Checking lyras engine

Bayley finally managed to dig the worst of the black Victoria’s Secret fabric out from between her cheeks, but the damage was already done. The waistband at the back remained stretched and elevated, a clear strip of black still riding high above her tights, the material permanently elongated from Lyra’s brutal pulls.

She turned just in time to see Lyra roll off the hood of the car, both hands clutching her head, still dazed from the face-first crash onto the metal. Bayley didn’t hesitate. She stepped in and drove a hard kick straight into Lyra’s midsection, folding her over with a sharp grunt.

As Lyra crumpled, Bayley’s eyes caught something: the waistband of a dark blue Calvin Klein pair of panties peeking just above the top of Lyra’s trunks. Matching set. Exactly like her own.

A slow smirk spread across Bayley’s face.

The hood of the car had been knocked open by Lyra’s fall and now sat slightly ajar. The heavy metal latch hook that normally locked it shut hung exposed and waiting. Bayley’s idea formed in an instant.

While Lyra was still doubled over and gasping, Bayley charged. She tackled her hard into the open engine bay, pinning her against the edge of the hood. In one fluid motion she hooked both hands into the waistband of Lyra’s dark blue Calvin Klein panties, yanked them up and out of the trunks, and looped the stretched elastic firmly through the latch hook.

Bayley leaned in close, voice low and full of cocky heat.

“Your head’s been running a little too hot tonight, Lyra. Like a bad engine. Guess I better get under the hood and check what’s wrong with you.”

She grabbed the edge of the heavy hood and heaved it upward.

The latch hook rose with it. Lyra’s dark blue Calvin Klein panties shot up in a savage, unrelenting yank. The stretchy fabric buried itself deep between her cheeks and sliced tightly between her legs, the crotch panel vanishing completely as the material stretched into a thin, punishing line. Lyra was forced onto her tiptoes with a choked, high-pitched cry, her entire body lifting as the wedgie hauled her upward. The matching dark blue panties were now on full display—several long inches of Calvin Klein waistband and fabric pulled high out of her trunks, the rest of the garment locked brutally in place by the car’s own latch.

Lyra’s eyes flew wide. A strangled mix of pain and shock tore from her throat as the elastic burned into soft skin, the pressure sharp and intimate, every tiny movement only making the fabric dig deeper. Her hands scrambled uselessly at the hood and the stretched waistband, legs trembling on her toes while the cold night air kissed the newly exposed curves of her ass.

Bayley propped the heavy hood open with the support rod, locking Lyra firmly in place in the elevated, humiliating wedgie. The Role Model stepped back for a second to admire her work, then turned and began scanning the scattered tools and debris around the backlot, already looking for the next weapon while Lyra remained trapped on her toes, dark blue Calvin Klein panties stretched tight and on full display.