Brigitte shot a gloved fist towards the guard of the hulking individual opposite her in the mob. She followed one boxing glove with the other, delivering a bustle of jabs to her partner's forearms before backing off and flutterstepping side-to-side to prep for the return salvo of blows that expected to receive. Such a rebuttal, however, never came. She dropped her guard for a moment and hitched her boxing glove onto her hips, shifted her weighting over to one hip, and cocked her headland to the side.

"Kom igen, hit back ! They're not going to go easy on me while I'm out there fighting beside Reinhardt.."she whined across the her sparring cooperator on the other side of the annulus."..besides, I could use the focus relief."Opting instead to not look for any sort of solution, the toned, hefty swede pushed a lock of umber hair from her sweat-beaded, ruddy, lentiginose face and returned her sentry duty in front of her. Quickstepping into outstanding range, she delivered a duet of of knockout punch to her opposition's safety device that sent him staggering back onto the reverberate roofy fencing in the practice ring.

This was her chance.

In one fell motion, the tawny-haired warrior casting her bridge player over her far shoulder, grasped at the handle of her training ball club and brandished it from the back-slung scarf bandage. She ducked in, charged to her on-the-ropes opponent, and swung the blunted sparring weapon system at his exposed side. She felt one brutish swing connect, then proceeded with a review. Brigitte spun on one heel, leapt off of the undersprung boxing ring mat, carried the momentum of the faux-flail around her body in a one rotation and took aim at where she knew her opposition's thorax would be.

A dull, thumping ‘ thwack !'reverberated out into the air as her artillery made contact lens. The pattern tool wasn't meant to do any severe damage, but she knew that her ‘ training silent person'was going to be feeling that jazz band for the next duad of days. She didn't need to see him fall to the mat - but she did take heed for it while she turned away from the dingy tidy sum of her kill adversary. Brigitte sauntered towards the other position of the squared-circle opposite the savage beating she had delivered.

"Alright, who's future out there ? I've only got another week or two before I say my bye-bye and ship off for the battlefield.."the dominant paladin called out, leaning onto the stretchy top ring R-2. The wanna-be soldier took a moment to get her breath before her succeeding would-be combatant entered the ring."come on ! Some brave hingst must want to take me on.."she groaned, this fourth dimension employing a seductive timbre in her voice to lure one of the men of the rural way station into being her next practice dummy."You all know the bet, don'tcha ? learn me down, and I'll let you do anything you want to me.."

This was often her last-ditch sweat, and she wasn't above baiting a new challenger into the doughnut with the import that some kind of unsatiable lustfulness would overcome her had she found a fighter capable of putting her on the mat for a 3-count. In her nomadic travels across the war-torn countryside as a gallant to Reinhardt, she had grown to make use of this tactic as a ‘ necessity iniquity'of form. newcomer often garnered suspicious stares from the townspeople, and pugilists of her caliber didn't exactly inspire an abundance of training fodder after the first couple consistence hit the mat. There was, however, no shortage of horny, sexually-frustrated Whitney Young men in any given Hamlet from the trash pile of Junkertown to the spire of Numbani.

"Guess there's no more worthy men out there.. shame, really, because I've got a lot of tautness I could use the assistant of a big, strong man to relieve.."Brigitte mocked as she turned her back on the rophy, and the timid gang on the other position of them. A pugnacious-looking hulking volume of a man standing only a few paces away from her made the boastful nord parachuting back into the triple of ropes daze.

"Helvete ! Don't scare me like that !"she squeaked as the civilised exterior image of ‘ bad viking kick'faltered for a instant.

"I didn't mean to restrain you, Ms. Lindholm - but my public figure is Sven, and I do mean to try my beneficial to work over you, if you don't mind,"replied the well-spoken but, rather contrastingly shirtless fighter with the upper body of an adult Male gorilla.

Brigitte considered this for a instant before inclining her caput in acknowledgement of his combat tidings. Sparing the remaining pleasantries, she raised up her fists in a battleful monition of her intent to box the newest fighter. As Brigitte sized up the succeeding competition to her proverbial title belt, she couldn't assistant but notice the similarities that the gargantuan collection of muscles bore to the Bundeswehr of old that her mentor would wax philosophically about for hours after putting away a keg or three of ale.

The match began without warning. It started without the sonorousness of a bell, or the touching of mitt. Instead, it began when the burly challenger darted into range of her with a preternatural adeptness and connected his glove with the side of her lentiginose, loaded face. The next affair Brigitte was cognizant of was the sweat-stained boxing ring floor rushing up to her for an introduction of its own. The defeated Brigitte collided with the mat and settled there in a heap to the gasps of surprisal from the menagerie of emboldened challenger and hearing members alike.

Brigitte had learned from her mentor that it was important to press with honor, and to protect those who needed protecting. In her travels across the bandit-ridden countryside with Reinhardt Wilhelm, the grizzled knight-errant, she had watched a battle-scarred old man don his courting of armor on a moment's notification - the armor she was charged with the upkeep of - to valiantly ride into Town overtaken by thugs and extortionists for the express purpose of restoring order, and justice. She was there to take care of him ( and his war-worn courtship of armor ) after the fight had run its row. She would patch up the pock-marked metal of his armor when he was showered with gunfire. She would replace full panels where some grunt's weapon had bashed through it.

He did it without falter ; a firm alinement with madam Justice.

This man, however, had no such horse sense of do-gooding.

She knew that when she felt the top of his foot connect with her gut. That blow clouded her vision, but the next, Thomas More merciless boot to the underside of her jaw cleared that up in a hurry. The dishonorable scalawag was making it unmistakable that he was contented to outsmart her into meekness there on the trading floor of the annulus after suckerpunching her to the mat. Several humiliating bodyblows later, and Brigitte felt her scalp tighten against a clasp that her champion took of her hairsbreadth. consistence sore and panging dully with pain in the ass, the beaten-down fighter felt herself being lifted off of the mat to go face-to-face with the man who had just thoroughly laid her out.

"A thousand pardons, Ms. Lindholm - but, as you said,"the cinderblock wall of a man replied in a dulcet, reassuring quality,".. they're not going to go leisurely on you on the front lines, no ?"

Brigitte said nothing, opting instead to glower at the man taunting her to her face.

"Now, about that stake you have been teasing all of the able-bodied someone in the small town with for the past several days.. I think this makes me the succeeder, does it not ?"

Brigitte, again, said nothing. If his fighting style was any indication, this man was not going to let her off of her big-talking boasts and implications of intimate favors to anyone who defeated her. Brigitte had yet to be held to her words ; she had yet to be beaten. The shield maiden gave him the in effect acquiescent nod that she could manage with her hale head of hair tangled up in his grasp.

"Good. In that sheath, you can start by sucking off my friend - he's been limping two nights straight after ‘ sparring'with you, leave out,"her rippling contest-winner said flatly. She watched as the belligerent righted himself and whistled out into the training hall Brigitte had been ‘ alpha bitch'of for the past several days. There was a make of body out in the crowd, and then a scrawny-looking twig of a man clambered through the circle. She recognized him instantly, and she certainly recognized the black eye she had left on his rightfulness cheek - the one above his fat lip - that she had left on him following their bout.

"Have a seat in the stool in the corner, spouse. I'll bring her over to you. It's the least she can do after roughing you up so bad, no ?"spoke the adjudicator seeing that she righted the wrongfulness she had committed in the ring.

Brigitte was first dragged by her tomentum by the require hairgrip of her victor, but she managed to scramble up onto her hands and knees before he ended up ripping any of the burnt-orange hair from her scalp. As she was walked on all quaternion over to the pitiful looking single in the corner of the anchor ring, Brigitte watched as he withdrew his hammer from his sack-cloth shorts. A few understructure short of where she needed to be, her hair's-breadth fell around her face, released from the lumbering ape's fist.

"Crawl the residue of the way, Ms. Lindholm,"said the ape from behind her. The shield-bashing justiciar could practically get a line his cocky expression no doubt plastered on his expression as he ordered around the stalwart justice-bringer with a bruised ego.

"If Reinhardt could see me now.."she thought, watching the scowling face of the plough-pulling whelp she had soundly trounced growing closer as she crawled towards him. More pressing, however, was the throbbing shaft standing on end in the boy's lap. Brigitte knew that she wasn't going to get out of this ring without ‘ making it up'to this Farmer's son by way of that dick being somewhere in the vicinity of her tonsils.

Once she was sat in front of the Young man, she didn't waste a moment in pushing her tongue out from between her flush-red sass and running it up the underside of the dig seated inches away from her face. She ran her tongue all the way up from the fundament of his stiff shaft to the swollen, tender tip. After a clear-coat of her spittle had been painted onto him, the watchdog-turned-cocksucker brought herself up from her hands and knees to undo the bandana lashed around her speed arm. She tied it around her frontal bone to keep her red clay tinted caput of haircloth out of her eyes.

"Get on with it, Lindholm ! I'm comin'up there after you're done with him !"a vocalisation called out from somewhere on the former side of the ring ropes. Brigitte narrowed her regard up at the timid-looking tough that she had roughed up.

"You had better cum quick, kid, ‘ cause apparently I've go– OUCH !"Brigitte yelped after her business firm pedagogy given to the boy who looked only barely old enough to drink was cut short by a baseball glove-sized hand smack down onto her unarmored lift end.

"Get on with it, misfire Soldier. parole has traveled along with you that you're just as just in bed as you are in the battlefield of combat - and my friend out there is right ; you do have quite the reserve of ‘ work'to get to,"sneered the gravel-coated voice of the Sven, the bruiser who had cold-cocked her just instant ago. Brigitte's big-talk had caught up with her, and her national code of judge indicated that if this muscle-bound meathead wanted to plowshare her with the rest of his township, that was the wager she would have to uphold.

"You won't be disappointed,"Brigitte remarked up at the man in front of her, his cock resting on the side of her face.

Brigitte Lindholm had spent the finis several years following in the footsteps of Reinhardt, who had taken her under his wing at the behest of her Church Father, Torbjörn Lindholm. After Reinhardt's sudden departure to fall in the rekindled flame of Overwatch, an alliance among highly specialized and talented soldiers to combat the rekindled threat around the globe, the carapace maid was left to her own device for the first time since her formative years. Eschewing joining her godfather as he reunited with his former unit, Brigitte instead opted to continue working on the armor wooing she had spent years retooling and redesigning and preserve the crusade for justice across the lawless, barren landscape.

".. and now I'm about to blow this Village boy because I couldn't duck fast enough. Real politic, Brigitte,"she thought to herself before forceably interrupting that train of thought by barging a turncock past her palatine tonsil and down into her quivering, gooey fucktunnel behind them. Her headwrap didn't manage to keep her auburn bangs out of her face while she bobbed her head up and down in the crotch in front of her. Each of her marshy slurps down his diaphysis brought a gurgling"g'lurch"or a throaty"hr-rk"roiling up out of her esophagus. Within import, she had effectively slobbered down every inch of the offspring man's modest parcel - with a complement of dribbles rolling down over his balls.

"Sounds like she's having a good time, wouldn't you say ? !"shouted the fighter who put her here in the first blank space out into the crowd.

"Helvete.. he's not just letting me do this, he's making a djävlar display out of it ? Asshole,"Brigitte monologued - internally, having no other option with the cock sharing room with her humming vocal music chords massaging at the veiny shaft. She could feel her nerve flushing red with embarrassment at the spectacle he was putting on around her. Turns out, taking down every fledgling fighter in the hamlet wasn't winning her any fan, and a veritable reunification of bludgeoned contender had assembled to watch the humiliated warrior get her ‘ just desserts.'

"Who's following ? I beat the bitch, so she might as well belong to me for a while !"announced her new pornstar promoter. This was not the variety of ‘ servicing the public'that Brigitte had imagined Reinhardt wanted her to perform."Ye– yeah, correct ! seem ! I knocked her out coldness, and she didn't even pause to do what I told her to do !"

Brigitte did her best to block out the public shaming she was matter to and opt, instead, to get this kid off as soon as she could. He couldn't be older than 19, so the cocksucking warrior princess figured that it couldn't be much farsighted now - she had using her spit-slick mouth to shine every square toes in of his cock for the retiring several minutes.

As it turns out, to Brigitte's chagrin, sucking turncock through duty to preserve one's safe Bible doesn't automatically mean that the hoi polloi you're sucking off feel obligated to previse you when they're about to cum. She learned this combatant's lesson the hard way - through a cumshot flooding straight down into her belly. Somehow, the fact that she was, in that moment, a world cumdumpster as well made the whole ordeal that much big. The bloom on her slender, nordic feature intensified as the farm mitt drained his junkie down the spinal column of her pharynx. Brigitte chugged down every drop.

Mercifully, she felt the conversant grasp on the back of her heading yank her backwards off of the peter in between her pale lips so she slumped back off of all-fours into a kneel. The fresh-faced sucked-off teenage slunk from the ring as quickly as he came, tucking his spent stopcock back under his circle belt that held up his tattercloth burlap breeches. Once her obligation had flooded down into her tum, an outburst of shouting broke out from around the ring.

"I want her adjacent ! She bruised me up real bad !"

"No, she's mine next ! I'm still walkin'funny remark !"

"I was the first one she beat up on ! She told me she'd go easy on me ! I deserve the next stave !"

Brigitte listened to the various bested ‘ training partners'she had beaten in the closed chain squabble over her like a piece of meat and suddenly felt a Rush of guilt shoot up her spine. She had been too hard on these commoners, perhaps. She was a soldier-in-training, hand-reared by the fabled horse Reinhardt Wilhelm. What probability did almost of these men have against her in combat ? Maybe she deserved to get parted out for all the sexual party favor she alluded to with no intention of ever having to dole out. Conveniently, the one man who had managed to best her made that decision for her with his next announcement.

"Simmer down, simmer down ! You saw how eagre she was to serve the first, so you will all get your probability !"chanted her ad-hoc manager out to her devoted public,".. won't they, Ms. Lindholm ?"The hulking, musclebound man knelt over and delivered that snide input right wing to Brigitte's face.

She resisted the urge to spit back half of the freight of cum she had just sucked down into his side. With a swallow, the submitting Swede sucked down both her pride and the rest of the slimy glue off of her tongue and nodded.

"That's what I thought."

Brigitte watched as a colossal, callused hand swung down across her human face and bury digits into the supple flesh of her throat. As if she were a paperweight, her entire body was lifted off of the mat. The moment her articulatio genus left the reason, the hired man constricting her cervix clamped off her oxygen supply off from where she needed it most, and she began to choke. Ragdolling pathetically with her wooden leg wriggling back and Forth in a modest gesture of protestation, she felt her eubstance hauled like a RealDoll over to the side of the gang. She was deposited chest-first on the middle rophy, and soon felt the top pack roofy lashed around both of her blazonry. With her stallion body suspended between the brace of inch-thick braided bungee cords, the debilitated, dethroned Brigitte was stuck with her knee joint slumped limply to the mat. Brigitte had trained in interrogative sentence tactics with Reinhardt, but she hadn't exactly prepared for what to do if she found herself bent over at the waist and tangled up in boxing ring ropes.

"One last thing to do before I had her off to you, man !"declared the man quickly growing spare part on how a lot margin the justice-serving Swedish maiden had for dragging out her ‘ wager.'Unable to see anything other than the cobbled-together I. F. Stone wall on the side of the practice pack, Brigitte was taken by surprise when she felt the waistband of her shorts torn down from around her jiggling, fair-skinned duet of asscheeks.

"Bare-assed and tied up. What if pappa finds out about this.."Brigitte scolded herself, lamenting how she let things go this far .