Humiliation & Slavery of a High Profile Lawyer
Copyright© 2026 by MASTERRAJJ
Chapter 5
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Story of a Female lawyer blackmailed into becoming a sex slave
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult Blackmail Coercion Consensual Reluctant Slavery Lesbian BiSexual Fiction BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Humiliation Rough Sadistic Spanking Torture Group Sex Indian Male Indian Female Anal Sex Exhibitionism Facial Oral Sex Sex Toys Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Body Modification Foot Fetish Public Sex Indian Erotica
The Stretching
The Japanese man had returned Manju to Shankar with a final payment wired to Rani’s account, but the hooks and canes had left their mark. For a week, Manju lay recovering in Shankar’s apartment, her nose bandaged, her ass still crosshatched with purple welts. She could only breathe through her mouth, her septum raw and swollen.
Shankar tended to her with a twisted kind of care—changing her bandages, feeding her broth, and every night, pressing his thumb into the middle of her nose, forcing the piggy look that made his cock throb. “You’ll be beautiful again,” he whispered. “More beautiful than before.”
When the swelling subsided, he took her to a piercing studio in the outskirts of the city, a place that asked no questions and accepted cash. The piercer was a heavy-set man with tribal tattoos crawling up his arms and a bored expression. He looked at Manju’s nose, at the three existing rings, and grunted.
“Septum’s healed enough. You want a stretch? How big?”
“Thirteen millimeters,” Shankar said.
The piercer raised an eyebrow. “That’s a serious gauge. Gonna stretch the cartilage to the limit. Might tear. You sure?”
Manju knelt on the floor of the studio, her wrists bound behind her back with leather cuffs Shankar had brought. She was naked under her coat, her nipples already clamped, a chain hanging between them. She looked up at Shankar, her eyes pleading, but Shankar only smiled.
“Do it.”
The piercer laid out a set of tapered stretching rods, each one slightly thicker than the last, ending in a 13mm barbell. He started with the existing 4mm ring, removing it with a twist. The hole was small, barely visible.
“First stretch. 6mm.”
He inserted the tapered rod, coated in lubricant, and pushed. Manju gasped as the metal forced its way through her septum, stretching the tender hole. The pain was a sharp, burning pressure, spreading through her nose and into her sinuses. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Breathe through your mouth,” Shankar said, gripping her hair. “You can take it.”
The piercer twisted the rod, working it deeper, then pulled it through, leaving a 6mm ring in its place. The hole was visibly larger now, a dark circle in the center of her nose.
“8mm.”
The next rod was thicker. Manju whimpered as it entered, the cartilage screaming in protest. The piercer worked slowly, methodically, each millimeter of stretch feeling like an eternity. When the 8mm ring clicked into place, Manju’s nose looked deformed, the septum pulled wide, her nostrils flaring like a pig’s.
“10mm.”
This one made her scream. The rod seemed impossibly thick, scraping against the edges of the stretch, tearing micro-fibers of cartilage. Blood mixed with the lubricant, dripping onto her bare thighs. The piercer didn’t stop. He pushed, twisted, forced the metal through until the ring seated itself with a wet pop.
Manju’s vision blurred. She was breathing in ragged gasps, her entire face throbbing.
“12mm.”
“No,” she begged. “Please, no more—”
Shankar crouched in front of her, took her face in his hands, and pressed his thumb into the middle of her nose, flattening it against the ring. The pressure was excruciating. “You’ll take it, pig. You’ll take all of it.”
The piercer inserted the 12mm rod. Manju’s scream was muffled by Shankar’s hand clamping over her mouth. Her body convulsed, her bound wrists straining against the cuffs. The rod scraped through, leaving a raw, gaping tunnel in her septum.
“One more. 13mm.”
The final rod was as thick as a pencil. The piercer lined it up with the bloody hole and pushed. Manju’s world went white. She felt the cartilage tear, felt the metal grind against bone, felt something give deep inside her nose. Then the rod was through, and the 13mm barbell was screwed into place.
When she could see again, Shankar was holding a mirror in front of her face.
She barely recognized herself. Her nose was permanently flattened, the massive ring distorting her features. Her nostrils were stretched wide, flaring outward, giving her the face of a pig. The ring was so large it hung below her nostrils, a thick steel circle that dominated her face.
“Beautiful,” Shankar breathed. “Perfect piggy nose.”
The Leash