And that comes quickly

Lyra’s body went completely limp. Her arms splayed out wide, ponytail fanned across the canvas, eyes rolled back. The choker still hung uselessly around her neck. She didn’t move. She didn’t even twitch.

Saturday Night Fever had done its job.

Statlander rose slowly, breathing hard, one hand immediately reaching behind her again to try and dig the shiny black PVC out of her crack. The deep wedgie from earlier was still biting deep between her massive, dimpled arse cheeks which seemed to be riding higher with every second and the silver lines distorting as more of her powerful backside was exposed. She gave the wedgie another frustrated yank, but it barely helped as more and more of her arse was shown off.

“Lyra is out Mark, Statlander planted her so hard she may have actually lost a few inches!” Said The King. “That Saturday Night Fever piledriver just turned her lights out! She’s not moving at all!”

Kris stood over the motionless Valkyria, still tugging angrily at the back of her own outfit but the shiny material refused to come free, wedged so tightly between her powerful cheeks that every pull only made her arse wobble and the fabric strain harder. She bent slightly at the waist again, giving the entire arena another long, humiliating look at just how much of her backside was now on display while she tried to fix it but it was beyond hopeless. Statlander finally gave up on the wedgie for a moment. She looked down at Lyra’s limp, spread-eagled body with a scowl before reaching down and grabbing the front waistband of Valkyria’s ruined shorts with both hands the emerald bottoms still clinging to her as the sheer back panel stretched paper-thin across her backside.

They were embarrassingly easy for Statlander to rip off.

The already overstretched and torn material gave way with a loud, final rip and Kris yanked the emerald material straight down Lyra’s legs and off her body in one smooth motion, tossing the tattered remnants aside like trash where they landed in a heap near the ropes. Lyra’s panties matched her bra, simple and modest, nothing flashy, just basic teal fabric that hugged her hips and disappeared between her powerful, still-spread thighs and riding up into her cunt to give Valkyria a very noticeable camel toe with the material colour contrasting with her tanned skin.

The crowd cheered so loud that the victory bell couldn’t even be heard as cameras were again flashing as Lyra’s humiliating position was recorded forever more. Kris stood over her for a few more seconds, breathing hard, still reaching back every few moments to try and unclog the vicious wedgie from her own wedgie. She gave it another hard tug, her massive arse cheeks clenching and wobbling as she fought with the material but it still wouldn’t come free properly the PVC was now so far up her crack that the high legs of her gear were gone and her whole arse was on display. With a snarl, Kris gave one last furious yank at her own wedgie, failed to fix it, then turned and stormed toward the ropes. She didn’t even bother posing. She didn’t raise her hand for the crowd. She just climbed through the ropes, still angrily reaching behind her to try and pull the shiny black material out of her arse with every step, and marched up the ramp without looking back anger replacing the flash and cocky confidence she had entered with.

The last shot of Statlander for the night was of her large backside jiggling with every step as she stormed away from the ring, her dimpled arse bouncing but she did nothing to try to cover it up, knowing it would be futile and instead trying to leave with as much dignity as she could. In the ring Lyra Valkyria remained exactly where she’d been left. Completely out cold and spread eagled in the center of the ring in just her bra and panties.

“Well that’s one way to open a night of AHW,” Mark Madden said, sounding almost breathless. “Statlander just dominated. She got a wedgie for her trouble but in the end hit that devastating Saturday Night Fever and stripped Lyra down. Lyra fought hard and even got a little revenge, but in the end…”

“In the end, power wins,” Jerry Lawler finished. “ And Lyra’s being left spread eagled and out cold in the middle of the ring.”

The camera lingered on Lyra’s motionless, spread-eagled form for a few more seconds before cutting to the stage as the arena lights shifted for the next match.