Chapter 9: The Village Square

The morning sun blazed over the dusty village square, where the weekly market had drawn farmers, truck drivers, and villagers from miles around. Judge Mehta’s black Mercedes pulled up near the row of shops, and the old woman stepped out, dressed in her formal black robes, the starched white collar crisp against her wrinkled neck.

Manju followed, her wrists bound in front of her with a thin leather cord, a silver leash clipped to the massive 9mm gold septum ring that hung heavy between her nostrils. She wore her expensive navy blue lawyer’s suit—the same one she’d argued in just three days ago—but the blouse was unbuttoned to her navel, her massive 38DD breasts spilling out, the brass clamps still attached to her nipples, tiny chains connecting them and swaying with each step.

The villagers stopped and stared.

Judge Mehta walked slowly, deliberately, enjoying the gasps and whispers that followed them. She held the leash loosely, letting Manju stumble along beside her like a prize cow being led to auction.

“Look at them staring,” Judge Mehta murmured, loud enough for Manju to hear. “They know who you are, don’t they? The big city lawyer. The one who argued that property dispute last month. And now here you are, tits hanging out, leashed like a bitch in heat.”

Manju’s face burned crimson. She recognized faces in the crowd—the shopkeeper whose son she’d represented, the old woman who had testified in a land dispute, the young man who had delivered papers to the courthouse. They were all watching.

The judge stopped at a small stall where a weathered man in his fifties sat behind a pile of green coconuts. He wore a stained lungi and a loose vest, his teeth stained red from betel nut. His eyes went wide when he saw Manju, her breasts swinging freely, the gold ring in her nose catching the sunlight.

“This is Manju,” Judge Mehta announced loudly. “She’s a lawyer. A very important lawyer from the city. And today, she’s going to serve you.”