The villagers dragged Elsa down onto the thick blue mat in the center of her private training gym. Rope looped her ankles first, cinching tight around the slim bones. Hands seized her wrists and yanked them behind her back. Rope wrapped her wrists three times, then pulled the knot tight. They forced her elbows together next, circling the joints and drawing them until bone met bone. Rough fingers pulled the front of her leotard outward. Rope slid under the stretched fabric, circling her tits in wide bands above and below. The loops cinched tight, squeezing her breasts together and upward into a compressed, pronounced shape. The hot pink material molded sharply to every curve, already glistening with the light sweat from her practice.
The last knot tightened. Footsteps retreated. The door slammed shut. Silence filled the gym except for her ragged breathing.
Elsa lay flat on her back, legs straight out, arms pinned behind her. She yanked her wrists downward hard. Nothing moved. She arched her back sharply, trying to roll her shoulders and create slack at the elbows. The elbow ropes dug deeper into her skin. Her tits lifted higher from the arch, heaving against the tight bands, bouncing slightly with the sudden motion.
She bridged again, hips rising off the mat, core muscles burning as she tried to shift her weight for a roll. The ankle ropes bit into her skin. Her tits compressed harder against the breast bands from the arch. Light beads of sweat rolled slowly down the deep cleavage the ropes had forced, glistening on her skin. She grunted low. “Damn it.”
She twisted her torso left, then right. Each wrench made the breast ropes cut into soft flesh. Her tits bounced with the motion, nipples pressing visibly against the wet material. She pushed her bound ankles against the mat for leverage, heels digging in as she bridged higher. The ropes held firm. She rolled her hips side to side, attempting to loosen the ankle knots through friction. The coarse fibers only tightened more.
She bucked her whole body, shoulders wrenching, back bridging high. The breast ropes squeezed relentlessly. Her tits bounced harder with each failed thrust. The hot pink leotard clung wetly, darkening in scattered patches over her chest from the building sweat.
She paused for a moment, chest rising and falling rapidly. She cursed under her breath. “Fuck.”
She resumed the fight. She used her gymnast flexibility in various ways, pulling and twisting against the ropes in different directions. The bindings prevented every attempt. Her tits heaved and compressed and bounced within their unyielding hold. Light sweat beads rolled slowly across her skin, glistening under the gym lights.
She yanked her wrists upward again, fingers scrabbling uselessly toward the knots she could not reach. The elbow binding locked her arms too tightly. Her back arched further from the pull. Her tits thrust forward even more, heaving rapidly with each labored breath. She grunted again. “Unh.”
She kicked her bound ankles upward, heels scraping the mat in short, sharp bursts, trying to build momentum for a flip. The ropes held. She bridged once more, pushing her ankles against the mat for extra leverage. Her core screamed from the effort. The ropes left visible indentations on her wrists, ankles, elbows, and around her tits from the prolonged pulling.
She cursed again. “This won’t hold me forever.”
She paused briefly, catching her breath. Then she continued. She twisted, bridged, kicked, rolled her shoulders, flexed every muscle she could reach. Each movement made the breast bands dig deeper. Her tits heaved and compressed and bounced within their tight confines. Light sweat beads glistened on her skin in some cycles, rolling slowly down her chest.
She kept going. Her body trembled from the constant effort. Sweat shone across her skin in light beads. Her breathing stayed heavy. Her mind refused to give up. She stayed locked in the endless, useless struggle against the ropes on her wrists, ankles, elbows, and breasts that would not yield.
