Humiliation & slavery of a high profile Lawyer

The familiar sting of the gold clamps was a welcome pain. Manju knelt on the thin mattress in the dim room, her sari pooled around her waist, her blouse abandoned. Two heavy chains connected the clamps on her swollen, purple nipples, the weight dragging them down, the metal biting into her flesh with every tiny shift of her body. She was ready. Her cunt was already slick beneath her petticoat. She loved this ache, the promise of a brutal yank while her mouth was full.

The door opened. A shadow stepped in. Manju kept her eyes down, the protocol drilled into her by Rani. She heard the rustle of cheap trousers, smelled the sweat of a working man. A normal client. Not a professonal or a politician, just a man with a hunger.

“Please, sir,” she whispered, her voice thick with lust. “Look at my breasts. Please pull the chains. Pinch my nipples. I beg you. I need the pain while I suck your cock.”

The man stood before her. She didn’t wait for permission. Her hands found his belt, unbuckling it with practiced speed. His cock sprang out, half-hard, thickening fast in her grip. It was a nice cock, thick and circumcised. She leaned forward and took the head in her mouth, her tongue swirling around the slit.

“Pull them!” she gasped, pulling her mouth off for a second. “Please, sir, pull my nipple chains!”

He grabbed the chains. A brutal, savage yank. The sharp lightning of pain shot directly from her nipples to her cunt. She screamed around his cock, her eyes watering, but her hips bucked forward instinctively. Yes. This was what she craved.

He yanked again as she took him deeper, her nose pressing into his pubic bone. He grunted, fucking her face with short, sharp thrusts while he held the chains taut. She loved it. She was nothing but a mouth and a pair of tortured tits for this stranger.

He held her head down on his cock, his hips jerking as he came. Hot, thick jets of cum shot straight down her throat. She swallowed greedily, her tongue milking his shaft. He kept pulling on the chains, the sting prolonging her pleasure.

When he finally released her, she sat back on her heels, panting. A string of her saliva and his cum connected her lips to his softening cock.

“You swallow so well, ma’am,” he said.

Her blood turned to ice.

She knew that voice.

Slowly, her eyes traveled up his cheap polyester shirt, his thin neck, his graying mustache. Shankar. The office peon. The man who brought her tea and filed her briefs.

“Shankar…” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

He smiled, a cold, predatory smile she had never seen on his face before. “I paid Rani a month’s salary to find out who the mystery cocksucker was. I never imagined it would be you, Manju ma’am. The high-profile lawyer. The iron lady of the courtroom.” His eyes dropped to her breasts, to the chains. “And such a filthy slut underneath.”

She scrambled to cover herself, suddenly acutely aware of her nakedness, her vulnerability. The power dynamic had completely shattered.

“Don’t,” he ordered, his voice hard. “Stay on your knees.”

She froze. The lawyer in her wanted to threaten him. The woman in her—the one who had just swallowed his cum—was paralyzed.

Shankar stepped closer. He didn’t look at her eyes. He looked at her nose. He reached out and cupped her chin, tilting her face up towards the dim light.

“Your nose, Manju,” he breathed, his voice suddenly reverent. “Do you know how many times I’ve stood by your cabin door, pretending to fix the handle, just to watch you breathe? The way your nostrils flare when you dictate a letter. The way the light falls into them. They are the most beautiful nose holes I have ever seen.”

He brought his thumb up and gently pressed in the middle of her sexy nose giving Manju a piggy look ,violation of his touch in her nose, a vulnerability deeper than having her cunt touched.

“I always wanted to look inside them,” he whispered. “I used to masturbate in the office toilet thinking about pulling your nose up and giving you this look.”

Manju’s mind raced. This was a catastrophe. Her entire life—her family’s reputation, her career, her position in society— was kneeling in the dust of this vile room with the peon’s cum in her belly.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can give you money. I can—”

He pressed his thumb further into her nose , making her eyes water. “I don’t want your money, Manju. I want you. All of you. This cocksucking, chain-wearing slut that you hide under your silk saris.”

He pulled his hand away and unzipped his bag. He pulled out a small case. He opened it. Inside was a piercing needle, a clamp, and a thick, gold captive bead ring.

“I had this made especially for you,” he said. “Your septum will be pierced tonight. You will wear a retainer to hide it at work, but this ring will always be there, a promise of who you belong to.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t. I’m a lawyer. I’m in court—”

“You are my cocksucker,” he cut her off. “If you refuse, every single judge, every client, your entire family, will see the video I just took of you begging for your nipple chains to be pulled while you choked on my cock.”

He pulled out his phone and showed her the screen. There she was, on her knees, her mouth full, her chained breasts bouncing as he yanked. The audio was clear. “Please, sir, pull my nipple chains!”

Her world collapsed.

“Now,” he said, his voice businesslike. “Lie back on the mattress. I am going to pierce your nose myself. And you are going to let me, because you have no choice.”

She couldn’t move. He grabbed her arm, pulled her down, and straddled her chest. He placed the clamp on her septum, centering it. The pain was immediate, a sharp pinch that made her gasp.

“Your nose holes, Manju,” he murmured, his face inches from hers. He was staring directly into her nostrils. “I am going to put a ring right through the wall of your nose. And every time you breathe, every time you speak, you will feel it. You will remember that your nose belongs to me.”

The needle pierced. A quick, sharp burn of silver and cartilage. She screamed, a choked sound of pain and humiliation. The needle pushed through her septum.

He removed the needle and inserted the ring. The gold clicked into place. It was done.

He sat up, admiring his work. He reached down and gently rotated the ring, making her wince. Then he pressed his lips to the tip of her nose.

“My beautiful lawyer,” he said. “Now, get on your knees. I am not finished with you yet. I need to train your mouth to recognize its new owner.”

He pulled out a clear, U-shaped retainer. “For court,” he said. “But right now, I want the ring to stay.”

He sat on the edge of the mattress, his cock already hard again. She crawled towards him. There was no fight left. She looked up at him, her eyes red from crying, the gold hoop glinting in her septum.

“Open your nose for me, Manju,” he said, grabbing her head and tilting it up. “Let me see your holes with the ring in.”

She breathed deeply, her nostrils flaring, the new ring a cold, constant reminder. He stuck his pinky finger into her nostril and twirled the ring.

“Perfect,” he whispered. “Now open your mouth. I want to feel that metal against my cock while you suck.”

She leaned forward and took him into her mouth. The cold of the septum ring pressed against his shaft as she moved her head. He grabbed her long hair and her nipple chains simultaneously, pulling both as he fucked her face.

She was his. A rich, beautiful, brilliant lawyer. The peon’s personal property. Her nose pierced. Her tits chained. Her throat an open altar for his seed.

In the months that followed, no one noticed the tiny retainer in her nose when she argued cases. No one suspected that the peon who dusted her cabin was the same man who made her crawl every night, begging him to pull the chains he made her wear under her silk clothing. The high and mighty Manju was gone. In her place was Shankar’s perfect, pierced, chained, cocksucking slave.

Chapter 2

The Lawyer's Humiliation

The arrangement had been struck. Shankar sat across from Rani in the dimly lit bungalow, Manju kneeling naked between them, her new septum ring glinting under the single bulb. Her nipples were already clamped, chains hanging down past her navel, the weight familiar and grounding.

"She can keep working," Shankar said, his voice flat. "But only high-profile clients. Businessman . Politicians. Industrialists. The kind of men who pay enough to make it worth my while." He reached down and grabbed Manju's chin, tilting her face up. "And you will wear this ring everywhere, Manju. Not just at work. At every dinner party. Every charity gala. Every court appearance. You will tell people it's a style statement. A bold new look."

She nodded, her eyes cast down. The retainer was comfortable enough for court, but he had commanded her to wear the actual ring on weekends. The thought of walking into a room full of her peers with a gold ring through her septum made her stomach churn.

"But I can't," she whispered. "People will know—"

"They will know you have a piercing," he said, cutting her off. "They will think you're having a midlife crisis. They will gossip. But they will never know the truth. Unless you want them to." He held up his phone, the video still saved. "Now, let's go to your house. Your precious, expensive house where you sleep alone. Tonight, I am going to use every room."

---

Her own bedroom felt foreign. The expensive sheets, the crystal chandelier, the walk-in closet of silk saris. Now she was on her knees on her own Persian rug, naked except for the chains and clamps, while Shankar rummaged through a black bag he had brought.

He pulled out a pair of nose hooks. They were made of polished brass, each one curved and sharp at the tip, designed to slip into her nostrils and hook the sensitive tissue inside. Attached to each hook was a thin, strong thread.

"These are special," he said, holding one up. "I had them custom-made. They will open your nostrils wide, Manju. Give you that piggy look I love so much."

He sat on the edge of her king-sized bed, his trousers already open, his cock half-hard. "Come here. Let me put them in."

She crawled forward, her heavy breasts swinging with each movement. He took her face in his hands, tilting her head back. She felt the cold metal against her nostril, then the sharp pinch as the hook slid in, curving up into the soft flesh. She gasped, her eyes watering. He did the same to the other nostril. Now both hooks were in place, the metal pressing against the inner walls of her nose.

"Breathe," he commanded.

She inhaled. The air rushed in, unobstructed, her nostrils now stretched wide open. The sensation was alien—she could feel the cool air hitting the deepest parts of her sinuses. He leaned in and looked directly into her nostrils, marveling at the view.

"Beautiful," he whispered. "Look at those perfect holes."

He pulled the two threads taut, one in each hand. The hooks bit deeper, pulling her nostrils outward and upward. She felt her face distort, her nose flattening, her upper lip lifting. The piggy look he wanted. He grinned, his eyes wild with lust.

"Yes. Now you are perfect."

He tied the threads to two heavy brass rings bolted to the headboard of her own bed. Now she was anchored, her head pulled back, her nostrils stretched wide, her neck exposed.

He stood up and walked around behind her. She heard him unzip his pants fully. Then she felt the first warm glob of his cum land directly on her exposed nostril. It dripped inside, sliding down the sensitive inner wall. She wanted to scream, to wipe it away, but her hands were tied—metaphorically—by the blackmail.

"More," he said, stroking himself. A second jet landed on her other nostril. He used his finger to smear it around, rubbing it into the rim of her stretched nose.

"Now for these," he said, grabbing the nipple chains. He pulled them taut, the clamps digging deeper into her flesh. She whimpered, her back arching involuntarily.

"This is what you love, isn't it?" he said, yanking the chains. The sharp pain shot through her chest, making her gasp. "Beg me to pull them."

"Please," she sobbed. "Please pull them."

He did. Again and again, while she knelt, her nostrils hooked open, his cum dripping down her philtrum. He released the chains and picked up a cane—a thin, whippy rattan stick.

"Bend over the bed."

She had no choice. She turned, her face still tethered to the headboard by the nose hooks, her ass presented to him. The first stroke landed across her back, a sharp, burning line of fire. She screamed. The second landed across her plump ass cheeks, leaving a red welt.

"Cry louder," he said. "Your neighbors are rich. They'll think it's a domestic dispute."

He caned her until her entire back and ass were a landscape of raised red stripes. Then he picked up a candle from her nightstand and lit it. He tilted it over her breasts.

"You have beautiful tits, Manju. 38DD. So full. Let's decorate them."

The hot wax dripped onto her nipple. She screamed, the pain radiating through her chest. He moved the candle, dripping wax in a slow, deliberate pattern across both breasts, the white wax hardening on her pale skin.

He set the candle aside and pulled out a butt plug. It was thick, black silicone, with a flared base.

"You will wear this while I fuck your pussy," he said. He coated it with lube from her own bathroom and pressed it against her asshole. She clenched, resisting, but he slapped her welted ass hard.

"Open."

She relaxed, and the plug slid in, filling her rectum. The fullness was overwhelming.

He flipped her onto her back, her nose hooks still pulling her head forward awkwardly. He positioned himself between her legs and thrust into her pussy without warning. She was wet—she was always wet, even when she hated herself for it. Her body betrayed her.

He fucked her hard, each thrust making the nose hooks jiggle, the nipple chains swing. He grabbed the threads again, pulling them taut, stretching her nostrils wide as he pounded into her cunt.

"Look at you," he grunted. "A high-profile lawyer. My piggy-nosed cocksucker. You love this, don't you?"

She couldn't answer. She was crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the cum on her nose. But her hips bucked up to meet his thrusts. The pain and pleasure were indistinguishable.

He pulled out, rolled her over, and shoved his cock into her mouth. The nose hooks were still taut, pulling her nostrils wide, making it hard to breathe through her nose. She had to take him through her mouth, her tongue frantically working as he held both threads and the nipple chains.

"Yes," he hissed. "Suck. Let me feel that ring against my cock."

The septum ring scraped against his shaft as she moved her head. He pulled the threads again, making her cry out around his cock. He held the nipple chains and yanked, a brutal simultaneous pull on all four points—both nostrils, both nipples.

She screamed into his groin, the pain reaching a peak that bordered on transcendence. Her vision went white.

He came. Hot, thick cum filled her mouth and throat. She swallowed automatically, her body trained. When he pulled out, she collapsed onto her side, the nose hooks still pulling her face towards the headboard, her ass plugged, her breasts covered in wax and welts, her pussy dripping.

He stood up and looked down at her.

He left her there, naked and broken, the hooks still in her nose, the chains still on her tits. In her own house. In her own bed. A prisoner of her own secrets, her own desires, and the peon who owned her completely.