Yes

Bayley wrenched Lyra’s trunks the rest of the way down. The dark fabric peeled over her hips and the full curve of her ass, dropping around her ankles and leaving her completely exposed from the waist down except for the dark blue Calvin Klein panties still locked in the brutal elevated wedgie. The stretchy material remained pulled high through the latch hook, the back of the panties stretched tight between her cheeks while the front disappeared between her legs.

Bayley didn’t pause.

She drove her fist hard into Lyra’s bare midsection, then again, and again—short, vicious shots that forced sharp, breathless cries from Lyra’s throat. Each impact made Lyra’s body jerk on her tiptoes, the wedgie only tightening with every jolt. Bayley let out a sharp, almost manic laugh, trying to match the craziness Lyra had shown earlier.

“How’s that for crazy?” she barked between punches, eyes bright with heat. “You wanted the Role Model to play your game? I’m playing.”

She reached down, hooked her fingers into the front of the dark blue Calvin Klein panties, and yanked upward with brutal force. The already-stretched fabric sliced even harder between Lyra’s legs, the crotch panel vanishing deeper as the elastic burned against sensitive folds. Lyra’s eyes flew wide; a high, broken cry tore from her throat as her entire body arched on her toes, hands flying uselessly to the front of the panties.

The sudden front wedgie mixed with the already vicious rear pull left her trembling, legs shaking, the dual pressure sharp and overwhelming.

Lyra thrashed harder in desperation. Her shoulder slammed into the support rod. The heavy hood slipped free of its prop and came crashing down. The sudden drop unhooked the waistband from the latch. Lyra collapsed forward onto her hands and knees on the gravel, gasping, the dark blue Calvin Klein panties still deeply embedded but no longer held by the car.

Bayley stood over her, breathing hard, a cocky smirk on her face as she looked down at the sight.

“Cute little butt you’ve got back there,” she said, voice dripping with mock appreciation. “Looks even better with those Calvin Kleins still stuck up it.”

Lyra’s hands immediately shot back, fingers desperately trying to dig the stretched dark blue fabric out of the brutal wedgie while blood continued to trickle from the cut on her forehead.