Slave Life of Manju
Copyright© 2026 by MASTERRAJJ
Chapter 5: The Courtroom Questions
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 5: The Courtroom Questions - A secret sex life of a lawyer
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Consensual Lesbian Fiction High Fantasy BDSM FemaleDom Humiliation Sadistic Spanking Torture Indian Female Anal Sex Exhibitionism Big Breasts Body Modification Needles Public Sex Indian Erotica Nudism Transformation Violence
Monday morning. Manju stands at the prosecution table, her navy blue blazer perfectly pressed, her white silk blouse buttoned to the collar. Her hair is pulled back in a severe bun, not a strand out of place. She looks every inch the formidable lawyer who has won fourteen consecutive cases.
But her nose betrays her.
The gold septum ring is visible—a thick 9mm hoop that catches the fluorescent lights of the courtroom. She had tried to insert the clear silicone retainer this morning, but her hands were shaking so badly from the weekend’s punishments that she dropped it down the sink drain. Mistress Deepa had laughed when Manju called, breathless and panicked.
“Wear it openly, pet. Let them see what you are.”
So here she stands, the ring glinting, as she addresses the bench.
“The defense’s motion for summary judgment is premature, Your Honor. Discovery has barely begun, and there remain material facts in dispute—”
“Ms. Rao.”
The judge’s voice cuts through her argument. He’s an older man, white-haired, with sharp eyes that have seen decades of legal maneuvering. He removes his reading glasses and leans forward.
“Is that a new piercing?”
Manju’s stomach drops. Her hand instinctively reaches up, touching the ring. The metal is warm against her fingers.
“Your Honor, I—”
“I didn’t realize you had a nose ring,” he continues, his tone curious but not unkind. “I’ve known you for seven years. Never noticed it before.”
The courtroom is silent. The opposing counsel—a young man named Sharma—stares openly. The court reporter’s fingers hover over her stenotype machine. In the gallery, a few journalists scribble notes.
Manju’s face burns. Her cunt floods with a mix of shame and arousal so potent she has to grip the edge of the table to steady herself.
“It’s ... relatively new, Your Honor.”
“Interesting choice for a lawyer,” the judge says, putting his glasses back on. “I suppose it’s a matter of personal expression. But I do hope it doesn’t become a distraction.” He shuffles his papers. “Proceed.”
The hearing continues, but Manju feels eyes on her the entire time. During a pause, she hears whispers from the defense table.
“Did you see that ring?” Sharma mutters to his associate. “That’s not a subtle choice. Looks expensive too. Solid gold maybe.”
“Maybe she’s into that alternative lifestyle,” the associate whispers back.
Manju’s knees weaken. If only they knew how alternative.
At lunch break, she retreats to the empty conference room on the third floor. She’s barely closed the door when her phone buzzes. A text from Deepa.
I heard you’re the talk of the courthouse. How does it feel?
Manju types back with trembling fingers: Humiliating. Arousing. I can’t stop thinking about it.
Good. Because it’s about to get worse. I have a special session planned for tonight. The visitor will be there. And she wants to use your throat.
Manju’s breath catches. Her hand drifts down, pressing against her soaked panties through her skirt.