will of a god.
She looked up at Lakeman, her voice quivering with reverence and need.
“Master… let me thank you properly. Let me prove this body exists to please you…”
Lakeman’s blood-red eyes narrowed with interest.
“You want to be tested?”
She nodded, licking her lips.
“I want to be broken again, over and over. For a day. For a week. For eternity, if that’s what it takes.”
He rose from the bed.
And without another word, grabbed her by the throat and lifted her up against the marble pillar.
He plunged into her tight, dripping cunt with savage force.
Pah. Pah. Pah.
“Aaaahhh”
She screamed. Loud. Desperate. Overjoyed.
Smack.
Squelch.
Thrust.
Each thrust shook her body, yet her legs never gave in.
Her new muscles clenched and flexed, enduring each brutal stroke while her mind drowned in ecstasy.
He flipped her effortlessly, slammed her face into the pillar, and rammed into her ass without pause.
“Yes! Master! Harder! I can take it all now!”
Her healing kept up with the pounding. Her holes tightened after each climax. Her body adapted—growing tighter, stronger, wetter every hour.
By the third day, the entire villa echoed with her cries.
He used her in the throne hall.
The bath.
The balcony.
The courtyard.
He face-fucked her on the dining table while Robin and Lily ate silently, watching her gag and drool with admiration.
Gluck. Gluck. Gluck.
Pop.
He made her crawl from room to room with his cum dripping from every hole.
She bore bruises, bite marks, handprints—but every wound healed within seconds. Her body shimmered with divine resilience.
Stussy whispered to Robin:
“She’s just like me now. The perfect fucktoy—immortal and insatiable.”
He summoned the entire harem.
Shakky was bound to a marble column in the main hall, her arms stretched above her head, her thighs parted.
One by one, Lakeman used her.
He fucked her standing.
Bent over.
Upside down.
Robin rode his face while he pounded Shakky from behind.
Lily stroked his balls while he came inside her womb for the hundredth time.
“Thank you! More! Fill me again!”
He whispered praises into her ear:
“You were strong. Now you’re useful.”
“You were proud. Now you’re perfect.”
“You belong to me. In every way.”
And she sobbed in bliss.
On the final day, Lakeman pulled her into her bar once again.
No restraints.
No support.
Just him and her.
He bent her backward, her spine arched like a bow as he hammered into her with violent rhythm.
Pah. Pah. Pah.
Squelch.
Slap.
“Oooohhhh”
“Mmh… ahhh”
Her moans became music. Her climax never stopped.
Her body shook violently as he filled her womb for the final time, his seed overflowing down her thighs, mixing with days’ worth of dripping lust.
She collapsed forward, kissing his feet, tears streaming from her glowing eyes.
“Thank you, Master… thank you for ruining me again…”
He knelt beside her, lifting her chin.
“You're not ruined,” he whispered.
“You’ve been perfected.”
And she smiled—joyful, wrecked, and reborn.
…..
The sun hung high above the Sabaody Archipelago, casting golden light across its groves and streets.
Below, the once-restless island had fallen silent under the weight of unseen dominion. Marines patrolled with purpose, CP agents walked with blank-eyed devotion, and no pirate dared breathe within its shadow.
From his villa—now a throne of pleasure and power—Saint Lakeman emerged.
No ceremony.
No farewell.
He wore a snow-white Celestial robe lined with gold trim, open at the chest to reveal the hard lines of his body. His long coat flowed like a king's cape behind him.
At his side walked his handpicked entourage:
Robin, composed, elegant in dark violet, her eyes downcast with concealed hunger.
Lily, barefoot and radiant, her maid uniform clinging to her hips and curves.
Scarlet, princess, dressed in royal red silks that exposed her lush cleavage and collarbone.
Viola, wrapped in a deep blue robe that shimmered with each step, her thighs visible beneath slits at her sides.
Jade, the voluptuous mermaid, now dressed in custom-made robes with golden embroidery over her scaled lower half.
Sofia, once a queen mother, now adorned in transparent lace that left nothing to the imagination.
Stella, the exotic dancer, wrapped in a flowing gold scarf that swayed with every motion.
They followed behind him in silence.
Not as nobles.
Not as soldiers.
But as belongings—marked, loyal, and cherished.
Awaiting them at the edge of Grove 0 stood the massive gold-trimmed lift, an exclusive mechanism reserved for the Celestial Dragons alone.
A marvel of engineering, it connected the surface of Sabaody to the summit of the Red Line—where the holy land Mariejois loomed like a god’s palace in the sky.
Its shimmering white doors opened without command.
Inside, the floor was polished pearl.
Cushioned lounges lined with velvet circled the chamber.
Gilded handles, golden chains, and transparent glass panels framed the horizon.
Lakeman stepped inside without pause.
He sat on the center divan, legs spread, arms relaxed.
His slaves and maids entered with quiet elegance
A soft chime echoed.
And then the lift began to rise.
The chamber lifted smoothly, pulled by mechanisms of power and tradition, climbing up the towering red cliff face like the slow breath of destiny.
Below, the Grand Line shrank from sight.
Above, Mariejois awaited.
The wind whispered past the transparent walls.
Robin gently adjusted Lakeman’s robe, exposing his thigh to rest her cheek upon it.
Lily massaged his calves, kissing the inside of his knee with worshipful calm.
Viola breathed softly, watching his expression.
Scarlet’s thighs glistened with arousal just from being in his presence.
Stella gently danced with her fingertips against her belly, recalling every thrust she’d received the night before.
Jade’s tail coiled beneath her, breasts rising and falling with anticipation.
Sofia leaned against the wall, her full, matronly body trembling in quiet heat.
They were all his now.
Each one.
Body and soul.
At the summit of the world, beyond the clouds, Mariejois stood like an eternal mirage.
The lift climbed ever closer.
And Saint Lakeman smiled.
“Let the gods see what a real god looks like.”
The lift came to a silent halt.
Polished doors opened onto sacred marble, and Lakeman stepped into the realm that sat atop the world: Mariejois.
The very air felt thinner, as if the heavens held their breath when he arrived.
Behind him followed his chosen few—Robin, Lily, Scarlet, Viola, Jade, Sofia, and Stella. None of them spoke.
Their eyes remained lowered.
Their bodies moved with grace, trained in silence and beauty. They knew their master was entering a different battlefield now—one of politics and legacy.
A short while later, a butler approached with a soft bow.
“The Five Elders have requested your presence, Saint Lakeman.”
Lakeman nodded once.
Then turned.
And walked—alone—to the secluded estate at the heart of Mariejois.
The Villa of Saint Nusjuro
It was not grand like other Celestial estates.
Instead, it was ancient.
Stones older than the World Government lined its walkways. Trees, gnarled with time, arched above like watching spirits.
In the central garden, five chairs were arranged in a half-circle—each occupied by one of the Five Elders.
They sat in the sunlight, letting it warm their aged skin.
At the center sat Saint Nusjuro—sword resting on his hip, snow-white beard immaculate, eyes half-closed in thought.
The others turned as Lakeman approached, his robe fluttering behind him, each step quiet and sure.
“Well,” one Elder said, folding his hands. “So this is the boy we’ve been watching.”
Another leaned forward, a smile tugging at his lips. “To reach Admiral-level strength at your age… unheard of.”
Saint Nusjuro opened one eye.
“You’ve exceeded our expectations, Lakeman.”
Lakeman inclined his head slightly. “Strength is only the beginning.”
Another Elder chuckled. “He speaks like a king already.”
The bald Elder on the far right sighed, shaking his head.
“If only the other Celestial Dragons were like you. Instead, we have soft-bellied, inbred pigs more interested in slaves and wine than legacy.”
But Saint Nusjuro smiled.
“No, Lakeman is different. He carries the bloodline of our ancestors. And more importantly…”
He gestured to the sword at his side.
“He cultivates strength the old way. Not through protection. Through conquest.”
“You have our approval,” Nusjuro said at last.
“Do what must be done. Cleanse our world of rot.”
“You’ll have the support you need,” another added.
“Is there anything you require, Lakeman?” he asked, voice low but heavy with authority.
Lakeman gave a small, composed nod.
“If I need something,” he said coolly, “I’ll take it.”
The Elders smiled in silent approval.
Then, without ceremony, he turned and left—his white robe billowing behind him as the garden faded from view.
The streets of Mariejois, pristine and echoing with noble quiet, parted before him.
Slaves lowered their gazes. Guards stiffened in place.
Even fellow Celestial Dragons stepped aside instinctively, unsure why their hearts raced at the mere sight of him.
When he reached the grand estate, the sun had lowered slightly, casting a long shadow from its towering marble columns.
He stepped through the gates.
And found his girls had already settled into his villa.
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