A Drive to Survive (Overwatch) (Patreon)

Poll Winner

Themes: Dom/Sub, Master/Slave, Rough Sex

Summary: She didn't ever expect to truly escape Talon's shadow. They'd taken her, broken her, made her kill her husband... and then rebuilt her when she'd ultimately returned to them. It wasn't like she'd had anywhere else to go. Until now. Saved from certain death and finding herself in another world, the woman formerly known as Amelie Lacroix does what she does best. She survives. 

-x-X-x-

While the procedures that had turned her from Amelie Lacroix into the Talon Assassin Widowmaker had turned her skin blue, slowed down her heart, and in large part numbed her ability to feel human emotion… that did not mean Widowmaker was entirely emotionless. Indeed, the only time she truly felt alive these days was when she was killing. That was when she felt the greatest of satisfactions, as her bullet struck true and another target was successfully assassinated.

However, on the flipside… she did not have a death wish. And indeed, the thought of dying very much could invoke terror in here. It was that terror that Widowmaker felt as she heard a tinking sound beside her, forcing her to look away from the scope of her sniper rifle, only to see the bomb rolling up to her, tapping right against her foot.

It was too late, even as she spun and reared back her foot to kick at it. Looking down at the bomb with her enhanced physiology, Widowmaker could literally see it already coming apart at the seams. The entire world had slowed down in that moment, including her. Even as she draws back her foot, the bomb is already exploding. There won’t be anything to kick by the time the steel toe of her heeled boot reaches the bomb. Instead, her foot will be the first thing to be lost as the explosion rips and shreds through her body, tearing her to pieces and turning her into a bunch of chunky, meaty giblets.

Widowmaker has all of half a second of that slowed down time to come to terms with her death… and finds that she simply can’t. By all rights, she should already BE dead. If she were a better human being, she would have killed herself the moment that Talon’s programming forced her to kill her husband. Gerard was dead because of her, and instead of going to join him in the afterlife, Amelie had gone back to her captors and let them turn her into a true weapon.

She was, at her core… a survivor. But there was no surviving this. There was no escape… at least not on her own.

Between one moment and the next, she stumbles forward, her foot kicking empty air instead of an in-progress explosion that would have shredded it. More than that, she almost loses her balance entirely because she’s no longer in heels… she’s no longer wearing anything at all, actually. All of her gear, all of her weapons… have been stripped from her in an instant.

Or rather, more accurately, Widowmaker has been stripped from them. She’s no longer where she was previously. Teleportation? She can hardly believe it, though she’s well aware the technology exists. Even still, to be teleported away from certain death… she can handle being buck-naked she supposes. Better naked and alive then reduced to a bunch of body parts and ripped to shreds.

Catching herself only thanks to her enhanced reflexes, Widowmaker gasps as she straightens up and looks around. Her nipples immediately begin to harden, and her breasts jiggle ever so slightly as she turns this way and that. She doesn’t have to look long… she quickly lays eyes on her would-be savior.

“Welcome, Widowmaker. I imagine you prefer that name to your previous one, given your appearance?”

He’s an unassuming man, but she’s immediately on guard as he smiles at her. He knows not only her current title, but also the circumstances behind her situation? That certainly makes him more dangerous in her eyes. At the same time, she’s feeling something strange… an emotion she hasn’t felt in a long time. Not even when Talon turned her into a weapon did she feel this… burgeoning gratitude that’s slowly growing within her cold, nearly dead heart.

She hadn’t been ready to die. No part of her had been ready to die. And this man… had saved her. He was also still waiting for a response.

“… Yes. That is what I go by.”

He smiles at her and nods his head, hands clasped behind his back.

“Very well. Let me start with the basics. This is not your world. I am… something of a dimension traveling hobbyist and I used my powers to pull you from your world into this one.”

That was startling to hear. And yet… she believes him. Her eyes are watching his every move, collecting his every micro-expression. Like for instance, he so very clearly desires her body. He finds her beautiful, even though he’s working very hard to keep his eyes above her neckline. But… he’s not lying. As far as he knows it, he’s telling the truth.

She quickly slots that into her expanding worldview and nods.

“You saved me from certain death. Thank you.”

It has been a long time since those words passed through her lips. ‘Thank you’. The French Assassin means it though. Which makes the man who saved her laugh.

“Yes, well… that was sort of the point.”

Her brow furrows at that, but luckily he’s happy to explain.

“My abilities allow me to peer into every version of your reality. There are an infinite number of different timelines in which you exist. In some of them, you are never on that rooftop. Some of them, you died long before it. Some, you manage to see the bomb coming way before it arrives and thus can escape it with ease. I specifically chose a reality where you would have died without my intervention in order to engender feelings of gratitude in you when I saved your life. To be clear, it does not minimize what I did for you… but you should still know that it wasn’t accidental or incidental by any stretch of the imagination.”

As he finishes his speech, Widowmaker finds herself reeling just a little bit. His honesty is as surprising as it is refreshing. Even still…

“Why would you tell me all of that?”

Suddenly, there’s a collar in the man’s hand. He smiles at her warmly, almost affectionately.

“Because I wish for you to agree to serve me willingly, Widowmaker. Specifically, I want to offer you a contract. Wear this collar for five years, obey my every command and be mine in every way that matters… and I will free you once the contract is up, allowing you to decide whether or not you wish to renew our deal or go your own way with my blessing and some gifts.”

Setting aside the idea that she might actually renew such a contract, Widowmaker eyes the collar for a long moment, tilting her head to the side as she considers his offer. In truth… she’s almost grateful in a way. To know that he didn’t do this out of the kindness of his heart, or some misplaced altruism. No, this makes more sense. This is familiar ground.

Still, what is five years compared to a lifetime stuck with Talon, hunted by everyone else on her world? Ultimately… Widowmaker nods.

“I agree to your deal. Though I do not seem to have any of my equipment, limiting what service I can provide you.”

The collar floats out of his hand and over to her, allowing her to pluck it from the air.

“Not to worry, I can get you whatever you need if I decide to utilize you as an operative, my dear. Put that collar on willingly, and the contract will be considered ‘signed’.”

She’s not stupid. She knows what ‘use’ he actually has in mind for her. She just doesn’t mind all that much. He’s not ugly after all, and he DID save her life. Her gratitude isn’t gone solely because he wanted something from her in doing so.

Making sure to snap the collar around her neck first, Widowmaker gives her new Master a slightly wicked smirk.

“I should probably tell you now, Master… I’m something of a cold fish, due to the procedures performed on me. I shall serve you and obey you to the best of my abilities… but you might come to find you do not enjoy my body as much as you thought you would.”

Her Master blinks at that, before letting out a startled laugh.

“Not possibly to get anything by you, is it Widow? Well… we’ll see about that. Come here, please. And kneel.”

She does as she’s told, even as she feels a push from the collar to obey. It’s not forcing her, merely reminding her of the deal she’s willingly made. Widowmaker kneels before her new Master and watches as he pulls his cock from the confines of his pants. Her eyes latch onto it, her nostrils flaring as she breathes in his scent. Surprisingly nice. Distracted as she is by it, she doesn’t notice until it’s too late as he grabs hold of her ponytail and tugs her head back by her hair.

“Eeep!”

An involuntary squeal leaves Widowmaker’s lips as she feels more sensation from her scalp than she has on any part of her body in years. Deadened emotions and deadened senses. She could still feel pain and pleasure, but both were as muted as her emotions had been. Now though… now it’s like her new Master bypasses that deadening entirely. He grins down at her and proceeds to lightly slap his cock upon either of her blue cheeks, making her flush purple in embarrassment as she gasps from the sensation.

“Much like you, my dear… I don’t play fair. Now, suck.”

She’s almost afraid to do so… but she did make a deal. In the end, she opens wide and rolls out the red carpet, lolling out her tongue for him as he slides his cock into her mouth. As she feared, it feels… amazing. Her entire mouth is alive with sensations it didn’t have mere minutes ago. Her tongue tastes his cock and it tastes better and more real than anything she’s eaten in all her time as Widowmaker.

A lewd, wanton groan is muffled by her Master’s dick, as he slides his way across her tongue and down the back of her throat. Said throat flexes as it too gets to experience more sensation than thought possible, given her condition.

He uses her mouth sparingly, thrusting in and out for only a few moments as she gurgles and shudders on her knees before him. Then he pulls out and grins at her.

“Sorry, I’m just so impatient. Your mouth is fine… but I’ve been waiting so very long to clap those blue cheeks of yours.”

To her shock, his words actually prompt some embarrassment. Has he brought back her emotions just as he brought back her ability to feel physical things? At the same time though, she is still who she is. She’s Widowmaker, a voluptuous and incredibly dangerous femme fatale and assassin. After recovering quite rapidly, she gives her Master a wicked smile.

“How would you have me for this… cheek clapping then, Master?”

Her accent clearly gets to him, not just because he shudders and groans happily, but because he tells her so.

“Fuck, I love that accent of yours. Let’s get you bent over that table, alright? And give me a show, darling.”

Doing as she’s told, Widowmaker rises to her feet, putting on a bit of an act as she does so. Elegance personified; she undulates just perfect as she straightens up. Without her normal heels, she feels rather weird walking barefoot… but it is what it is and she makes sure to sway her hips appropriately all the way over to the table he’d pointed out.

Adorned in only the collar she’d been given by her Master, Widowmaker lowers herself down onto the metal table, gasping at how cold it is. At the same time that her poor, newly sensitive tits make contact with the table, she lifts her hips up into the air, going up onto her tiptoes. Due to the aforementioned heeled footwear she always has on, it actually feels more natural being on her toes than fully flat on the ground.

Her Master growls his approval as he stalks over to her, his hand stroking his momentarily sucked cock the rest of the way to full mast just off of her walk and her pose alone. Then, the moment he reaches her he grabs her by the hips and without hesitation, slams his entire length into her cunt.

Widowmaker’s eyes go wide and then proceed to roll back in her head as she’s subjected to the most pleasure that she’s ever experienced. Not just as Widowmaker either, but as Amelie Lacroix as well. It can’t be helped… her new Master is so much better than the husband she was forced to slay that it’s not even funny.

Maybe her memories of her time with Gerard have simply decayed or been tainted by her time as Widowmaker, but it’s the truth as she sees it in that moment. Her Master’s cock splits open her unused sex, spreading her already gushing insides around its length. His sizable member fills and fills her, until every last inch is inside of her and he’s bumping against the entrance of her womb itself.

At the same time, his balls slap up against her clit from the force of that first thrust, driving Widowmaker absolutely wild. Luckily for her already bruised pride, she doesn’t cum right then and there on that first thrust. No, she cums on the second. As soon as he pulls out and does it again and she realizes that she’s going to be experiencing such pleasure for who knows how long and how many thrusts… she tips over the edge.

Gurgling helplessly, the gorgeous blue-skinned femme fatale finds herself pinned to the table and fucked silly upon her new Master’s cock. Her gratitude for saving her life combines with the most pleasure she’s been able to feel in… quite a long time.

Perhaps this won’t be such a chore after all. In fact, Widowmaker can see the next five years flying by like a breeze if this is how good serving her new Master is going to be. She’d noted before that he wasn’t hard on the eyes, but she never expected him to be so damn skilled at blowing her back out and clapping her cheeks, as he’d called it.

Grabbing hold of her ponytail, her Master yanks her head back with one hand, while spanking her ass silly with the other. And all Widowmaker can do is squeal, her eyes rolling back in her skull as her tongue ends up lolling out of her mouth. This is… this is beyond what she’d expected. And the more he fucks her, the better it gets too.

Within mere minutes, she’s cumming again and again on his thrusting cock. And she’s starting to realize just why he might suggest that she would be willing to renew her contract with him once those five years were finally up…