You deliver a second powerbomb for good measure!

The crowd chants for it before the idea had even fully formed in your mind.

“One more time! One more time!”

Again and again. Louder and louder.

The volume of their collective bloodlust became a booming cry that united the whole arena all for you, and all against the whining, writhing housewife at your feet.

It was settled, then.

The crowd wants a sequel to the original, and you were nothing if a faithful steward to the whims of the bloodlusted spectators.

Grabbing her ankles, you roll Kelsey backwards and onto her hands and knees before she can even begin to comprehend what was happening.

Once she's on all fours, you grab her by the hair and drag the beautiful, battered brunette between your legs.

Haggard, panting breath tickles against your inner thigh as she kneels down on the canvas, hardly in a presentable position.

Seems she just can't help but look like a fucktoy. Fitting perhaps, since she hasn't much acted like anything else since stepping in the ring.

With a slumping stance and arms as limp as noodle at her sides, she's completely done. The only real sign of life is her hot, ragged breath blowing across your crotch.

But you aren’t done with her just yet.

Wrapping your arms against her abdomen, you take a breath, and then lift her back up into the air.

Only instead of using the momentum from the ropes, you have to deadlift this bitch with pure upper body muscle.

A hard task for some. Harder for others.

But for you, it was maybe one of the easier things you’d done all night.

With adrenaline pumping in your veins, you heft her up off the ground, and over your shoulders in the traditional powerbomb position.

Her moist slit lines up against your chin once more as you hold her in mid-air. This time though, you take it slow, enjoying the faint lavender and honey smell coming from her.

Looks like a fucktoy. Acts like a fucktoy. Smells like a fucktoy. But somehow she thinks she's a fighter?

She's slumping forward already, not even close to recovered from the first time you slammed her down into the mat.

You take in a deep breath of her sensual smell, and decide to take a taste of your prey.

One dominant press of your tongue against the blue lace in front of you, swiping up slowly and forcefully in a primal act of ownership over her.

And sure enough: She tastes like a fucktoy too.

At this point, you're just giving the fans their money’s worth. You slowly spin around, showing off the dominated housewife's thong covered ass to all corners of the crowd.

“No…no, no, no.” Kelsey finally mutters over your head in a confused, dazed series of murmurings, slowly shaking her head as the sobering realization hits her…

Even when begging for mercy, my wife's voice comes across like a slut in heat begging for it harder. She sounds like a fucktoy too.

Time to end it.

“Hah!!” you cry out, straining every muscle in your body as you slam her down into the canvas.

The ring shakes with a thundering impact as you re-introduce the housewife to something even harder than your dick.

From every direction, the fans erupted as the violent slam sent little shockwaves beneath your feet.

You really gave it to her this time.

She makes a half-hearted attempt to sit up out of sheer instinct, far too gone to actively do anything at this point, before collapsing down on her back in a completely limp slump. A spitting image of absolute defeat.

Her eyes roll around aimlessly as she straddles the border of consciousness, her mouth wide open with her tongue laying across her chin.

Now you only had to make it official.

Pumping one fist into the air as the crowd roars their approval, you press one boot onto Kelsey's breast, flattening it painfully underneath, and glare at the referee.

Without hesitation, the striped woman kneels down and starts to make the count.

“1…!”

“2…!”