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Chapter - 158 Fucking the Daughters of God Before Facing God. (R-18)
🕑 Added 2025-06-21 22:05:45 +0000 UTCHis eyes remained cool. Focused. Dominant.
He shifted position, pinning Stussy down next and entering her soaked cunt in one brutal thrust.
PAH!
“Aaahhh—yes! Yes! More!” she wailed, wrapping her legs around him.
Two hours passed like a blur—filled with cries, orgasms, and unrelenting thrusts.
Their bodies trembled. Their minds blanked.
Only Lakeman remained fully calm.
And then, as if something shifted in his core, he pulled out, towering over their panting forms.
“Enough,” he said flatly.
Stussy and Shakky immediately sat up, sweat glistening on their skin, eyes locking on him.
He stood and looked down at them, voice low, deadly serious.
“Starting tonight—begin shifting all Cipher Pol agents loyal to me out of Mariejois. Quietly.”
Stussy wiped the cum from her lips, blinking. “All of them, Master?”
“Every last one,” Lakeman replied. “Same goes for the entire sea. The whole Cipher Pol organization under my control should now go underground. Fully covert.”
Robin paused, her fingers still resting on her dripping folds, her eyes sharpening.
Lakeman continued, his voice slow and commanding:
“I want our people beside every major and minor incident in the world. They’ll control intelligence, intercept threats, feed lies, spark revolts, and extinguish rebellion—before it begins.”
Shakky nodded solemnly, her post-orgasm haze vanishing as she knelt properly. “And the long-term expansion?”
“Keep growing,” he ordered. “Bring in newcomers. Disguise them. Train them. I don’t care how long it takes. By the time the world reacts, we’ll already have our fingers in every system—every capital—every throne.”
His eyes burned crimson as he leaned in, face darkening.
“Now transfer all of our wealth—every Beli, every artifact, every Devil Fruit we hold in Mariejois or Sabaody. They’re in public view. Shift everything to hidden locations.”
Stussy’s breath caught slightly. “Where, Master?”
Lakeman turned away from them, striding toward a wide glass window overlooking the distant horizon.
“There’s a place above the clouds,” he said, voice quieter now. “Skypiea. Birka. Cloud End. Islands the world has forgotten. Cities of silence. High above the world’s wars.”
He turned to face them again.
“Begin transforming them into our new hidden strongholds. Secure logistics. Transfer armory. Make them inaccessible. No records. No trace. They will become the true center of this world’s power.”
Lily bowed her head. “Yes, Master… we’ll begin immediately.”
Shakky and Stussy exchanged a glance, both understanding the gravity of what he was about to say.
Lakeman’s voice dropped into finality.
“Once all royal families leave Mariejois tomorrow… once they return to their kingdoms, completely under my control…”
His gaze sharpened like a blade.
“I will confront the King of the Celestial Dragons.”
Robin froze.
Stussy’s breath hitched.
“Y-You mean…?”
Lakeman nodded slowly. “The one who sat on the Void Throne. The one who has lived for nearly eight hundred years. The one called Imu.”
Silence gripped the chamber.
He stepped back toward his bed of exhausted women, gazing over their marked bodies—each of them branded with his pleasure, his will, his future.
“I’ve let him watch long enough. Tomorrow… I take the throne.”
The moon hung high over Mariejois, casting a silver glow across the holy city.
While the Reverie had ended just hours ago, the world believed its noble kings and queens were returning home to their nations with new hope and policies. But beneath that tranquil illusion, a silent storm was already sweeping across the world.
In the deepest layers of Mariejois, Cipher Pol—the World Government's shadow—was disappearing.
From CP0 to CP9, every last agent loyal to Saint Lakeman had gone dark.
Within hidden courtyards and inner sanctums, silhouettes moved like ghosts—no footsteps, no breath, no sound.
One by one, agents vanished from barracks, briefing halls, and underground networks, their presence erased.
The entire Cipher Pol organization, once the eyes and ears of the World Government, now shifted completely under Saint Lakeman's dominion.
The reason they moved in perfect silence, without friction or error, was because of two women who stood at the center of it all:
Stussy and Shakky.
Now elevated to immortal existences through Lakeman's blessing, their minds stretched far beyond the human. Through their shared telepathic web—linked to every single agent across the world—they commanded with flawless precision.
In a chamber deep beneath the holy land, Stussy stood atop a marble platform, eyes glowing silver as she closed her lids. Beside her, Shakky held a crystal orb filled with echoing reports from agents in all seas.
"CP0 is fully withdrawn from Mariejois," Stussy murmured, her voice reaching dozens of agents across the Red Line.
Shakky nodded. "CP1 through CP9 have begun erasing their trails. They're scattering to new positions... quietly embedding themselves in merchant guilds, aristocracies, temples, and even pirate crews."
Every country under the World Government's eye now unknowingly hosted a seed of Lakeman's future rule.
"All personnel rerouted," Stussy whispered again. "Intelligence streams encrypted. Memory wipes complete on compromised sectors."
At the same time, massive underground vaults beneath Mariejois opened.
Inside lay treasures from centuries of conquest—mountains of gold, ancient weapons, Devil Fruits, lost manuscripts, and tools of forbidden science.
And within hours, all of it vanished.
Stussy and Shakky personally led the transfer, unleashing their evolved powers.
The air around them shimmered as they bent gravity and density itself. Their hands glowed with radiant sigils as they summoned invisible force fields to lift entire vault floors into the sky.
The sky above Mariejois briefly darkened as unseen masses soared upward—completely cloaked in silence, light, and memory-erasure.
Sky Islands—Skypiea, Birka, and several other forgotten paradises in the clouds—now became strongholds for Lakeman’s empire.
Massive structures materialized above the clouds. Ancient bases were reconstructed, cloaked, and embedded with Law-infused barriers. Entire operational cities were reborn high in the heavens.
Smaller Cipher Pol outposts across the seas were abandoned. But not left behind.
Each one was drained, scrubbed clean, and then destroyed.
Flames erupted across remote islands and ocean vaults. Explosions rocked uninhabited coastlines. Storage hubs collapsed into the sea—every trace of Lakeman's prior base of power obliterated.
And yet... one watched.
Imu, the shadowed king who sat upon the Void Throne, sensed the disturbance.
No one knew how. No one could stop it.
Despite layers of invisibility, silence, and suppression techniques placed over the evacuations, Imu’s gaze pierced through all of it.
But he did not intervene.
Not a word. Not a move.
Perhaps, Lakeman thought, he knew.
Perhaps… the confrontation had always been inevitable.
Night blanketed the Holy Land of Mariejois with a rare stillness.
The Reverie had ended. The last diplomatic courtesies were exchanged. Kings and queens retreated to their vessels.
Yet within the heart of the grandest palace—behind layers of enchantments and silence—a different summit continued.
It was a symphony of moans, wet slaps, and cries of surrender.
Lakeman stood tall, his godlike frame glistening in sweat, his cock hanging thick, veiny, and pulsing with untamed heat.
Around him sprawled the true daughters of heaven—Celestial Dragon noblewomen, the elite among elites, direct descendants of the so-called gods who created the world.
Each had been raised from birth to believe themselves sacred. Divine. Infallible.
They once walked through palaces in glass bubbles so they wouldn’t breathe the same air as "lesser beings."
Now, that same air was heavy with their moans.
That same air reeked of sweat, cum, and collapsed pride.
Twelve women. The most beautiful from every royal bloodline.
Some were direct descendants of the Five Elders. Others hailed from ancient, dominant Celestial Dragon clans—the Belmonts, Vissaros, Figarlands, Donnellas, and more.
Once unapproachable. Now on all fours.
They surrounded him like priestesses at a forbidden altar, their noble faces flushed, eyes wide and teary, lips parted in anticipation.
“Please…” whimpered the silver-haired daughter of Saint Marcus Figarland, her breasts heaving as she crawled forward. “I want to choke on your cock again…”
“I need it inside,” moaned another—an emerald-eyed heiress from the Saturn lineage, cupping her leaking slit. “Please… ruin me like before…”
Lakeman’s eyes swept over them with amusement.
They begged like whores, but each had once ordered the deaths of nations with a nod.
Each had once held the right to enslave anyone she desired.
Now, they wept for the privilege to be enslaved by him.
He stepped forward and gripped the Figarland girl’s hair.
Without a word, he shoved his cock into her throat.
GLRK! Glrk! Glrp!
Her moans were swallowed, replaced by wet gagging and slurping as she forced herself to take his length to the base. Her mascara ran, and thick strings of drool poured down her chin.
“Ghhhk… mmmn…!”
Lakeman moved his hips rhythmically, his cock pistoning in and out of her desperate mouth.
Slrp. Glrk.
Pah. Glrk.
Another noblewoman crawled beneath her, pressing her soft breasts to Lakeman’s balls, licking them in long strokes.
“Mmmhh… your taste… I could drown in it, Master…”
Three others rubbed their pussies together on the marble, their soaked folds slapping with squelching sounds.
Schlk. Slsh. Pah.
“Ahhhn… we want him next… I want to feel his seed burst inside me…”
Lakeman yanked his cock out of the Figarland heir’s mouth with a loud pop. She gasped for air, eyes unfocused, cum dripping from her nose and lips.
Then he grabbed the Saturn woman and bent her over a chair. Her wide ass rose high, her hands clenching the cushions.
“Please, Master… I’m ready…”
PAH!
She screamed the moment he rammed his cock in.
“AaaaHHH! Y-Yes! Stretch me—break me!”
Pah! Pah!
Squish! Pah!
Her wet folds clung to his cock like velvet. Her inner walls twitched with each thrust.
Lakeman leaned forward and bit her shoulder.
She screamed again—louder.
The others began fingering themselves furiously, moaning as they watched the goddess of Saturn’s bloodline being pounded raw.
The blonde heiress of the Donnella family—her breasts huge and nipples swollen—straddled Lakeman’s face, her thighs quivering.
“Please taste me again… I haven’t stopped leaking since last time…”
His tongue slid into her folds, and she cried out.
Slrp! Lick. Glrk.
“Ahhhhn! Master! Your tongue—your tongue is divine!”
The Figarland daughter returned, crawling between his legs. She kissed his shaft with reverence, then began licking the other woman’s nectar from it.
Two more noble girls clung to his arms, kissing his chest and neck, whispering broken prayers.
“Please don’t stop…”
“I never want to breathe again unless it’s under you…”
Lakeman didn’t stop. For hours, he rotated between holes—mouth, cunt, and ass. He made them kneel. He made them bend. He stacked them, one bouncing on his cock while another sat on his face.
Pah. Slrp. Glrk. Squish.
Moans never ceased. There was no silence. Only a divine storm of lust.
By the fifth hour, several noblewomen had passed out—legs twitching, cunts gaping and dripping. Others were still awake, riding his thighs, slapping their own clits, begging to be filled.
The throne chamber looked like a battlefield of debauched angels—goddesses torn from the heavens and dragged into heat.
Lakeman stood, his cock still hard.
He pulled the final girl—an auburn-haired heir of the Belmont clan—by the waist and lifted her easily. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing into his ear.
“Make me yours, Master… ruin me like the others… I want your child in me… I want to bear your legacy…”
He thrust in and she screamed.
PAH!
PAH! PAH!
“I’m cumming—ahhh! I’m cummming again!!”
He released inside her with a low growl, thick spurts filling her womb.
Spurt. Spurt. Spurt.
She twitched, collapsed, and smiled through her tears.
Hours later…
Saint Lakeman sat on his throne of exhausted women—his cock still half-erect, his eyes fixed on the stars above through the stained glass ceiling.
All of them… were his.
The most sacred.
The most untouchable.
The most powerful women of the old world.
Now moaning messes.
Broken gods.
His toys.
And still… his thoughts drifted.
'Imu… You felt the Cipher Pol exodus. You watched the relocation of my agents, my wealth, my bases… You let them go.'
He leaned forward.
'You know what’s coming.'
His eyes burned red.
‘Tomorrow… I will find you.’
‘And I’ll learn whether you’re a true god…’
‘…or just another fallen king, waiting to kneel.’
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