Lakeman didn't rest.
For the next week—and beyond—he continued his relentless experimentation using his fully awakened Steal-Steal powers.
Every day, more pirate prisoners were brought in—captured, restrained, then discarded after he had tested, warped, or destroyed every piece of their existence.
Their luck, time, identity, pain, death, spatial continuity—nothing was off-limits. He stole, modified, split, or inverted everything he could find.
Soon, most pirates in Sabaody were either dead or enslaved. The Archipelago had unknowingly become his silent kingdom of testing grounds and dominance.
It had been a full month since Saint Lakeman returned to the Sabaody Archipelago.
By now, the islands had changed in ways the world couldn't imagine.
The Marines here no longer acted without his permission.
Cipher Pol, once elite servants of the World Government, now served him—their minds subtly rewritten, their loyalty unquestionable.
And beneath his estate, in the cold stone-walled basement, thousands of pirate souls perished every week, used to test the ever-expanding, limitless depth of his awakened Steal-Steal Fruit.
Every concept—space, soul, luck, death, meaning, time, memory, emotion, will—was tested, altered, and warped.
But amidst the gruesome work, Lakeman did not neglect pleasure.
Whenever he wasn't pulling apart a prisoner's soul, his cock was inside one of his women.
Once a clone, a spy, and Vegapunk's creation, Stussy now crawled naked through Lakeman's chamber like a dog in heat.
She wore nothing but high heels and a collar engraved with his name. Her lipstick was always smudged, her legs always trembled, and her voice was always breathless.
She lived to serve his cock.
Every morning, she knelt between his legs, whispering softly, "Good morning, Master," before taking him into her mouth.
Slurp.
Slurp.
Gulp.
Her throat stretched, her mascara running as she deep-throated him, tears dripping onto her bare breasts as she choked herself on his length.
"Mmgh… Master… please… break me again…" she begged.
Lakeman would bend her over his desk, press her cheek against the wood, and drive himself into her dripping cunt with violent thrusts.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack.
"Ah—ah—ah! Y-Yes, Master! Don't stop!"
Her ass would ripple with every thrust, her moans ragged, begging to be filled, owned, punished.
He would pull her hair, whisper into her ear, "Say who you belong to."
"I belong to you, Master. You're everything."
And then he'd cum deep inside her, hold her still as she screamed through orgasm, her walls clenching like a vice around his cock.
Squelch.
Squish.
She'd collapse in a puddle of semen and bliss, whispering, "Please… use me again…"
During the day, Robin trained and studied. At night, she became something else.
She would return, sweat dripping from her toned body, muscles relaxed and glistening. And Lakeman would be waiting.
Sometimes, he would say nothing—just point to the table.
She would climb atop it, lift her skirt, bend over, and part her ass cheeks with her own hands.
"Please, Master… I've been good today…"
He would finger her until she was gasping, her pussy dripping.
Then he'd thrust in—hard.
Pah.
Pah.
Pah.
The sound of wet flesh echoed through the library.
Books fell from shelves as he fucked her against the table, her face pressed against open pages, moaning:
"History means nothing… when you're inside me…"
He would cum deep inside her, then keep going—forcing orgasm after orgasm from her body until she was left limp, drooling, twitching, eyes rolled back in bliss.
Lily, his silver-haired maid, was a living sculpture of submissive beauty.
She moved with grace, always attentive—always aroused.
While dressing him, her hands would linger. While feeding him, her lips would tremble.
And when the others weren't around?
She would climb onto his lap, lift her maid skirt, and lower herself onto his cock—slowly.
Squelch… shlk… squelch…
Her tight pussy swallowed him, inch by inch, until she bottomed out with a gasp.
"Ohh… Master… I missed this…"
She rode him with her arms wrapped around his neck, her soft breasts pressed against his chest, her moans rising with every bounce.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Her ass clapped against his thighs. Her pace grew erratic. Her eyes glazed with love.
"Cum in me… please… I want to carry your seed all day while I work…"
When he did, she collapsed against him, whispering, "Thank you…" like it was a sacred gift.
Scarlet, mother to the yet-unborn Rebecca, was once a princess.
Now she wore nothing but thigh-highs and a submissive blush.
She served him tea on her knees, her nipples hard beneath her maid's apron, her mouth always open to be used.
He loved having her suck him under the table—her royal pride crushed between his thighs.
Gulp.
Gag.
Slurp.
Her pink hair draped over his lap as she worked her mouth around his cock.
He would grab her by the neck, stand her up, and bend her over the dinner table—her breasts flattening against fine silverware—as he drove into her soaked pussy from behind.
Pah. Pah. Pah.
"Master—Master—Master!" she sobbed.
"Say what you are."
"I'm your whore-princess… please… cum inside your property…"
He did—then pushed her down to her knees again.
She licked the cum off the table like a trained pet.
Stella, once a renowned dancer, now performed for an audience of one.
She would sway naked under the chandelier—hips rolling, breasts bouncing, fingers teasing her clit—while Lakeman watched with a smirk.
She spun gracefully, then collapsed to her knees at his feet, panting, her thighs soaked.
"Do I please you, Master…?"
He wouldn't answer. Just unzip.
She'd take his cock between her breasts, moving with dancer's precision.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
His cock slid between her tits, slapping her face. She licked the tip each time it passed her lips.
Then he'd throw her down on the stage and fuck her raw—her legs spread wide, her moans echoing off stone.
Squelch.
Pah.
Squelch.
Jade, his voluptuous mermaid, lived in the private pool below the villa.
He'd often visit her at night.
She'd be lounging naked, half-submerged, her large, bouncing breasts glistening with water, her lips smiling softly.
He'd pull her up onto the stone edge, her wet pussy slick and ready.
Then he'd enter her from behind—his cock plunging into her as she cried out:
"Ahhh! Master! Please—yes—more!"
Splash.
Slap.
Splash.
Water sprayed around them as he drove into her over and over, her long legs curling around his waist.
Her pussy clamped down with every stroke, waves rippling from her body.
She screamed as she came, shaking violently.
Sofia, once queen mother, now lived for Lakeman's cock.
Her mature, curvaceous body was a canvas of love bites and branded shame.
She would kneel beside him, her breasts pressed against his thigh, whispering prayers of servitude between kisses to his skin.
When summoned, she would lie on her back, legs spread wide, and say:
"Please, Master… remind me I'm not royalty anymore…"
He would do just that—fucking her hard, deep, without mercy.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Her breasts bounced. Her ass slapped against the marble floor. Her moans were deep, throaty, desperate.
She cried out in joy as he emptied himself inside her again.
Viola, still untouched, watched it all.
She watched Scarlet gag on cock.
She watched Sofia beg.
She watched Stella dance naked.
Her hand often slipped beneath her dress as she watched. Her lips parted. Her thighs trembled.
She wasn't taken yet.
But she was already broken.
The morning sun spilled gently across the silk sheets of Lakeman's grand bedchamber. Light danced over scattered garments, the scent of sweat and sex still clinging to the room from the night before.
Saint Lakeman remained half-asleep, sprawled on the vast bed, his muscular form barely covered by a silk sheet.
Nestled between his thighs, her blonde hair cascading over his hips, was Stussy.
She was already awake.
Already worshipping.
Slurp.
Gulp.
Slurp.
Her lips glided up and down his thick shaft, her eyes fluttering shut each time her throat welcomed his full length. Her hands rested on his thighs for balance as her mouth worked slowly, methodically, lovingly.
His cock twitched inside her throat as he stirred awake.
Without opening his eyes, Lakeman let out a satisfied exhale and let his hand drift down to her head, his fingers curling into her hair.
"You're getting better," he murmured, voice still heavy from sleep.
Slurp.
Pop.
She slowly pulled back, letting his cock slip from her wet lips with a soft, audible sound. A line of saliva clung between her tongue and his tip.
"Only for you, Master," she whispered, her voice low and submissive. "You deserve to be worshipped first thing every day."
She kissed the side of his shaft reverently, before sitting back on her heels, licking her lips.
"I have a report, if you'll allow me to give it, Master."
Lakeman sat up slowly, resting against the cushioned headboard, his cock still half-hard from her service.
"Speak," he commanded.
Stussy adjusted her posture, legs folded neatly beneath her, back straight, eyes lowered like a proper slave reporting to her god.
"Overnight, all final adjustments have been completed. As of this morning—"
She looked up with pride glowing in her eyes.
"—Every Marine and Cipher Pol agent in Sabaody is now fully loyal to you, Master."
Lakeman's expression didn't change, but the gleam in his blood-red eyes sharpened.
She continued.
"Every Marine commander, every field agent, every low-level staff has had their mind... corrected. Subtly. Completely. Not one of them would question your orders. Not one of them could even think of disobeying you."
She licked her lips again and added, "Even if you asked them to die for you... they'd thank you for the honor."
Lakeman gave a small, approving nod.
"And the agents outside Sabaody?"
"Already in place, Master," she said, her voice trembling with restrained excitement. "Using Sabaody as the transfer hub, CPA agents from other regions are rotated in and out under pretense of operational reassignments."
"Every one of them is rewired during their stay. Conditioned to serve you alone."
She paused, then added softly, like a cherished confession:
"And… I've officially issued protocol authorization. As a high-ranking CP0 agent, I now speak as your voice. All Cipher Pol divisions… serve your will by default."
'So it's done,' Lakeman thought.
'Not just Sabaody. Not just the Marines here. But the entire Cipher Pol structure is being converted, quietly, relentlessly, through my loyal toy.'
He reached for her, grabbed her by the jaw, and pulled her back down to his cock.
"Good girl," he said.
"Now keep worshipping me… while I plan our next move."
Stussy continued to suck him obediently.
Her mouth worshipped every inch of his cock, slurping with devotion as his cum poured down her throat.
Slurp.
Gulp.
Gulp.
Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked harder, swallowing everything he gave her, refusing to waste a single drop.
When he finally released his last thick spurt into her, she moaned around him.
Gluck. Gluck.
Pop.
She slowly pulled back, licking his tip clean, then sat on her heels again, cum dripping from the corners of her lips as she looked up with hungry, submissive eyes.
She waited, silent and still, hands folded between her thighs, awaiting his next order.
Lakeman leaned back lazily, basking in the satisfaction of being served so perfectly.
"A loyal throat. A sharpened mind. A tool more precious than any sword."
Outside the villa, the world had started to whisper.
News of Saint Lakeman's seizure of nearly every pirate in Sabaody had reached Marineford and even Mariejois.
But the reactions were far from alarmed.
In Marineford, Fleet Admiral Sengoku sat quietly in his office, the report clenched in one hand.
"Thousands of pirates… captured in a month?" he muttered. "Even a public Marine sweep?"
He frowned.
But he said nothing.
He didn't call.
Didn't question.
'That brat… Saint Lakeman… What the hell is he doing?'
'But they were just worthless pirates. Not worth starting anything over.'
And so, Sengoku shelved the matter—his curiosity outweighed by caution.
In Mariejois, the Five Elders were equally unbothered.
Until something else caught their attention.
"What is with this frequent rotation of Cipher Pol agents in Sabaody?" one elder asked.
"A new directive? Unreported shifts? Who authorized this?"
When Lakeman was contacted directly through the golden transponder snail, he answered with the casual air of someone completely untouchable.
"I'm rooting out spies, of course," he said coolly, lounging back in his chair, the Den Den Mushi echoing his voice across the room.
"The Cipher Pol network is compromised. Some answer to revolutionaries, others to rogue nobles, and a few… well, even you wouldn't believe it."
There was silence on the other end.
Lakeman smiled, then added smoothly:
"I'll have Stussy send you a full list of traitors from the rotations we've converted. That should satisfy your concerns."
He didn't wait for permission.
He hung up the call.
Lakeman turned to Stussy, who still sat nude on the carpet, her mouth shining, her expression serene.
"Stussy."
"Yes, Master."
"Pick a few of the 'spies' we've already reprogrammed. Send them to the Five Elders."
"Yes, Master. Should I allow them to retain false memories to make it convincing?"
He grinned.
"Exactly. Let them think they escaped my grip. Let the Elders think they're safe… while I quietly finish converting the rest of Cipher Pol."
She bowed low, breasts touching the ground.
"As you command."
He tilted his head and looked at her, a satisfied smirk forming on his lips.
"It seems… giving you the authority to modify consciousness was still the right decision."
Stussy's heart fluttered.
Sengoku sat behind his desk again, hand still resting on the now-outdated report.
He stared at the golden Den Den Mushi on his shelf.
He could call Lakeman.
He could ask.
But he didn't dare.
Because deep down, he already knew:
This wasn't about pirates.
It wasn't about Cipher Pol.
It wasn't even about Sabaody.
It was about something far more dangerous.
And Sengoku didn't dare pick up the snail.
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