Chapter 14

The next morning, Divya arrived at the Supreme Court with her heart pounding beneath her professional facade. The 13mm grommet in her septum gaped openly now—no retainer could hide the stretched hole anymore. It was a raw, visible void in the center of her long, prominent nose, framed by the thick gold hoops piercing each nostril side. Colleagues would see it from across the room, the empty circle pulling slightly with every breath, her nostrils flaring wider than before. Ahmed had texted her at dawn: Wear the low-cut blouse today, slut. Let them stare at your udders too. She’d obeyed, slipping into a deep V-neck silk blouse that plunged between her 38DD breasts, the fabric hugging her pierced nipples and exposing a generous swell of cleavage. No bra, of course—her heavy tits bounced freely with each step, the nipple rings pressing against the thin material.

As she strode into the bustling corridors, heads turned immediately. Her juniors, a cluster of young lawyers in crisp suits, clustered near the coffee machine. One, a sharp-eyed woman named Riya, froze mid-sip, her gaze locking on Divya’s face. ‘Ma’am? What ... happened to your nose?’ Riya stammered, the others leaning in, eyes widening at the blatant hole punched through the septum cartilage. It was impossible to miss—the grommet’s edges were pink and healed, but the opening yawned like a deliberate modification, big enough to thread a finger through if someone dared.

Divya forced a confident smile, her tongue piercing clicking softly against her teeth as she spoke. ‘Just a personal choice, Riya. Stretching for a larger ring—astrological reasons, you know.’ But her voice wavered slightly, the lie tasting bitter amid the thrill of exposure. The juniors exchanged glances, one whispering, ‘First the side hoops, now this? Looks like a bull ring hole.’ Their eyes dipped lower, drawn by the low-cut blouse, where her massive breasts strained the fabric, cleavage spilling out invitingly. A male junior flushed, shifting uncomfortably, while another murmured, ‘And that outfit ... bold today, ma’am.’

In the courtroom, the stares intensified. Fellow advocates from rival firms shot sidelong looks during the pre-hearing huddle, their whispers buzzing like flies. ‘Divya Sharma’s gone full punk—check that nose hole. And those tits are practically on display.’ The judge, a grizzled veteran in his sixties with a reputation for stern propriety, peered over his spectacles as Divya approached the bench to file documents. His gaze lingered on her face first—the grommet’s void stark against her fair skin—then dropped to the plunging neckline, where her nipple outlines showed faintly through the silk. He cleared his throat, adjusting his robes. ‘Ms. Sharma, everything alright? Your ... appearance seems altered.’ His tone was neutral, but his eyes betrayed curiosity, tracing the way her breasts heaved with her quickened breath.

Before she could respond, Meera—a close female colleague and occasional lunch companion—pulled her aside in the hallway. Meera, elegant in a modest salwar kameez, gripped Divya’s arm, voice low but urgent. ‘Divya, what’s going on? First those big nose rings on both sides—bold, but okay, you said it was for protection. Now this? A punched hole right through your septum? I can see straight through it from the side! It’s huge. And that blouse ... you’re showing more cleavage than a Bollywood star. People are talking. Is everything okay at home?’

Divya’s cheeks burned, but between her thighs, her pussy clenched with illicit heat. The interrogation only amplified the humiliation she craved. ‘It’s nothing, Meera. Just experimenting with piercings. The grommet makes it stronger for heavier jewelry. And the blouse? Feeling confident today.’ She laughed it off, but Meera’s frown deepened, her eyes flicking to the visible hole again. ‘It looks painful. And permanent. Be careful—rumors are flying already.’ As Meera walked away, Divya pressed her thighs together, the benwa balls Ahmed had forced inside her that morning shifting, teasing her walls. The added scrutiny from the low-cut top and the unhideable septum hole turned every glance into a spike of degradation, her clit throbbing under her skirt.