Much

Bayley stood over the still-kneeling Lyra, the wrench swinging loosely in one hand, a cold smirk on her face.

“Look at you,” she taunted, voice dripping with mockery. “All that crazy talk, all that big stipulation… and now you’re on your hands and knees digging your own panties out of your ass. Some goddess.”

She raised the wrench and brought it down hard across the middle of Lyra’s bare back. The steel cracked against skin with a sharp, sickening sound. Lyra cried out and immediately tried to crawl away across the gravel, still half-tangled in her lowered trunks, dark blue Calvin Klein panties still deeply wedged.

Bayley lunged after her, fingers locking tight around the stretched waistband of those panties.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she growled.

Then she heaved.

Both hands clamped on the dark blue fabric, Bayley yanked upward with everything she had. Lyra’s body left the ground entirely—lifted clear into the air by the super wedgie.

Her legs kicked wildly, a raw, high scream tearing from her throat as the Calvin Klein material buried itself impossibly deep, the elastic stretching and burning, the pressure white-hot between her cheeks and straight through her pussy. Bayley held her aloft for a moment, laughing that sharp, almost manic laugh, then began to bounce her.

Each upward jerk drove the wedgie deeper. Every bounce made Lyra scream louder, legs flailing, hands clawing uselessly at the air as the fabric cut and rubbed without mercy.

With one final powerful swing, Bayley hurled her face-first into a nearby open trash can.

Lyra’s upper body disappeared inside with a metallic clang and a muffled cry. Only her legs and the full, round shape of her wedgied ass remained sticking out, dark blue Calvin Klein panties still pulled high and tight between her cheeks.

Bayley planted a boot on the side of the can and leaned in, voice full of cruel amusement.

“Look at that. The big bad Lyra Valkyria… stuffed in a trash can with her panties up her crack. Just like a little nerd back in school.”

She kicked the can hard, tipping it over onto its side. Lyra spilled partially out but stayed tangled inside the metal cylinder. Bayley’s eyes landed on a steel chair leaning against a nearby crate. She snatched it up, hoisted it overhead, and began slamming it down onto the trash can again and again, the metallic crashes ringing through the backlot.

“You gonna quit, Lyra?!” she shouted between impacts, voice raw and furious. “Huh?! You wanted this match! You wanted the backlot! You wanted the strip! Give up! Quit, you bitch!”