Hannah stomped in, boots crunching on frozen grit, snow crusting her lashes. The January blizzard had dumped a foot overnight, but dawn’s pale gold now slanted through broken stained glass in fractured rainbows. She shook flakes from her shoulder-length brunette hair, cheeks flushed pink, that tiny waist cinched under useless layers, hips narrow enough to make you wonder how the hell she carries those massive, jiggling tits without tipping over. Pale skin glowed, thighs sleek and hairless, the dark triangle between them trimmed to a perfect, silky landing strip that screamed deliberate care.
She rubbed slender arms, breath fogging in the frigid air. The abandoned cathedral stood miles from any road, a forgotten husk in the woods, but the stone walls cut the wind. Near the altar she spotted a dusty wooden box, lid askew. Inside, a handful of half-melted votive candles, waxy stubs in red glass cups. Her fingers fumbled the cheap lighter from her pocket, flame sputtering to life. One by one she lit them, setting the tiny beacons in a loose circle on the marble step. Warm gold pools flickered across the floor, shadows leaping over cracked pews and scattered glass shards. The heat was pitiful, but it was something. She shrugged off her soaked coat, draped it over a pew to drip, and sank down beside the candles. Exhaustion hit hard; eyelids drooped despite the chill. “Just a minute,” she muttered, head nodding forward, huge tits heaving with every slow breath. The cathedral blurred. Darkness swallowed her.
She woke to the bite of rope on her wrists.
Eyes snapped open in the golden dawn. Arms already wrenched behind her back, rough hemp cinched tight enough to make her shoulders scream. The chest harness was half-finished, thick coils looping between her huge tits, lifting and squeezing the heavy globes so they bulged obscenely, pale flesh already pink where fibers dug in, nipples peaked stiff from the cold. She was naked. Completely. Shredded clothes lay in tatters around the pew like confetti from a nightmare party. The whirlwind had ripped everything away, panties shredded to expose her smooth-shaved pussy, lips tight and pink, zero hair in sight, thighs sculpted and flawless. The candles still burned, flames steady, casting warm light over gooseflesh exploding across her skin as chill air kissed every inch.
“What the fuck,” she yelped, jerking upright. The motion only tightened the ropes, huge tits heaving with the strain. A line from the harness yanked her sideways, dragging her off the pew until her hip slammed a rusted iron pole beside a collapsed confessional. The pole held her standing, torso arched, tits thrust forward like obscene offerings under the fractured rose window. Sunlight streamed through broken glass in shifting colored beams, playing over her pale, perfect curves.
Invisible footsteps circled on the stone, soft crunch, no prints.
Hannah twisted, thin waist flexing, hips bucking uselessly. The ropes answered by cinching crueler. Another coil snaked around her left ankle, then her right, pulling her legs together with a jerk that made her knees knock. She teetered on bare feet, dust puffing up around slender toes. “Let me go,” she shouted, voice echoing off vaulted ceilings. One candle guttered out with a hiss, flame snuffed by unseen breath. The footsteps paused. Then the ropes dragged her downward, knees buckling until she knelt on the freezing nave. The chest harness line shortened, bending her forward at the waist. Her huge tits swayed heavily, nipples grazing grit-dusted floor with every shuddering breath, heaving up and down in panicked rhythm. Sweat beaded in the deep valley between them despite the cold, trickling down pale, flawless globes. Another candle died, shadows lengthening.
She clawed at the wrist bonds, nails scraping hemp, but the fibers only burned raw circles into delicate skin. Between her thighs, chill air teased her smooth-shaved pussy, a humiliating reminder of total exposure, lips clenching against the draft. Sunbeams danced across gooseflesh racing down her spine to the flare of narrow hips. A third candle winked out.
“Get off me,” she snarled through clenched teeth. The footsteps approached the altar. The pole line released with a hiss. New coils wrapped her ankles to the carved legs of the altar itself. She was forced into a kneeling crouch, knees spread wide on the dais, wrists still lashed behind. The position folded her forward until her forehead nearly touched the altar step. Huge tits hung pendulous, swaying with each ragged inhale, nipples brushing marble veined with centuries of candle wax, heaving against the strain. The ropes connecting wrists to ankles shortened inch by inch, pulling her heels toward her hands until her back bowed in a tight arc. Thin waist narrowed further under the strain, ribs visible beneath pale skin. Her ass lifted, cheeks parting slightly, cool air teasing her bare, shaved slit. The last candle sputtered, then died, leaving only sunlight.
She fought the arch, calves and thighs trembling, but the ropes only cinched crueler. Hemp scraped the tender undersides of her tits where they pressed the altar’s edge, leaving faint grid patterns on perfect pale flesh. Dust clung to sweat on her lower back, trickling into the cleft of her ass. Colored beams from the stained glass shifted across her body, painting toned, hairless skin in sliding patterns of gold and blue and green.
“Enough,” she whispered, voice hoarse. She jerked her shoulders; the chest harness squeezed, forcing a gasp, tits heaving compressed then released. Each pulse sent sparks along raw skin.
The footsteps retreated down the aisle. Silence. Then the final shift. The ankle ropes unwound from the altar legs with eerie precision, slithering across the floor like serpents. They looped her bound wrists, drawing arms and legs together behind her back. She toppled sideways onto the nave floor amid glittering glass shards, instinct keeping her from landing on the debris. The hogtie locked tight, ankles and wrists fused by a single merciless span of rope no longer than her forearm. Her body formed a perfect bow, spine curved so sharply that her huge tits mashed against cold stone, nipples flattened and aching, heaving with desperate breaths. Pale belly stretched taut, ribs flaring. The position left her ass high, cheeks parted to flash that tight, shaved pink slit, toned legs straining, every inch of her gym-carved, hairless body twisted in the ropes. Dust coated her cheek where it pressed the floor; a shard of colored glass lay inches from her eye, reflecting her own wide, furious gaze.
“Fuck this, get these ropes off my tits,” she muttered, testing the hogtie. Muscles quivered, knots unyielding as iron. Hours crawled under the climbing sun. Light slid across broken windows, painting her pale skin in moving bars of color. Sweat cooled, gooseflesh prickling anew. Each small shift ground hemp deeper, jolts racing through over-sensitized skin. Her tits, trapped beneath her, felt heavier with every minute, nipples raw against grit.
Mid-morning sun poured in full and bright. With the warmth finally touching the stones, the ropes began to unravel. Coils loosened, slithered away like smoke, vanishing into cracks between flagstones. Hannah rolled onto her side, gasping, arms and legs tingling as blood returned. Red welts striped her pale skin in perfect lattices, framing tits that bore deep rope impressions across their upper swells. She sat up slowly, rubbing wrists, staring at the empty nave. Not a scrap of rope remained. Her shredded clothes lay in tatters near the door, candle stubs cold and dark, but beside her on the floor rested a single faded prayer card, edges curled with age. A thumb-sized smear of dried blood, still faintly red, marked the center like a fingerprint.
She stood on shaky legs, huge tits heaving with the motion, and limped toward the doors. The cathedral stood silent, sunlight glinting off broken glass. No footsteps followed. No whirlwind stirred the dust. She pushed outside into crisp winter air that felt almost warm against abraded skin, snow crunching under bare feet, and the doors swung shut behind her with a soft, final click.
