Anna started by carefully pulling the bra around the top of her stomach, tying it off at the back. Due to the length of the string, she was only able to do the most basic of knots, with only about a cm of string left over. Pushing her arms through the holes, she began lifting the top up over her tits, but due to its size and the awkward angle of her arms, she couldn't lift it more than about an inch from her chest, and quickly it began to cut into the bottom of her boobs. Still she struggled on, gasping occasionally in pain and slight pleasure as the merciless top edge of the bra, seemingly as sharp as a knife to the poor Anna, cut and rubbed its way over her firm, round breasts. Then it reached her nipples, which were standing, hard as iron, in the cold. Unable to force them aside, thanks to the excruitating pain of digging the fabric into them, she instead tries to bend her nipples to the side. This hurt still, but less so, allowing her to pull the rest of the bar over her tits in one fluid motion - simultaeneously running a good 10cm of what felt like sandpaper over her vulnerable, tired nipples. Anna moaned, low and soft, under her breath, attracting a few strange looks from those getting changed nearby, but nothing major. Still, she blushed profusely and sat there cringing for a few minutes before inspecting her handiwork. The bra fit immensely snuggly over her breasts, squashing them beneath its large hands so that they appeared almost muffin-shaped, with round, covered tops and flatter edges where they spilt out of their confines. Her nipples remained bent, unable to even slightly lift off of their soft bed, twisting the skin of her breasts with them in an apparent attempt to cause the most pain possible, but Anna could bear it. The straps dug deeply into the sides and top of her rack, along with her back and shoulders, and the whole thing creaked as she twisted to check that the knot was holding - it had slipped a bit, but she couldn't adjust it for fear of snapping the bra. To add insult to injury, the bra felt sweaty and clammy, sticking to her boobs, tugging at her already tortured skin.
Next came the thong. If Anna thought the bra was bad, this would take it to the next level. By this point, the cum had set hard and the whole crotch felt like a literal cheese grater, rough and stiff. That was not going to feel nice in her pussy. Could she turn it around? That would place disgusting ass-sweat over her pussy, but surely that was better than a belt sander of cum splitting her in two? Of course, it would only move the problem backwards, not get rid of it, but she could bear that more, right?
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