Slave Life of Manju
Copyright© 2026 by MASTERRAJJ
Chapter 6: The Altar of Submission
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 6: The Altar of Submission - 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
The basement session room smelled of leather and sweat. Manju knelt on the cold concrete floor, her naked body already marked with fresh welts from the first round of punishment. Her 38DD breasts heaved as she gasped for breath, the brass clamps still biting into her swollen nipples, chains trailing to heavy weights that pulled and stretched the sensitive flesh.
Mistress Deepa stood before her, legs spread, wearing nothing but a black leather corset that pushed her own breasts up. The masked guest sat on the velvet throne behind them, silent as always, her silk robe parted to reveal a smooth, shaved cunt already glistening with anticipation.
“Crawl,” Deepa commanded.
Manju’s knees scraped against the rough floor as she moved forward, her eyes fixed on Deepa’s pussy. The smell of her mistress’s arousal filled Manju’s nostrils, making her own cunt ache and drip despite the pain radiating through her body.
“Lick.”
Manju pressed her face between Deepa’s thighs, her tongue darting out to trace the outer lips. She tasted the familiar musk, the salt of sweat and the sweetness of her mistress’s desire. Deepa grabbed a fistful of Manju’s hair, shoving her face harder into the wet flesh.
“Deeper, you useless slut. Make me feel that tongue.”
Manju obeyed, her tongue plunging into Deepa’s vagina, curling and twisting as she lapped at the walls. Her nose pressed against Deepa’s clit, and she could feel her mistress’s body trembling with each stroke. The weights on her nipples swung with her movements, pulling and stinging, but she didn’t dare stop.
“Now the guest,” Deepa said, pulling Manju’s head back by the hair. “Crawl to her. Show her what a good little cocksucker you are.”
Manju turned, her eyes meeting the masked woman’s gaze through the slits of the black silk covering her face. The woman’s legs opened wider, revealing her wet pussy, the pink flesh already swollen and inviting.
Manju crawled between those thighs, her hands resting on the woman’s knees for balance. She lowered her head, her tongue sliding along the length of the woman’s slit, tasting a different flavor—sharper, more acidic, but just as intoxicating. The masked woman groaned, her hand coming down to press Manju’s face deeper into her cunt.
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