Light Switch II: The Superstars  Part II 
By BOS 
Second half of the public husband-wife match


As a start for the second act, Tay took off her shoes. Then she reached down
to pull her husband up to his feet by his head. She certainly couldn't be
accused of not having given him ample time to recover, consistent with her
desire to keep the show moving and to get it done in a reasonable time. Now
his problem wasn't so much that he was still weak. It was that he knew he was
beaten. He had crossed that threshold. He simply had no interest in trying to
fight his wife anymore. What was the point?

But Tay wanted more. For one thing, the body slam and how it felt and its
reception by the crowd gave her other ideas. Now she approached her husband.
He put up his hands in defense and backed away. "Aw," she said, "you don't
want any of this?" She outlined her body. When she got closer, he tried to
push her away. She pushed harder on one of his shoulders and, because he
stumbled a little, she was able to turn him to face away from her. She then
wrapped him in a bear hug from behind. She kissed him on his ear, and she
walked him around the ring like that. He tried to break the lock of her hands.

She said, "We're going for a ride now, Sweety Pie. Buckle up." He was scared
to death. Suddenly, she stopped, threw her feet into her husband's ankles and
fell to her back violently, throwing the male body directly over her in a big
arc. She never let go, but came to her feet with the man on his stomach on the
mat and still in her arms. Then, against his futile, frantic resistance, did
it again, jerking him to his feet by straightening her mighty legs. She used
the momentum of that move to propel him over her head.

This was obviously easy for her. And she was obviously enjoying it. The man in
her arms increased her enjoyment by screaming "No. No," as she set up for
number three. But she did it again. Each time she did it, he didn't know if he
was going to survive. And it was clear to him that she could keep doing it all
night. He was afraid she might do that, or maybe continue until he broke his
neck.

After the third throw, however, Tay moved on. After bringing Dexter to his
feet again, she adjusted him into a front bear hug. He didn't know if this was
any better. It was certainly sexier. She was grinding it and hurting him.
Suddenly she threw him over her again, by falling hard to her back, throwing
her feet into his insteps and lifting with a mighty heave. He came down hard
on his back, wondering if he was broken. Meanwhile, she had performed a
backwards somersault and had come out on top of him lengthwise, looking down
into his face. She smiled at him, kissed him on the cheek, rose to her feet,
dragging him up with her by grabbing his wrists, and locked him in another
bearhug. He knew what this meant, and so did the crowd. She toyed with,
carrying him around the ring as he thrashed and begged. Then she did it again:
jumped, kicked his insteps, fell to her back and threw him. Quickly, there she
was in his face again as he lay flat on the mat. She smiled again. She kissed
him again, this time on the lips. And she jerked him to his feet again,
bearhugged him again and threw him again. On the mat, she kissed him again
then, to his unspeakable relief, rolled off him in a backwards somersault. She
took her ladylike bows before an awed, shocked, standing crowd.

With everybody else, Tay watched her husband try to scrape himself off the
mat. He was winded, shaken up, frightened, but not badly hurt beyond that. Tay
grew impatient. With the motherly, under-the-armpits maneuver, she raised him
to his feet, pushed into the ropes and addressed the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentleman, please observe: No hands." With that, the gorgeous babe
simply took her place in front of him, their bodies almost touching. With her
shoes off, it was now more dramatically clear than ever that he was decidedly
taller than she was.

She let nature take its course. He didn't dare touch her. But his dick did.
When that happened, she stood aside, directed the audience's attention to the
fact that not all aspects of Dexter's manhood were destroyed and took her bow.

But he knew this was trouble. What gets hard must get soft.

Suddenly, his wife slapped him in the face with her foot. It was something she
had been wanting to do forever. She wanted to show what a great action actress
she could be in the movies. And she felt her fans wanted to see her famous,
fabulous legs in action. Now was as good a time as any, because she needed
something to soften Dexter where it counted. A few kicks should suffice.

He didn't go down after the first kick, but he was staggered. That was pretty
much the effect she was after, because she wanted to use her other foot the
same way, which she now did, before a third kick, this one coming not across
his face, but smack into it from the front. She had cocked her legendary leg
at waist level, turned sideways to the man and flicked out a couple of times -
scaring him, showing off, and displaying her covered crotch -- before
targeting and hitting him.

He slid down the ropes. She lifted him up with her hands under her armpits.
Then she stood back from him and directed the audience's attention to the fact
that he was soft. Then she stood in front of him again just as before, but
this time with her cheek just to the side of his, her fragrance in his nose.
She whispered some magic words in his ear, words whose effects she could
predict. And she waited. She felt him rise. And she showed the audience again.
Then she did some of her kicks again.

Her lovely legs messed with him, tormented him, humiliated him, slapped him
around. Everybody in the building knew that the gorgeous dancer could be doing
much more damage. The female sex idol was going easy on the pathetic male. At
one point, she planted a barefoot on hubby's face and kept it there as he sank
into a seated position.

Then she walked over to a corner, retrieved a little cloth and displayed it
for the audience. The front said, "I am Tay's" and the back said "Bitch." It
was in the shape of a shirt, only much shorter. Immediately everybody knew
from the devilish look in the lady's eyes that the dominant beauty wanted it
on her man.

It hardly looked like it was big enough. And if she did get it on him, it
would come down only to his chest and would look like a woman's halter. To
Dexter, it looked gay.

The gorgeous wife stalked her man with it now. He left the ropes he had been
leaning on. But there was no spring to his step. She said, for all to hear,
"This is happening, Babe. Not a thing in the world you can do about it."

It took almost nothing for his fleet and fresh wife to corner him. With her
shoes off, she was actually faster than at the start of the match that had
drained all his speed. She brought her left shoulder hard into his chest, and
she almost instantly had the little garment over one of his arms. He
struggled. She said, "Fight me, Babe. I like that. It'll show people I'm not
just picking on a defenseless little bitch." He was expecting her to go for
his other arm, but, before he knew it, she had his head in the proper socket.
Now she turned toward his other arm. She used a sort of karate chop at the
inside of his elbow to bend it, and from there fairly easily got the garment
over his fist. From there it was a matter of tugging and pulling. It looked to
the audience like a mother dressing an overgrown, fidgety child.

Soon the diminished male was wearing what the lady in charge wanted him to
wear, whether he liked it or not. He tried to rip it off. She socked him in
the gut in a very unmotherly way, and she raised his head to look at her. She
pointed a finger at him with her other hand, a warning. He fussed some more,
in part because the halter top was so tight it was hurting him. She hit him
the same way twice. Then, rather than wait to see whether he had settled down,
the woman turned him around, wrapped her arms around him from behind and
pulled the larger man out to the center of the ring.

With her arms around his lower chest, she said, "What do you think, ladies?
Isn't it adorable? My hubby always likes me to wear really tight stuff, so I
thought I put him in some. Let me show you the back." She ducked under one of
her husband's half-flailing arms and had him in a regular front bearhug before
he knew it. She walked him around the ring like that, as the larger male
struggled to find a way to struggle meaningfully, given his weakness and the
constriction of the top. People were amazed by the ease with which the woman
carried him. It was almost as if the strength that had left him had gone into
her.

When she let him down, he crumbled to his knees. She hadn't been expecting
that. But she loved it, whether he did it because he was exhausted or because
he suddenly felt a need to obscure his nakedness again. Now she went to the
same corner where she had gotten the halter top and picked up something else.
She hid it behind her as she walked back toward him. Then, standing above him,
fondling his head and face as she pressed him lightly against a thigh he had
long loved, she put it front of his face. It was a little skirt. The audience
gasped. He brushed it away.

She said, "No, huh? OK. I just thought it might match your pretty little top.
I thought you might be more concerned about what you are not wearing down
below than what you are wearing up top." She draped the skirt over a ringpost,
not the one where his own shirt and briefs rested. She said, "Let's just say
it's there when you want it, because everybody knows you are definitely not
getting your old clothes back." The audience laughed. "And when you think back
on this night, always remember that I didn't do EVERYTHING to you that I might
have."

Women and girls in the audience put their hands to their mouths in shock.
Meanwhile, some in the audience pointed out to each other that Tay had brought
the halter and the skirt with her to the arena. She had arrived completely
expecting this situation that others found so amazing.

Now Tay stood there and rubbed her thighs. She put both hands on one thigh and
ran them up and down it, like she was warming up. Then did the same with the
other leg, while her victim and her audience watched and wondered.

She said to him and them, "We're going to do a little shout-along." That was
not what she seemed to be preparing for. But she was the boss.

Now she sat down in front of her husband and spread her legs wide. He felt he
knew what she had in mind. As she opened and closed her legs, he moved
backwards. He was not eager to expose himself by rising. And, anyway, he
didn't think he could get to his feet before she could down him again. And he
was not much good on his feet just now anyway. So he just tried to get out of
range of his wife's beautiful thighs.

But she could scoot forward faster than he could scoot backwards. She played
cat and mouse with him, chasing him around the ring. She could have taken him
any time. But she was enjoying the chase, enjoying the crowd's laughter, just
loving it all. She looked at him, not menacingly but almost coquettishly, as
he showed the world his fear of the very vortex any normal man would normally
love getting into.

Finally, she took him. He had pretty much backed himself into a corner, and it
was time. But she didn't apply any sort of scissors. To his surprise, she
grabbed his ankles and started maneuvering them and her own legs. Before he
knew it, his legs were locked into a painful position by her legs. She leaned
back on her hands and demonstrated that, in this figure-four leglock, she
could hurt him with the slightest movement of one her legs. Moreover, his legs
weren't his only endangered body part. One of her bare feet rested in his lap.
In short, a man couldn't possibly be in a more vulnerable position to be Light
Switched.

Tay scooted back a bit, dragging the man with her. That left him with no
ringpost to lean on. He had to use his arms to prop himself up. That left
Tay's sexy foot free to work him over. She worked him to her heart's content,
enjoying the challenge of turning him on, as opposed to hurting him, which
would have been too trivially easy. At one point, virtually his entire package
was in contact with the bottom of her foot. She thought there were probably no
circumstances in which that wouldn't turn him on. But now he was particularly
a goner because of the horniness she had implanted in him by turning him on so
often already tonight. For her to working through his fear and humiliation and
his various pains to arouse him was not difficult.

She worked him over with style and flare and utter dominance. In the process,
she even put her foot on his face a couple of times in a way that was almost
seductive, particular given his view up her leg. Before long - and against his
will -- she had him in full, humiliating bloom.

Then, rather than attack his balls, she put just a little pressure on one of
his legs, and he was suddenly shouting a concession. She didn't ease up on him
until he was soft. Then she worked him up again. She did the whole cycle.

She simply had him. Her bare foot and his bare package meant he was either
going to be in ecstasy or agony. Her choice.

And she kept changing her mind.

Finally, though, her big, alluring, frightening legs let him go - for an
instant. Then they wrapped around his waist. Scissor time.

She knew it didn't matter whether his arms were caught in her gamular grip or
not. He was defenseless against this asset of hers. Still showing that
coquettish look on her face, she constricted, not violently, but slowly. At
first he looked for a weakness in her attack. But then his hands went to her
legs and he just grimaced.

She said, "Oh, now you're just feeling me up. You think I'm going to allow
that? What do you think, folks: Should I allow that?" A loud, hi-pitched "No"
came from the crowd. "Sorry, lover," she said. "This is show biz." With that
she constricted some more. He took his hands off her and showed everybody that
he was not touching her. People laughed.

The masterful woman opened her thighs wide, saw his face relax and his eyes go
to her crotch, naturally, and then snapped shut, putting him in renewed pain.
Instinctively, his hands went to her thighs. Then he remembered that this was
a transgression and, again, at whatever risk to his dignity and ego, he showed
everybody that he was not touching his wife's thighs.

Tay performed two more openings and closings, then changed position. She
propelled herself up and forward by pushing off the mat with her hands until
she was lengthwise on top of the prone man, who was flattened under her
weight. Her legs wrapped around his in a grapevine. In that position, she
didn't need to use her hands to hold him. Pushing with one hand on his chest
to lean up, which stretched his legs and hurt him a lot, she said, "Out!" And
she suddenly thrust her legs out far wider than the man was capable of
spreading his. He squealed. She said, "In!" and brought her legs together. She
said "Out," and did the accompanying move and got the accompanying squeal. Now
the spectators had the rhythm of the thing.

She didn't have to say the words anymore. They did it, as the man suffered.
"Out." "In." "Out." "In." "Out." "In." People lost track of the count. Dexter
kept signaling his submission. He got one of his hands free, and it was again
instinctively pawing at her thighs. Tay stopped spreading him, and the crowd
gradually stopped chanting. And she said, "He's feeling me up again, folks. Do
you think I should allow him to take advantage of a girl like that?" People
laughed and they shouted their disapproval at the man, and he signaled
frantically that, no, no, he was not trying to grab a feel. And he said,
"Stop. You win. I've had it." Ridiculously, he said, "I won't touch you," and
he raised his one free hand to show everybody that it wasn't touching
anything.

By this time, Tay certainly had her pound of flesh and then some. But it was
hard for her to stop. She had always loved entertaining an audience. And she
loved looking down into the man's eyes and seeing that he didn't want to look
her in the eyes. And she loved the thought that nobody who was present would
ever forget this scene. It was all good.

But now came her long-planned finale. Having given featured roles along the
way to her famous boobs, ass and thighs, there was still her famous hair. She
knew that other hot babes could put those other assets to work for them, at
least for certain kinds of fights, at least for make believe. But their hair?
This next part would especially set her apart. Dexter was no longer the
competition. He was toast. This was now about the other show-biz babes.

Tied as it was in one long braid, her hair was both an erotic asset and a
weapon. At least for Tay. As her male prop lay there flat, glad to be alive,
but not entirely certain it would last, his wife positioned herself over his
naked crotch, and dangled her hair over it. This utterly dumbfounded him. But
who was he to interfere with her work? At the end of her long, long braid was
a few inches of pony tail. As Tay let that play lightly on her husband's most
sensitive part, the man stirred, coming to life. He even had the audacious
thought of trying to sit up. That hardly mattered. Tay simply flattened him on
his back with her palm on his chest. It was as if this had nothing to do with
him. It was between her and his dick. She didn't even look at him - or at his
face, anyway - as she concentrated on where her hair met his balls and dick.
She knew how to make her hair have maximum effect. When he realized what was
going on, he hated it.

Unfortunately for him, however, he loved it. She worked him over skillfully.
Mercilessly. She made him twitch. She made him gasp. She made him squirm there
on his back.

And she made him hard for all the world to see. She stopped and brushed her
hands together in a sign of a job completed.

Now it remained only to reduce him yet again. She said, "Now I'm going to turn
you into mush with my hair, Husband. And I don't think there's a person in the
arena who thinks there's anything you can do about it." She stood above him.
He started to sit up. Standing with one foot on either side of him, with her
hands on her ample hips, the female superstar made a motion with her head that
twirled her hair in a wide circle, and she bent over to aim it at her hubby's
face. It connected with surprising power. It stung. It shocked.

In desperation or by habit or something, the man now started to reach for his
woman. But he was hit with another slap by the bottom knot. Now Tay made her
hair continue in circles, sometimes missing the man. He put up an arm to
protect himself or, preferably, catch the hair. But Tay put up an arm to push
his out of the way, and she succeeded, slapping him again with her hair.
Suddenly she reversed the direction of her hair and caught him again, hard. He
was dazed. And, more importantly for some, at least, he was soft.

A bell went off indicating that Tay's victory was now officially achieved. The
judges thought they might have lost count at some stage, but they agreed to
call this particular on-off switching as number 10. But Tay slapped Dexter
with her hair three more times. There was no rule telling her to stop, and she
wanted to make clear the degree of her power to dominate her husband with this
tool alone. And, again, she was just having so much fun.

Finally, however, the lady announcer made her way into the ring. The crowd
took that as the end and rose in a long standing ovation for Tay.

Before the woman could get a question in, Tay took her microphone and said,
"Anybody who wants to get a selfie with our boy here, just come on up to
ringside. We'll be here for at least an hour, humiliating him as much as
possible." She gave the mike back to the announcer, then ¬¬- as if
remembering something -- took it back. She said, "I hope you don't mind him
being naked." Then she turned away from the announcer and to the crowd, and
the announcer knew her job was over. And Dexter knew his ordeal was just
beginning.