The Scales Of Injustice (non-WAM)

[andy250]

A complete story, free.

Written content is the copyright of Andy250.
Any unauthorised publishing or editing is forbidden
without written permission from the author.
The characters and events in this story are fictional.
Any resemblance to persons, whether alive or dead,
is coincidental.


She could take no more:

EMMA SAT AT her workstation, emotional frustration
rising. For over a year, she had struggled to bond with
the Office Manageress, Miss Prim. (This was not her
name. It was a nickname dished out by the girls
because she was an iron lady.)
In a previous job, Emma had performed on stage with
a metal band. Miss Prim had not considered this ladylike.
Heated conversations had followed over Emma's prior
engagement. Emma had (rightly) defended her time with
the group as she had enjoyed their company.
Emma – at her wit's end – glanced at her dull and drab
outfit. She had decided if she was going to quit, she'd
get what she wanted. As the working day finished, she
clock watched.
Bang on five, Miss Prim slapped her ruler against her
desk to tell the girls they could leave. She never said
goodbye. It was beneath her.


Cometh the hour, cometh Miss Emma:

THE SUN HAD risen high in the summer sky, bathing the
town in its morning warmth. Emma entered the business
at 08:50 and ascended the stairs to the office wearing a
sharp blue satin blouse (which barely held her assets in
place). To top off her outfit, she had chosen black
stockings and suspenders with matching heels. Her
suspender belt showed through her black skirt, inviting
comments.
Emma's outfit made Miss Prim turn away. The
Manageress checked her own attire. A short sleeve grey
blouse with a coffee stain on the mid-right section.
Alongside a drab grey full-length skirt coupled with tights
and matching flats.
Emma spied six sheets of paper that had fallen off her
desk onto the floor. She seized the moment and bent
over opposite Miss Prim. Emma's skirt rode up, revealing
her lingerie.
Miss Prim's eyes almost popped out of her head. “Dear
child, please, turn away!”
“Whoops.” Emma grinned.
“Child, sort out your attire. It's disgusting.”
When the girls began their chores, sniggers rang around
the desks. Emma had dared to face the Battleaxe.


Secretly loving it:

EMMA'S VOICE RATTLED around the workplace, “God, my
tits look good in this satin!”
Miss Prim spat coffee over her desk.
“Do you think the design looks sexy and flirty?” Emma
asked the girls. She glimpsed at her blouse. “The fabric
feels hot against my breasts, making my nipples pert.”
“I have satin lingerie which arouses me,” one girl replied.
“If my man tells me he is going to sexually dismantle me
while wearing the outfit, I become hot as soon as I put it
on. I love it when he degrades me – the combination of the
outfit, with him in control – the play sets me on fire!”
“Yeah, me too.” Emma grinned again. “I fucking love
being
degraded, humiliated, destroyed and then – sexually
dismantled.
Sometimes, my man and I include clothes ripping.”
Another
grin. “Lay the fucking lot on me! If I dress in office garb,
he goes nuts working my body over for hours until his
expression tells me my sexual demise is complete.”
Miss Prim shouted, “LADIES, PLEASE!”
“I switch with my man,” another girl said. “Him
cross-dressing flicks my switch.”
Miss Prim slammed her ruler hard against her desk to
regain order.
Emma rose, approached the photocopier, copied the
paperwork and thought. Now is the time. How far can
I push it until they humiliate me in public and degrade
me? Or even better . . . fire me! Then I can go home
and spend the rest of the day masturbating. She went
for it and copied her bust through her blouse. Miss
Prim's expression spokea thousand words!
Emma placed the exposure on top of the paperwork
and handed the pile to the Battleaxe.


When she gets what she wanted:

FIVE MINUTES LATER Emma spied (the jobsworth) Mr A
Wanker exit the elevator pushing an office trolley. He
entered the stern Manageress domain and glanced at
the girls. “Miss Prim, how dare she! Where is the wanton
slut – which one is it?!?”
Miss Prim pointed using her ruler. “That whore in the
blue satin.”
“Come with me, young lady.” He gazed at Emma. “A
verbal lashing at the roundabout of shame will destroy
your cockiness!”
“Fuck you, you Wanker!” Emma laughed. “That said,
with your name – you are A Wanker!”
Miss Prim fired a verbal volley at Emma, “How DARE
YOU speak to my colleague in that tone. It's Mr A Wanker
to you – piggy slut!” Her language shocked the other
girls.
Emma loved the tongue lashing and absorbed the
scolding as a kink. The harsher Miss Prim became, the
more she enjoyed the experience.
“Do your fucking worst,” Emma said to a Wanker.
“Take me to this place. Put me on public show.
Fucking degrade me. Abuse me, spit on me, tear my
clothes off, I don't give a fuck!”
Miss Prim's pent up rage burst forth, “A Wanker, take
this wanton slut away. Do your worst, including The
Scales Of Injustice. Weigh the fat fiend in front of
everyone. I will ring round the other companies and tell
them to send their workers out to view this heinous
spectacle. I will leave it with them to abuse this sow
cow as much as they like.” She added, “Tape Her to
the trolley and take this slut piggy out of my sight!”
Miss Prim was incapable of reading Emma's desire for
degrading destruction.
Emma didn't resist when A Wanker bound her upright
by her hands and legs. “I'll humiliate this pig in public!”
Miss Prim sounded snooty, “Thank you, I bid you, good
day, A Wanker.” He wheeled Emma to the elevator.
Miss Prim contacted the other businesses. Emma was to
become Miss Piggy – degraded and destroyed in public – she
was well up for the humiliation. Would the dominants force
her to give blow jobs? Maybe spit-roasted? Or gang-banged
in her ruined outfit? How much verbiage dare they dish out?
She craved for someone to weigh her. So those present
could abuse her size – even though she wore 12s – alongside
her looks. Let them strip away any self-dignity which remained.
“Time it went dark, Piggy!” A Wanker scowled at Emma,
blindfolded her and pushed her through the building. The
workers shouted:
“Whore.”
“Slut.”
“Pig.”
“Slag.”
Their taunts hit her in waves. She craved to rub her
pussy to show them she was a pig slut, but A Wanker
had denied her. Suddenly, they stopped.
“Let's turn this slut into Miss Piggy!” A Wanker said.
Cheers and whoops rang out.
Someone shouted, “Piggy, Piggy, PIGGY, PIGGY,
MISS-FUCKING-PIGGY.”; “Useless fucking blonde
tart!” another guy hollerred.
Their foul language increased Emma's arousal. Her
knickers became damp. She cried, “Give me
everything you've fucking got. Bring it!”
“Another fat fucking blonde slut!” a different guy
said; “If you were my missus – I'd give you back!”
someone added. Laughter rattled around the walls.
“Fat fucking cow!”; “No one chooses to fuck that!”
Their scoldings increased the fantasies dancing
around Emma's mind. The thought of the guys with
their dicks out wanting to fuck her – then refusing
because of her impending doom as Miss Piggy – was
hot; her pelvis tingled. To increase her humiliation,
A Wanker placed pig's ears on her head – cheers erupted.
“Stick a tail up her fat fucking ass!” one worker yelled.
Emma, her desires on fire, craved they would carry
out their threats. A Wanker lifted her skirt, slid her
knickers aside and shoved a sizeable red pig coil/tail
between her pert butt cheeks. Then, for jollies, he placed
a pig nose on her face.
He shouted, “OINK, OINK, Miss Piggy!”
A worker, holding a lipstick, stepped forward and wrote
on Piggy's forehead. I am the office slag!
One guy put his hand on Piggy's left breast and drew a
handprint around her bosom using the same lipstick. His
masterpiece finished, he taunted her, “Fucking-saggy, sow
tits!”
His words made Piggy rock on the trolley. She adored the
abuse, the attention and the degrading.
“Take her to the roundabout and the scales of injustice,”
cried one fellow at the back of the room.
A Wanker pushed the trolley outside and along the street.
He removed Piggy's blindfold. She gazed at her body,
noticed her pig nose, then the handprint and thought the
combination looked hot, sexy. The group passed a large
factory; their workers fired pig taunts at her. She went limp.
More fantasies danced around her mind as she absorbed the
next round of verbal abuse. Her endorphins cascaded into
overdrive when she stared at the scales. Oh, crap! But what
the hell; do it to me; put me on show. Take me hard. The
device was a giant weighing machine for truck trailers in
the centre of a purpose-built roundabout. (Piggy looked left
and noticed a smaller machine. ((Chains hung above it.))
Was she to dangle from those?)


The scales of injustice:

A WANKER'S PHONE rang. The trolley stopped. “Yes, Miss
Prim, we have arrived. I will string this fat pig up for a
public degrading and abuse session – leave it with me –
she will regret the day she came to work dressed as a
blonde bombshell.”
He pushed Piggy into position, then lowered the restraints.
(Miss Prim had arranged for him to string Piggy up in
public, so people could destroy, degrade and annihilate
the slut!) The beast took her hands out of the tape and
raised them into place. Next, he tore away the tape which
held her ankles to the trolley, and raised her onto her
tiptoes; she gasped at the workers, “God, fuck, ah!”
“Tear her fucking blouse open!” boomed one excited
fellow. The workers tossed more verbal destruction at
Piggy.
A Wanker stepped behind Piggy and ripped her blouse
open, exposing her ample breasts! The workers waved
bits of paper, punched skywards and hurled abuse at her.
“Ladies and Gentlemen gather round.” A Wanker
beckoned everyone closer. “Welcome to the scales of
injustice. Our latest pig is Emma Muffin, the office SLAG!”
“OOOHHH,” a worker shouted; “Saggy tits, chubby
legs, and piggy face. Piggy is so fucking fat, she might
break the scales!” another guy shared his thoughts. More
whoops and cheers boomed skywards.
Taken apart in public, by the public, Piggy cried,
“Fuck the lot of you!”
“Tear her fucking knickers off. Pigs don't wear 'em!”
someone shouted. A Wanker tugged! Piggy closed her
legs and tried to slow the crowd's wishes. She shouted,
“Fuck you, you fucking wanker!” His hard slaps reddened
the back of her knees; she buckled, her legs spread.
A Wanker yanked her knickers off and tossed them into
the crowd.
The workers peered at Piggy, shouted, “YES, YES,
YES!” and waved their hands aloft to make their point.
Piggy's breasts and vagina were now on show.
A Wanker masturbated her with three fingers; the One
With A Wet Pussy gasped, “Oh, God. YES!”
The workers enjoyed the spectacle. One shouted,
“You utter fucking slut.”
A Wanker grabbed twelve clothes pegs from a table
next to the weighing machine. To increase Piggy's
torment, the beast connected five to each of her
breasts. Plus, one to each nipple!
“OH GOD, THAT STINGS!” she shouted.
“You will reply with oink, oink, or sir. Or better,
both!” A Wanker spanked her hard on her (now)
reddened ass for her misdemeanour.
Another round of whoops and cheers rose skyward.
“Time to weigh this fat pig. If she's not up to par,
she must lose weight on the spot with degrading
sex acts!” A Wanker grinned when he switched on
the scales. Lights flashed, and a giant arrow showed
Piggy's size in stones.
Heads exchanged glances. Everyone pointed at her.
One bloke shouted, “OH MY FUCKING GOD!”
“The utter fat, bitch,” a new arrival said. “She weighs
a fucking ton!”; “Someone needs to face fuck her for
that,” another added. “What a heavy fat pig!”
Piggy knew the destruction would start. The question
was: How far would they go?


So it begins:

A WANKER LOWERED the chains and placed Piggy into a
stress position (her head at crotch height). He beckoned
three guys forward. They formed a line in front of her,
erect, ready. A Wanker beamed at them. “Let the face
fucking start!”
The first man approached; Piggy opened her mouth,
took his shaft, then spluttered because of his length. A
Wanker gave her no let up and beckoned the next man
forward to use her. He was bigger and chose her mouth,
too. She gurgled. To degrade her, he twisted her peg
laden breasts. Between slurps, she shouted, “OOOHH ow!”
The last man was long.
A Wanker said, “Take it, you fat pig!”
“Oink, oink, sir!” she gasped.
The man made her take his weapon; spit dribbled from
her mouth. A Wanker pointed at her (to mock her). He
said to the man, “Get behind her. Take her – hard – in
front of everyone!”
The man used Piggy. Her breasts shook, the pegs wobbled.
Again, A Wanker pointed at her. “Show her no mercy!”
Piggy dangled forward, her reddened chest pounded. (Three
pegs snapped off each bosom and bounced off the floor
from the force of his hips.)The crowd cheered, whooped
and delivered more insults while the chap thrust for Britain.
“More, more, MORE!” everyone shouted.
The bloke stepped up his pace; those present enjoyed/watched
an amazing rough shag taking place. Piggy shook and
dangled further forward; more pegs snapped off her
reddened breasts.
“Yes! Yes! YES!” Everyone shouted.
His balls slapped against her pig thighs. Again, she
shook; one chap shouted, “Look at the state of that
fucking useless pig!”; Another, “Tear her outfit to
pieces!”
Piggy muttered, “God!” Gurgle, splutter, suck.
A Wanker obliged the crowd and tore (what remained of)
her blouse apart. The brute also ripped her skirt
seams open to increase her humiliation, turning the
garment into two giant flaps! Happy with his work
ethic, he stepped back to admire the view.
Piggy continued to receive from behind. A Wanker
grabbed a vibrator and worked her clitoris to increase
her degrading. The stranger fucked her harder. She
gasped, then shouted at A Wanker, “OOOH!” Gurgle,
“God! Yes!”
Two workers took photos. Later, they added them
to Fetlife to let other kinksters view her public humiliation.
Suddenly, Piggy's back arched, time for an
earth-shattering orgasm. The man fucking her slapped
her arse; she came! He withdrew and came too;
spunk littered her butt cheeks.
A Wanker closed the proceedings, “Thank you, ladies
and gentlemen, for watching and for joining in with
the demise of piggy, Emma!” He lowered her to the
ground; she slumped onto her knees in front of everyone.
A Wanker – happy with the outcome – called Miss
Prim. When she relayed the management's decision,
he revelled in the decision and pointed at Piggy.
“YOU'RE FIRED, YOU FAT [i[FUCKING[/i], PIG! Now, fuck
off home in your rags.”
Once A Wanker had removed her pig's ears, nose and
tail, Piggy returned to plain Emma, who tried to gather
up her decency as she strode bow-legged along the
street!
Until the next time#