Matching ones at that

Lyra crawled closer on her hands and knees, the dark blue Calvin Klein bra shifting with every movement. Bayley was still dazed, one hand pressed to the blooming ache on her forehead, her body stretched out on the gravel with that full, round ass turned toward her opponent. As Bayley shifted slightly, trying to push herself up, the blue-and-silver tights rode lower. The thin shimmer of black at the waistband became unmistakable.

A matching pair of black Victoria’s Secret panties—same sleek fabric, same clean cut as the bra—peeked out above the tights.

Lyra’s tongue flicked across her lower lip. She closed the last bit of distance, eyes locked on the exposed waistband. With a playful little hum she reached out and hooked two fingers under the elastic of Bayley’s panties, feeling the smooth, stretchy material against her skin. She gave the tiniest experimental tug, just enough to make the fabric lift a fraction.

“Matching set,” Lyra murmured, almost delighted. “Black Victoria’s Secret bra… and matching black undies. You really coordinated for me tonight, didn’t you, Role Model?”

Bayley felt the light pull. The soft cotton-blend of her panties crept a little higher between her cheeks. Her voice came out tight, still foggy from the head knock.

“Lyra… what are you doing?”

Lyra leaned down until her lips brushed the shell of Bayley’s ear. Her voice dropped to a wicked, singsong whisper.

“Wedgie time.”

Both hands clamped onto the waistband of the black Victoria’s Secret panties. Lyra planted her knees, arched her back, and yanked.

The stretchy fabric snapped upward with brutal force. Bayley’s panties shot up out of the top of her tights in a long black strip, the material digging hard into the cleft of her ass and pulling tight against her most sensitive spots. The front of the panties rode up sharply between her legs, the crotch panel stretching thin and vanishing into her as the elastic bit deep. A hot, stinging pressure bloomed instantly—sharp where the fabric cut into soft skin, humiliatingly intimate where it wedged firmly between her cheeks and lips. The black material stretched and thinned under the strain, the waistband climbing higher and higher up her back as Lyra kept hauling.

Bayley cried out, a raw mix of pain and shock. She scrambled forward on pure instinct, trying to crawl away across the gravel, but Lyra only tightened her grip and yanked again—harder. The panties stretched even further, the fabric now pulled so high that several inches of black Victoria’s Secret material were visible above the tights, the rest of the garment buried deep in a brutal, unrelenting wedgie. Every movement Bayley made only made the fabric dig deeper, the elastic burning against her skin as Lyra refused to let go, laughing that broken little laugh while she kept the pressure on.