Chapter 9

Divya’s flight back to Delhi dragged on, her body a throbbing testament to Jeddah’s brutality. The burkha itched against her sweat-slicked skin, hiding the fresh brands and welts, but the piercings screamed with every movement—the septum bar chafing her raw nostrils, side hoops pulling at the swollen flesh of her long nose, tongue barbell weighing her mouth like a lead curse, and nipple rings biting into her 38DD tits. She craved the degradation, the way it shattered her lawyer facade, but reality loomed: court cases, judgmental eyes, and hiding this slave wreckage from her professional world.

Ranveer waited at the airport, his face a mask of smug triumph. He thought his revenge had crushed her—exposing her secrets, selling her off like meat—but as Divya emerged, veiled and limping, she felt a twisted hunger stir in her gut. This life fueled her, the pain a secret high no courtroom victory could match. In the car, he grabbed her chin, yanking the niqab aside to inspect her face. ‘Broke you good, didn’t I? Look at that pig nose, ringed like a beast.’ His fingers hooked the septum bar, twisting until tears welled. Divya gasped, pussy clenching under the burkha. ‘You think so? I need more, Ranveer. The desert ... it awakened something.’ He laughed, shoving his hand between her legs to finger her sore cunt roughly. ‘Whore. Spill it—who else owns you?’

She confessed about Aliyah, the Muslim dom who’d claimed her months ago in a haze of forbidden sessions. Ranveer’s cock hardened at the thought—another layer to her humiliation, a rival to share the breaking. ‘A Muslim bitch training my Hindu slut? Hot. Invite her wrath.’ Divya nodded, dialing Aliyah as Ranveer drove, his free hand pinching her nipple ring through the fabric.

Back in her Delhi apartment, Divya stripped, surveying the damage in the mirror: her massive tits sagged slightly from the weights and pulls, dark bruises mapping her belly and thighs, ass cheeks striped from whips, pussy lips stretched and pierced anew from Khalid’s masters. The nose piercings dominated her face—thick gold hoops on each side flaring her waxed nostrils wide, the septum bar dangling like a handle. She inserted the retainer into the septum hole, a clear plug that sealed it shut, but the side hoops gleamed openly. The tongue bar clacked as she tested words, slurring slightly. Work tomorrow—no choice.

At the Supreme Court, heads turned. Colleagues whispered as Divya strode in, sari draped elegantly over her curves, the side nose hoops catching the light like bold jewelry. The judge, a stern older man, eyed her during the hearing, gaze lingering on her long nose and its new adornments. Stares prickled her skin—’What’s with the lawyer’s bling?’ one junior murmured—but Divya’s tough facade held. She argued fiercely, voice steady despite the tongue bar’s drag, dismantling the opposition with sharp logic. No one dared probe; her reputation as the unyielding advocate silenced questions. ‘Astrologer suggested it,’ she told a nosy clerk later about the both sides nose piercings forcing a smile. ‘For evil eyes, bad omens—keeps the karma clean.’ Lies, but they stuck. Inside, the secrecy thrilled her, piercings rubbing erotically with each gesture.