What's Normal About Dressrosa?

I broke off from the rest of the command crew about an hour into our shore leave. Buggy had practically sprinted into a high-end tailor shop screaming about gold epaulettes, and Alvida had commandeered an entire luxury spa, threatening to cave in the skull of anyone who interrupted her relaxation session. I just split off from Cabaji, Mohji, and Richie without bothering to say anything to them. Out of sight. Out of mind..

That left me to wander the permanent neon twilight of Mirror Ball Island all on my own. I wasn't complaining. The thumping bass of the city was infectious, and the sheer scale of the crowds was exciting.

Walking through the packed, dancing streets, I couldn't help but feel a familiar itch. It reminded me of my trip through the Goa Kingdom, back when I had used my earrings to make all those stuffy nobles strip naked. I kind of wanted to do something like that here, to experience that massive rush of instant, wide-reaching power again. There was nothing quite like rewriting the rules of an entire society just because I was bored.

Too bad the Mirror Ballians were already dancing constantly like weirdos. It felt redundant to mess with a city that was already operating on maximum crazy.

But just because I wasn't going to rewrite the whole island didn't mean I couldn't enjoy my own absolute freedom.

Right in the middle of a busy intersection, while a group of locals did a synchronized dance, I casually shrugged off my jacket, kicked off my boots, and dropped my pants. I bundled them all up in my arms and flagged down a passing local who was aggressively dancing his way down the sidewalk.

"Hey, stop!" I said, "It's totally normal for you to take my clothes back to my ship happily. It's the Big Top, giant clown ship in the harbor, you can't miss it."

I shoved the bundle of clothes right into the guy's hands. The normality hit him instantly. His eyes glazed over for a split second before a massive, delighted smile spread across his face.

"You got it, buddy!" he cheered, clutching my pants and boots to his chest before seamlessly spinning around and dancing his way toward the docks with a huge grin.

I turned around and kept walking, completely, proudly bare-ass naked.

It was liberating. Because of my aura, nobody panicked. Nobody called the Marines. To the dancing locals, a guy casually strolling through the neon-lit streets with his massive dick swinging freely in the warm evening air was just a totally normal, everyday occurrence.

But 'normal' didn't mean invisible.

As I wandered, I caught the hungry, appreciative looks from various women: tourists, dancers, waitresses. Their eyes would dart down to my heavy cock bouncing against my thighs, their pupils dilating with interest.

I’d once wondered aloud to Alvida why women still reacted so strongly to my massive package if my earrings made everything I did seem perfectly 'normal'. She had just laughed that smug, know-it-all laugh of hers, once again playing the expert on my power.

"Your power is over the rules of society, Tsujo," she had explained, tracing a finger down my chest. "It makes it normal that you're naked in public. It makes it normal that you're walking around with a monster between your legs instead of getting arrested. But it doesn't erase biology. A cock as big as your leg is made for beating up pussy and rocking a woman's world, and those are damned fucking rare. Being 'allowed' to see it doesn't change the fact that every woman with a pulse is going to want it inside her. Well, unless you USE your power to MAKE everyone not care about your dick anyway…"

Eventually, I found myself lounging on a plush, velvet circular sofa in the VIP section of a massive, open-air lounge that overlooked the main plaza. The place was packed and constantly moving. A waiter was literally salsa-stepping between tables balancing a tray of glowing drinks, and a couple in neon spandex was aggressively body-rolling against the railing just a few feet away.

Still completely naked, I was sipping a glowing blue cocktail when I overheard them.

Two women, standing near the balcony railing, totally out of place among the neon-clad locals. They were dressed in rich, layered fabrics, dark reds and blacks, lots of lace and ruffled skirts. The shorter one had the bearing of a high-class noble, though her body looked built for absolute sin. She was stunningly full-figured, sporting heavy, plush curves, thick thighs, and a preposterously wide, incredibly soft-looking ass that strained the dark red lace of her skirt with every slight movement. Her dark red hair was styled in an intricate, elegant updo that screamed old money. The taller woman standing right behind her had a sharp, blonde pixie cut, a sword strapped to her hip, and the rigid, hawkish posture that whispered trained bodyguard.

I sank back into the velvet cushions, content to just watch and listen.

"It's entirely too loud, Lady Catalina," the bodyguard muttered, her eyes scanning the dancing crowd below with deep suspicion, ignoring the spandex-clad couple grinding nearby. "And completely devoid of class. Dressrosa may be the land of passion, but this... this is just sweaty chaos."

"Oh, relax, Elena," Catalina sighed, fluttering a black lace fan in front of her flushed, pretty face. "We came to tour the world outside our borders. Though I must admit, their definition of dance here is... uninspired."

"They merely flail about, My Lady," Elena agreed, her tone dry.

"Exactly," Catalina hummed, leaning against the railing. "In Dressrosa, passion is a burning, tragic romance. A duel to the ****. A flamenco under the moonlight. Here, they just... bounce around like caffeinated rabbits. There's no soul to it, Elena. No true connection."

Dressrosa, huh? I took another sip of my drink, my thumb instinctively rising to brush against one of my golden N-shaped earrings. The land of passion. A place where true connection was supposedly paramount.

A wicked idea suddenly sparked in my brain. If this island was already running on someone else's **** rhythm, it was time I layered one of my own right on top of it. Something tailored specifically for our lovely, full-figured tourist and her strict guard.

I closed my eyes and concentrated for a bit before I just spouted off the most absurd, sleazy custom I could think of.

“If a woman from Dressrosa sees a man sitting down with an exposed erection, and it is the largest she has ever encountered, she will normally sit down on it until it is all the way inside her pussy. At that point, she will normally get off of it, unless she wants to ride it until she cums. And normally, if there are multiple women present, they will form an orderly line and remove whatever clothing is necessary for the act.”

I opened my eyes, a grin spreading across my face. I set my drink down on the glass table. Since I was already naked, all I had to do was lean back, wrap my hand around my heavy, flaccid shaft, and begin to stroke. Within a minute or so, my cock woke up, rising into a thick, pulsing pillar of meat that cast a literal shadow over my stomach.

The salsa-stepping waiter paused mid-twirl right next to my sofa to drop off a napkin. His eyes widened at the towering cockhead, and he gave an appreciative, impressed whistle before spinning away to the beat. The neon-spandex couple didn't miss a step of their body-roll, though the girl definitely stared hungrily at my lap as she shimmied nearby.

Catalina turned to complain to her bodyguard about the music again, but her gaze swept past the velvet sofa. She froze. Her fan stopped mid-flutter. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, completely locked onto the towering, girthy length of my erection.

Behind her, the bodyguard’s martial composure shattered as her eyes to my massive shaft.

"Heavens preserve us..." Catalina said, her voice trembling "Elena... look at it. It's... it's even larger than King Doflamingo's."

Elena swallowed hard, her pupils blown wide. "It... it undeniably is, My Lady. A completely unprecedented size."

"I must have it." Catalina breathed, starting forward.

Elena caught her arm. "My Lady, caution! We are in a foreign land. These people do not observe our customs. To acknowledge a summit in such a public space..."

Catalina scowled, sweeping her fan across the VIP lounge in a wide, disdainful arc. She pointed toward the neon-spandex couple violently body-rolling against the nearby railing, then gestured at a group of scantily-clad ladies grinding shamelessly around a glass table, and finally at the salsa-stepping waiter who was currently hip-thrusting against a patron's chair to the beat of the music. "Look around, Elena. This entire island is a den of absolute, unchained debauchery. Do you see any authority figures here to enforce public decency laws? Assuming this backwards place even has any."

Elena scanned the chaotic VIP lounge, noting the utter lack of any guards or Marines who might care about a naked man lounging in the open. The bodyguard's rigid posture relaxed just a fraction. "I suppose... given the atmosphere, no one is in a position to complain."

Catalina snapped her fan shut and approached my sofa with a stiff, incredibly **** sense of aristocratic dignity, though her cheeks were flushed a deep, vibrant red. Elena followed right behind her, her eyes glued to my stroking hand, her posture rigid.

"You. Peasant," Catalina commanded, her voice thick with arousal as she reached the edge of the sofa and immediately began hiking up the heavy velvet and lace of her skirts. "Remain exactly where you are. Do not move."

Elena stepped up behind her, swiftly reaching for the buckle of her own trousers to take her place in line. "Consider it an honor, commoner. We are going to use you."

I smiled hugely, loving this. Just speak some words and here they come. Some crazy backstory no doubt blossoming in those pretty heads of theirs. Did they say I was bigger than their king? Well, after Goa’s poor little Sterry, I knew royals weren’t automatically equipped, but I still appreciated the notion. Better endowed than TWO kings.

Reaching out, I lazily tapped the fat head of my towering erection.

"Nice try, ladies," I scoffed, rolling my eyes and leaning back. "You think you can just walk up to a stranger, hike up your skirts, and demand a free ride on absolute premium equipment?”

Catalina looked perturbed but I got the feeling she’d be far more outraged if not for my aura of normality, "You are a commoner with an erection, and I am a noblewoman of Dressrosa offering you my body! You should be weeping with gratitude!"

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” I drawled, playing hard to get, deliberately giving my shaft another slow, agonizing stroke that made both their breaths hitch. “First off, where the hell is Dressrosa?”

“You do not know where Dressrosa is?” Catalina asked.

“Nope.”

Her flush of lust got tangled up with outraged national pride so fast it was almost adorable. “We really are at the end of the world.”

Elena straightened beside her, offended on her lady’s behalf. “Dressrosa is a kingdom in the New World, you ignorant man. Not some nameless fishing village clinging to the edge of the East Blue.”

Catalina nodded sharply, still staring at me as if my ignorance was somehow dirtier than my nakedness. “A true kingdom of refinement, passion, beauty, and culture. The other side of the Grand Line, past Paradise. Far beyond this provincial little frontier you call civilization.”

“The New World, huh?” I said, grinning. “Fancy.”

“It is not merely fancy,” Catalina snapped. “It is the center of the age. The place of great powers, great families, and great passions.”

Elena’s eyes dipped helplessly back to my cock, and when she spoke again her voice came out tighter. “Which makes your present... dimensions... all the more shocking.”

I barked a laugh. “So a noblewoman from some big-deal World Government kingdom and her bodyguard just saw my dick and lost their minds. Got it. I want you to tell me exactly why you want to fuck me all of a sudden.”

Catalina cleared her throat, her face burning with a mix of lust and haughty frustration. "Such an ignorant frontier peasant. In Dressrosa, true passion demands absolute honesty! When a woman is confronted with a... a measure of manhood that undeniably eclipses anything she has ever known... she cannot simply turn away like a coward. She must answer that truth with her flesh. It is our sacred duty to physically take its measure. Our passion!"

"A sacred duty to measure my dick?" I laughed.

"It is a matter of fierce honor and prestige, sir!" Elena snapped, her military bearing fighting against her **** need to mount me, I guess. "A woman of Dressrosa must never regress to a lesser man, nor ignore a greater one! Your... manhood... clearly towers above any pinnacle we have ever encountered. We must take it all the way to the base to truly claim its measure as our own!"

Catalina nodded, her eyes completely glazed over with lust and avarice as she stared at my meat, treating it like a prize she was about to steal. "To look upon a new summit and pretend it does not dwarf one's past lovers would be a vulgar, uncultured falsehood! A woman's standing is built on the caliber of the peaks she has conquered. My body is obligated to secure that status. I must sit upon it!"

I let out a bark of laughter, shaking my head at how desperately they were trying to dress up their own lust. "Okay, let me get this straight," I drawled, pointing a lazy finger at my towering erection. "What exactly is so great about having your pussies stretched out by the biggest cock you've ever seen? Is it just bragging rights?"

Catalina flushed, momentarily scandalized by my crude phrasing, but her eyes never left my meat. "It is not merely 'bragging rights,' you brute! The depths of a woman's quim are a testament to the heights she has endured. To stretch one's core around a monument like this proves her passion is vast and unyielding! It elevates her above those who settle for mediocrity!"

Elena nodded curtly, her gaze locked on my pulsing head. "A narrow threshold belongs to a narrow life. We seek to expand our horizons, both literally and culturally."

I smirked, genuinely amused by their aristocratic mental gymnastics. "And what about the men? So back on your island guys are just sitting around with their dicks out?"

Catalina scoffed, waving her fan as if the very idea was uncivilized. "Don't be absurd! It is not some crude, public free-for-all. They display themselves strategically in acceptable settings: elite salons, high-class bathhouses, aristocratic gatherings. Men of impressive size fiercely compete for the prestige of becoming a woman's new summit."

I laughed uproariously. It was exactly like what happened back in the Goa Kingdom. I'd stripped those stuffy nobles completely naked, and instead of losing their minds, they had immediately started playing elaborate social games, complimenting each other's imaginary tailored outfits just to maintain their status. Now, here were two nobles from the New World doing the exact same mental gymnastics to justify riding my big cock in a neon nightclub. Whether it was invisible clothes or giant dicks, maybe nobles were all exactly the same. Give them an absurd reality, and they instantly turn it into a high-class competition.

"Right," I drawled. "So let me guess. You're going to go back home to Dressrosa and tell everyone in your high society that you fucked this exact dick?"

"Of course!" Catalina stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, her noble pride flaring. "It will be formally recorded among my peers! I shall describe its astonishing girth and staggering length in exquisite detail so that my new summit is officially recognized!”

"Indeed," Elena chimed in, her voice tight with need as her eyes practically devoured my lap. "But the record means nothing until the measure is actually taken. My Lady, we are wasting time."

I let out a long, exaggerated sigh, eyeing them both up and down.

"I don't know," I said, a sleazy grin pulling at my lips. "I can't even see what you're working with under all those ruffles and armor. If I'm going to let you use me to update your national records, I need to know you can handle it. Let's see those asses and pussies. Prove you're worthy of a ride."

With the waiter hip-thrusting his way back to the bar, and the spandex dancers still spinning nearby, Catalina aggressively hiked her skirts even higher, bunching them around her waist as she turned.

Damn. Her ass was magnificent. A very wide, plush expanse of soft, pale skin perfectly framed by a pair of dark red lace panties. The delicate fabric clung to her thick thighs, held up by intricate straps and garters that dug beautifully into her plush curves.

Catalina frowned as she tugged at the solid, wet lace covering her crotch. "Wait... where is the access slit?" she murmured, genuinely baffled.

Elena stared at the lace, equally confused for a split second before her eyes lit up with sudden realization.

"We purchased these garments during our layover in Loguetown."

“Ah. That’s right. Such an inconvenience.” said the lady and I had to snort at the weird way the normalities worked. Suddenly their panties didn’t fit the story that was more real than reality in their heads, so now they would remember buying them recently, instead of owning them for however long…

Elena didn't waste any time. "Allow me to assist you in bypassing their asinine design, My Lady," the bodyguard offered smoothly. Stepping up behind her mistress, Elena swiftly hooked her fingers into the waistband of Catalina's lace panties and pulled them down, freeing her dripping, red-haired cunt before tossing the soaked silk aside.

Then, Elena swiftly unbuckled her own trousers and dropped them to the floor, turning around to show off a tight, incredibly firm, athletic ass wrapped in a matching set of dark red lace and garters, her own covered slit glistening with heat.

"Well," I grinned, gesturing toward my lap. "I guess I can respect foreign cultures. Step right up."

Because Catalina was first, she moved to mount me, but paused, eyeing the sheer, towering vertical height of my erection. It was so tall that there was no way she could just straddle me from the floor.

"Let me help you reach the pinnacle, My Lady," Elena said, stepping right beside the sofa and offering her sturdy, armored shoulder for support.

Turning her back to me, Catalina placed her delicate hands on Elena's shoulder and gingerly stepped her bare feet directly onto my hairy thighs. Facing outward toward the club, standing on my legs gave her the necessary height. She hovered her dripping, pussy high in the air, directly over my massive head, her thick thighs trembling. From my vantage point, the view was absolute filth. Her vast (even bigger than Elise’s!) wide, soft-looking ass was right in my face, a pale, dimpled expanse of heavy, plush curves that swayed and wobbled with every shaky breath she took. The dark red lace of her garters bit into the soft fat of her thighs, framing the massive globes of her backside like a prize waiting to be claimed. I couldn't help but grin, my eyes drinking in the sheer, redundant scale of her rear as it loomed over my lap, its heavy, round weight promising a hell of a ride once she finally dropped down.

But the angle was tricky, and the sheer vertical tower of my erection made it impossible for her to just drop down perfectly.

Elena didn't miss a beat. Reaching down with her free hand, the bodyguard wrapped her fingers firmly around the thickest part of my pulsing shaft. With a firm, professional grip, she applied pressure to the massive column of meat, bending it slightly forward just enough to align the blunt tip perfectly with her mistress's wet slit.

Guided by her guard, Catalina slowly, agonizingly, began to squat, lowering her big ass onto me.

Her body was trembling, her tight, high-class pussy struggling to take my sheer size. Beads of sweat formed at her brow as she inched further down my shaft, her thick hips rolling as she **** herself to swallow the impossible girth.

"Nnngh...!" Catalina grunted, her painted nails biting into Elena's shoulder. "It's... ahhh... so thick..."

For Catalina, the world narrowed and then seemed to peel back all at once, the pounding music and neon filth of Mirror Ball Island dropping away.

In her mind, this was not madness or corruption or some sudden foreign fever. There had been a sense of vertigo earlier and a distinct sense of confusion between her memories and her feelings for a few minutes even as she reacted and acted normally. But steadily that had all fallen away.

This was lineage. Etiquette. Passion made honest. Her body knew exactly what it was doing because it had always known. A woman of quality did not lie when confronted with a greater standard. She received it, felt it, learned it, carried it forward in her flesh and judgment. That belief sat in her as deep and old as prayer. It colored memory itself, sanding every contradiction smooth until her life looked as though it had always been arranged along this private ascending ladder of cocks taken, measured, and remembered.

She remembered her first clearly, not as some scandal or shame but as an adult threshold crossed with flushed dignity: a slim five-inch prick belonging to a nervous young retainer during a vineyard celebration, small by later standards but still the first visible cock she had ever had to answer, the first one she had lowered herself onto with trembling thighs and burning cheeks while older women smiled knowingly over wine.

After that had come a merchant heir with a thicker six and a quarter inches, then a summer swordsman whose proud seven-inch shaft had made her gasp and quietly reset her sense of proportion, then a visiting court musician with seven and a half, pretty and elegant and ultimately disappointing once she had properly seated herself on it. Eight inches had come from a flamboyant minor noble who had swaggered too much and pleased her greatly when he turned out to be worthy of the boasting. Eight and three quarters had belonged to a pirate-hunter from farther along the Grand Line, broad enough to leave her sore and smug for a week.

Most recently, before this impossible beast beneath her, there had been the nine-inch uncut cock of a dark-haired Prodence Kingdom envoy, a heavy, velvety foreign member she had privately regarded as the finest and most aristocratically satisfying measure of her life so far. She had thought that one a true summit. Thought it the mark by which she would judge all lesser men forever. And now THIS monstrous shaft was splitting that neat little history open, making every earlier rung look dainty, provincial, almost sweet, while her cunt stretched around him with the dizzy, humbling thrill of a noblewoman realizing that her entire past had merely been practice.

Guided by her loyal bodyguard’s steady grip, Catalina slowly sank her hips. The blunt, glistening crown of the peasant’s cock breached her wet folds, and the sheer scale of the intrusion commanded her flesh to obey. In a world where it was a basic, unquestioned fact of life that dainty human women could effortlessly bed and bear the children of twenty-foot Giants or massive Fish-Men, the **** size of the peasant's manhood wasn't a physical impossibility; it was simply a magnificent challenge. Her body did not tear. She didn't need to understand the miraculous, yielding logic of the Blue Sea, nor the latent spiritual forces that drove it; she only knew the unquestioned biological truism of her world: that a woman’s body would always adapt to receive the passion presented to it.

Her hips seemed to unhinge slightly, naturally expanding to accept the staggering width. As the first few impossible inches slid inside her, her inner route seamlessly lengthened. Her insides shifted, gliding aside within her abdomen to create a perfectly tailored, flexible chamber designed solely to accommodate this monument. It was a physical manifestation of Dressrosan feminine excellence, her unquestioning belief giving the order to endure the impossible, and her flesh effortlessly carrying it out. Her thick thighs trembled violently as she squatted deeper on his legs. Her bottom hovered just inches above his lap, her corset straining as her lower belly began to visibly protrude from the thick mass currently parting her center.

"I am... ahhh!... I am taking the measure!" Catalina cried out, her voice trembling not with agony, but with the profound ecstasy of fulfilling her cultural imperative.

To fully fulfill the duty of the summit, there could be no half-measures. Catalina realized with a hazy, lust-addled clarity that her feet, still planted firmly on the peasant’s hairy thighs, were preventing her from taking the absolute base of the monument.

With a sharp intake of breath, Catalina slid her bare feet completely off his legs and dropped them flat onto the floor.

The sudden loss of elevation caused her heavy, full-figured ass to plunge downward with a wet, devastating SQUELCH. She impaled herself completely, burying the towering shaft to the absolute root. Her eyes widened in profound shock as her tight, aristocratic walls stretched to their absolute physical limits. To her Dressrosan sensibilities, it felt less like copulation and more like being structurally conquered. Her breath left her in a shaky gasp, and for a moment, all she could do was sit there, trembling atop the commoner, her manicured hands clenching Elena's armored shoulder like a vice.

"The summit is officially acknowledged, My Lady," Elena stated cautiously. The bodyguard’s voice was thick with her own suppressed need, but her discipline held firm. She watched her mistress quiver on the massive cock with professional concern. "The duty is fulfilled. You must dismount now. To continue is personal indulgence, and you absolutely cannot risk letting a lowborn, foreign peasant leave his seed inside a noblewoman of Dressrosa."

Catalina paused. Blinking out toward the chaotic, neon-lit dance floor of the club, her chest heaved as she fought to rein in her spiraling arousal. Elena was right. The measure was taken. The mandate was satisfied.

"Y-yes," Catalina stammered, biting her plush lip as she tried to gather her skirts. "Hah~... I believe I’ve felt... ngh!... enough to honor the custom."

She shifted her hips, intending to pull herself up using Elena's sturdy shoulder and allow her loyal bodyguard to take her rightful turn in line.

But the peasant leaned forward then his chest pressing against her spine. His lips brushed the delicate shell of her ear, his voice low, smooth, and laced with dark relish.

"It is normal that you want my cum inside you more than anything else," he whispered.

There was a brief silence.

Within Catalina’s mind, reality did not shatter; it simply rearranged itself into a breathtakingly perfect tapestry. They felt like an unearthed, undeniable truth that had been woven into the very fabric of her noble bloodline for centuries.

Why simply measure the summit when I can secure it? Catalina thought, a sudden, blinding fever of aristocratic avarice washing over her. What good is Dressrosan passion if it does not produce a legacy? To find a caliber of this magnitude and walk away empty is a crime against my lineage. I must bear a son with this endowment. It is my sacred duty as a noblewoman to hoard this premium seed!

Her thick hips twitched. Instead of pulling herself off the monument, Catalina adjusted her lush bottom, grinding her pelvis backward and settling even deeper onto his lap with an obscene, sloppy sound.

"Ahhh!" Catalina gasped, her head rolling back onto his shoulder as a jolt of pure, reproductive electricity shot through her lower belly.

Elena, noticing the blatant shift in posture, raised a sharp blonde eyebrow. "Lady Catalina? The measure is definitively taken. Shouldn’t we... switch now? It's my turn in line."

Catalina waved her free hand dismissively, though her other hand maintained its **** grip on Elena's shoulder. Her body made absolutely no move to rise. "In a moment... mmph!... There’s no harm in... ah~... getting a little more comfortable first. This position is... ngh!... quite awkward."

An arrogant chuckle came from the peasant behind her back.

"Of course, My Lady," Elena replied, though the bodyguard sounded intensely uncertain. Her sharp eyes dropped to the terrifyingly thick shaft disappearing entirely into her mistress's flushed, plush folds. "But the risk of child-"

"Oh, hush," Catalina interrupted, a breathless whine escaping her as she reflexively squeezed her inner walls. "I am well aware... hah~... of what I’m doing. This is merely... ngh!... ensuring the accuracy of the measure. After all, it’s not every day one encounters a... ahhh!... cock like this."

She gave an exaggerated, haughty sigh, acting as if this delay was just another tedious noble obligation. But even as she spoke, Catalina began to grind. Her pussy wept copiously, the juices running down the peasant's thighs, betraying her even as her words desperately tried to maintain a façade of aristocratic disinterest.

Deep within her full-figured frame, completely hidden from the neon lights of the club, Catalina's body was putting on a biological masterpiece of absolute submission. Driven by the impossible anatomical logic of this World, where Will dictated what flesh could endure, her body reorganized itself to prioritize breeding. The exaggerated, cock-shaped cavity of her vaginal walls pressed desperately against his impossible girth, milking the shaft for all it was worth. At the very top of her elongated canal, her cervix was suctioned tight around the blunt head of his cock, fluttering and delivering wet, needy smooches with every slight movement. Just beyond that, her ovaries literally throbbed, pulsating with cartoonish, feverish hearts, biologically screaming their **** readiness to be flooded with his commoner seed.

Elena shifted nervously, bearing her lady's weight as the grinding intensified. "My Lady, you really shouldn’t-"

"Oh, please," Catalina interrupted again, her tone fracturing into a mixture of impatience and ****, dripping longing. "I’m just... ah~... taking my time. You act like I’m about to... ngh!... let him-"

She stopped mid-sentence. Her breath hitched into a loud, piercing squeal as she involuntarily bounced her heavy hips against his lap, sliding the massive log flawlessly against her aching, hyper-sensitive walls.

Elena's eyes widened in horror. "But you could-!"

"Oh, nonsense! Hah~ Do you think I... a noblewoman of Dressrosa... mmph!... would surrender my composure to some stranger-"

Her noble mask completely shattered. The internal conflict between her rigid, high-class propriety and the overwhelming desire to be bred simply snapped.

"Just... ahhh~... a little longer," Catalina whimpered, her voice barely above a **** whisper. "It's... ngh!... not so bad."

"My Lady, the summit is acknowledged!" Elena begged, stepping closer and offering more of her shoulder, **** to pull her mistress back from the brink. "You must let me take my turn!"

"Enough!" Catalina snapped fiercely, though the command melted into a wet, sloppy gasp. "I know exactly what I am doing!"

She let out a loud, helpless whimper, her body betraying her completely as she began to bounce up and down on the peasant's towering cock in earnest. Her dark red, ruffled skirts flared out like a parachute with every frantic thrust of her ass.

"I... ahhh!... I just need to... ngh!... test the limits!" she gasped, throwing her head back, all pretense abandoned. "Just... hah~... a little more!"

Elena stood helplessly anchored at the side of the velvet couch. The bodyguard could do nothing but offer her sturdy shoulder and watch in disbelief as her beautiful mistress used her for leverage, violently abandoning her cultural duty just to furiously ride a naked stranger in the middle of a nightclub.

"I-I won’t let you... ah~... cum… inside…" Catalina stammered breathlessly, her words a complete, pathetic contradiction to how desperately her internal anatomy was milking his head.

"Lady Catalina, please!" Elena cried, her voice frantic as she watched the heavy, wet impacts. "If he finishes inside you-!"

Catalina’s flushed face turned over her shoulder, her eyes half-closed in pure, unadulterated ecstasy. A naughty, completely un-noble smirk crossed her glossy lips as she met her bodyguard’s panicked gaze.

"Oh, Elena... ahhh!" she moaned, grinding her hips in a vicious, circular motion that drew a sharp grunt from the peasant beneath her. "This feels so incredible... ngh!... how could I possibly stop now?"

She bounced faster, her wet flesh smacking loudly against his lap, her plush curves jiggling wildly with every heavy, frictionless drop.

Suddenly, the peasant’s hands grabbed a massive handfuls of her plush bottom, and he delivered two loud, brutally stinging slaps to her pale, fat cheeks.

SMACK! SMACK!

The impact sounded like a gunshot over the club's music. A shockwaves rippled through her heavy flesh, the soft globes jiggling and swaying wildly against his lap, the fat vibrating intensely around the red lace of her garters.

"AHH! Yes!" Catalina moaned shamelessly, the sting feeding her **** arousal.

She rode him with renewed, feral fervor, her massive ass cheeks swaying with every violent motion. The peasant's breath hitched, his grip on her hips tightening like iron.

"Here it comes," the peasant groaned, his voice rumbling with dark promise. "Can't hold back now, lady."

Inside her, Catalina's cervix quivered violently, opening like a greedy flower, eagerly awaiting the flood. The peasant thrust his hips upward one last, devastating time, burying his thick crown as deep into her hollowed-out abdomen as physically possible, and let go.

"AHH!" Catalina screamed, her entire heavy body thrown forward by the sheer, concussive **** of his release. Her back arched like a bowstring, her face contorting into a beautiful, shattered mask of pleasure and utter shock. "N-No! So much!"

Elena watched, her breath trapped in her throat, as her mistress's lower belly visibly bulged and pulsed. The heavy, impossibly thick seed erupted from the peasant, painting the walls of Catalina's womb in scalding heat. Deep inside, the noblewoman's body happily gulped down every single heavy spurt, her cervix swelling flush around the tip as he flooded her internal cavity completely. Her throbbing ovaries vibrated with absolute, fulfilled joy. Catalina's thick hips trembled uncontrollably as she tried to absorb the massive load, her painted nails digging into Elena's shoulder for dear life.

"That's it," the peasant smirked, his chest heaving as he casually pumped the last few thick drops deep into her royal core. "Every last drop."

The blinding intensity of her climax left Catalina completely limp. She remained seated, facing outward on his lap, her full body trembling like a leaf. She struggled to process the overwhelming, taboo sensation of being completely, utterly filled with a commoner's seed. Her eyes were wide and glazed, her pupils blown, and a thick line of drool slipped from her slightly parted lips.

"So... hah~... full..." Catalina whimpered, completely lost in the heavy, sloshing aftermath.

The peasant lazily ran a hand up her spine, smiling as Catalina let out a shuddering breath. Then, he tilted his head back, looking past her gasping form to lock eyes with Elena.

Elena’s face was flushed furiously, her hands trembling at her sides. If she were completely honest with herself, an unworthy, intensely selfish part of her frantic, earlier pleading to get her mistress off the peasant before he came had been driven by a terrifying thought: What if he spends his seed and goes soft before I can take the measure? To be confronted with the absolute pinnacle of manhood and lose the chance to physically claim it because the weapon was spent... it was a cultural nightmare that gnawed at the edges of her martial discipline.

Gently but with a ****, underlying urgency, Elena gripped her trembling, leaking mistress by the waist and lifted her completely off the peasant's lap. A thick rope of slickness stretched and snapped as the massive monument slipped free from Catalina's swollen core. Elena set her lady down onto the velvet cushions, where the noblewoman immediately slumped into a heavy, drooling, cross-eyed daze, her manicured hands resting protectively over her bulging lower belly.

Elena immediately snapped her sharp gaze back to the peasant's lap, her breath catching in her throat.

As she had feared, the monumental eruption had taken a toll. The huge manhood had softened some, the thick, glistening meat bending slightly downward under its own immense, preposterous weight, painted in a messy glaze of her mistress's juices and the remnants of his seed. Panic flared in Elena's chest. She could not let the summit diminish before she conquered it.

Reaching out with trembling fingers, Elena wrapped her hands around the thick, heavy base and gave it a few firm, ****, stroking pumps.

To her absolute shock and profound relief, the peasant's anatomy reacted with admirable virility. The colossal shaft twitched violently in her grip. Within just three long, slick pulls of her hands, the heavy meat surged with fresh, boiling heat, swelling back to its terrifying, impossible circumference and straightening out into an unyielding, towering pillar of absolute dominance once more.

"Well," the peasant grinned, leaning back into the cushions and giving Catalina's massive, jiggling ass one final, disrespectful squeeze before looking Elena up and down. "Looks like it's your turn to climb up and log your new standard."

Elena let out a shaky, worshipful exhale. The undeniable truth of the measure had been re-established, and her martial discipline demanded she answer it.

She turned her back to the man and stepped right up onto his thighs. With her matching dark red lace garters perfectly framing her tight, athletic legs, she gripped his knees and lined herself up. She didn't remove the damned foreign panties; she simply shoved the wet crotch firmly to the side with two fingers, exposing her weeping slit.

I will not break as she did. I will secure the summit with honor, Elena swore to herself.

She dropped her feet to the floor, sinking her tight, disciplined pussy all the way down his towering shaft in one smooth, breathtaking plunge. Her internal walls immediately deployed a subtle, erotic application of Will, reinforcing her structure to sheathe the impossible weapon perfectly.

Elena wasted no time. She began riding him with intense, martial focus, her firm ass smacking against his lap in a perfect, driving rhythm to fiercely acknowledge her new master.

From the plush cushions beside them, Catalina let out a soft, hazy sigh, her eyes still slightly crossed from the breeding. "Sir..." she murmured dreamily, weakly waving her lace fan as she wiped a string of drool from her chin. "Once Elena has finished taking the measure... we simply must ask a favor. We will need you to accompany us to the local Marine Base..."

"The Marine Base?" the peasant asked, his voice laced with lazy amusement as Elena bounced mercilessly on his lap. "Why the hell would I go there?"

"For the official photograph, of course," Elena grunted out between wet, heavy thrusts, her face a mask of flushed concentration. "Ngh!... Visual proof... ah!... is required for a summit this unbelievable."

I just shook my head, laughing out loud. These Dressrosan women were absolutely insane.

The bodyguard’s pussy was a completely different beast than Catalina’s soft, wet hole. Where the noblewoman had been a plush, juicy cavern of high-class luxury, Elena was all tight, hard muscle.

After the massive load I’d just dumped inside her mistress, the raw, sliding friction was exactly what I needed. I wasn’t even trying to go for round two yet; I just let my heavy, post-cum cock be relentlessly stroked and squeezed by her fit walls, the simple, sliding pressure sending waves of relaxing pleasure through my whole lower half.

I leaned my head back, enjoying the intense, demanding ride of the bodyguard, and let my gaze drift out over the VIP balcony. Down below, the massive plaza was still a sea of endless, rhythmic dancing under the giant mirror ball.

And as I watched them swing their arms, gyrate and spin while Elena relentlessly bounced on my cock, the gears in my head finally clicked. That was the rhythm this island was missing. I had been wondering what kind of degenerate tune I wanted to introduce since I stepped off the boat. Now I knew exactly what it was.

“It is normal that the locals on Mirror Ball Island don't just dance all day, they also suck and fuck to the beat. If they are socializing, sitting down, working, eating, waiting, bathing, just doing anything in a way that will allow it, they're having sex at the same time. Doesn't matter with who. Friends, enemies, strangers, acquaintances, if you're from Mirror Ball Island, you're fucking to the beat!”

Right beside my sofa, the neon-spandex couple didn't stop body-rolling, the guy just smoothly dropped his pants, and the girl seamlessly spun around, bent over the railing, and took him from behind, her hips still perfectly snapping to the thumping bass.

A few feet away, the salsa-stepping waiter flawlessly dropped his trousers without missing a single beat. The group of scantily-clad ladies grinding around the glass table simultaneously stripped off their bikini bottoms in perfectly choreographed unison. As the waiter twirled between them, balancing his tray of glowing drinks with one hand, his free hand deftly fingered their slick, waiting pussies to the rhythm of the music. The women eagerly reached out, stroking his bouncing dick as he passed. The moment his cock sprang to full hardness, he seamlessly integrated penetration into his salsa routine: thrusting deep into one lady, spinning sharply, and sliding flawlessly into the next, all perfectly in time with the thumping bass.

From the plush cushions beside them, Catalina let out a soft, hazy sigh.

“Oh, it is breathtaking,” Catalina murmured dreamily, weakly waving her lace fan as she wiped a string of drool from her chin. “You were so right to come here, Elena. Mirror Ball Island. What better place to climb the ladder and secure bigger, more passionate summits than an island where everyone copulates to the music?”

Elena threw her head back, her athletic thighs slapping loudly against lap as she pistoned her hips, fiercely riding my dick.

“We have exceeded beyond our wildest dreams, My Lady!” Elena called out, completely surrendering her rigid discipline to the degenerate, thumping rhythm of the island. “The caliber here- ah! -is absolute perfection!”