Lyra berates her

Lyra eased the winch controls, lowering Bayley just enough so the dangling Role Model hung at chest height. The black Victoria’s Secret panties were still stretched to their absolute limit, the fabric thin and strained but—somehow—completely intact despite all the thrashing and full-body weight. Lyra stepped closer, tilting her head as she studied the stretched material with genuine surprise.

She let out a sharp, delighted laugh.

“Those are some seriously strong underpants, Bayley.”

Bayley’s face was twisted in pain and panic, legs still kicking weakly as she hung suspended by the crotch of her panties.

“Please… Lyra, let me down,” she pleaded, voice cracking. “It hurts… just let me down.”

Lyra ignored the begging. Instead she placed both hands on Bayley’s hips and gave her a firm shove. Bayley swung backward, then forward again like a living swing. Lyra pushed her once more, then again, making the Role Model arc through the air while the buried black fabric cut and rubbed with every movement.

“You made a big mistake challenging this version of me,” Lyra said, voice low and cold as she kept the swinging going. “This darker, meaner, more vicious Lyra. You thought you could still be the cocky Role Model… thought you could walk in here and humiliate me the same way you used to humiliate everyone when you ran Damage CTRL. You, Iyo, Kairi, Asuka, Dakota… all of you looking down on people. But look at you now.”

She gave Bayley one harder push, sending her swinging wider.

“You’re nothing more than a pathetic loser hanging by her own panties in a filthy backlot.”

Lyra finally stopped the motion, letting Bayley sway to a halt in front of her. A cruel little smile curled her lips as she reached out and firmly grabbed the waistband of Bayley’s blue-and-silver tights with both hands.

“Now… let’s finish this.”