Deux. Tracer looked over as she came to her feet, refocusing her gaze on Widowmaker through the yellowish glint of her goggles, disorientated she glimpsed a glint of steel, a flash. “Trois!” Widowmaker shouted as the blade left her hand. “Ahh!” Tracer cried out as the knife pierced her jumpsuit, burying itself to the hilt in her chest, pain blossoming in her like a flower as she, on pure instinct alone, recalled. The pain vanished as quickly as it had appeared, the world shifting around her as time flowed differently for her, sending her body back to precisely where it had been, exactly three seconds ago. “Ah! No! Ahhh!” Tracer cried out as she found herself hovering once more over the alley, except this time without Widowmakers legs to grab a hold of. In a panic, she blinked this way and that as gravity took its unrelenting hold on her, trying to grab any sill or handhold on the opposing buildings, but her efforts only served to slow her inevitable fall to the ground below. “Ugh!” She gasped, hitting the grimy floor of the alley with a heavy Hairy thud and a bad sounding crack from her chronal accelerator. “Uuuhhh…” She groaned, slowly pushing herself up to her knees, feeling shaken and hurt, looking up and trying to focus on a suddenly prominent point of red flashing light. The Venom mine detonated in her face, a cloud of pink gas engulfing Tracer, filling her lungs and, without the escape of her accelerators recall, either damaged or still cooling down, she had no out but to try and crawl out of the pink haze that swirled oppressively around her. Widowmaker stood on the edge of the building's roof, a smirk on her features as she watched desi her fallen foe crawling from the expanding and dispersing pink cloud, different from its usual purple, but it was, after all, a unique formula, Hardcore fit for its very unique purpose. With a dry chuckle she began to lower herself down, in no rush as she stopped off to collect her Widows Kiss Rifle and waiting until the last of the pink smoke had drifted away before she allowed herself down the rest of the way, watching as the yellow jumpsuit-clad figure of Tracer, sat slumped against a wall, breathing hard and coughing. “Ahh petite fille, how does it feel, to finally lose?” She said in a calm cadence, her faux panic gone now, replaced instead by a smug look, her usually stoic expression now a sly smirk that suited her beautiful, albeit altered features. “W-what did you do to me!” Tracer coughed out, the fear and disorientation indian in her bright vibrant voice music to Widowmaker's ears. Widowmaker let out a dry chuckle, “I beat you.” She stepped slowly over to Tracer, squatting down and reaching out, using a gloved hand to raise the girl's chin even as she winced, forcing her to look into Widowmakers unnatural yellow eyes, “Now sleep, things will be different when you wake up… Fais de beaux rêves, ha, though I doubt it.” “W-what? W-... Uhh..” Tracer whimpered slightly as Widowmaker released her head, letting it fall against her chest as sleep took its hold on her. Tracer’s dreams were less than pleasant, confusion and pain, fear and terror, all mixed in with the persistent vision of, bizarrely, a flower slowly losing its petals and wilting away. A few times she thought she had awoken, but the india nightmare she awoke to those times had been too dark to be real. Movement, pain, music? Flowers? Tracer let out a low moan and felt her body stretch out, her muscles aching and her head throbbing, though at the very least the pain seemed to be slowly melting away, her entire body comfortably spread out over a soft supportive mattress. “I-I’m alive…” she whispered to herself amazed to have woken up at all, “Where… Where am I… Who's there?...” she asked, her eyes opening to narrow slits, the bright light of the room blinding, her vision blurred as she tried to pull herself from whatever deep sleep she had been in, seeing the vague outline of a person. “Welcome home, mon amour.” Came a far too familiar voice, the rich French accent soft and unconcerned. Tracer gasped at the effort of quickly pushing herself into a sitting position, wanting desperately to defend herself, to flee, to fight, but just not finding the energy in her tired body, stripped of weapons, armours and accelerators, to do more than sit up. After the brief struggle that left her in an upright position, panting from the exertion, she spoke, her usually bright voice sounding worn out, “What… What did you do to me?” “Nothing I won't regret. Tea?” Came the voice, oddly… Casual. I couldn’t say a word my tears gave answer. Before we left, I had switched over the surveillance camera in my room to one of the prepared feeds, so we walked in without me being concerned about any impropriety being captured by our corporate overlords. Rohan and his friends kept my company most of the time, and he Hairy kept on passing me diluted vodka as time passed by. He follows my directions. “Lou, he didn’t even want to have sex with me. He said he needed some time to sort things out in his mind.” We’ve got to get you ready.” You may not like this.” india “You need to work harder,” he told her. Day Two My orgasms peaked. They indian say you won it on luck, that Freydis stumbled before she delivered the critical strike, but isn’t the warrior who keeps her footing the better swordswoman? It was dirty, it was desi Hardcore hot, it was not entirely of my own will, and it was submissive to a man that, until that moment, I couldn’t stand. She's just a brat. We are both suspecting that it is the criminal Mellos." She smiled and raised her leg, bending it like a gymnast so her foot came up to my shoulder. Jason swallowed all of Ashley's seed as it was pouring out of her cock and into his stomach.