Not bound as she is

With Tracer's wrists secured to the wall by the damnable webbing she can't really defend herself from Widowmaker's hands. Hand which persisted in exploring the heroine's breasts inch by excruciating inch. She also finds herself unable to resist the demands of the soft, purple lips pressing her into kiss after kiss. After what seems an eternity Widowmaker breaks contact with the Brit, pulling back from the kissing and freeing her breasts from the light massage. Tracer slumps against the wall, breathing hard and trying to regain her shattered wits. Widowmaker smiles an evil little smile and then licks her lips, savoring the taste of the heroine. Tracer wanted to gag but instead she felt herself flush.

"You are a marvelous gift my dear," Widowmaker says, raising her hands and placing them on Tracer's shoulders. The heroine tries not to flinch at the touch and fails. "But you are entirely too well wrapped." The hands on Tracer's shoulders move behind the heroine to the small of her back and unbuckle the harness of her chronal accelerator. Tracer can't help a small moan of frustration as the tech loosens and drops away from her body. She isn't in any danger of falling out of this time stream, not with it still so close by, but any hope of controlling her powers depended on it being pressed against her body.

Widowmaker didn't stop there either, her hands immediately returned to the front of Tracer's body and one grabbed the zipper at the bottom of her flight-suit's collar. Slowly, ever so slowly, Widowmaker's hand drew the zipper down. Tracer thrashed against her bonds but with her hands pinned above her head and the villainess trapping one leg against the wall it didn't do much good. Down the zipper went, drawing level with her breasts and then passing them by, exposing more and more of Tracer's warm pink skin to the air. Widowmaker's hand didn't stop until the zipper reached the bottom, half an inch above Tracer's bellybutton. Her flight suit now hung loose on her shoulders, but wouldn't fall down due to her restraints. As Tracer's thrashing brings a cool breeze to her chest she realizes how exposed she really is.

"Ah. That's better," the purple woman practically purred. Tracer felt an icy chill run down her spine, either fear or arousal, she wasn’t sure.

“I’m going to make you regret this Widow!” the heroine blusters. To her horror Widowmaker bursts out laughing.

“Oh yes,” the villainess says with a smile. “Please, keep that heroic arrogance as long as you can. Like many spiders I enjoy devouring my prey while it’s still twitching.”

Widowmaker’s words send another chill down Tracer’s spin but she opens her mouth to fire back anyway. However instead of what she’d intended all that emerges is an indignant squawk as the purple woman’s hands tweak the heroine’s nipples. The squawk becomes a groan when the tweak turns into a caress. Tracer’s body feels like it’s on fire. Somehow brief pause in contact had made her even more sensitive.