Widowmaker enjoys a bit of .

"I wonder..." Widowmaker utters as she lays her hand on the other girl's inner thigh.

She watches with interest at the amount of struggling this causes from the girl. Each sensation on her body teases her pussy's denied orgasm more. She begins to beg, deep down, that she doesn't touch anywhere else, or she doesn't know what could happen.

"You can't cum," she adds. "You're trapped, aren't you? Oh my." She snickers.

"Go away," she snarls in response.

"Oh. I don't think so. Mm. I wonder what happens if I do this."

Widowmaker moves her hand up the thigh and slides one finger gently up the fold straight down the middle front of Tracer's pants. In response, she yells out and flails her legs--moaning incredibly loud.

"No! Please, stop."

The assassin opens her eyes wide at the result. The pleasure she deals seems to add to the sealed orgasm.

Suddenly, she plants one big kiss against Tracer's lips. Her tongue begins to explore, and at the same time, she very slowly strokes her finger up and down the front of Tracer's pants.

Tracer rolls her eyes back and turns bright red, twitching her legs and arms in a panic. The unobtainable orgasm builds stronger and stronger within her body.

"Mmm!" Tracer yells out.

Widowmaker pulls gently away, but only a few inches from the girl's face.

"I wonder how much you can take before... your body breaks down? How much euphoria can one lady hold in her body, with it unable to be released? Let's find out."

She pulls more away until she stands in the center of Tracer's room. For a moment, it looks like Tracer's about to touch herself, but then she remembers how much worse it'll be. She grips her crotch and stamps her feet, nearly sobbing at her situation. Then, she looks over.

Widowmaker stands away, offering a full display of her skin-tight pants leaving little to the imagination. Tracer stares awe-truck at her ass. However, it only makes her horny. She wishes this was a show for another day.

"You like this body, yes?" Widowmaker says as she slides one hand down her form, briefly squeezing her own rump.

She then turns around to bring both hands down the deep V of the top of her outfit, sliding them over her breasts. Teasingly, she pulls her shoulders free of her latex, and brings it down to uncover the top half of her body. Tracer stares at her blue-skinned tits and groans out in pain.

Then, the outfit drops to her knees. She bends down to remove her boots, and eventually steps out of her clothes entirely. She reaches back as she watches Tracer struggle and undoes her own hair, allowing it to fall freely behind her back.

"You don't... wear anything under your outfit?" Tracer mumbles.

"Never," she says with a wink. "Do you like what you see?"

"I can't stand this anymore... Please. Stop. It hurts."

"I'm only beginning, ma chérie."