She gives lyra a tune up

Lyra twisted and kicked against the open hood, every frantic movement only making the dark blue Calvin Klein panties dig deeper.

The stretchy fabric remained locked through the latch hook, holding her on her tiptoes in a brutal, unrelenting wedgie.

Soft skin burned where the elastic cut in; the crotch of the panties had vanished completely between her legs, the pressure sharp and humiliating with every shallow breath.

She clawed at the stretched waistband and the metal latch, trying to free herself, but the angle and the weight of the propped-open hood kept her trapped and exposed.

Bayley’s eyes scanned the cluttered ground until they landed on a heavy steel wrench half-buried near a toolbox. She scooped it up, tested the weight in her hand, and walked back over with deliberate steps. The black Victoria’s Secret bra and the still-elevated waistband of her own panties stood out under the sodium lights as she closed in on the helpless Lyra.

“Still thinking this was a good idea?” Bayley asked, voice low and cold.

She drove the wrench hard into Lyra’s exposed midsection. The impact folded Lyra forward as much as the wedgie would allow, a choked gasp tearing from her throat. Before Lyra could recover, Bayley swung again—this time cracking the wrench across her forehead.

A bright line of blood immediately welled up and began to trickle down Lyra’s face, painting a thin red streak across her skin.

Lyra’s struggles weakened, her balance even more precarious on her toes.

Bayley didn’t waste the opening. She dropped the wrench, stepped in close, and hooked both hands into the waistband of Lyra’s trunks.

With the other woman still locked in the elevated Calvin Klein wedgie and dazed from the blows, Bayley began yanking the trunks downward, peeling them over Lyra’s hips and the full curve of her ass, determined to strip them away while the predicament held her in place.