DISCLAIMER: This story is 100% a work of fiction. It depicts sexual
activity between same-sex adults. If you are offended and this is not your cup of tea, please stop reading!

Please do not put identifiable details in the comment section. Safety and privacy first!

Chan: a stocky almost rotund family lawyer of the current master of the estate. A first-generation migrant from Asia, an accomplished lawyer who has a forked tongue. He was found by the previous master during his trip around Asia to find a place where he can branch out his business. Discovering Chan, a diamond in the rough, was instead what they found, and after his skills are polished, his new master and him have grown multiple businesses around the Eastern continent.

Journal Entry 5:

Chan was someone my father found when he was touring Asia, the once gaunt young viper, is now a hedonistic tanuki, his forked tongue still remained though. and how he loved to show me how much of a forked tongue hedonist he is.

Chan:

I heard the measured tread on the corridor runner and straightened the already perfect stack of acquisition papers. The half-hour window was narrow. Sebastian would still be busy making sure master’s house runs by his will, David sulking in the east wing after the end of his morning binding with master, Theodore caring for master’s favorite the moon-garden, and Mathew planning his perfect menu for our master’s consumption.

Meanwhile, I had assigned every task myself so none of them could interrupt. My charcoal waistcoat sat smooth over the soft roll of my middle. Beneath the wool the gold rings shifted against my sack with every breath. Then, I casually opened the study door just as my dearest master reached it.

“Master, a moment before your venture towards the garden. The Singapore holding company closed the due-diligence file overnight. Three signatures and the subsidiary transfers cleanly.” I kept my voice even, the same tone I used in boardrooms, though my cage already leaked at the sight of him in the loose robe.

I stepped aside so he could enter, then closed the door and turned the lock. “The Hong Kong counsel flagged a minority-shareholder clause that needs your initial in the margin. I have marked the pages, you need to see.”

He paused and glanced at the neat folders. “You moved the call with the auditors.”

“I did. They can wait until four. This cannot.” I circled the desk and laid the first document flat. My fingers lingered on the heavy fountain pen. “Page twelve concerns the warehouse lease in Busan. If we do not countersign before noon their time, the option lapses and the competing bid from the Osaka group becomes binding. I prepared the report for your judgment.”

I spoke while my hands worked the buttons of my jacket. The wool slid from my shoulders. The waistcoat followed, then the shirt, each movement deliberate so the thick gold bars through my nipples caught the light. The soft weight of my chest made the piercings sit low and warm. I continued without looking up, already imagining his hands on them.

“The second file is the employment covenants for the new logistics managers. Non-competes hold under both jurisdictions if you initial clause 7.2. I can have the originals couriered by evening, if you wish.” My trousers and underwear came down altogether. Revealing a small gold chastity cage, gleaming, snug around my softened length, cock lips opening already wet and glossy with need.

Gold rings circled the base of my sack, two short barbells pierced the skin beneath, tugging whenever I shift. As I set my clothes aside, I said, “Your signature here, and here. Then the matter is finished.”

Master had not moved to the chair. He watched the soft roll of my belly and the way the cage sat against the thicker flesh of my thighs. I lowered my gaze, voice even lower.

“I made sure the others cannot take your time. Half an hour, please use me as you see fit, my master.”

A low sound left his throat, as  he took the pen, signed the three marked lines in quick strokes, then set the instrument down. “Crawl under my desk.”

I went to my knees at once. The carpet, thick under my palms as I crawled the short distance, shoulders brushing the oak furniture. I settled between master’s feet as he finally sat. His robe parting open, I pressed my face to the warm inner thigh first, breathing in clean skin and the faint trace of garden air, then opened my mouth around his soft cock and nursed it with slow, wet pulls. My forked tongue split around the head, stroking both sides at once, coaxing the first pulse of blood. I kept my hands on my own thighs so the cage and rings clicked faintly when I shifted closer, greedy for every inch.

“The Busan lease can wait if you want my throat first,” I murmured against the thickening shaft, then took it deeper, swallowing until my nose met the base. Saliva ran down my chin onto his sack. I suckled steadily, cheeks hollowing, as I let the fat cock swell against my tongue until it filled my mouth and nudged my throat. Cock nectar sweetly salted the back of my tongue. I swallowed what I could and kept nursing, needy little slurps escaping whenever I drew back for air. My own slit drooled inside the cage. I wanted my dearest master to fuck my face until I choked.

He let me work for several minutes, one hand resting on my head, fingers loose in my hair. Then the hand tightened and pulled me off. “Turn over, raise your ass, and present that hole.”

Not a second later, I obeyed, folding my arms on the carpeted floor, and lifting my full, fat cunt. The first strike of a thin leather strap landed low across both cheeks. Heat bloomed at once. I gasped, cage jerking, but held my position and pushed back for more. A second and then a third stroke overlapped with the first, painting my fleshy behind with crimson welts. By the sixth my skin stung and my hole clenched for my master’s hard cock. He paused, ran his palm over my heated flesh, then delivered another four, harder-and-harder, until my voice broke into needy whine.

“Still your cunt, you greedy tanuki,” he said. He reached for the fountain pen. Then, I felt the blunt end, still cool, press between my cheeks and circle my hole once before sliding lower. Next, his other hand cupped my sack, rings and barbells shifting under his squeeze. Pain and pressure mixing in the introduction of a symphony. My cock strained inside the tiny cage, leaking freely onto the carpet.

“Please,” I managed. “Plug me, Master. My cock pussy needs to be sealed or I’ll cum like a wanton slut.”

The pen’s blunt tip found the slit of my caged cock and pushed. The stretch was immediate and bright. My thighs shook as master worked the smooth end deep, past the sensitive crown; until several centimeters sat inside my urethra, blocking any chance of release.

I squealed like a sow, high and startled, hips jerking, but the hand on my balls tightened and held me from moving. He reached down with his hands an twisted nipple bars at once, rolling my fat titties between his fingers until my voice cracked again.

“Louder. Tell me how much you want it.”

I did as my beloved master commanded, every twist sent a jolt straight to my plugged cock hole. The pen shifted with each involuntary clench. I was left babbling like a fool at the rest of the lease terms I no longer remembered, voice wrecked, while he alternated between cruel pinches to the pierced nipples and slow, rolling squeezes of my decorated balls. Precum seeped around the pen and dripped. My hole clenched, empty and aching, desperate to be filled by his cock, my master’s delicious hardness.

He finally released my nipples. Then two fingers, slick with the juice from my own cock, pressed at my cunt and sank in. I moaned into the carpet from the invasion. Next a third finger followed, then the fourth, stretching my pussy wide. He fucked his hand in and out, knuckles dragging over my prostate, while the other hand kept a steady grip on the pen so it could not slip free. Still, I pushed back, greedy, trying to take my master’s lean wrist. My belly shook and jiggled. Sweat gathered under my arms and along the crease of my thighs.

“More,” I begged. “Please, all of it. Fist this greedy sow of lawyer. I can take more my master.”

He added his thumb, folded the fingers, and drove the fist forward until the widest part popped inside. I squealed and moaned. The stretch burned and then settled into a deep, overwhelming fullness that pressed my prostate hard against the urethral plug. He began to thrust, slow at first, then harder, the fist opening and closing inside me with each stroke. My caged cock jerked helplessly. The pen rode the spasms. My balls drew tight under the gold rings despite the blockage. I rocked back onto my beloved master, with my hole gripping, chasing every inch of his arm. I was left drooling and whining with no pride left.

He fucked me steadily, free hand moving from twisting a nipple and then the other, never letting the pain fade. My voice broke into a song of needy cries. When he curled his fingers and ground them directly into the swollen gland, the orgasm tore through me anyway. My clit cock pulsed violently around the pen. The force of the first spurt shoved the fountain pen free. Furthermore, it clattered across the carpet, trailing cum. Thick pulses followed, painting the floor and my own thighs while Master’s fist stayed buried and milking me through every wave. I shook, sobbing with the intensity, ass clenching rhythmically until he finally eased the hand out.

I stayed folded under the desk, hole gaping and squeezing, cum still leaking from my open slit. He wiped his hand on my discarded shirt and reached again for the signed papers.

“Clean this mess,” Master said mildly, as he cleaned. “Then you may finish what you started. Suck me dry.”

I turned, still trembling, and took the hard cock back into my mouth. With exhausted devotion, I suckled with my literally forked tongue working both sides of the shaft, until he gripped my hair and came down my throat in long pulses. I swallowed every drop, then licked his shaft and heavy sack clean. My cheek resting against his firm thigh while my own spent cock dripped onto the carpet between my knees. The welts on my ass throbbed in time with my heartbeat.

Easily, half an hour was nearly gone, and I already wanted the fist again. I gathered the strands of my own cum with two fingers and licked them clean, then I lowered my face to the floor to lick clean the larger spots. When the carpet showed only damp shadows, I rose, folded the soiled shirt inside the waistcoat, and set the stack of signed documents in perfect order.

He watched me from the chair, robe still open. “The auditors can wait, follow me, you greedy tanuki. You disrupted my morning. The dungeon will balance your actions.”

My cage twitched at his words and I walked three paces behind, bare feet silent on the runner, gold rings chiming softly against my thighs. We descended the service stair that opened behind a panel in the library. The air grew cooler. At the bottom he unlocked an iron-bound door and pushed it wide.

The dungeon occupied the full length of the old wine cellar. Stone walls had been lime-washed white so every surface reflected the low lamps. A St. Andrew’s cross stood bolted to the far wall, its padding worn smooth from use. Beside it sat a padded bench with multiple restraint points, a steel fucking frame with adjustable stirrups, and a low examination table fitted with stirrups and a drain beneath.

Racks lined one wall: paddles of leather, wood, and acrylic in every weight; rows of sounding rods in graduated steel and silicone; clamps, weights, and chains. A glass-fronted cabinet held plugs, fist-shaped toys, and bottles of perfumed oil. The floor was sealed stone with a central drain. My hole clenched at the sight of the open cabinet and the gleaming rods. I wanted every one of them inside me.

“Over the bench,” he said.

I bent at once, my fat tits to the padded top, ass raised high. Leather cuffs closed around my wrists and ankles, spreading me. The first paddle was wide, made with maple, and it landed flat across both cheeks with a solid crack. Pain flared bright and even behind my eyes.

Moaning into the bench, I pushed back for the next. “Harder, Master. Mark this greedy tanuki.” Ten strokes painted the earlier strap marks a deeper red. He switched to a narrower leather paddle and worked the undersides of my cheeks and the tops of my thighs until my voice broke into continuous grunts and squeals. My caged cock dripped steadily onto the stone. Each impact made my hole tremble and my balls swing.

“Such fat balls.” He said as he looked at my loose sack

He reached between my legs, gathered the decorated sac, and closed a pair of heavy clamps on the skin just above the gold rings. The bite was immediate and vicious. I yelped, then sighed as the pressure settled into a deep ache that made my clit cock throb harder. “Thank you, Master. More weight, please. I want them swollen and useless, I beg you.” I begged with honest need.

A short chain linked the clamps, then master gave it a testing tug. It made my knees buckle against the restraints. Next, He added a second set of clamps lower, near the barbells, and let them hang low. Weight pulled my sac downward until it felt huge and hot. My breath came short and eager; and I rocked my hips, begging without words for the next cruelty.

Only then did he select the first sounding rod, a slim four-millimeter steel. He slicked it and pressed the rounded tip to my slit. My master was teasing me, after all I can take thicker. The metal slid in easily past the sensitive crown. I groaned, hole fluttering, and pushed forward to take it deeper. “Yes, open me. Stretch your greedy pet’s clit cock.” The rod seated fully. He left it for a moment, then withdrew it and took the next size. Five millimeters stretched the passage. Six burned sweetly. By eight millimeters I was panting, cock forced straighter inside the small gold cage, precum welling around the steel and running down the clamps.

Master worked each rod in slow thrusts, twisting, jabbing, letting me feel every millimeter of increasing girth until the ten-millimeter rod sat deep and my slit gaped visibly around it when the metal was drawn halfway out. I was left sobbing with pleasure, ass clenching, trying to fuck myself on nothing while the steel held me open.

“Look at you,” he said, as he tugged the ball chain again. “Gaping already and still greedy for more.” The largest rod was removed and set aside, leaving my cock pussy open and pulsing. Cum and my own clear juice leaked freely down my swollen sac. I whimpered and spread my knees wider, offering everything to my dearest master.

He released the bench cuffs and walked me to the cross. Wrist and ankle cuffs locked me facing outward. A motor hummed, and the cross rotated until I hung fully inverted, head at the height of his hips, ass presented high. Blood rushed to my face. My gaping cock pointed toward the floor, still leaking in slow strands. He oiled his hand, pressed four fingers to my puffy cunt, and sank them in without pause. My mouth opened on a broken moan. The fist followed, popping past the rim and driving deep until his wrist stretched me. At the same time he fed his cock between my lips.

I suckled at once, forked tongue splitting around the shaft, throat relaxing to take the length even upside down. “Master, please, I beg you… fuck my throat while you ruin my needy cunt,” I managed around the cock before he pushed deeper. His fist fucked me with long, grinding strokes that mashed my prostate. Every thrust forced more fluid from my open slit. Juices running over my belly and chest in warm rivulets, mixing with the drool that escaped my lips. The clamps swayed and tugged with each movement, sending fresh spikes of ache through my balls.

Moaning around Master’s cock, greedy, pushing my ass back onto the wrist as far as the chains allowed. He twisted the buried fist, opened his fingers, and ground them hard and deep. My cock jerked and spat a sudden rope of cum that splashed my own chin and Master’s balls. I swallowed the next spurt that landed in the shaft between my lips and kept nursing, desperate for both, throat working, hole clenching, begging to be used until I had nothing left.

He fucked my throat and my hole together until my voice was hoarse. A second orgasm tore through me. Cum poured from my gaping slit in thick pulses, coating my face and dripping to the stone while I drank what I catch. Master then gripped my hair, thrust deep, and came in heavy mouthfuls. I swallowed each one, throat loose, forked tongue coaxing the last drops, asspussy still clenching rhythmically around his fist. Only when my dearest master’s cock softened did he ease his hand free. However, my hole stayed open, fluttering, squeezing on nothing, red and puffy, unwilling to close.

The cross rotated upright again. Cuffs opened. My legs shook. He removed the clamps one by one. Blood rushed back in a sweet, burning ache that made me whimper and lean into him. Cum streaked my chest and thighs, my ass a deep crimson, and my clit cock’s slit still gaped enough to show pink inner flesh. I felt wrecked and perfect.

“We both know this was never punishment,” he said, wiping his hands. “The Singapore transfer closed clean because you moved the auditors and kept the Osaka bid from landing. The family stays protected, consider the hour a reward.” He set a small lacquered box on the examination table. “Jacob’s ladder bars. Gold, sized to your cage. Have them placed when you are ready. I expect you come begging for the next reward. I have high hopes.”

I dropped to my knees immediately. I pressed my mouth to the tops of his bare feet, then the arches, kissing slowly, tongue tracing his skin. “Thank you, Master. I will succeed. Every contract, every hour I can steal, I will bring you reason to reward me again. Use me harder next time. Fill every hole until I cannot walk.”

He rested a hand on my head for a moment, then turned and left the dungeon, robe swaying. I remained kneeling until the door closed. I opened the box with trembling fingers. Six polished gold barbells lay in black velvet, each ending in a small captive bead. My caged cock gave a weak throb, slit still parted and leaking.

Then I closed the box, clutched it to my chest, and whispered to the empty room that I would clear the next afternoon’s schedule entirely. The ache in my ass and the lingering stretch in my cock already felt like promises. I can be greedier tomorrow, show of the new piercings,and beg him to wreck my cock pussy with them, until I scream.

Please do not put identifiable details in the comment section. Safety and privacy first!