Widowmaker awoke from another nightmare. She held a hand over her face lightly kneading her eyes, a wet hand between her legs verified her suspicions and her face formed into a frown.
The light was fading as the sun sank down below the horizon. She sat up at the rooftop, her mission was completed. She was out hunting, not anyone stationary and harmless, but someone fast and deadly.
The cheeky Brits attitude had been many agents downfall. A pretty smile, quickly turning into wicked grin, movement so fast it'd be too late. Catching people off guard, being distracting, that was Tracers game. Widowmaker would teach that misleading tail-wiggling-girl a lesson.
The Overwatch base's security was on high alert and she would not risk sneaking in once more, but Tracer needed to be punished, so here she was.
She ran her hands over the rope, recalling how feeble and cute Tracer looked bound on her lap, smiling to herself.
She grimaced, why did she think cute? This was punishment, "I have no emotions" she hissed to herself. "And Tracers a girl, get a grip!" Gagging lightly, she was never wrong. Yet her frustration only grew.
She knew they payload would pass through somewhere around here, she held her rifle steady, the air crackled loudly as she fired round upon round in the payloads general direction. "And now we wait"
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McCree was grinning at Tracer who sat on the opposite side of about everyone. "What?!" she howled "nothing, nothing, I was just using my imagination"
"Imagine my fist in your face!" her glare like daggers, Pharah propelled her rockets and lifted Tracer off the ground to avoid more friendly fire. The entire day had been like this, a mock festival.
Their party was interrupted by sniper shots nearby, making everyone flinch and cover behind Reinhardt's shield. "Go get that sniper Tracer" 76 commanded, everyone huddled together in a way too cramped space.
"Why me?" Tracer whimpers. Angela lifts an eyebrow in disbelief "because you are the sniper counter." there might be a slight fragment of sympathy to her voice, in light of recent events, but Tracer can't really tell, because her stare is piercing.
She hesitates, recalling recent traumatic events upon meeting a sniper. "Can't Pharah or Mcree go?" A resounding "NO!" from the entire team leaves Lena little choice but to obey. "What kinda stupid team setup is this anyway" she pouts, kicking the payload before she hurries off in a blue zigzag pattern.
"What's her problem? Used to be happy about everything" Pharah said, Angela let out a short sigh "probably too scared to be alone, she's been hugging the payload all day, its not like her."
Dva was giggling like a mad-girl "probably had a fight with her girlfriend" group laughter ensued.
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Tracer was walking along a rooftop, the sniper nowhere to be seen. Why her? Dangerous flanking missions were always sent her way, why can't McCree pick-up the slack? He is such a lazy sleazy bastard, but that would even have been an insult to all the proper bastards. Her eyes darted from side to side, she would be lying if she said she wasn't a tiny bit anxious lately. Getting kidnapped and tortured does that to you.
Craccck "Huh? Did I just step in gla-" she tried to utter the word, "agh... glah... hhh" she felt dazed and her vision blurred, her legs gave in to the weight of her body as she crashed to the ground. She identified a pair of high heel boots in front of her. No, no, nooo, she pleaded the moment before it all faded to black.
/
"Wake up Chérie" Widowmaker hissed at her. Tracer woke up realizing her wrists were tied together and bound to a steel beam in the ceiling. She was elevated to the point where she had to stand on her tiptoes to be slightly comfortable.
She shook her head lightly trying to capture her surroundings, she felt tipsy and sluggish. She was in a empty warehouse, concrete floor and chilly.
Widowmaker stood in-front of her. Tracer's tights and panties were gone and the remaining t-shirt covering her upper body was torn to shreds, her body covered in goosebumps from the chilly air that met her naked skin.
"Help" she screamed "oh god please somebody help me, Angela!" she struggled against the restraints, but all it did was wiggle the rope she was tied to, the suspension toppled her over and sent her tumbling, she searched desperately for the floor with her feet to regain her tiptoe-footing.
"You scream for that woman, but she is the one who sent you to me, no?" She stalked around Tracer like on a catwalk, graciously, step by step. "Maybe she even helped me" she taunted, lifting Tracers chin looking into her frightened eyes, a sinister look gazing at her. "What would they think of you now?"
Widowmaker moved in close, her bodysuit, cold and smooth touched Tracers naked form. "What would they do if they saw you like this?" she gave her victim's butt a swift slap.
Tracer blushed and looked down tearing her face away from Widowmakers grip. Her friends were already making fun of her as it was, all the things she had to endure the past week. In a way, it hurt more than the physical pain Widowmaker had afflicted her.
What hurt was the shame; the hopelessness, the humiliation of being stripped of all her worth, her most private places exposed and being treated like trash. She had a feeling of utter vulnerability, so weak, so useless. Shame beamed from Tracers entire form, head hanging low, sorrowful. "Are you ashamed my Chérie?"
Widowmaker reached over and brutally tore off the rest of her shirt, Tracer yelped as the cloth left her body, leaving only a bra. She pulled forth a leather riding crop "you didn't tell them what happened the night they found you on the desk." She slid the stiff whip along Tracers body "you were too ashamed, you slut!"
Widowmaker took a quick step to the side and swung the whip in one powerful motion, Tracer let out a scream as the leather stung her bottom.
"I'm going to teach you some modesty, for all this frustration you have caused me, wiggling your tail at strangers like that!" She outed a sadistic laugh and swung the whip once more. Tracer really screamed this time, followed by a broken cry, as the whip connected with her pussy.
"No, please no, stop" Tracer started to sob. She tried stepping away, but the suspension just made her tumble and the whip came down on her again.
"Stay still! And you will not give me orders." Widowmaker came in close and cupped Tracers left buttock with her hand, feeling her up. "no, please no, no... Don't" Tracer said weakly. "Hmmm? Don't what?" A smirk crossing Widowmakers features as she began spanking Tracers ass covering it in rosy-red palm-prints. Each blow bruising her, making her cry out and struggle against the restraints. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she only whimpered now.
"Why so quiet Chérie?" Widowmaker moved to look at her face, Tracer glanced down and blushed, Widowmaker grasped Tracers chin and made her look at her. "Look at me when I ask you a question slut!" Tracers large hazel eyes, filled to the rim with tears had her full attention, like a deer stuck in the headlights, Widowmaker almost lost it. S-she... Is beautiful.
She pushed Tracer away roughly, who whimpered swinging miserably in her bonds. Widowmaker found herself dripping wet, tingling sensations in her inner thighs, her body pleading her, yet she sneered. "She isn't suffering enough, torment her, make these dumb distractions go away " She lowly concurred to herself.
Tracer felt the riding crop sliding across her thighs once again. There was a moment of peacefulness, an occasional pause between the beatings she had grown to appreciate.
She was abruptly brought back to the present as Widowmaker released a flurry of lashes to her thighs, mercilessly working her way upwards, leaving streaks of light red along the way. Each strike generated a wheezing sound from Tracers lips, followed by a gasp for air. Widowmaker worked her way up Tracers back, across her stomach, but stopped before the lashes reached her breasts.
A glimmer of relief filled Tracers eyes as Widowmaker dropped the crop to the ground. Pity? For her? "You don't have to do this love..." Her choice hoarse and weak from crying.
The glimmer was replaced by a flame that flickered, reflecting in her watery eyes. Widowmaker was holding a fat wax candle, the flame lit her face up from underneath giving it an ominous, evil glow, her golden eyes gleamed.
"Oh Chérie" Mocking sympathy filling her voice "if only someone cared enough to save you" she came close and unhooked Tracers bra, leaving her fully naked. Tracers perky breasts made her full of delight, much larger and firmer than she had imagined. "But you have no friends, do you?" She truly loved the look of dismay on her freckled face, she loved having such complete control over her worthless life.
Widowmaker came in close and enclosed an arm around Tracers knees, lifting her off the ground, superhuman strength clenching her legs closed. She was suspended between Widowmaker's grasp and the steel beam she was tied to, rope tearing at her wrists. "Wait, wait, what are you doing?" She struggled, kicking, to no use. Widowmaker tilted the candle over her stomach, hot wax drops splattered on her skin. Tracer squirmed, breathing heavily, the searing pain on her belly was bearable to her, but Widowmaker's affection knew no end.
She moved the candle over Tracers left breast and let the hot wax spill, Tracer screamed as Widowmaker made a line downwards, circling around her pink nipple. One large drop of hot wax landed on her nipple, Tracer gasped and started to cry again, tears rolling down her cheeks.
An irked look crossed Widowmakers features, she tightened the grip around Tracers legs, held the candle over her right breast and turned it upside down. A bulky clad of searing wax drowned Tracers sensitive breast, she shook and twisted her body with all her might, she was gargling the air she wanted to breathe, she closed her eyes shut and grit her teeth as the wax scorched her thin skin.
Widowmaker loved the look of pain on her face and the screams she was letting out, it was beautiful music to her ears. She wanted more of her...
Widowmaker let go off Tracers legs and stepped back, observing her work. Wax covered Overwatch slut hanging from her wrists, covered in pink-red stripes from head to toe, her bottom bruised red, whimpering, sobbing. Widowmakers own body was pleading her, aggressive tingling and wet heat between her legs, fluids running down her inner thighs, hunger consumed her.
Her frustration ever so powerful, gnawing at her mind "Its not enough!" She snarled at to herself. Oh yes, she'd make Tracer play another tune for her, a tune so good, she surely would be rid of this frustration.
Widowmaker bent over and pulled a large one-edged combat knife from her ankle. "Now what should we do with you? If I let you go... You might cause me harm the next time we meet" She dangled the knife suggestively in-front of Tracers eyes.
"I wont tell anyone love, I swear, cross-my-heart-hope-to-die" Tracer uttered shaking and frail.
"Die? Oh you will, but not the way you think" She twists the blade in her hand, pretending to clean her long nails. "Hoping to die is what I expect you to do... After all"
She stepped in close, Tracers shuddered as a hand grazed her lady-bits "My my, we might just have to give the slut what she craves." Tracer yanked her bonds as she felt the blunt edge of the knife connect with her pussy. "Please, have mercy" she sobs, panic taking over. "Widowmaker!"
Widowmaker entwined her legs with Tracers, clinging, hugging, squeezing on Tracers form keeping her still. She quite liked they way her call-sign rolled of the Britt's dreaded tongue, something she could have gotten used to, such a shame.
She aligned the knife vertically, scraping Tracers skin moving from her knees up her inner thighs. "No,no,no,no I'll do anything I swear please don't, oh god please don't" frightened out of her mind.
Widowmaker simply nodded, "mhm,mhm", Tracer screeched in horror as the knife passed her vagina, she convulsed and passed out from shock. Widowmaker drove the blade further, stopping at her cervix.
Well, stomach, since there was no actual penetration. She tapped the blade's flat side on Tracers belly. Best prank she'd ever pulled. "Its just a prank sis" she muttered to herself. Maybe she wasn't the right person to pull party tricks during torture sessions.
Tracer hung slack from her wrist bands as Widowmaker cut her down, she caught her collapsing body before it could hit the ground. The fall must have woken her up, tearful hazel eyes were pleading into hers golden. Widowmaker slapped Tracers face to keep herself from being lost in her eyes.
Tracer was completely drained, only her eyelids had the power to move, but they soon closed shut from the exhaustion.
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Widowmaker had done it again, she dared to, just for the added humiliation it would cause the little slut. Sneaking into the Overwatch base had been tough, and she only barely had time to drop her off in the dining hall, which made her snicker.
This was even better than the last time, she could potentially be exposed to anyone(or everyone) at Overwatch. The thought made Widowmaker full of glee.
"Why didn't I kill her?" She sneered at herself. "She will just keep distracting me until I do..." She felt guilty for considering it, not being able to pinpoint why.
However, she reasoned that it would be too light punishment, but then there was the hunger she could not deny... The sun was rising in the horizon as Widowmaker made her way back to her mansion.
