Overwatch: Sluts in the Claws of Talon

Summary: Captured by Talon, members of Overwatch Tracer and Mercy as well as Talon's own uncontrollable assassin Widowmaker must endure the torment and sexual ravages imposed upon them by the nefarious organization, their ordeals soon spawning the entire city.

-x-X-x-

"NNnngh… aaahh…"

What a terrible headache, the likes of which she had only ever felt after a night-long streak of booze-drinking festivities with her Overwatch peers. But this was not a semi-pleasant hangover whose excruciating skull spasms were eased by the good memories of the night prior, rather, the pain felt unnatural, as though she had been clonked on the head… or drugged. The sudden thought of that possibility brutally shook her out of her catalepsy, letting her senses brutally realize just what situation she was in: her arms sought to move, though it was clear that they were firmly tied in her back by both rope and strong, metal shackles. Her failed attempt at moving her arms was soon followed by a fiasco of an attempt at moving her legs, her long, muscled but slim limbs spread apart by more fetters around her ankles, removing any possibility of movement when combined with the ropes in her back. Though she had been standing up this entire time, she realized that it was impossible for her to crouch down to her knees anyway, as the complex web of riggings entangling her wrists in her back lost its other end into holes on the ceiling, keeping her dangling on her feet even before she was up. This was bad; had she been captured? Where was she? A soft breeze tickling her nipples probably meant a window was open nearby, so she… wait… her nipples? Shaking the blur before her retinas as fast as she could, she looked down to finally notice that the two mounds covering her chest that so many villains and fans alike yearned to yonk as they pleased were completely uncovered, though that fate was shared not only by her young breasts, but by her entire upper body, her smooth stomach and back completely nude. Everything below the waist was not exactly fairing any better as the only thing she wore were a pair of white pantyhose with small pink ribbons decorating the top, the likes of which would more likely be worn by a prostitute and an indecently small pair of white lingerie panties, though it had been kept purposely small to allow more than half of her vagina to be seen.

"C-Craaaap…" she groaned as she shook her head to the side to try and undo her binds.

As she wobbled her head to the sides, she felt some new appendages bob in unison on her head; some sort of floppy things attached to a headband… almost like bunny ears?!

"Oh, hey, bunny girl woke up, finally!"

She didn't know that voice. Clearly that of a man, it was a rugged, beer-accustomed tone and a quick glance in the direction of the voice revealed a physique that matched the ugliness of his voice… but what attracted her eye next was what laid at his feet; a woman she knew well, a comrade-in arms… Mercy. Bound in place through an efficient network of ropes and shackles much like she was, though kneeled to the ground, Tracer couldn't keep a meek blush from taking her cheeks when she realized Mercy had been stripped and stuffed into a fetish outfit much like she had been. In her case, her womanly curves were covered by a lacy, see-through dress with holes one her stomach, on her sides and on her hips. In her back, however, as if to ridicule her normal angelic-themed attire, small white, feathery wings, the kind that would be bought in a Dollar Store as a cheap Halloween costume were attached to the thin, transparent fabric… and yet, it still looked good on her: she really did look like a goddess that had fallen to Earth… and had been found and captured by some horny mortals… and in this case, the captured Goddess of Healing was forced ease the pain of a throbbing, hardened penis. With the nasty thug's cock in her mouth and her arms in her back, Mercy's platinum hair waved back and forth along with the rhythm of her submissive fellatio, her beautiful visage contorted by obvious disgust. When she spotted tears rolling down her friend's cheeks, the normally calm and cocky Tracer instantly lost what little composure she still had, screaming obscenities towards the unattractive mortal enjoying the pure goddess' services.

"H-HEY!!! Y-You disgusting creep, leave Ange-… M-Mercy alone!!"

She had almost let her real name slip there. It was easy to assume she didn't want that… although, if they had been captured and so thoroughly handled, it was easy to assume that their captors had likely figured out their secret identity, though they certainly had bigger problems right now. At the sudden voice of her friend and colleague Tracer, Mercy paused the saliva-filled, pre-cum-covered blowjob and slightly brought her ocean-colored eyes towards that had called out her heroine alias, the cock remaining throbbing in against her tongue, though a brutish tug on Mercy's hair by the thug she served brought her back to her work.

"Stay focused, whore. I agreed not to fuck Tracer in exchange for a loving cock-sucking from you, so give my dick the love you promised."

Though Mercy hesitated for a second, as though she didn't want Tracer to witness her doing such depravity despite the cock very much present directly in her mouth. Another cruel yank quickly convinced her, however, as she resumed her languid sucking. Disgusted by the treatment her friend and fellow woman received, but mostly crushed by the guilt of knowing Mercy offered that blowjob to save her, the silent treatment she had received from the one supposedly responsible for their capture did little to stop her rage.

"D-Don't ignore me, you bastard! I-I won't hold my punches if you don't stop right now!!

"Would you pipe down over there? You're making my headache worse… it just makes me want to kill you even more."

She knew that voice. That sly though refined tone peppered with an extra dose of sarcasm and mockery, it could only be that woman… Widowmaker. Turning her head to the opposite side of Mercy's, she expected to find a triumphantly proud assassin, leering in glee at the two heroines she had captured… but instead found the Widowmaker in the same position she was in: stripped of her assassination bodysuit and made to wear only a black and pink corset with garters linking its trim to the edge of her black legwear. Her long-time enemy was also swaying on a pair of stilettos, obviously not used to this kind of more girly footing… in fact, she soon noticed that she herself had been forcibly traded her protective and efficient boots in exchange for stilettos and so was Mercy. It seemed whoever had captured them held women in very low regards… or at least the three of them.

"Widowmaker… i-if you're like this too… then this can't be the work of Talon, can it?" she asked, looking beyond the fact that Widowmaker looked just as gorgeous as Mercy, despite her mauve skin.

"Oh, so the purple pig woke up as well!" the grunt still face-fucking the poor Mercy.

"Oh, I had actually woken up about an hour ago, mon chéri. I couldn't undo my restraints, though, so I chose to pretend unconsciousness so I could gather more information… though it's probably better to ask directly now." She said, a musing chuckle at her lip.

Tracer had known Widowmaker for a long time, having encountered her as an enemy as far back as her time in the now defunct Overwatch organization, so that bit of cockiness didn't surprise her in the least, even if she was in the worse possible situation, though what did surprise her is what she accidentally spotted next: her nipples were pierced by silver rings, a small chain of the same material, dangling with every breath along with her firm, fat breasts.

"It's not polite to stare, ma belle. By the way, you are very pretty without those stupid goggles." She said, her converser only now grasping that her trademark goggles were missing.

"B-But were your, uhh, n-nipples always p-"

"Pierced? No, they were not. It seems those bad boys had some fun while I was out."

"That's right, slut, we did this to you! Talon grunts groped you all over after we drugged your food and then, we pierced your nipples like a cow. Only reason we didn't brand your ass was because mister Reaper ordered us to bring you here." The face-fucker explained, thinking back to the derisive laughs he and his fellow toadies had shared as they mutilated that bitch's body.

"…Well, it's mildly inconvenient but I'll be fine. So you mentioned Reaper? Also, cows aren't particularly known for having pierced nipples but I know what you meant."

Was she not in the least troubled or humiliated to be incapable of movement and naked, completely defenseless in the face of people who clearly only wanted to bring harm to her?! Though he kept on commanding Mercy's blowjob with a series of effective hair-pulls, the rapist did turn his head towards the purple-skinned beauty, likely to answer, though another voice cut him off… along with several footsteps.

"That's right, Widowmaker. This is what happens to those who betray Talon."

The voice was muffled and distorted as though it both came from a computer and a deep cavern but, much like Widowmaker's own, Tracer easily recognized that deep tone: the aforementioned Reaper. Still dressed black colors and his face covered with a mask reminiscent of a human skull, he entered the room flanked with two dozen new soldiers dressed similarly to the one spreading the taste and smell of his cock all over the healing heroine's mouth. Surprised to see his superior and many of his peers arrive, the one that had welcomed Tracer to the world of the awakened groaned a few sentences as his limbs began trembling, as though his mind told him to stop the fellatio while his body begged to differ at the simple sight of the gold-haired beauty polishing his flesh knob. A raised hand from the shadowy Reaper eased his trouble, however.

"Carry on, soldier, I only need her to hear my words. Besides, this is what all three of them will do every day from now on, better they get used to it."

Reaper's dark voice and even darker announcement were met with cheers from the gathered grunts, all of whom buzzed their way around the three beautiful prisoners. Their hands came close, grazing Tracer's thigh, nearly rubbing Widowmaker's ass and reaching out for Mercy's curly hair, though no fingers actually made contact: each soldier seemed to eagerly wait for their leader's permission to fuck, though it seemed he had other business in mind as he walked before the purple-skinned assassin of Talon, the latter keeping her chin high and her smile confident despite the fact she was strewn up like a prisoner about to be executed.

"Tell me: who do you belong to, Widowmaker." He asked, too serious a tone for this to simply be a taunt.

"…My body, mind and soul belong to Talon, of course."

There had been a brief hesitation, just for a single second, though her eyes had soon taken a cold firmness. A short silence followed, as if Reaper was analyzing every single inflexion of her voice before judging. Ultimately, though, it seemed he had been dissatisfied with her answer, since he lifted his hands, a finger pulling up the chain piercing her nipples, be it to actually inflict pain or simply as a means of humiliating her. Whichever the reason was, her pulled-up tits discomforted even the arrogant Widowmaker, who couldn't help switching her cocky smile for an uncomfortable

"Hmm… but you certainly don't make that fact very obvious when you murder one of the leaders of Talon."

Since she wore her emotions in her hand and had difficulty keeping them in, Tracer couldn't hold back an almost comedic gasp of surprise, Mercy simply continuing her succulent work whilst keeping an eye in the direction of the conversation.

"I just don't know what you mean, mon garçon. I'm loyal to Talon, why would I kill one of the… big bosses?"

Her voice when mentioning the word 'big' had taken a sultry curve, accompanying her flirty tenor with a sway of her hips. As she witnessed this, Tracer wasn't sure whether the assassin was actually in control to the point of freely mocking their captors or if she was just insane. Based on her profession, she opted for the latter.

"You are loyal, Widowmaker. But even you have your pride. You wouldn't stoop to kneeling before a man and sucking his cock even if it's one of the leader of the organization you serve, would you?"

"…Tch, quel malheur. I suppose you found the corpse, then?" she said, her tone certainly not shifting so much from the 'slightly bored, haughty bitch' voice.

"No. There was a secret camera in the room in which you were supposed to obey the chief's orders, but instead of a proof of your obedience to the organization, we saw a clean and quick murder, the kind you've done a hundred times before. So it's been decided that you're not worth keeping as our main assassin, we're going to turn you into a cum dump that can be used by anyone to raise morale."

"W-Where do we fit into this mess, then?!" Tracer argued, thinking maybe she and Mercy could get away on a technicality.

"Pauvre petite chatte: Talon is a big organization. If they're going to bother with a brothel of some kind, it only makes sense that they'd populate it with more than one woman. And it just so happens that you two are very alluring bitches that always caused us trouble, so they devised a plan to catch you at the same time as they planned my own downfall, I assume. I expect that they'll add more bothersome Overwatch sluts to the bordello once the demand increases."

She was still much too calm about where she now stood… did she actually understand what was happening or did she have a plan?

"You should know, Reaper, that I will not stand for this kind of treatment. I will admit that it may have been impulsive to kill one of the leaders, but you must know that no prison is safe enough for me: I will escape eventually and, when I do, I'll come back and kill you to prove my worth. But I'm willing to look the other way: Free me and bring me back my clothes. I won't hold a grudge against anyone here and we can torture those two sluts."

Of course she'd try to save her own skin through compromise. Who wouldn't? Though the thought of being the plaything of so many men brought shivers to her spine, Tracer couldn't help but feel that this disgust would be doubled if her nemesis Widowmaker was among the ones that could freely rape, torture and torment her until there was little left of Tracer herself. Luckily, Reaper was quick to quell at least those fears for her, even if it wasn't on purpose: clearly irritated by her poised words, Reaper left the chain joining her tits in favor of grabbing a fistful of her long, black hair and pulling it backwards while his other hand landed on her ass, his greedy fingers digging deep into the soft flesh of her bun.

"You are one of the sluts that will be tortured, Widowmaker. You are just as worthless as they are, only fit to be pumped full of cum until you can no longer be used as such and get replaced." He said, bringing his face closer to hers despite the distance he forced by pulling her hair back.

Her cocky smirk was gone, leaving only a look of actual concern and slight distress on her face. It seemed that it finally sunk in that she was about to be raped, if only that, and that thought clearly brought back some bad memories for her. Even in situations where she was this close to being captured by Overwatch, she had never seen her this panicked. Before the renowned killer could add another argument to assert her point, however, a long, pleased groan echoed through the large room: the kneeled Mercy was now chugging down fresh semen being poured straight down her throat. The tears that crawled their way down her cheeks had now doubled in speed and quantity but, despite that, she diligently swallowed until no more was pumped out. Despite her best effort, some of the jizz had leaked off, dripping down her chin and lip. Before she could attempt to clean herself up, though, the one that had received her first ever fellatio snapped his fingers to call back her attention, Mercy instantly looking up at the man that had allowed her to spare Tracer some pain.

"Hey, did you forget what I told you to say after blowjobs, bitch?"

Each of her action then lasted only a second: One second to look up in confusion, one second to give a short glance of coyness towards Tracer, one second for her eyes to return to the man whose seed currently covered her tongue and another second for Mercy to bow her head as though she herself asked for mercy.

"T-Thank you very much for the delicious cum…sir…"

Her trembling voice, when mixed with her pout of aversion, made it quite clear that the beautiful doctor had not given up on fighting as her words somewhat implied: the brown-haired heroine named Lena guessed that she was likely just trying to please their captors to keep any harm from coming to her. Angela was just that kind of woman, selfless to the end, but despite her good intentions, the lust of the gathered men could never have been sated by a single woman, no matter how beautiful, submissive and a defeated enemy-bitch she was. Despite that fact, however, the docile words of their team's healing seraph was apparently too great an incentive for some of the gathered runts, it seemed: two hands slipped against her sides and cupped Tracer's D-sized tits as though they were long-coveted treasure he had finally gotten his hands on. Gritting in rage and revulsion at being manhandled this way, all that Tracer could do wiggle her elbows in an attempt at, if nothing else, inconvenience her personal molester.

"L-Let go, y'creep!" she ordered, her eyes squinted in hate at all the men gathered there.

"G-God… I've always wanted to grope this annoying bitch tits!" the runt in her back laughed as he tested every possible shape her plump, creamy tits could take using only his fingers.

"Wait a minute! T-This is… you said you'd leave Tracer alone if I did what you told me! I-If you want to grope someone's chest, grope mine! I'll do a-anything you want, so just let her be!" Mercy requested, suddenly regaining the energy she had lost during the taxing blowjob.

Though it would have been easy to abuse this offer to do literally anything willingly, the one whose dick had been the first to chart Mercy's mouth thoroughly powerfully grabbed a wad of her blond hair, potentially inspired by the similar motion performed by his leader on the purple prisoner. As he pulled her hair back, Mercy couldn't keep her whimpers in, though she found a way to remain graceful and beatific despite that, looking more like a fashion model in a shampoo commercial than the captured prey she actually was.

"Sorry, babe, but that little deal was only good until the others showed up. Too many folks here hate that bitch's gut not to fuck her for hours!"

An ominous announcement for her future, no doubt, but what grabbed the short-haired heroine's attention was that the foot-soldier slipped a small remote control out of his pocket. After a few presses, the rope hanging from the ceiling suddenly loosened, letting Mercy fall to the ground completely, butt held up as if asking for more. She had likely been relying on the hold of the ropes to keep her body up at all, the sudden disappearance of that crutch had apparently been too much for the poor doctor to stay up. As she weakly brought her spine back up, though, she was stopped in her tracks by that same man.

"Hey, guys! Let's double-team this slut! She'll beg us to stop in no time and then'll beg for more!"

That proclamation was enough for the gathered men to cheer wildly. Crouched down at the level of a simple dog, the red collar around her neck confirming that appearance, Mercy shuddered as she heard the Talon recruits swarm around her kneeled form… and winced all the more when she felt one of them kneel her. More specifically, she felt the large bulge that was difficult to mistake as anything other than…

"Ready for some cock, Mercy?" the faceless goon laughed, his hands lovingly caressing her mature ass.

She knew that answering anything was futile: they'd have their way with her, whatever she did. As such, she resolutely lowered her head. She felt his hand graze her hip as he pulled the see-through fabric of her dress to the side and, after a few more rubs of her posterior, gladly plunged his eager cock in the Overwatch angel's pussy. The head she had chosen to keep down to at least keep the satisfaction of seeing her tears from her tormentors rose up with a thunderbolt: mouth open, eyes widened and body strained, it became obvious that the goddess of healing's greatest weakness was a big, strong dick. As though her reaction wasn't proof enough of her lack of fortitude, the long moan that followed cemented the goons' opinion that Mercy was just a bitch in heat, slutty despite her claims to the opposite. With her wrists still firmly tied together and her ankles still strapped to the ground, the medical expert's pussy was completely defenseless against the onslaught of men that had gathered behind her… but so was her mouth: eroding out of the pack of sex-hungry wolves, another small-fry took stand before her. In a few zips and flips, he too let loose his hot, meat thermometer. Resolute to her fate and knowing she'd simply be forced to do the same anyway, if only through a quick threat to hurt Tracer, Mercy swallowed the cock, now fully accustomed to the salty tasty of it. Her second unwanted customer grabbed on to her hair like one might clutch a lion's mane, forcing his cock deep down her throat, providing his penis with medicinal warmth. Witnessing the entire process of Mercy's use as a whore, Tracer roared her frustration as she kept on fighting both her bonds and the hands that had, by now, caressed every inch of her body above her waist.

"C-Cut it off! Leave Mercy be! Y'said you hated my gut, right?! Take out your frustration on me, I dare ya!" the brown-haired Overwatcher demanded, animated by the same will to protect her friend as the healer was.

The man in her back, in response to her impolite order, caught her perky, hardened nipples between his fingers and viciously twisted them as he pinched them. Although she was a hero, Tracer was also a woman, and a woman's weak spot was still a weak spot: through the nipple torture, she too was made to scream like an aroused schoolgirl by simple goons. The man responsible for the torment snuck his head against her neck and, delighted by the screams of the young superheroine, licked her ear slowly, disdainfully.

"You're right, we all wanna fuck you up hard. You're always jumping and teleporting around like a damn bunny, so we thought it was only fitting to give you a change of costume. Oh, but it looks like we forgot part of your costume, didn't we? Bring it over, guys!"

Those words at least confirmed that she was indeed wearing bunny ears on her head. Though she didn't quite like the idea of being compared to a hare, this was the least of her problems when she spotted what the man had left one of her nipples to grab, bringing the object in front of Tracer's moaning face: a long, large, dildo shaped and colored like a carrot with a big, white, fluffy bunny tail on its end. At the sight of that monstrosity, couldn't help but cringe. Her fright doubled when she saw the man bring it towards her rear…

"W-Wait, don't!!" she pleaded, turning her neck in panic.

Naturally, though, she was much too vulnerable to be spared: she was a long-time enemy of theirs who nonetheless had quite the sexy figure that could do naught to stop those beasts and the worthless panties she had been given were literally inviting everything and anything to be stuffed into her ass. This must have been a dream for them, though it was more akin to a nightmare for her: first, she felt the tip sneak into her anus, giving the impression that maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Then, about a fifth of the massive carrot was juddered in, completely infirming the idea that the pain wouldn't be that bad. As her screams grew wilder and the laughter around her follow the lead, the rest of the colossal dildo was shoved up her ass, leaving only the white, round, fluffy tail to throne just above her soft buttocks. Although the insertion was over, the pain was still there, causing Tracer to wince miserably as she screamed for relief.

"There. Now, you're a full-fledged bunny. Why don't you jump around like you always do, bunny?"

The taunt was accompanied by a series of harsh, hate-filled slaps to her ass. Her bum was already sore from the huge dildo currently stuffed in her anus, but each slap felt like a hundred needles crudely pinned in her ass. As the men behind her tested just how many screams they could force out of Tracer, the nameless impaler skirted around the bawling girl, his sadistic grin contrasting with the girl's tormented visage. With her mouth wide open to let out the screams she simply couldn't hold in, the thug that had stretched her anus slipped is fingers in and grabbed her tongue, impishly pulling it between her teeth and twisting her whines into muffled moans.

"It's all you deserve, lil' whore… but it is a nice hole wasted on a dildo, so how about this: beg us to fuck you hard until you pass out and we'll see about replacing that buttplug with an actual dick."

Once again, an echo of giggles rang around her as the sounds of hard, increasingly-soppy, fucking was heard right next to the group. That disgrace was too much to bear, though: stretching her neck forward, the sexy prisoner dug her fangs deep into the flesh of the hoodlum's hand to the point of drawing blood. Infuriated on top of being in pain, the main hastily pulled his hand away with a groan, his colleagues laughing at his misfortune.

"F-Fucking hell!! You b-bitch!!"

Those were the few last words she heard before a fist engorged with the rage of being embarrassed jammed itself straight into her stomach. A part of her giggled at the idea that her head may have been purposely avoided for the sake of keeping a pretty face on the girl they'd doubtlessly rape soon, but the fact remained that the swift punch made its mark remarkably, Tracer groaning dolorously as the impact. With a big dildo up her ass, her cheeks reddened by slap and breathless because of the blow in her stomach, Tracer was already panting heavily, beads of sweat covering her slightly tanned, young body. Before she could do anything else, however, be it throw another insult at the Talon trooper or yell some words of encouragement to the pit-roasted Mercy, though, a subtle click sound reached her ear, finding its source at her feet. As she only just began to jitter her leg, realizing the shackle that had been keeping her down was now loosened, a hand slipped behind that freed leg's knee and, with a surprising strength, lifted her entire leg up, forcing the heroine into exposing her crotch and, of course, her twat. With her leg now resting over the man's shoulder in a forced heel stretch position and his own crotch rubbing against hers, the girl knew it was her turn to suffer the same fate as their team's medic.

"You ready to fuck like a rabbit, hero-bitch?" the black-clad man asked, one hand fawning her athletic leg and the other caressing her buttock.

"…I don't think bunnies and pigs are suppose to mate, fatty."

Though the tremor of pain that shook her brash grin betrayed her lack of conviction in the mockery, the smirk itself, coupled with the insult it came with, was enough to fuel his need for relief… seeking that respite through other means than violence: leaving her ass alone, the newly available hand got busy unfolding and unzipping his pants, his eyes locked into Tracer's behind his red visor and a gauche, perverted smile to offer her. She felt his newly-unleashed cock rub in-between her vaginal lips, teasing and preparing the poor prisoner, and, before she could try to defend herself, his meaty weapon dove: his fat cock stretched the edges of her tight pussy, turning the young woman into a full-fledged woman. Surprised by the amount of pain this sexual stab brought her, Tracer let out shrieks the strength of which she would never have thought her lungs capable of. Not far next to her, Mercy watched with a tear to her eye as the friend she had tried to protect was viciously raped, first with slow, agonizingly detailed pumps into her soppy, warm womanhood, but increasingly amplified the pace of the thrusts, soon reaching the speed of an animal enjoying some wild sex with his literal bitch. With each thrust, a bit more of Tracer's resistance vanished, either because of fatigue or because her mind no longer felt like fighting it back. As if to push her down into this degradation faster, the ones that could not participate behind her saw fit to continue having fun with her prized ass: pinching its soft flesh, pulling the dildo in and out to stimulate her anus and not a second went by during which a harsh, macho slap was not striking her plump, beautifully-formed buttocks.

"G-GGhg-GgGhgGGGHhyYYaaaAAAaAACGHH!! S-STAAaaaaAAAAaaWWWPPPP…!!" she pleaded, her eyes already rolling upward in sheer painful delusion.

The one fucking her said something, likely a reply to her supplication, but her own screams far covered the sound of his answer, as though the progressively louder sound of gooey sploshes was not enough. She heard some laughs buzzing around her after his words, he had probably said something witty and insulting, but she couldn't hear anything… she could only be plowed and scream, her throat becoming a very uneven instrument when her rapist realized he could control the inflexions by pulling or twisting her nipples.

"UaaAhh!! H-Hyan! AaAAhh…!!!" she screamed, her curvy body shaken by the thrust into her now second-hand twat.

"Hueh… You called me a pig but you're the one screaming like a filthy swine! Come on, keep screaming, piggy!"

Though some may have pointed how the lack of consistency in relation to the animal associated with their victim, Tracer herself, her mind twisted by the influx of pain and pleasure, was unable to do a single thing as the man rubbed his body against her, making sure to push his cock as deep as physically possible, reaching the farthest, uncharted extents of her cervix. As the screams of the dual gun-wielding youth far outdid the sounds of perversion emanating from her friend Mercy, Widowmaker, her ass still stroked by the gloved hands of her former ally Reaper, kept an eye on the defilement of the heroines, satisfied to finally see them brought down a peg or two, though wary of receiving the same treatment…

"My, those two suddenly got quite loud, haven't they… I would've expected their threshold of pain resistance would have been a little higher…" she commented, giving few attention to both the groping Reaper and the many goons behind her that anxiously awaited their opportunity to ravage the well-known assassin's body.

"You'll scream like them soon enough, traitor." The high-ranked member of Talon grimly whispered to his former colleague, his eyes relishing the woman's curvy forms.

"Right, of course I will… Before you most definitely make me scream, though, would you do a girl a favor and let me torture them? Just for a few minutes. I know that restraint is key, it's good to enjoy the pleasures of pain in moderation like a good wine."

Her wise words of balance were clearly lost on the Talon who, peeved by Widowmaker's incessant insolence, let go of her otherworldly ass and took a step back, though cackled as he did so.

"You know, it was a gamble to keep you as our assassin after you accomplished your first task. The reprogramming and mind-breaking seemed to work well, but even the lab-coats that made you what you are now admitted that you could snap back to your original personality anytime. You were a ticking bomb."

"…Well, I do like the notion of being considered a bomb, but I'm not… sure what you mean…" the purple-woman mumbled, her vision getting oddly cloudy as Reaper spoke.

"Mind control is a complicated thing. Even after you've seemingly removed all traces of a person's personality, the original can resurface for any number of reason… or the original and the new personalities can mix in an ugly blend. I believe such is the case with you right now. But we planned for such an event with this…"

Though a part of her was curious to see just what the Talon organization had 'planned' to deal with her, another part of her psyche was overtaken with a sense of foreboding fear. She was not used to fear, her body having been modified and trained to the point of feeling little of anything, but it became obvious that she had gravely underestimated the impact of her own senses when Reaper, in a single, accustomed sweep, reached out for the woman's crotch and, after sliding his index finger and thumb easily through her wetted vaginal lips, pinched her clitoris as though it were his property. She had seen that move coming, bucking her hips fiercely in preparation… and yet the effect was devastating: a morbid heat overtook her normally ice-cold body, a girly moan passed her lips as her limbs finally struggled against her bonds and, most noticeable of all, she climaxed. Hard. Her spine twisting backwards along with her head, her tongue extended out with an almost inhuman shriek, paining the ear drums of everyone present but mostly amusing them all: how ironic that a deadly assassin would be this sensible. As she now writhed against the sexual torture, reduced to a simple victim like the two heroines she had fought and hated for so long, Reaper's words barely reached her ear, the women's screams far outdoing his murmuring voice.

"When we reprogrammed you, we drilled a very specific failsafe into your brain: if your clitoris is touched by the hand of a Talon, your sensitivity is enhances by 1000% and you lose all strength. A little back-up plan in case you forgot where you stood, you know."

"HuuaaAAhhmnn!! A-AaaAAhhnnN…!!! S-Stop that…s-stop t-that… immediatel-EEEIIIAaAAHNNmmNnmHH!!!" she replied, her voice and words cut and mashed in between long, agonizing moans worthy more of one of her many target than her own persona as a deadly femme-fatale.

"I won't stop, Widowmaker, not until you remember your place. After you've sucked hundreds of miles of cocks, we'll send you back to the lab for further brainwashing: you'll still kill people for us but, after they're done, you'll still act as a whore that anyone of Talon can use. Let's start right now, too."

This talk of brainwashing and re-programming brought back a series of buried, mind-shattering recollections that the mauve assassin had chosen to ignore forever, but her own bawls kept her from truly understanding what was said. Suddenly, a bump appeared against her ass, one that, even in her frenzied, weakened state, she could easily deduct its actual origin: a big cock, its length slid in between her buttocks, pulsing lustfully against her lilac flesh. Even if she hadn't been wriggling against her ties, it would have been nigh impossible for her to get rid of him, even when once of his hands cupped her left breast, analyzing its bounciness and texture while the woman whom none of his low rank could have ever hoped to touch before screamed for relief.

"S-Sir Reaper… i-is it okay if I take t-this hole, sir?" the young but daring soldier asked, secretly wishing he could take the front but aware that the spot was likely reserved for the black-clad villain himself.

In her state of extreme vulnerability, the long-haired woman dearly hoped that Reaper would show a bit too much selfishness and at least keep the grunt from gaining access to her ass… but, of course, the occasion to humiliate her further was too good to pass up.

"Go ahead, soldier. Everyone will get to enjoy these bitches as long as they serve Talon well."

His voice was only barely heard under the plethora of different screams and moans but, as he was very closely paying attention to the response he might obtain, the trooper breathily thanked his superior for the opportunity and, as the infamous Widowmaker wriggled in pain and confusion, dove his cock deep into her aching, nightmarishly sensible asshole. Made into a mere bitch screaming for liberation, the anally-attacked villain cloudy eyes kept her from fully realizing that her former colleague had, much like the twerp in her back, unfolded his black pants to let loose a… black thing. Though Widowmaker couldn't claim that her observation skills were in their right state in that particular situation, the nature of what she saw could hardly be denied: a black thing, long and risen, protruded powerfully from his crotch. It had the shape of a cock, and a very well-hung one at that, but its texture was out of this world, a viscous flow of dark skin, as tough an army of miniature ants crawled on the cock at all times. Even the battle-hardened, constantly cynical assassin couldn't hold a gulp of surprise and disgust when witnessing that vulgar phenomenon.

"Pretty nasty, right? Like a zombie's dick. My flesh is constantly deteriorating and generating in an endless cycle. It's a pretty hellish way to live but there are things that ease my pain… like taking the virginity of a hot bitch. Oh wait, that's right: you lost your virginity long ago, back when we trained you to become what you are now. My mistake, but I'm sure your purple twat will be good to my black cock anyway!"

And, after providing a vague exposition as to what possessed his dick for it to appear like it did, Reaper demonstrated that a different kind of possession haunted his cock, one that fueled a bestial lust: prodding his monstrous manhood far past the entry of her sacred temple of soft, wet flesh, he pushed his dick into Widowmaker 'til the base of it reached her own. She was tight, partly naturally but also because of the pain imposed by the harsh fucking she had been enduring for what seemed like hours but actually amounted to mere minutes. With each thrust into her vagina, Reaper's cock became increasingly slickier, allowing for even faster jabs into the warm pussy.

"Aaaahh yesss… I have no idea why we even bothered making you into an assassin when you've clearly got the body of a whore, just like those other two! But I guess you can't spell assassin without spelling 'ass' twice!"

As if in answer to the Talon executive's insult, the whip-lashes to her now thoroughly tenderized rear resumed, quickly morphing her screams from resistant whimpers to defeated, pleading moans. With her tongue stuck out like an animal, Widowmaker seemed to be asking for a languid kiss though, of course, none came and, deep down, she knew that all that would fill her mouth from now on would be cocks and semen as she was kept in captivity in some Talon base. A quick glance to her side confirmed that her fellow prisoners weren't doing much better than she was: their slutty moans and skanky whines had been so numerous that they felt like they were now part of the room's natural audio, Mercy's muffled sucklings and Tracer's hate-filled but feminine wails proving their utter and complete defeat as they received the onslaught of cocks, unable to defend themselves in any way. She too had sunk as low as they had…

-------

Many of the grunts had taken out their cellphones or actual cameras so they could record the wonderful view, the lot of them basking in the afterglow of several hours of fucking and several ejaculations onto and on beautiful girls. The lens of their apparatuses were directed, of course, in the direction of those very same young women: all three of them were fully nude, even their grotesque costumes ripped apart during the wildness of the orgy they had unwillingly taken part in just before. Their hands were still tied in their backs but their movements were no longer constrained; in fact, two of them possessed the physical abilities and strength to kill almost every man in the room using only their legs… but their spirits were in mulch, now. True, even spirits can be mended, but such a healing took time. And it only made sense for Reaper and his fellow Talons to jump on the occasion: after having properly banged the trio of newly-appointed sex slaves, he had ordered them to crawl over to his own dick as he sat down. Broken down after the hours of violent rape, they had obeyed and made their way to the cock as ordered, admittedly with the help of a few slaps and punches of encouragement from the surrounding rapists. Tracer, located to the left of the manhood, offered quick laps to its entire length, its disgusting taste easily bringing a frown to her lips, though her tongue still rubbed its saliva on his imposing cock. On the right of the sizeable penis, Mercy switched between gentle smooches and coy laps, still desperate not to upset their new masters from fear of retaliation against Tracer more than herself. Lastly, her mouth gulped over the head of the cock, Widowmaker sucked diligently, her eyes filled with hatred but also fear at being manhandled as she had just been again. The three women, all concentrated on their task, were covered in specs of both freshly created cum and warm sweat, were all much too terrified of dolorous retribution to move their mouths away from the cock, even if it meant for their pathos to be captured on film and camera. Comfortably slumped back in his chair as the three humbled beauties polished his mutant manhood with their tongues, Reaper snickered malevolently, especially content to see Tracer's angered expression.

"You may have been formidable in another life but, from now on, you will only live as slaves for us. Talon has great plans in mind for you but training you to fulfill those expectations will take time. In the meantime, you can all serve as first-rate cum dumps until you're needed for a bigger purpose."

Though all three prisoners sent revolting glares towards what amounted to be their new master, they continued their slobbery job, Widowmaker even kissing the tip of the cock in an uncontrollable reflex. The girls' holes were filled with cum, Mercy's cheeks were dripping with tears, Tracer's ass was reddened from slaps, pinches and whip lashes and even Widowmaker's tongue still tasted the flavor of cock, as though the taste would never leave: their lives as sex slaves had begun.