You her to satisfy you.

The jobber wife pushes at the mat weakly, trying to increase the distance between her and you. She doesn't seem to want to give you what you deserve, so you resolve to take it yourself. She tries to push herself onto all fours to crawl away, but her movements are weak and labored. She makes it halfway to the edge of the ring when your grip closes tightly on her ankle and you drag her nearly-naked body back to the center. Her sweat-slicked breasts squeak loudly against the floor as she is displaced.

You linger over her, deciding how you will collect the bounty for your win and then an idea forms. Kelsey pulls her leg away from you, but not before you catch her foot in your hand. You pinch the elastic material of her stockings between your fingers and pry it apart with a distinctive tear. A small hole forms and then enlarges with a wrench of your hand, the foot of her stocking is torn apart leaving her foot bare with the tattered shreds of nylon strewn along her ankle.

"Hnngh? What are you-" she gasps. You answer by grabbing her other foot. She arches her devastated back painfully and tries to twist her leg out of your grip, but she just doesn't have the strength to succeed. With a heave, you pull her back towards you and resume pulling at the material of her stocking. It isn't long before that stocking tears open with a stutter. You palm the bottoms of her struggling feet, kneading her sweaty soles firmly in your grip. Her toes fan out when your thumbs press in and her face darkens again at being so blatantly objectified.

"We're going to play a game," you say grimly. She wrenches her bare feet from your hold, but you climb over her as she tries to slide away. She wrenches her head side to side defiantly, but it does nothing to stop your advance. "You ready?" You ask, but you know she isn't. Your hands shove her shoulders down as you loom over her and backhand her hard across the face. The jobber wife grunts from the sudden strike and her hair whips through the air, her sweat leaving a wet mist. As her eyes meet yours, you backhand her the other way.

"If you have anyone you know watching, I wonder what they'll think of you," you say. Your shadow rises over her as you stand. The wet, naked jobber just looks up at you as worry fills her eyes. You lean in and stroke along the slick skin of her shoulder, along her collar bone and to her delicate neck, before your hand encompasses her throat and grasps it firmly. Immediately, her hands reflexively fight with your wrist for release, but she doesn't have the strength to pry open your grip. Your forearm tenses with exertion as you start to lift her up from the floor. The heels of her feet skid as you **** her to her knees, and then to a stand. Her naked breasts jiggle when she twists in your grip, her legs clenching shut to preserve any modesty she can muster.

"You can breathe again when I cum," you say, priming her for your little game. And with that, your hand constricts around her neck and deprives her of oxygen. The realization sets in, her cheeks flush and her eyes widen. You lift the jobber wife upwards, your grip straining with one hand. Her bare feet leave the ground, her toes clamoring for the floor to find purchase, but as each second passes she rises higher and higher until you hold her up lewdly on display. The audience cheers as they watch their favorite jobber slut suspended in a throatlift, her sweaty, naked body on display and her skin shining in the bright, fluorescent light.

"G-g-gck..!!" The jobber wife chokes and slaps at your wrist. She feels the muscles in your forearms twisting and rippling as you lift her in the air, and she realizes that she isn't coming down from this fate unless...

The sweat runs down your arm from the strain, each twist and struggle of her curvy body forcing you to reaffirm your hold. Her large breasts press around your arm. Her bare legs bicycle through the air, her feet flailing and slapping against your upper thighs. The massive girth between your legs is erect and thrust out towards her - and it isn't until her flailing feet slap against your bare, throbbing cock that she realizes the point of this game.

She looks down at you both humiliated and intoxicated with lust - her cheeks burn hotly from the sexually charged throatlift. "N-no!" She manages to **** out. Saliva coats her chin.

Your eyes lock with hers. "Give them the show they want, let them all watch." You say quietly. She complies.

Her naked, shapely feet raise and find themselves around your throbbing girth, the skin hot to the touch. When her toes clench around the head of your cock, she can feel your pulse pounding. "Hnn...gck!" She chokes again, struggling to give you what you want. But she finds a way. She slides the sole of one arched foot down the length of your shaft, while the other clenches and squeezes the head of your cock. As the moments drag on, she slowly finds a rhythm, while contending with the ever restricting lack of air. Her hand taps pleadingly at your wrist, as the spasms start to take over her movements. Her foot shivers and slides down the length of your massive cock and slaps against the side of it.

Not wanting the game to end so soon, you generously relax your grip just enough for her to suck in just enough lifegiving oxygen to clear her vision. "Hnnngh.. oh god," she rasps. You look between her slick thighs and see just how wet she is. Being dominated, while being watched by all of them... and him. Being objectified and being reduced to nothing but a slut... It clearly impairs her judgment.

Your grip on her throat tightens again, and her eyes glimmer with lust. Her feet clench tightly around your throbbing cock and she starts stroking along your length. She gyrates her hips, sliding her wrinkled soles up and down, up and down. Precum leaks from your tip and coats the soles of her feet and along the pads of her toes. When she lifts her foot from your cock, a string of fluid connects the tip to her pointed toes.

The jobber wife presses her feet down around your girth again, clenching the arches of her feet tightly and starting to pump you as hard as she can. You can see it in her eyes, the battle between panic and lust while she tries to bring you to that pulsating climax. Closer. Faster. More. Her eyes are clouding and this look of desperation fills her. She can hear your breathing growing rapid, she can feel the tremors in your cock.

Her legs shudder. Just a little bit more.

She can make it!