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Chapter 5 - Fish-Men, Mermaids, and One Very Horny Energy Shield

I gave Lucci my number—a number that didn't actually exist at the moment, but semantics, okay? It would exist the second I could acquire a Den Den Mushi that hadn't look like it survived through three house fires and blunt trauma lobotomy. Lucci didn't care. He was already sold on the idea before I'd even finished pitching it to him. The pitch? A dual little extermination excursion on the Celestial Dragons—those snobbish, bubble-wrapped inbreds with god complexes and less personality than a sea slug. I promised him it'd be simpler than booting a crippled raccoon down a flight of stairs. And Lucci? He was the kind of guy who could sell a shark tank to a mermaid. Effective. Ruthless. Maybe sociopathic. My people.

During the next few days, I saw none of his CP0 henchmen hanging around Sabaody. Only him. Always him. This indicated a few things: first, Lucci did not want any other people getting their hands bloody on this slaughter; and second, this was not a mission—it was personal. His vendetta against Luffy had burrowed under his epidermis like a tick, and I was not going to get in his way and ruin his revenge hard-on.

Meanwhile, I kept busy. I did trip after trip to a tailor who could actually work with my ridiculous specs—flexibility for a 25-foot transformation-enabled monster version and a human-sized one that didn't read "I pilfered this from a circus tent." It was exasperating, certainly, but One Piece was a universe where you could build a battleship in a day with a hammer, a dream, and a whole lot of screaming. So exasperating as tailoring was, though, it was still preferable to the logistics nightmare of my home reality.

I finally emerged with a bespoke light blue denim jacket, pants, and laceless black boots—because who the hell's going to need laces when you're this goddamn great? It was tidy, stylish, and tough enough that I could become full kaiju without ripping into confetti. I tested the lineup—arms, legs, spine twists, full crouch-to-launch movements—and it was a hit. No ripping. No pinching. Stylish and transformation-ready. Bravos for that little tailor's crack-out brilliance.

The shipwrights were putting on the finishing touches when I returned to my boat. She glimmered like a half-drawn sword from its scabbard—unyielding, lean, famished. I had not yet named her, but she was the type on which you'd write an epic about. Or at least get a very, very expensive tattoo.

"It's done, Cassian!" Perona's voice came ringing down from above on her home deck, her alien aura coiling about her like dark perfume. She was a painting that no one had ever had the courage to show at parties. Creepy-cute and all mine. Not metaphorically—I knew her as legal property. Short story. Really good short story.

She floated beside me, her eyes aglow. "It's ready to set sail."

I groaned, adjusting the jacket. "I guess you'd better be ready, Perona. Once we get going, there's no going back. No do-overs. No midlife crisis return to Mihawk's castle."

"I'm as prepared as possible," she said with a smile capable of reanimating the dead—once more. "Boat's filled with supplies. Rations, drugs, useless baubles... and I've even included toys just in case we get cabin fever."

I climbed aboard, the boat swaying beneath my weight as if alive. The wood was slick and oily to the touch. The craftsmanship was tighter than a Marine's buttocks. I trudged on top and looked out over the wide expanse of water. It was unbroken and filled with promise for massacre. But something gnawed at me deep within my gut—not fear or remorse. just cold, hard math.

This was not going to be such an easy two-person cruise. No, I needed more than just a single creepy necro girl with an attitude problem. I was naive. I thought I could just cruise on through and conquer this New World with nothing but swagger, style, and the walking embodiment of emo ghost porn.

I was going to require a crew.

A real article, just enough to man this vessel at the very least. They will leave the fighting to me.

So in fact, we were headed for Fish-Man Island. Not its views. Not its heritage. Not even its coral, twisted into a fever dream shape by a sea god on acid. No—I was heading there because I had a gut feeling that below was a talent pool in the making. Maybe even overflowing. You don't turn down the opportunity to sign on a mermaid who can hoist rigging, mesmerize a Kraken, and sing a sea shanty that makes grown men weep at their rum.

I glanced over at Perona, who was lounging on a hovering chaise as if she'd written the dictionary's very own "definition of 'bored and beautiful." I ran my hand through her head—a friendly touch, a reminder who pays the bills around this place.

"We're going to Fish-Man Island," I said nonchalantly, as if I wasn't already frantically scanning my mind for three different crews. "I want people on this boat. Capable people. You think can charm some locals without starting an international incident."

Her eyes gleamed as if she'd just been handed a bomb and a puppy and was instructed to go crazy. She smiled. "Oh yeah, I can charm some locals."

"That's my girl," I whispered, mouth twisting into a grin.

With a thought, a green glow washed over the hull, covering the ship in a sleek, pulsating energy shield. Hydra dragon venom-based energy, to be exact. Half shield, half death warrant. Flutter Kick Coating? Please. Training wheels for beginners. My shield didn't just deflect water—it deflected anything. Anything that tried to cut through it would die so fast their souls wouldn't even notice they'd been kicked out.

Perona, always the inquisitive one, ran her finger across the face of the barrier as if she were tracing LSD-coated bubble wrap. "I had no idea you could do such a thing," she breathed, entranced.

I flexed my forearm for dramatic effect. "One of my party tricks," I said. "Come in handy when you need some privacy. Or, you know, like your air peasant-breath-free."

The vessel began to sink into the sea, gradually and steadily. The ocean engulfed us like a lover holding us in cold arms. Smooth sailing, thanks to the Straw Hats, who had already turned the sea floor into their playground. No peril. No turbulence. Just us and a gentle descent into a kingdom of mobile seafood.

There was just something pirate-unhinged about assembling a crew of misfit hybrids. Something I was unable to experience in my other existence. There's just something wonderfully romantic about telling off someone who's a hammerhead and sporting cargo shorts.

Perona swatted at the shield repeatedly like a cat with a laser. I sat and watched her amused.

"What if someone tries to come through?" she asked, eyes wide open.

"No worries. They dissolve," I said bluntly. "Or melt. It just depends on how much they fight. Either way, that's on them."

She laughed, her laughter a light and airy sound and provocatively just enough to cause my mind to leap to nontactical topics.

Which reminded me.

I'd already slept with Shakky. Hadn't yet broken Perona in. And that, quite frankly, was a matter of scheduling.

"Come," I snarled, my voice little more than a growl.

She obeyed without any hesitation. Good girl.

We headed back to my quarters. I couldn't even call it a 'cabin'-this was more a palace unto itself. Marble floors. Mood lighting. Silk sheets that could break a nation. It could hold an entire festival. This evening there would be room for just one very personal ritual.

Perona settled in, her gaze wandering over everything like she wasn't certain if she should be impressed or turned on. Ideally, both.

"Cassian," she whispered, not sure if she was going to be slaughtered or revered.

She knew.

She questioned in a voice of risk and curiosity, as if she had to pose the questions but was more afraid of answers.

"What are we doing?" she whispered.

I didn't answer with words. My shadow consumed hers instead. I pulled open my belt, the leather growling through the loop on a sensual sigh. Perona's breath caught in her throat as I let my pants drop. My cock burst out, a black giant that had fought its first battle with Shakky, but hadn't lost its taste for more. It was veined and proud, the head a dark plum, already moistening with pre-cum. She stared at it like it were the greatest treasure on the Grand Line.

Her pupils widened and her mouth moistened, a movement that was just on the edge of visibility. But I noticed. Oh yes, I noticed.

Both her hands clamped on her face and her head was turned away like a scandalized school girl having been discovered peeking through the boys' locker room. And yet she could not help but glance. Her eyes ripped back, taking me hungrily from head to toe, promise of pleasure upon every curve and every ridge. It was a weapon, sure—but a work of art when wielded.

"You're so big," she said in awe.

"It's yours if you want it," I gasped, inching closer. Perona's heart beat like a drumline at a demon fruit party. She stood face-to-face with me, her eyes wide and unfocused like two expanding black holes about to consume galaxies. She raised her hand hesitantly and hovered her palm above my shaft. I grasped her wrist and put her palm on my thickness. Her cool softness was a stark contrast from my own burning fire.

"It's my first time touching a man," she whispered, a secret in her voice. She began touching me gingerly, her fingers exploring my length with the delicacy of a virgin touching a holy relic. I regarded her, my eyes famished, as she grew bolder. Her touches grew harder, faster, gazing at my dick like she feared that if she blinked, I would vanish.

"Good," I snarled, my hand tracing up the back of her neck and pulling her closer. "You're going to suck it like a slut."

Her gaze flitted up towards mine, her pupils wide and dilated with a mix of fear and expectation. I saw comprehension in her eyes—there was nothing tender or affectionate about this. This was instinctual, sensual. And she was going to love every minute.

"Fine," she whispered and her voice actually trembled. She dropped down on her knees and looked at me for a moment before beginning to suck it with enthusiasm that was both adorable and utterly exhilarating. She was slow, her mouth enveloping my dick like a glove, her teeth grazing sensitive flesh. I groaned and my head fell back as she began bobbing her head. It was an exquisite thing—my little goth angel from head to toe dressed in black and white and a mouth full of darkness.

Spit and cum dripped down her chest, a wet ruin on her tight corset that used to see better days. Her breasts were small and round with pebble nipples that yearned to be pinched. She didn't even appear upset about the mess—Perona was too busy being my best little cockslut I'd ever owned, using both hands which did not quite close all the way to wrap her fingers around my cock. I had to wonder if that was her very first time doing so. The enthusiasm was most definitely that of a beginner, but the technique. it was as if she'd mastered the art of fellatio in her free time but then again she had confessed to reading Dark Romance Novels and this was the type of dark arts she'd mastered.

I took her head in my hands and my fingers knotted in her hair, steering her. "That's it," I growled, "just like that." Perona took me deeper still, her tears brimming as she choked, but she didn't retreat. She labored through it, her throat tightening around me like a favorite activity. She had a very strong gag reflex, more than I'd anticipated, but she labored through it, determined to oblige.

"Good girl." I praised her, and the words were so charged with want that I felt myself teetering on the edge of no return. Perona's face was red, her eyes brimming with tears from having taken me so far. Her breasts jiggled ever so slightly with every bob of her head, and her tiny hard nipples protruding through the wet fabric of her corset. It was so impossibly hot to look at, like staring at the sun—blind and unbearably irresistible.

"Use your chest, slut," I commanded, her gaze glassy with hunger as she pushed her breasts around my cock. The view was obscene, tits squishing around me, nipples pushing through the fabric like they were trying to escape. Perona moaned around my cock, muffled and delicious. Her eyes closed as she established a rhythm that had me growling.

I couldn't help but blow my load after I jammed myself down her throat once again and she gagged. Her eyes snapped open wide with surprise, though she swallowed it like a trooper. I pulled back and looked on as the head of my dick and the strand of cum between her lips snapped back. She looked up at me with her head still heaving and her face set on a look of adoration. I smiled and ran my precum-coated thumb across her cheek. "Good girl," I repeated. "Now let's see how much of a slut you really are."

I grabbed her by the hair and pushed her down onto the bed forcefully. She fell on her belly with a cute little squeal. I wasn't about to spend time on sweet talking and slow seduction. I yanked her hips up and her juicy butt was in my face. I slapped her, enjoying the softness giving under my hand and my red handprint stood out against her white skin. She moaned and her little pucker clenched tight in anticipation. I didn't even take time to check if she was wet. With Perona, she was always ready.

My dick remained steel-hard, a beast uncowed by her mouth. I slapped my dick on her butt, the crack echoing through the room. Slapping a piece of meat—gratifying, fleshly and hungry for more. With each slap, her cheeks shook and I could see her cunt glint with her want. I moved myself, my dick head at her tight wet entrance.

"Don't bully me, Cassian, please," Perona complained flirtatiously, her voice half temptation and half capitulation. Her rounded ass jiggled like jelly beneath my slap, the cheeks flushed with the imprint of my palm. It was a heady sight, a subtle mixture of innocence and corruption that had my cock begging to get in. I could smell wetness glistening between her legs, the musk of her desire thick in the air like the aroma of a banquet.

I thudded into her silently in one stroke, her heat giving way to the sheer strength and size of my cock. She screamed, a shattering high keening wail, her nails ripping through the bed sheets as if she would crawl on them like a drowning woman grabbing for air. Her vagina was slick, her walls clutching my cock like a vice, trying to keep me prisoner, never to let me go. It was like fucking a velvet and lace glove.

"Oh fuck," she moaned, her voice a mix of pain and desire as I drove onto her, every push a cry of triumph. I didn't slow down—there was no slowly deflowering her. This was a fuck. A taking by right of what was mine. And she took it like a warrior, her flesh rebounding on every push, her ass slapping my hip with a rhythm that had the room echoing with flesh on flesh.

"You're a naughty little girl," I whispered, my voice heavy with lust as her pussy opened further around my cock. "Aren't you?"

Perona whimpered, trembling with each discipline stroke. She nodded, the action causing her ass to bob up and down, unspoken pleading for more. "Yes, Daddy," she whispered, the word slipping from her lips like a sweet curse. The pet name was a new twist in my game with her, and it pushed all the right buttons. Her tight cunt gripped me, the word alone sufficient to drive her wild.

"That's right," I said with a growl. "Call me Daddy again."

Perona's walls tightened around me as she obeyed my command. "Daddy," she groaned out, her voice a sweet song of sensual pleasure. "I'm about to cum."

"Cum for me, baby girl," I ordered her, my dick driving her down with a wildness that would've put even the most ruthless sea king to shame.

Perona's flesh responded to the call, her pussy clamping down on me like a fist as she literally did just that. She shrieked upon coming, her orgasm ripping through her like a storm. Her juices inundated my cock, soaking me with her nectar. It was an experience that could cause a man to forget his own name, his own purpose—anything but his drive to fill her full, possess her as his.

Her orgasm triggered mine, and I yelled out in a climax that shook the cabin, my cock pounding hard deep inside her. "Oh fuck," I muttered, fucking into her. She took it all, her body writhing beneath me, a perfect confluence of joy and submission. I grunted at every small thrust making sure she took every last bit.

When I finally pulled out, she was a mess, her insides smeared with my cum. I slapped her ass once more, feeling how it wobbled with the aftershocks of her orgasm. The smacking of our juices against each other was obscene, a chorus of pleasure that painted very clearly the picture of our carnality. Perona collapsed on the bed, her cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. She was a woman who appeared to have found a new kind of euphoria—like she'd found the missing piece of the puzzle to her dark soul.

I didn't let her recover. I rolled her onto her back and spread her legs open, the wetness of her pussy glowing in the faint light of my cabin. Her eyes snapped open, and she gazed up at me in surprise and longing. "Again?" she breathed, the word question and declaration.

"I'm not done with you yet," I panted, my tone a threat in my voice as I towered over her. Perona's chest heaved with effort, her lungs inflating and deflating with the exertion of her orgasm. She looked up at me through half-lidded eyes and her lust-glazed stare. She'd been playing with herself, her fingers dancing around her clit, wringing out every last drop of her orgasm.

I rushed to her aid, my dick rubbing on her inflamed clitoris, throbbing over my dick. She moaned loudly and her hips flexed toward me. "Daddy," she breathed her nickname for me on her lips.

My dick head was still wet from her juices, and I used it to tease her entrance, watching her get wetter, hungrier. I felt my next orgasm well up, a storm in the depths of my stomach that needed to burst, but I held it back, relishing the power, the control.

"Oh, Daddy," she begged, her voice a gentle ballad of need and surrender. She was damp already, her pussy glistening like moonlit jewels, begging to be filled again. I did not delay, driving my stiff, still-hard cock into the warm, tight pussy walls.

I screwed her relentlessly, my hand smacking forcibly onto her pale, plump thigh with every drive. She was panting for air, her chest heaving as she took me whole. Her breasts jiggled with intensity of my drives, the corset not doing an admirable job of hiding her goddess-like build. Perona's nipples were as hard as bullets and I was compelled to nip down on one, her back curving and her mouth parting in precisely bowed 'O' of euphoria.

"You like that, don't you?" I said, smiling smugly as I watched her reaction to pain. She nodded her head. "You're such a good slut," I said to her, and my words flowed like silk.

Perona's face reddened further and she clamped her teeth down on her lower lip. "I-I'm not a slut," she stuttered weakly, her voice shaking with want.

"Oh, but you are," I said smiling. "You're my little slut. Say it."

Perona's eyes flashed mine, her own eyes flashing with defiance. But her body betrayed her mind, her hips pushing into my own, her cunt squeezing my cock tightly. "I'm your slut," she whispered, her voice a sexual breath that made my spine shiver.

I slapped her on the thigh once more, leaving a red palm print and its echo resounding through the cabin. "That's right," I said, "i get to bully this pussy whenever I want."

Perona moaned, the moan making me shudder. Her pussy was a vice, gripping around my dick like it never intended to let me go. "Your so mean," she laughed, her voice part pleasure, part faking objection. "I don't like it when you bully me."

"But you enjoy it," I lied to her, my tone a threat as I picked up speed, her tits shaking with every stroke. "You enjoy being treated like the dirty daughter you are."

Perona rolled her head back and moaned, her voice an anthem of ecstasy. "Oh fuck," she whispered her voice a honeyed oath that sent a shiver through my spine. "You're so big."

I could feel the beginning of her climax, her walls constricting around my penis like a noose. "You're going to cum on Daddy's cock," I told her, my tone a low growl.

Perona's eyes locked onto mine, shock and anticipation wide on her face. She nodded frantically, her hand racing down to her clit where she started to rub it with hot, passionate strokes. "I'm going to cum," she moaned, her voice a seductive song of passion. "Oh fuck, I'm going to cum so hard."

I could feel the warmth of her cum dripping down my dick, her fluid mixing with mine in a thick blend that was my finest achievement. Perona's orgasm was a wave that swept us both along and left us gasping in its wake.

"Oh my god!" she screamed, her fingers digging deep into my arms. "I'm cumming!"

The sensation was too much, her pussy closing around my cock like a pulse, her walls relaxing and contracting in a harmony of ecstasy that had me balanced on the edge of my own orgasm. I could hold out no longer and emitted a bellow that could shatter the very foundations of Fish-Man Island before unleashing my load deep within her and filling her to the brim. I cover her face with my hand, silencing her moan, forcing her to swallow it whole. Her body tightens around me and her own orgasm is a mirror of my own, our mutual ecstasy a cry of defiance against routine.

"Fuck yes," I breathed, my voice a soft rush of victory when my scorching cum filled her. Her cunt was a goddamned vortex that was going to suck every drop from me, her walls rippling around my dick like she was thirsty for every last drop. I drove every drop home, staking my claim on her. Perona's head rolled back and her face was frozen in bliss as she took every drop she could get, her pussy clamping and unclamping like she was saying goodbye to my dick.

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