About six months ago, I started going out with Chris. He was nice, handsome, funny in that geeky kind of way that has always made my heart flutter. I was never really into gaming before meeting him, but over time he showed me how much fun it could be to play. He started me off with Portal, then we did Portal 2 together once I had the basics down. After that, he finally introduced me to his favorite game: Overwatch. Suffice it to say, I sucked; my aim was off, my awareness of the battlefield was terrible, and I just did not have the reflexes necessary to really compete with anyone. I really liked the idea of playing a character like Tracer or Genji, someone fast and unpredictable; I had seen them tear up the fight so often that I figured they had to be the best of the bunch, but as much as I tried and tried, I just couldn't get the hang of it. Finally, Chris suggested I try a support character. And that's when it all clicked.

As Mercy, I finally felt like I was making a difference. Within a week of quick play, I had managed to pick up the 'Huge Rez' achievement, and I posted the spray everywhere I could to show people how proud I was. Naturally, I still died a lot, but since Chris mostly played tank characters, we actually made a pretty good team. He protected me, I protected him, and our win rate began to climb steadily. For the first time since picking up the game, I was having fun!

Something else happened, too. The more I played Mercy, the more vocal Chris got in guiding me. When I had played Tracer, he had mostly just told me where the enemy was, when to attack, stuff like that. Now, he was guiding me, praising me when I did well and, to my surprise, scolding me when I wasn't. At first I was hurt by this chastising, but then Chris told me that, as a healer, my job was extra-super important, and if I did poorly the team did poorly. Thus, I had to really apply myself and not let up on healing the team ever. Once I understood how important a role I had, I began to focus, and Chris in turn began to praise me more. Soon, his praise became physical; A hug after winning a match, a pat on the head when I pulled off a good resurrection. He even began calling me his "little healer" outside of the game, which made me feel all funny and tingly inside. He still scolded me when I did poorly, but more and more, I pushed myself to improve my skill and be better, if only to receive his praise.

Slowly, Overwatch began to change my life. Chris has always been vocal in bed, but now he began ordering me around more, praising and scolding me according to his moods and desires. Increasingly, I found myself obeying him eagerly, our lives shifting into what I suppose must be a sort of dom/sub relationship. I didn't think much about it at the time, though; all I knew was that Chris enjoyed it when I acted like his little, eager healer, and I loved the praise he gave me for doing so.

Then, one night, I got cocky. I had had a streak of great games, and was feeling on top of the world. Chris, with a smirk on his face, told me not to get too big for my boots; all it took was one lost game to make a healer remember her place. I blew him off, laughing that he was probably just feeling envious over all the boys flocking to me for healing, while he was left with only bronze medals.
Chris just smiled and shrugged, and suggested that if I was so confident, maybe we should place a bet? We would play a match, and whichever one of us got the Play of the Game was the winner.

I was in. With how great I had been doing, how could I lose? But what, I asked, were we wagering? Not money, surely. Chris looked at me, looked me up and down, and said that whoever lost had to give the other person head. I blinked, stumped for a second, and then nodded. I had imagined something less serious, like bragging rights, but he only ever played tank, and tanks never got play of the game... right? This was in the bag.

Only when we went to the hero select screen, he picked Pharah.

Eight minutes later, and I was staring at my screen as the playback of Pharah wrecking the entire enemy team played for everyone to see. I had done alright - two gold medals and a 3 player rez - but he had single-handedly scored a penta-kill with his ultimate, before blasting the last enemy - a Sombra - into dust with a flick of the wrist. We had won, but I had lost. Slowly, I turned to look at him.

"Well then," he said, a soft smile on his lips. I said nothing, but simply nodded. I had healed more than 8,000 damage, gotten a double kill with my pistol, died only once while pushing the payload... but he had showed me, without doubt, who was the better player. It was humbling.

"Another game?" He asked casually, and I nodded. What could I say? I was not sore about losing; quite the opposite, in fact. Like the proverbial Icarus, I had flown too close to the sun, and my wings had melted. For the next three matches, I stuck to Chris like a leech, healing him as he pushed payload after payload to victory. He was back to being tank; now that he no longer needed to school me, he had no need to show off.

Eventually, we closed the game and he rose without a word. Quietly, I followed him into the bedroom, and when he patted the bed gently, I obeyed without a second thought. His hand reached out to stroke my cheek and brush away a strand of my blonde hair, and then he undid his trousers and pulled out his cock.

"No hard feelings?" He was already semi-hard, and he stroked himself languidly as he asked. I shook my head and reached up to wrap my fingers around him. Then I looked up.
"You tricked me. I didn't think you'd pick Pharah."
He grinned and curled his fingers into my hair, pulling me firmly onto his manhood.
"Ah.. but healer's aren't supposed to think, are they? Just look at all the good it did for you. All you have to do is tend to the needs of your team, there's a good pet."

Effortlessly, he pushed himself between my lips, and I felt the swell of his cock slide across my tongue, salt and musk intermingling in my mouth. Immediately, he settled into a nice, slow rhythm, and I could only close my eyes and let him. Meanwhile, his words spilled over me, burying deep into my brain as the taste of his cock filled my world.

"There you go, see? Now you're learning. You did so very well, pet, so very well, and now you're getting your healer's reward. You like sucking my cock, don't you?"

He paused his thrusts, and I nodded, lips still wrapped around him. A big grin spread across his face, and he stroked my hair lovingly.

"That's what I thought. Now go ahead, suck me like a good little healer. Suck that tank cock, all the way down. You're my little healer, aren't you? My slutty little healer who wants nothing but to please her tank, right?"

I nodded again, realizing as he said so that it was true. Everything I did in game, I did to help and service my team. Every hit point I healed, every death I undid with my ult, all of it to please and relieve other, better players. I took a deep breath, my tongue dancing over the thick cock, and pushed down to engulf the shaft, until I felt it push at the opening of my throat.

Chris moaned and reached back to cradle the back of my head, and only when I gagged and sputtered around him did he let up and allow me to pull back. A strand of spit clung to him and bridged us as I gulped down air, and his hand came down to stroke my cheek carefully, a look of bliss on his face.

"Healers need to know their place, don't they?"
I nodded once more, opening my mouth to lick the tip of my tongue against the crown on his cock, gathering my own spit and smearing it over him and making him shudder with pleasure. Chris laughed.

"And healers need to be humble, obedient little sluts who do what they are told, don't they?"
He let me closer, pushing himself into my willing mouth and bucking slightly, wet sounds erupting lewdly as I sucked and slurped and gasped around his fat head.

Finally, Chris pulled himself free of my mouth and took a step back, glancing down at his glistening cock with a grin. He gestured for me to strip, and I obeyed, a sense of lightheadedness guiding my every move. Once I was reduced to my underwear, he pulled me up and pressed himself against me, hands seeking out my breasts and ass with a hunger that I had not seen in him before.

"You know your place, don't you?" His voice was hoarse, little more than a feverish growl, and I moaned softly in response. A sharp smack across my backside, and I mewled in pleasured pain.
"Say it..!"
"I know my place," I cooed, and his fingers dug into my soft flesh with a possessive grip, his throat releasing a pleased moan at my words. "I'm your little slutty healer who does as she is told."
"Show me." He pushed me away, holding my hips for a moment to stare at me before yanking my panties down and grinning. "Get on the bed and show me."

Chris reached up to pull off his shirt as I climbed onto the bed, his words - and my own - reverberating in my head. It was true-- weeks of playing Mercy, of being scolded for doing poorly and praised for doing well, had instilled in me a massive desire to please, a hunger for that intangible reward that suddenly seemed so very tangible. Hearing Chris moan and praise me when I sucked him off, feeling his strong hands on my body... for the first time, I felt like the hungry little healslut I had been personifying all along, and on a whim I laid down and propped my head over the edge of the bed. My tank had won a bet fair and square, and now he got to reap the rewards. As was his due.

Seeing my intention, Chris smirked down at me and stepped up until the tip of his cock touched my nose. I tilted my head back a little further, opened my mouth and let him slide into me, my lips soon wrapping around the base of his tankhood while my throat struggled to contain him. The taste and smell of him overwhelmed me, and all I could see was his large, plump balls bouncing serenely as he began to fuck my throat ever so slowly. His hand came down and pushed beneath my bra, finding my nipple to pinch it as his breath grew harder with each stroke.

"What a wonderful idea, my pet," he murmured, and I felt my heart flutter at the praise. It was not easy to breathe like this, but somehow, that only made it hotter; it was unwavering trust, complete and utter faith in his desire to protect me and keep me safe. When he stroked me, he did so because I deserved it, and when he punished me, he did so because I needed it. This was nothing more than his rightful due. Oh, he had won the bet, true, but that was not so important after all. What mattered was his status-- and mine!

It did not take long for my tank to settle into a steady rhythm. A few strokes into my throat, then pulling back to let me breathe, then a handful more, gradually increasing the time between the pauses until I was gasping, moaning and gagging for air. Thick, viscous spit coated his length and dripped down my cheeks, coating my face as he fucked me, used my mouth for his own pleasure. I felt his cock throb and swell, and I was certain that he was about to come when he suddenly pulled out and stood over me, cock dripping and jerking an inch from my face.

"Are you going to make bets with your tank again?" His hand came down and began to stroke the thick shaft, slick saliva dripping onto my forehead. I shuddered, panting for air, and shook my head.
"No..."

"And are you going to be a good healer and suck my cock every time we play from now on?"
In my addled state, I did not think. The way Chris had been using me, the way I felt lightheaded and dizzy with lust and excitement, the way it felt so right when he called me his healer slut... I wanted to please him and pleasure him, to be the best healer I could. Addled and unthinking, I reached up and kissed his heavy sack, sucking at the heavy orbs with fervor and devotion, certain that this act of subservience was answer enough. But Chris just reached down and pinched my nipple, making me gasp.

"Answer me, slut. Are you going to do your duty as my healer and suck my cock when I tell you to?"
Letting my head drop back, I nodded, mewling out a lustful "yes". I heard Chris chuckle above me.

"Good. Then you'll get your reward. But let me hear you beg for it. I need to know my little healslut isn't just going to change her mind later. Go on, beg for my cum."
So I did. Voice cracking, my own fingers dipping down to reach between my legs, I begged Chris to cum. Over and over, I told him what he wanted to hear, and frankly, it felt good to say it. As I spoke, he stroked himself, increasingly harder and faster as I sunk into the role as his hungry, insatiable little fuck toy. Finally, he dipped down and forced himself into my mouth, drowing my words in a sudden torrent of spunk which he coaxed out with his hand and my lips both. I struggled to swallow, and even before he was done, cum had begun to drip from the corner of my mouth and down into my hair. Chris then yanked himself loose and let the last few spurts of his powerful orgasm hit my face and neck, painting me like a good, obedient little whore. I moaned and gulped, swallowing the thick cream with uncharacteristic relish. I had never cared much for the taste of cum before, but suddenly, it was blissful. It was my reward, I realized, the dues for being a good healer and an obedient slut. Chris teased the last few drops from his cock and dipped it back down to let me suck it clean. His moans spurred me on, and with my fingers grinding hard against my clit, I soon found my own orgasm, shuddering and moaning with his cock growing soft in my mouth.

In the end, I lay panting and gasping, cum and drool staining my face and neck. With a satisfied grunt, Chris sat down next to me and stroked his hand across my belly, no doubt reflecting on the heavy load he had dumped there. The taste of salt and slight bitterness clung to my tongue and cloyed in my nostrils, but I felt absolutely happy, as if I had been given a great gift.

"Good girl," he murmured, and I beamed up at him. He laughed, seeing the cum stains in my eyebrows and the mess he had made of my hair. "Now you look like a real healer."
I blushed and thanked him. And even before I got up to clean myself, I knew that I'd be sucking his cock next time we played. And the time after that. And the time after that. Just like a good healer would.

This story was inspired by a real bet I made with a long-term partner of mine, with the same exact outcome. Suffice it to say, I learned not to bet against a tank when oral sex is on the line.