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Chapter - 155 Royal Sluts Filled, Mermaid Queens Broken — The Fifth Night of Lakeman’s Orgy. ( R-18)
🕑 Added 2025-06-15 20:39:10 +0000 UTCBy the time Saint Lakeman’s long morning of debauchery finally came to a halt, the sun had already risen high into the sky.
It was noon.
All around the vast bedroom, dozens of bodies lay fainted and spent—naked queens, princesses, noblewomen, pirate captains, and maids.
Their skin glistened with sweat, their holes stretched and leaking, their faces flushed with the afterglow of being thoroughly used by the man who now lounged at the edge of the bed.
Lakeman stood, stretching casually, his tall and muscular frame glowing under the soft sunlight filtering in through sheer curtains.
As he stepped into the luxurious marble bath, four elegant shadows followed him.
Stussy, Shakky, Robin, and Lily—still flushed from earlier, but eager to serve again—entered behind him.
Without a word, they moved into position, their hands sliding lovingly across his body.
They washed him carefully, taking turns scrubbing his back, chest, arms, and thighs, their fingers trailing with affection and reverence.
Robin gently massaged his scalp with fragrant oils.
Stussy and Shakky knelt to clean his legs.
Lily handled his groin with delicate care, whispering softly, “Your strength never fails to amaze me, Master.”
He gave her a satisfied hum, letting the warm water soak away the sweat and scent of conquest—though his scent still clung proudly to the women surrounding him.
After the long bath, the five of them sat together for a private luncheon, surrounded by carefully prepared delicacies and served by a silent line of maids.
Conversation was light.
Stussy occasionally updated him with details of the previous night’s progress. Shakky sat beside him, gently feeding him sliced fruit. Robin discussed the next stage of her training. Lily remained mostly quiet, watching Lakeman with tender eyes.
Once the meal was finished, Robin and Lily excused themselves to resume their training, their steps light and graceful as they departed the hall.
Stussy and Shakky stood as well, brushing down their tight skirts, preparing to return to their work.
But Lakeman’s eyes flicked toward them with a smirk.
"Who said you could leave yet?"
Their breath caught.
Without hesitation, he stood, grabbed both women by the waists, and dragged them back into the bedroom—where the sheets were still stained, and the scent of submission lingered in the air.
“Master... again?” Stussy moaned, her body already responding.
“Yes,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “You belong to me.”
And so began another round of nonstop debauchery.
Meanwhile, in Pangaea Castle…
The second day of the Reverie had already begun—and was now well into its second hour.
Compared to the chaos of the first day, today’s meeting was notably calmer. The kings were more cautious, more restrained. The sharpness of debate had dulled.
The cause was clear: Queen Otohime’s abduction the day before.
Though it had not been officially acknowledged, the fear in their hearts was real.
Many of them had witnessed it—or heard whispers. That a Celestial Dragon had taken the Queen of Fishman Island, just like that. And that no one had dared intervene.
King Neptune, her husband, had done everything he could. He had pleaded with the Five Elders, his voice trembling with emotion, demanding justice… or at least investigation.
But the room had fallen silent.
None who had been present during the incident stepped forward to testify.
The Five Elders, cold and indifferent, had instead seized the moment to propose multiple policies targeting Fishman Island.
Restrictions. Sanctions. Trade limitations.
Every one of them passed by a majority vote.
Neptune could only stare in despair, his heart sinking further with every raised hand.
By the time the Reverie ended hours later, the chamber emptied swiftly.
All kings and queens returned to their private quarters.
Except for Neptune.
He remained standing.
His shoulders were heavy, fists trembling at his sides.
One of the Five Elders finally spoke, voice sharp and cutting:
“Leave, Neptune. Don’t ruin the mood of these meetings again with your baseless accusations. We’ve already investigated—our records show you arrived in Mariejois without your wife. How could she be ‘lost’ here if she was never present?”
Another added, sneering slightly, “If you’re not in the mood to participate in the Reverie, then return to your island. You’ve wasted enough time.”
The dismissal was absolute.
Neptune clenched his teeth hard, rage boiling beneath his skin. He wanted to roar—wanted to strike someone.
But… he didn’t.
His fists loosened slowly, and he turned away, his eyes shadowed with helplessness.
‘I have no allies here…’
Then, quietly… a thought.
‘Maybe… Whitebeard… or Rayleigh. They’ve both helped Fishmen before.’
A flicker of hope lit in his heart.
As he left the great hall, only two guards remained by his side—the rest had died defending his queen.
But his steps grew faster now.
His mission was clear.
‘I’ll return to Fishman Island. I’ll find help. And I will bring her home.’
—------------
Saint Lakeman’s chamber was filled once again with wet slapping sounds and moans muffled against pillows.
Stussy lay sprawled across his lap, her tongue hanging out, her cum-filled cunt twitching with overstimulation as his cock pounded into her ass.
Beside them, Shakky rode his thigh desperately, grinding her clit against his skin, her moans growing louder and messier.
Both of them had already been filled multiple times, their holes dripping thick with his seed, but they showed no signs of stopping—not when it meant more time being used by their master.
Pah. Pah. Pah.
“Master... you’re still... so hard,” Shakky moaned breathlessly, her voice laced with reverence and exhaustion.
Lakeman gave no response—his mind was split in focus.
As he ravaged the two women, his telepathic network pulsed silently, feeding him a steady stream of information from CP agents, relayed through Stussy and Shakky’s mental relay systems.
Their thoughts merged seamlessly into his, transmitting scenes and emotions with clarity.
“The second day of the Reverie concluded. All kings returned to their quarters. No additional policies were passed.”
“King Neptune’s condition is deteriorating. He publicly pleaded before the Five Elders for Queen Otohime’s return. None supported him. The Five Elders ridiculed and dismissed him. They passed three more policies targeting Fishman Island.”
“Neptune is leaving. His guards report that he plans to return to the sea by evening.”
Lakeman grunted softly, emptying himself one final time deep into Stussy’s swollen ass.
“Perfect,” he murmured aloud, rolling his hips slowly as Stussy collapsed, twitching.
“Let him run to Whitebeard or Rayleigh. They’re too weak for the world government. His desperation will only strengthen Otohime’s loyalty to me when the time comes.”
He shifted to Shakky, gripping her by the hips and shoving her down onto his shaft with a growl.
“Now… give me the last report.”
Through the link, Shakky’s voice echoed in his mind even as she moaned physically:
“Queen Otohime remains untouched. As you ordered, no one has laid a hand on her body. She was moved from the glass tank to an isolated recovery chamber.”
Meanwhile, deep within the hidden levels of Mariejois…
Queen Otohime stirred.
She lay on a silk-covered platform inside a private, luxuriously furnished glass cell. Though her wounds were minor, her spirit was torn.
She slowly opened her eyes.
Golden strands of her hair fell across her pale face. Her lips trembled.
Her gaze darted around—walls of smooth white stone, a mirrored ceiling, a pool beside her bed… yet no windows, no doors she could see.
Only silence.
And then—
She remembered it all.
The mermaids.
The piranhas.
The screams.
The blood.
Otohime let out a strangled sob, curling in on herself.
"I… couldn’t save them..."
Her body trembled with shame and fear, her heart heavy with guilt and despair.
But even now, her Haki flared weakly—trying to reach out, to feel emotions.
She sensed nothing around her.
Except one faint trace… hidden, observing.
Just outside the chamber, behind a concealed observation panel, a female CP0 agent watched in silence. Her white mask reflected the image of the broken queen.
She said nothing. She only observed.
Stussy’s instructions were clear: do not interfere, do not comfort, and above all—ensure the queen remains untouched until Master Lakeman gives the command.
The agent reached out mentally, relaying her observation into the link:
“Otohime is emotionally shattered. She no longer resists. She blames herself. Her guilt has overpowered her hope. She is close... very close to full surrender.”
Back in Lakeman’s chamber.
He listened, thrusting slowly into Shakky’s twitching body, his expression cool and focused.
Finally, he came again—his seed gushing deep inside her womb, forcing her to collapse limply beside Stussy.
He pulled out, watching the mixture of fluids leak from both women.
Then he stood, rolling his neck.
“Good. She’ll be ready within two days.”
He let out a slow exhale.
The room was filled with the scent of submission.
Dozens of women—spent and used—lay silent, scattered across the massive bed and floor. His seed leaked from every one of them.
Lakeman finally reclined against the plush cushions.
“I’ll rest for now.”
Stussy and Shakky—still gasping—slowly sat up.
Their bodies trembled, but their minds were clear.
It was time to return to work.
They dressed swiftly, fixing their appearance with the elegance of experienced agents.
“Master, we’ll prepare for the next round,” Stussy whispered, kissing his cheek.
Shakky followed, bowing lightly. “Tonight, we’ll convert another wave of rulers.”
Lakeman nodded without opening his eyes.
“Be thorough.”
And with that, the two beauties vanished silently from the chamber, returning to the shadows of Mariejois—ready to enslave more kings, queens, and princes in their master’s name.
—---
The halls of Mariejois grew quieter as the night deepened, moonlight filtering through crystal domes and gilded arches.
Stussy and Shakky moved like whispers through the lavish quarters prepared for the world’s rulers. Their steps were silent, their presence undetected by the Five Elders, the Knights of God, or the castle’s layered surveillance systems.
With each door they entered, the same ritual unfolded.
A prince dreaming of independence was gently awakened and guided into loyalty.
A proud queen who once scoffed at Celestial Dragons now wept, smiling in devotion to Lakeman.
A young princess, frightened and uncertain, was gently embraced and given purpose in her “true master’s” name.
Some fell quickly. Others required whispers, illusions, or deep persuasion—Stussy’s seductive charm laced with psionic influence, or Shakky’s firm logic cloaked in soothing rhythm.
One by one, the minds of royal bloodlines were reshaped.
By dawn, seven more royal families had been converted, bringing the total to over thirty.
And yet—no alarms. No questions. The illusion of diplomacy in the Reverie remained perfectly intact.
This continued for the following days.
—--------------------------
Elsewhere, in a secluded wing of a Celestial Dragon estate, Queen Otohime lay curled on a padded floor, her golden hair disheveled, her eyes red from sleeplessness.
She had seen too much.
The cages, the auctions, the crying mer-children, and the laughing nobles who watched them as entertainment.
Her world—built on ideals of peace, dialogue, and equality—had crumbled into a pit of blood and silence.
She no longer spoke.
Even her Haki, once a gift that allowed her to understand the hearts of others, brought her only pain—forcing her to feel the agony of her people from every corner of Mariejois.
Then the door opened.
Stussy stepped in, her silver hair flowing like moonlight, her expression unreadable.
Otohime looked up weakly.
“You’re free to leave this place,” Stussy said softly.
“I… I have nowhere left to go,” Otohime whispered.
“You still have someone who can change all of this,” Stussy said, kneeling beside her. “The only one who saw this world for what it is long ago. The only one strong enough to fix it.”
Otohime stared at her, lips trembling.
—----------
By now, the fifth day of the Reverie had passed its halfway mark.
The castle above buzzed with kings discussing policy.
But beneath that surface, a darker truth pulsed—most of them already belonged to Saint Lakeman.
Each night, Shakky and Stussy moved through the royal residences like ghosts—rewiring minds, reshaping destinies.
Rulers, heirs, consorts—all bent to Lakeman's unseen will. And yet not a single Elder, Knight, or noble suspected a thing.
It was the perfect illusion of peace. And it was his.
In Lakeman’s private quarters, a different rhythm reigned.
Wet slaps and muffled gags echoed gently through the golden room. Heavy curtains muted the outside light, the air within thick with musk and warmth.
Lakeman sat relaxed on a plush velvet sofa, legs spread, his powerful form exuding lazy dominance. At his feet knelt a picture of devotion: Viola, Scarlet’s younger sister.
Viola’s delicate hands gripped his thighs tightly. Her cheeks were flushed, her violet eyes glassy with tears of pleasure and effort.
She obediently took his entire length down her throat, her pretty lips stretching around his thick cock with practiced precision.
Gawk.
Slurp.
Gawk.
Her throat spasmed rhythmically, trained over months to endure this very service.
Two years of enhancement treatments—guided by Lakeman’s butler and maid through special medicines and exercise—had transformed her into a radiant young woman, voluptuous and tight, yet mature and bursting with youthful energy.
She had long since been broken—taken, trained, and paired with Scarlet as Lakeman’s favorite sister-play.
Now, her sole purpose was to serve—to pleasure him at will.
Lakeman rested his elbow on the sofa arm, fingers curled into Viola’s hair as he gently pushed her deeper, his expression lost in half-lidded pleasure and drifting thought.
That was when the doors opened.
The moment Viola heard them, her body tensed with instinct—but she didn't stop her motions. Her throat kept milking him obediently.
Stussy entered first, her heels clicking softly on marble. Dressed in her tight CP0 attire, her silver hair flowed down her back in waves, eyes glowing faintly with pride.
Behind her, walking slowly with bowed head and trembling steps—Queen Otohime.
Her long golden hair, though brushed and clean, still clung to her pale shoulders like wet silk. Her eyes were rimmed red.
Her dress was modest, but it couldn’t hide the way her spirit had been crushed, hollowed, and remolded.
Yet something new now flickered inside her gaze—hope, fragile and desperate.
Lakeman tilted his head slightly.
Stussy approached with a graceful bow. "Master," she said smoothly, her voice as soft as silk. "She’s ready."
Lakeman’s crimson eyes settled on the mermaid queen.
"Come closer."
Otohime swallowed hard and obeyed. She walked past Stussy, ignoring the lingering smell of sex and the sounds of Viola’s throat working below. Her knees buckled slightly as she dropped down in front of him.
And then… she bowed her head to the floor.
_____________________________________________________
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