https://www.hostboard.com/forums/ Ragnar0k Description en Sun, 20 Sep 2026 21:52:03 GMT vBulletin 60 https://www.hostboard.com/forums/images/misc/rss.png https://www.hostboard.com/forums/ https://www.hostboard.com/forums/showthread.php?t=1234290&goto=newpost Wed, 16 Sep 2026 09:33:37 GMT *Boarding School Queen Chronicles Book 1 - The New Girl - Parts XIV to XVII* _Authors note:_ Boarding School Queen Chronicles details the lives,... Boarding School Queen Chronicles Book 1 - The New Girl - Parts XIV to XVII


Authors note: Boarding School Queen Chronicles details the lives, loves and rivalries of a group of strong-willed alpha females. Young women who are willing to use all their sexual powers and wiles to decide who will wear the Boarding School Queen’s highly coveted crown.
The story was originally serialized on Hostboard's now defunct Titfighting and Sexfighting Forum. For this version, I have combined several of the original posts to present each chapter in fewer threads. I have also corrected some errors of grammar and punctuation. Otherwise, the story is the same as the original which was written and posted between 2016 and 2019.

THIS POST COMPLETES BSQ CHRONICLES BOOK 1

Please note this story is sexually explicit from the start.
All characters represented are 18 years of age or older.

XIV

As she set out into the woods that evening Amelia Turner was mildly astonished at how easy it was to find her way along the trail leading to the Eerie thanks to the bright moon rising in a cloudless sky. Although she had sensibly brought a torch it now seemed less likely that she would need it.

Notwithstanding the fact that she presently earned a living as teacher of English literature at Cardugan, Amelia’s true interest lay in the occult: she was secretly an adept of an old and esoteric witchcraft cult that, amongst other things, worshipped the supernatural power of the female orgasm. Born and raised in rural Wiltshire, in the southwest of England, Amelia had applied for her current teaching post to continue pursuing her studies into ancient Celtic myths of female ascendancy.

Specifically, Amelia was hoping to find evidence to prove her theory that in the matriarchal Celtic societies young women had frequently fought with one another sexually to maintain the natural hierarchy of power. Amelia believed that one possible source of ancient sexual power might reside in the lost stone megaliths that were rumoured to be located near the Eerie, the Victorian tower standing on a hill several miles beyond the school boundary, and Amelia intended to keep a vigil on this night of the full moon when the power would be at its height.

Although the teacher had visited the Eerie in daylight several times, her preliminary surveys disappointingly had failed to reveal any evidence of the fabled Celtic stones. At the same time however, Amelia had gathered the impression that there was something distinctly odd about the shape of the hill that the Victorian landowner had built his folly upon: uniformly round and conical, it was almost too perfectly shaped to be a completely natural phenomenon. But then, who in prehistoric times would have had the energy and the motivation to create such a huge mound artificially using the power of human hands alone, and for what purpose, Amelia asked herself as the outline of the Eerie loomed ahead in the moonlight.

As she approached, Amelia became aware that the moon was shining down directly on the hill, illuminating multiple shapes that she had not noticed in the daylight. Some shapes resembled soft depressions or tracks, fringed with stones that shimmered faintly now with a blue light that seemed to be radiating inwards towards a central point, almost like the navigation lights on an airport runway. Amelia could barely contain her excitement as she stumbled on up the hill seeking the source of the blue light which she had now determined was more than simply the reflection of the clear moonlight on the stones.

Still following the blue lights that seemed now to flicker and dance crazily in front of her eyes, the spellbound teacher stumbled into a deeper depression halfway up the grassy mound that she could have sworn had not been there before. Perhaps it only revealed itself on nights of the full moon she told herself, before dismissing the idea as completely crazy. Hidden under the grass was an even bigger surprise in the form of a big, smooth flagstone and, pushing against it, Amelia was surprised as it gave way, opening inwards as easily as a door on well-oiled hinges.

Barely able to contain her excitement, the teacher shone her torch into the void below and saw a tunnel stretching downwards into the depths of the hill. Without hesitation, Amelia swung her legs over the lip of the hole and launched herself down, landing lightly on her feet at the top of the passageway. Guided by the blue lights Amelia made her way along the tunnel marvelling at the clean, untainted air that rose to meet her; air that carried no hint of weakness or decay… magical air Amelia whispered softly to herself.

Arriving at the end of the passageway, Amelia found herself in a sort of antechamber. The air down here in the depths of the mound was remarkably pristine and fresh, almost as if some kind of air con was at work she mused before dismissing the thought as foolish. The antechamber’s walls were carved with intricate runes and scenes representing figures engaged in many different activities. Amelia’s heart leaped as she recognised the ancient Celtic designs and motifs present in the work which was astonishingly detailed and well-preserved considering its undoubted age. Some of the carved scenes depicted warriors engaged in battle, either duelling together in pairs or facing, in larger groups, fighting behind their respective shield walls.

Amelia was especially intrigued by a sequence of carvings depicting two fearsome looking warriors, clearly women by the shape of their chainmail byrnies, who fought initially with axes but, in a later image, discarded their arms and armour in order to lock up in what appeared unmistakably to be a prehistoric representation of a tribbing contest. In the final part of the sequence one of the warriors was standing bare breasted over her stricken opponent, her hands raised in what clearly represented a victory pose.

A heavy, unadorned bronze door was set in the opposite wall below a massive stone lintel. Amelia was no longer surprised when the door swung open easily as she leaned her shoulder against it. The large chamber inside had the appearance of a crypt and Amelia noticed that the blue light she had followed into the hill had reached an almost dazzling intensity here. Laid out in concentric rings around a central dais were rows of stone sarcophagi, each one carved with its own unique set of runes. She counted forty-four in total and realised that she could contain not contain her curiosity for a second longer: Amelia absolutely had to find out who, or what, might have been entombed here so long ago.

Approaching the nearest sarcophagus, Amelia traced her fingers over the embossed runes which pulsated with the same unnatural light. The teacher wondered what strange energy was creating the eerie glow, and what the source of its power might be. Surely it could not simply be to do with tonight’s full moon, although Amelia was aware that the moon’s gravitational power worked in mysterious ways, for example strongly affecting the intensity of her own menstrual cycle.

As she began tugging the heavy sarcophagus lid aside, Amelia could hardly have been aware of the occult forces being unleashed at that very moment by the intensity of the sex-fight that was reaching its climax in a cabin nearby.

Amelia’s mouth fell open in shock as she looked down into the sarcophagus’ coffin-like interior: lying inside was the definitive, naked form of a female warrior in repose; shining, pristine arms and armour laid out on either side of her; her long auburn hair coiled into a braid beside her head. The woman was clearly in fine physical condition: her long limbs toned and muscular; her pale breasts rounded and full; her mound broad and powerfully hairy. Blue tattoos adorned her body and, although sallow in hue, her skin looked healthy enough considering an incarceration that may have lasted aeons. However perhaps the most remarkable thing, Amelia realised, was that the woman’s chest was rising and falling slowly: she was actually breathing!

At that precise moment close by, Helen Brodie’s cunt lost its battle with Mhairi MacGregor’s and began exploding from its very core. As Helen’s powerful ejaculation started pumping into Mhairi’s victorious cunt, the sarcophagus runes started pulsating wildly in time with Helen’s surrendering movements… and the warrior woman’s cat-like green eyes snapped opened suddenly and locked with Amelia’s.

XV

Amita Kaur could hardly bear to watch as Mhairi MacGregor squatted on her haunches, thrusting her cunt into Helen Brodie’s face; her friend’s spread-eagled legs still thrashing impotently against the mat; her dripping, defeated alpha bitch pussy exposed for all the other girls to see. Mercifully, it was all over quickly as the dominant new girl threw her head back and screamed lustily, her body jerking as the powerful victory orgasm shook her.

Shaking her head in disbelief Amita took in the sensuously callous expressions on the sweat-sheened faces of many of the girls in the room. The mean bitches had been frigging themselves silly as they watched her friend go down in defeat!

In the cabin’s cloying, pheromone-laden atmosphere, it was only to be expected that each girl would start attending to her own intimate pleasure as the fight between the two alpha bitches reached its crisis point. Then, as Mhairi had climaxed noisily over her rival, a string of ragged, drawn-out gasps had been audible around the room as each of the watching girls found her own sexual release.

Helen’s humiliation reached a new level as Mhairi rocked her hips back to reveal the glistening mess her pussy-smothering had made of her rival’s beautiful face. “I said all along your weak cunt would surrender to mine, didn’t I?” Mhairi sneered as Helen turned her head sideways, coughing out the slimy wad of sexual residue she had just been force fed.

“I actually thought you’d give my pussy a better fight tonight, but… whatever…”

“G-get off me, bitch.”

“Now, are you going to say the words? ‘Mhairi, I submit, and I surrender my crown to you, my new queen?’”

“Get off me bitch – NOW!”

Although Helen was proving difficult there was no way she could escape now with her rival’s full weight pinning her shoulders and Mhairi clearly enjoyed taunting her victim as she settled her smothering pussy down on the other girl’s face again. “Now, surely that’s not the correct way to address your new queen?”

But, although she began gagging until Mhairi shifted her weight again to allow her to breathe, Helen still refused to submit verbally which started to annoy the dominant girl who seemed ready to lash out any moment. Sensing that things might get out of hand, Janice Mearns encouraged the victor to get to her feet and stand up astride the deposed queen for a final victory pose before being presented with her silk winner’s sash.

In the febrile, sexually-charged atmosphere Amita could sense the awe and admiration in which Mhairi MacGregor was now held as many of the girls stood spontaneously to applaud her victory: the assured way in which the challenger had deposed her powerful and once popular predecessor, would now guarantee her top billing and a massive fan club around college.

For Amita the final straw was overhearing Susan Walkerburn calling Helen a ‘sad fuck and a sorry loser’ behind her back. All hell suddenly broke loose as the Sikh girl snapped and launched into her rival taking her to the floor where they rolled over and over, their hands ripping at each other’s long hair. It eventually took six other girls to break up the cat-ball and haul both spitting rivals to their feet, while keeping them apart. “Ladies,” Janice Mearns reminded them both tersely: “you can settle this matter and take all out your frustrations on each other when we meet here again for your official fight in precisely one week’s time!”

“I’ll make you suffer then, bitch – you’ll be screaming for mercy!” hissed the fiery Sikh girl at her rival, tossing her long, shiny black mane over her shoulder as she turned away.

But the sarcastic blonde enjoyed perhaps the best put down of their exchange: “Huh? Well, if you fight as well as your friend did tonight, I won’t have much to worry about, will I?”
“Slut!” Amita shouted, showing Susan the middle finger over her shoulder as she strode away without looking back.



----------


The much-anticipated grudge match between Susan Walkerburn and Amita Kaur was almost postponed due to the curious matter of Amelia Turner’s disappearance. Oddly enough, the English Literature teacher was reported missing on the very morning after the climactic title contest between Mhairi MacGregor and Helen Brodie. There was widespread relief around the college when the popular teacher stumbled out of the woods two days later, suffering from amnesia; her shredded clothes and a nasty cut on her forehead testifying to some mysterious trauma she had endured during her disappearance.

After a few days in bed, Amelia seemed to make a good recovery and returned to teaching her lessons, but was still unable to account for anything that had happened to her during the days she had gone missing. The school nurse recorded it as a simple case of amnesia.


----------


Amita Kaur was determined to go some way towards avenging her friend’s crushing defeat by wiping the smug smile off the face of the new sex-fight queen’s friend, lover and confidante, Susan Walkerburn. As a practicing Sikh, Amita was not supposed to cut or shave her hair and her long, shiny jet-black hair reached all the way down her back to the cleft between her buttocks. And as all the girls already knew she was also endowed with a mighty black bush that gave even Helen Brodie’s a run for its money.

In the betting stakes many girls had Amita down as the narrow favourite to defeat Susan on Thursday, reasoning that the blonde’s lighter, fleecier pubes would put her at a disadvantage in a straight-up pussy-banging fight. Another intriguing feature, and the cause of some speculation before the match, was that both contenders were endowed with the largest and heaviest breasts in the entire Sixth form; some girls secretly hoped that a breast battle might erupt despite the fact that full-on tit-fighting was generally looked down on by the more refined young ladies at Cardugan.

Helen’s advice to her friend before the fight took full account of the Sikh girl’s natural advantage in the bush department. “Be as rough as you possibly can going into the early shakedowns. Try and wear her down bush-to-bush before getting more intimate: Susan’s pussy might not look as intimidating as yours but you’ll soon find out she’s as tough as they come if she manages to get her fuck lips in under your bush too quickly…”

Although Helen was not looking forward to meeting Mhairi face to face again so soon after her defeat she felt duty bound to support her friend by serving as her handmaiden in the forthcoming contest. “I won’t let you down on Thursday, Helen.” Amita assured her. “I’ll take the bitch down – you will see.”

While Helen admired her friend’s pluckiness, she knew that defeating Susan would still be no easy matter: Mhairi would also undoubtedly be coaching her lover to win the key contest to decide second place overall in the Cardugan sex-fight rankings. The thought of Mhairi and Susan sharing the top two rankings was really too much for Helen to contemplate: the mere thought of it making her feel sick.


----------


It was while they were having sex two days after Mhairi’s victory that Susan confessed to her friend how intimidating she actually found Amita Kaur’s big, dark bush.

Mhairi stretched back luxuriously on her pillow and gave the matter some serious thought while Susan went down on her and started lapping around her fragrant alpha pussy. Eventually she had the germ of an idea, round about the same time that Susan started sucking on her big, tumescent clit.

“Yessss… aahhhhh… yess… I think I know how you can beat her...”

“Mmmmmm?”

“Ooohhh… but we’re g..gonna have to train solidly….aaahhhh… every night until Th...th...thursday… aaaaah… fuckkkkkk…if it’s gonna work!.”

“Mmmmm mmmmmmm!”

“Unnnnnnnnnn... fuckkkkkkkk… Cummmmmmmming!”

“Oooh yes,” drooled Susan as her sticky face finally emerged from between Mhairi’s sweating thighs. “It’ll be sooo good to watch the expression on Helen’s face when her friend loses the next fight to me...”

XVI

“Then take your starting positions please, ladies.”

The words spoken by Janice Mearns in her authoritative but slightly prissy tone sent a shiver down Helen Brodie’s spine, almost triggering a panic attack as she revisited the scene of her night of humiliation in this very cabin only a week ago.

A few minutes earlier Helen had followed her friend Amita Kaur as she left the dressing room and entered the arena known simply as ‘the Den’ to Cardugan's legion of combative sex-fighting sixth form girls.

All eyes in the room remained fixed on them uncomfortably until the door opposite swung open and Amita’s opponent, Susan Walkerburn, strode though, flanked by Helen’s own nemesis, Mhairi MacGregor, who had stolen her coveted sex-fight crown by proving finally that her cunt was stronger than Helen's in the brutal finale to their long sexual battle. A ripple of excited anticipation went round the girls in the room, with the added frisson of seeing last week’s two title contenders flanking their friends as they approached the mat.

For Helen the psychological wounds from her recent defeat still felt very raw indeed as she moved forward hesitantly, studiously avoiding making eye contact as the girls approached the mat. Mhairi was in her element however, walking tall and proud, her shoulders swept back so that her perfect tits jutted out proudly, straining the revealingly low-cut, lilac top she had chosen to wear tonight.

Although it had not been an easy choice to make, Helen had agreed to support her friend Amita by acting as her handmaiden on this important occasion. She knew that many of the girls would be looking forward to any escalation of the animosity that was still held between Mhairi and herself but had already resolved to keep her own counsel, and avoid any further acrimony unless she was severely provoked...

Mhairi had been looking forward immensely to confronting Helen in the Den again while her victory was so fresh, but she was canny enough to realise that it was more important that Susan’s stage was set for victory tonight. With this in mind, the new sex-fight queen and her lover had been training assiduously all week and Mhairi was quietly confident that by the end of the evening she and Susan would finally occupy the highly prestigious first and second place rankings in the league.

As the girls approached the mat, Mhairi was able to critically appraise the chesty Sikh girl properly in the nude for the first time. Amita Kaur’s impressive brown breasts were as large and pendulous as Mhairi had imagined, and a close match for Susan’s in size. The long, firm nipples protruded from large, dark brown areolae that were perhaps an inch and a half across: very similar in diameter to Susan’s large pink areolae that Mhairi had lately enjoyed sucking and stimulating so much.

Despite their prodigious breast size, both girls were relatively slender and it was clear that neither would enjoy a weight advantage when they locked up. Given the heavy emphasis on sport in the Cardugan curriculum the girls’ biceps and thighs looked toned and well-developed without being too muscular.

The obvious differentiator came through a comparison of the relative weight and density of the two girl’s bushes. Amita’s mons was densely forested with curly black hair which at its extremities tapered up to just below her navel while also hanging down in longer strands, almost completely obscuring her deep pudendal cleft. Shit, Mhairi thought, that girl’s pussy is even hairier than Helen Brodie’s! A quick glance at Susan’s light, tawny bush confirmed that the blonde would have her work cut out protecting her vulnerable cunt lips from a nasty, abrasive scrubbing tonight!

Meanwhile, Janice Mearns the CATS chair, and tonight's mistress of ceremonies, was beginning her customary spiel. “Alright ladies, as you all know we are here tonight for the contest between Ms Walkerburn and Ms Kaur to decide second place in the Cardugan sex-fight rankings…”

Janice paused and smiled archly at the two handmaidens before continuing: “…and of course we are also honoured to welcome back tonight our present and past sex-fight queens… Mhairi MacGregor! … and Helen Brodie!”

While Mhairi positively beamed, making a little self-deprecating bow as the room erupted in catcalls and applause, Helen simply reddened and glowered at a point on the wall opposite.

“Ladies, thank you once again for treating us to such a wildly entertaining and close-fought contest in this very room last week. But on to tonight’s main event – Amita and Susan, please take your positions on the mat.”

The two contestants had begun the crucial pre-fight stare-down as soon as they entered the room and both were well-lubricated in anticipation as they opened their legs, exposing their sex to each other for the first time in the time-honoured ritual.

Susan’s worst fears seemed to be confirmed as she took in the threatening spectacle of her opponent’s long, pussy slit. Shielded by thick, protective cunt hair Amita’s glistening fuck lips were a deep coffee colour, the labia very pronounced and flap-like, and exuding power.

Amita had also been studying her rival closely and quickly concluded that Susan’s cunt looked as strong as Helen had warned. Beaded with drops of pussy lubrication, the blonde’s big pink clitoral hood was clearly a match for her own in size, and although it was hard to gauge, she suspected that the other girl’s deep pink vulval slit, with its prominent, puffy folds, might actually be marginally longer than her own, though not by much.

“Both of you understand the rules already,” Janice intoned without deviating much from her usual pre-fight script, “but I will remind everyone present that, for an orgasm to count as a submission, a majority of the three scoring judges – that’s Ms Peterson, Ms Chen and myself - have to agree that one girl is fully in control of the other girl.... And I think we all know what that means in practice, ladies." [As always, there was a collective snigger around the room.]

"Do remember that, as this is a ‘sudden death’ contest decided by a single submission fall, no rounds, or breaks will be permitted. If either lady wishes to give up for any reason during the match, she should slap the mat clearly three times; however, in this instance she will be considered to have submitted and conceded the match to her opponent.”

With that Janice Mearns finished her brief address and turned to the contestants. “Right ladies, are you all set or do you have any questions. Susan?”

“Ready!”

“Amita?”

“Yes!”

“Then take your starting positions please, ladies."


----------


The contest to decide second place ranking started as most girls had expected, with Amita Kaur’s big, hairy bush smashing into Susan Walkerburn’s lighter, fleecier mound from the very first shakedown. Helen found her spirits lifting as her friend rapidly forced the blonde on to the defensive until Susan started to yelp as she felt her soft labia being ravaged by the Sikh girl’s abrasive pubes.

Watching from her side of the mat Mhairi was becoming increasingly concerned for her protégé. If Susan didn’t start to enact the plan, they had both concocted soon she might not have the opportunity. After a time however, Susan managed to extricate her thighs from Amita’s and was able to push the Sikh girl away and rise to her knees, obliging her opponent to do the same.

As the girls launched themselves furiously at each other again their prodigious breasts came together for the first time with a satisfyingly meaty slap.

Seizing the opportunity she had been waiting for, Susan grabbed her opponent by both shoulders and slammed her big tits into the undersides of Amita’s with as much force as she could muster, causing them to cannon upwards. Caught like a boxer with her guard down, Amita sustained several more punishing blows and was already starting to sound winded before she was able to steady her own tits against Susan’s, hanging on in a tight clinch.

The blonde wanted to rile her opponent as she sneered: “Ha! I always suspected your tits were weaker than mine!”

“No fucking way! Your tits are so inferior to mine!”

“So why not prove it, bitch?”

"Your tits better get ready to surrender!”

Then, as the two big girls started swinging at each other angrily, the mighty breast battle that many girls had secretly hoped to see that night actually came about.

Digging their fingers into each other’s shoulders, Susan and Amita began slamming their tits together with surprising ferocity, ramming and butting them roughly until the sweat started spraying off them in all directions.

“Uuunhh!... Gnnhh!... Hunnhh! … Ahhhh!”

As their engorged and tender breasts became hyper-sensitised by the force of the repeated, slapping blows, the girls’ groans grew more sensual, their heads thrown back as the combination of pleasure mixed with pain threatened to overload their complaining synapses.

Mhairi was the first to realise that her lover was starting to get the better of the encounter: while Amita continued swinging her tits in an uncoordinated way, lashing out up, down and sideways with big haymakers that often failed to connect, Susan doggedly persisted in slamming her big tits into the undersides of her opponent’s melons, hitting the Sikh girl more frequently in the most tender places. Noting Helen Brodie’s look of evident concern as her friend’s efforts steadily diminished Mhairi’s lips twisted in a satisfied grin: all her rigorous training with Susan during the week was paying off now in a big way!

Finally Amita’s bruised and aching tits could withstand the attack no longer and she was forced to cling to her opponent in a desperate clinch as she struggled to get her breath back. With a satisfied grunt, Susan quickly locked her arms behind Amita’s back and squeezed so that the fighters’ erect nipples disappeared into each other’s big areolae, which then quickly swallowed each other as well as the girls contrasting tit flesh began bulging outwards under the intense pressure.

“Nnnnghhh!" "Aaaaaahhhhh!”

With a growing sense of foreboding, Helen sensed that it could be a case of ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’ for Amita as her opponent forced her into a brutal bear hug, both girls straining to gain the advantage over each other’s throbbing, painfully overstimulated breasts.

For some minutes the girls tit-wrestled furiously inside the crushing cage delineated by their heaving torsos and locked biceps, both fighters gasping in erotic pain; struggling for breath as their nipples competed viciously, locked deep inside their voluminous mounds of quivering tit flesh.

Presently Amita’s laboured breathing became more noticeable, until her back started to arch and her big breasts seemed to sag beneath the weight of Susan’s pressing into them. Then, in a most surprising development for most of the girls present, the Sikh threw her head back, gasping in surprised arousal as creamy white liquid started welling up through the tight space between the girls’ struggling breasts.

It was the first time that Amita Kaur had ever experienced a breast orgasm and she slumped back in confusion, as her nipples lost their battle with Susan's and climaxed uncontrollably, allowing the blonde to slam her own breasts forcefully into her rival’s again, squeezing harder as she forced more of the warm, milky cum out of Amita's straining breasts.

Amita’s mouth remained open in shock as Susan kept squeezing and more of her tit cum was expressed, lathering the two girl’s heaving breasts and running down her wet belly until she felt it soaking into her big dark bush. With her opponent temporarily paralysed by the powerful, unexpected nipple orgasm Susan went in for the kill: slamming Amita down backwards on the mat in a spray of sweat and tit cum.

Parting her rival's wild hairy bush with scrabbling fingers, Susan spread her own hungry fuck lips before ramming into Amita extra hard. The Sikh girl gave a sharp cry as Susan’s vulva sealed against her own and she found herself pinned against the wet, slippery mat, squirming beneath her increasingly dominant opponent.

XVII

Still reeling from her unexpected nipple orgasm moments earlier, Amita knew that she was in deep trouble the moment her rival mounted her and began grinding down hard, cunt to cunt, using her full body weight to pin the Sikh girl on the mat.

The audience of aroused, oversexed sixth form girls had trilled in delight at the sight of Susan’s big blonde cunt diving into Amita’s voluminous shaggy bush until just the fringes of her blonde muff remained visible, heavily entangled in the other girl’s lush dark pubes.

“Aaaaaahhhh!” Amita gasped as she felt her opponent’s full weight bearing down on her cunt, Susan’s big pussy lips spreading and flattening against her own as the blonde started flexing her crotch muscles in an all-out effort to dominate and control her rival sexually.

“Aaah - can you feel my strong cunt taking yours now, bitch?” Susan hissed. “Just relax, lie back and it’ll soon be time to surrender …”

“No fucking way bitch!” Amita shouted angrily, twisting her body strenuously but totally failing to unseat her rival who was looking comfortably secure in the coveted top-grind position for now.

The girls interlocked thighs started to undulate sinuously as their struggles increased, and their juiced-up pussies began sucking together loudly, prompting the excited chatter in the room to turn to the vexed question of whose thick, juicy fuck lips would win the intense battle for control going on beneath all that entangled pussy hair.

Watching intently from her own corner, Mhairi MacGregor now had all her money on her lover to win: having triumphed in their tit battle, and neutralised the advantage of Amita’s hairy bush for good measure, Susan was very much in the driving seat: as long as she could stay on top, and keep methodically drilling her cunt into her rival’s, it seemed inevitable that the Sikh girl would finally weaken and surrender.

“Come on Susan – you’ve got her. Time to spread her pussy wide and finish her!”

Helen Brodie had been relatively quiet up to now but, realising the time for caution was long past, also started exhorting her friend to increase her efforts before it was too late.

“Amita! Don’t just rely on your pussy lips to win this. Use everything you have left!”

Meanwhile, the two girls on the mat fucked harder and harder, gasping at the intensity of their carnal exertions, their conjoined pussies making intense slurping noises as their opposing labia wrestled like pythons mating writhing in a hot, sticky primeval swamp.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh FUCK!” Amita gasped, feeling her big fuck lips begin to spread apart under the intense pressure exerted by Susan's powerful, heavily engorged labia.

“Ohhhhhhh my God!” Susan groaned as her muscular pussy finally prised Amita’s straining lips far enough apart to allow their big clits to duel head-to-head, splashing around in the warm, fragrant pool of sex juice collecting in the puffy folds of the Sikh girl’s increasingly embattled cunt.

Feeling a sense of desperation as Susan began to perfect the controlling lock over her straining pussy that meant certain defeat, Amita suddenly forced her frantic hands under the other girl’s chin and pushed upwards with all her remaining strength.

“Uuuuhhh! Aaaaahhhhh!”

Taken by surprise, Susan was forced to arch her body as her head was forced back; then, as her big right tit brushed Amita’s face, the Sikh girl clamped her sharp teeth around the thick nipple drawing Susan’s big pink areola into her mouth.

Despite having triumphed in the earlier titfight, Susan’s breasts remained enormously sensitive and the blonde let out a deep, sensual moan as Amita’s hot mouth started sucking wantonly on her trapped nipple.

However, sensing that Amita’s vagina was starting to weaken faster as her pink fuck lips gained control of her rival’s brown fuck lips, the blonde pressed on with her primary mission: to deep clit her rival into a final, humiliating submission.

The tension in the room really racked up as the wet smacking sounds of Amita’s hot lips gorging on Susan’s trapped tit joined the wet slopping noises of the two girls pussies battling.

This stand-off situation continued for several more tense moments until, noting the tell-tale gasps and ripples of movement that presaged one of the girls was about to orgasm, Judge Chen moved in closer… just as Amita’s straining pussy began its first contractions.

“Ms Kaur has started to orgasm” the judge reported in a neutral tone.

As the Sikh girl began to climax her head slowly fell back, stretching the blonde's nipple until it came free with a wet, popping sound. The effect on Susan’s breast as it bounced back was as if a cork had just been popped from a bottle under pressure: as gouts of warm liquid spurted out of the long pink nub, spraying milky breast cum in Amita’s face and mouth, and all over her heaving tits.

“Aahhh – aaaahhhhhh!”

Like Amita, Susan had not previously experienced a nipple orgasm, and the blonde found the sensation completely overpowering as the nerve endings in her over-sensitive breasts sent the equivalent of a sexual electric shock to the pleasure centres in her brain. The sensory domino effect rapidly overtook Susan, until she was unable to hold her own vaginal orgasm back a second longer.

"Ohhhh! Fuck! Aaaaaah! Aaaahhhhh!"

The count against the Sikh girl had already reached four by the time Judge Peterson reported her rival’s reciprocal orgasm. Helen punched her fist in the air at her friend's temporary stay of execution, whooping uncharacteristically as the double orgasm poleaxed the blonde, who slipped from her control position until both girls lay writhing together side by side on the mat. In this position inevitably, with neither girl still in control, the count was stopped.

“Jeez, it looks like we’re in for another long, hot night,” Janice Mearns mused under her breath as she declared the first orgasm a draw and instructed the girls to restart the contest in exactly the same position: lying on their sides, flushed, panting and sweatily entangled.
Lying entangled on the mat, their sweaty bodies smeared with sticky milk and breast cum, Susan Walkerburn and Amita Kaur seemed only vaguely aware that Janice was now speaking to them: instructing both girls to sit up and continue the fight from the same position, conveniently obviating the need to separate their quivering, sex-slimed pussies.

As both girls started to stir and move slowly into the new position, their brains were working feverishly to plot the next critical moves that ultimately would lead to victory for one triumphant fighter and ignominious defeat for her rival.

Although Amita’s fierce heart still burned strongly with the desire to fuck this brutal blonde bitch into final submission, she knew that she had just had the narrowest of escapes: after losing her first ever tit-fight with Susan, the Sikh girl had suffered the humiliation of being pinned flat on her back as the blonde wore her down in a powerful cunt lock. Amita could at least thank the stars that she had fought back strongly enough, targeting her rival’s over-stimulated breasts to force a first-round draw.

Amita was still mightily pissed that her own proud breasts had gone down fighting to her rival’s so early in the match; it shouldn’t have been like that she told herself and she began to wonder angrily if Susan had been training her tits to win – what a horrible cheating bitch that would make her! Amita’s pendulous breasts still felt so turgid and over-stimulated that she worried that they might easily come again if they went up against Susan’s for any length of time. But that was fine: because she would force Susan to come as well: for as many times as it took to force the hateful bitch onto her back and finish her off with the obliterating pussy orgasm that the Sikh girl craved to fuck out of her detested rival.

As she flexed her crotch and felt her pussy tighten against Amita’s again in preparation for round two, Susan was still cursing her failure to finish the other girl off while she had her best chance.

Mhairi had been bang on the money about Amita not being ready to match Susan’s breasts in the surprise tit-fight she had skilfully engineered, but the blonde couldn’t help suspecting that their next titfight would be a lot tougher, now that the element of surprise had been lost. But the blonde had to admit that she had rarely felt such a wonderful sensation as when her big, beautiful breasts had slammed and squeezed her rival’s fat udders into submission and she was looking forward to renewing that feeling as the girls struggled into a sitting position.

She had also enjoyed the delicious sensation of riding the other girl’s weakening pussy as she held it splatted down on the mat. If only she hadn’t dropped her guard and let the bitch counter-attack her vulnerable tits, her superior cunt would have won the day and she would be embracing her adoring lover by now as they shared the prize of first and second place in the sex-fight league.

Susan could feel the cum already starting to crust around her big, hard nipples, as well as the milky ejaculate that had spattered her cleavage and run down her wet belly soaking into her tawny bush. The blonde was sanguine enough to realise that her turgid teats were likely to cum again in the heat of battle against Amita's big, engorged udders; but Susan knew what she had to do to defeat her rival, and she was getting ready to issue the direct challenge that would start the final round.

It was Susan who broke the silence first as the girls squared up to each other one last time: “Our tits still have unfinished business, don’t you think bitch?”

Leaning in, and lining her hungry nipples up against the Sikh’s, the blonde locked her arms behind her rival’s back as she began forcing her big, long nips into Amita’s equally thick shafts, managing to bend them back slightly within seconds of contact. The Sikh girl gasped angrily and grabbed her opponent in a reciprocal hold, pushing back equally hard until Susan’s long shafts started to bend backwards in turn.

“It won’t do any good you cheating cow – I’m ready for you this time!”

“Well, no more excuses when my tits beat yours this time!”

“You won’t beat me again – you’ll see!”

Starting slowly at first, the girls began rubbing the ends of their thick, sensitive teats together roughly, gasping as painfully erotic sensations were unleashed deep inside their engorged and turgid breasts.

For now, the girls held their heavy, quivering tit flesh back in reserve as they fought, concentrating on keeping their throbbing, equally-matched shafts locked together for as long as possible, as each hard but flexible nub strained to bend its opposite number back and pin it inside its own prodigious areola.

Even though both girls’ nipples were remarkably similar in length and girth, the audience had noted the marked tonal contrast between Susan’s reddish pink shafts and Amita’s dark brown ones, watching in fascination to discover which ones would prove to be stronger this time round.

Staring defiantly into each other’s eyes, their breath coming in short, intent gasps, the two bitter rivals fought on, nipple to nipple, pushing so hard that their thick battling shafts disappeared from view at times as their big areolae closed up around them and started to suck lasciviously against each other.

Still crusted from their earlier encounter, Amita and Susan felt their nipples quickly re-lubricating with pre-cum; and if both girls felt as if their nipples were burning at this point, their raging clits sealed inside their grinding pussies were positively on fire.

Finally, both girls’ heads went slowly back and they began to groan ever more sensuously, their straining tits growing hotter and harder with tension all the time.

Amita was starting to feel the tell-tale signs of pressure building up under her nipples as they prepared to cum, but she kept her aching, overburdened shafts attacking while clenching her leaking pussy to Susan’s ever more tightly, still hoping to delay the moment of orgasm and force her rival to come first.

“Ahhhh… ahhhhhh... ohhhhhhhhh!"

“Unnnnnnnnn… oooooooohhhh! Fuck!”

The contestant’s shrill, simultaneous cries of shock and pain had the girls in the audience frantically craning their necks to try and find out what had just happened.

What was hard for the audience to see clearly was most intimately apparent to the struggling girls on the mat however: the nipple of Amita’s right tit had finally won its battle with the nipple of Susan’s left tit and was holding it pinned back and inverted entirely inside the target area marked by its big pink areola; but Susan’s right nipple had triumphed simultaneously over Amita’s left nipple and now held the Sikh girl’s defeated, inverted nip pinioned in a supine position inside its dark brown areola.

At this point both girls were so close to coming that their gasps and cries grew more deep-throated and breathless as they began to mash their heavy tits together urgently, applying an intolerable amount of pressure on their trapped and straining nips.

As her hypersensitive tits crushed against Amita’s, Susan could feel from the tension building that she was on the verge of a massive climax, but the blonde was determined to take her opponent down first and started ruthlessly pulling Amita’s long black hair.

Taken initially by surprise, the Sikh girl almost fell over backwards before managing to anchor her own fingers in her rival’s blonde locks and retaliating. Suddenly the girls were in a real catfight, hands locked in each other’s hair, tearing at the roots, their eyes burning with tears, until they threw their heads back, shrieking ecstatically, as their heaving breasts erupted and began ejaculating all over each other simultaneously.

Most of the watching girls were on their feet by now, each one chanting the name of the girl they supported in encouragement.

Amita! Amita! Amita!

Susan! Susan! Susan!

Mhairi cursed in frustration as she saw Susan’s head going back as her hair was cruelly pulled by the roots, while her big tits continued to pump out hot, milky cum: what was her lover thinking of, taking on Amita Kaur of all people in a hair-pulling contest when she should be fucking her into submission?

Although her own roots felt as if they were on fire, Amita realised she was gradually winning the hair-pulling contest as Susan’s back started to arch more and the Sikh girl felt an exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain as her trapped nipple sprang free and released another gout of warm milk. Scenting victory, with blood pounding in her temples and pulsing in her loins, Amita Kaur braced herself against Susan Walkerburn and pulled her shrieking rival viciously down to the mat by her long blonde hair.

With cruel deliberation, Amita landed heavily on top of Susan, slamming her aching, swollen tits down on the other girl’s so that the blonde’s big, pale orbs pancaked out to the sides, crushed brutally beneath the weight of brown tit flesh pressing down on them; simultaneously the girl’s massively aroused cunts battered against each other, spreading wider as they released a sudden flood of pent-up pungent pussy juice that rose in a fine mist arousing both grappling fighters still further, its potency soon reaching the rest of the girls around the room.

There was still a fleeting moment when the battle could perhaps have gone either way but Amita was starting to resemble a vengeful South Asian war goddess more and more as she bore down on her rival without mercy, allowing the blonde no opportunity to counter or regroup, keeping her long, struggling pink slit under relentless pressure.

Feeling her rival’s thick, engorged labia weakening as her own reinvigorated fuck lips began to take control Amita managed to raise her head briefly and bare her teeth at Mhairi MacGregor in a crooked victory smile as she pressed down again, and let her own cunt smother Susan’s completely as Mhairi’s lover started to buck against her, screaming in abject surrender as she ejaculated forcefully into the other girl’s victorious vagina.

As Amita Kaur descended on her defeated opponent and prepared to savour her own victory orgasm, her glazed eyes briefly met Mhairi’s across the room again; and this time, the loaded challenge to the reigning sexfight queen was abundantly clear in the Sikh girl's aggressive facial expression:

I just made your lover into my bitch and, next time, I'm coming for you!




BOARDING SCHOOL QUEEN CHRONICLES - END OF BOOK 1 ]]> Ragnar0k Stories Ragnar0k https://www.hostboard.com/forums/showthread.php?t=1234290 https://www.hostboard.com/forums/showthread.php?t=1234007&goto=newpost Sat, 05 Sep 2026 14:18:51 GMT *Boarding School Queen Chronicles Book 1 - The New Girl - Parts XI to XIII* _Authors note:_ Boarding School Queen Chronicles details the lives,... Boarding School Queen Chronicles Book 1 - The New Girl - Parts XI to XIII


Authors note: Boarding School Queen Chronicles details the lives, loves and rivalries of a group of strong-willed alpha females. Young women who are willing to use all their sexual powers and wiles to decide who will wear the Boarding School Queen’s highly coveted crown.

The story was originally serialized on Hostboard's now defunct Titfighting and Sexfighting Forum. For this version, I have combined several of the original posts to present each chapter in fewer threads. I have also corrected some errors of grammar and punctuation. Otherwise, the story is the same as the original which was written and posted between 2016 and 2019.

Please note this story is sexually explicit from the start.
All characters represented are 18 years of age or older.

XI

In the months after the title fight, chair Janice Mearns grew fond of repeating that the CATS Committee could have made a tidy fortune had they been auctioning tickets for the much-anticipated showdown between Helen Brodie, Cardugan’s reigning sex-fight queen, and the challenger, new girl Mhairi MacGregor. Such naked commercialism would hardly have been in keeping with the Cardugan tradition however; and tradition meant everything at this elite girl’s college located in an idyllic, isolated spot on the west coast of Scotland.

In the event the committee relented a little, agreeing to let senior girls draw lots to watch the contest, which as usual would be held after lights out in the cabin in the woods that was referred to simply as ‘the Den’. The fact that it was a full moon that evening would make the girls passage through the woods to get there so much easier.

The isolated cabin was the ideal venue for staging regular CATS contests. Although it took perhaps twenty-five minutes to walk there in the dark, as far as Janice was aware no teachers ever ventured into the woods after light’s out, which meant that the chances of being disturbed were negligible. Nevertheless, the girls still posted sentries outside as a precaution. In the unlikely event of a fire alarm they would have far more to worry about, but they would cross that bridge if it ever came to it.

Arriving slightly ahead of the main party to light the oil lanterns and get the stove going to take the autumn chill off the room, Janice reminded herself of the list of girls fortunate enough to be picked to watch that evening's unprecedented title contest.

In addition to herself, presiding as chair and chief adjudicator, all the committee members would be present: Kirstie Adamson and Lydia Chen (both also acting as judges), Alison Cramond, Jacqui Spiteri, and Shona McVeigh.

Then there were the two girl’s seconds. After Susan Walkerburn’s scandalous switching of her allegiance to Helen’s bitter rival, the sex fight queen had selected Amita Kaur, a mid-ranking sex-fighter and the school’s only Sikh boarder, to be her hand-maiden tonight. In an interesting twist, Amita and Susan were themselves rostered to fight each other for the first time, competing for a vacant top rank place just a week from today. Completing Janice’s list were the six senior girls who had successfully drawn lots, taking the cabin’s total compliment that night to sixteen (including contestants).

The first thing Janice noticed as always when she entered the cabin was the gym-like aroma of stale female sweat overlaying the vague odour of dampness and decay. The room inside was Spartan looking and sparsely furnished, with several lanterns suspended from the ceiling and simple wooden bench seats spaced along the walls.

Pride of place went however to the large, rectangular gym mat in the centre of the floor that the girls fought on. Having been liberated from the PE block some years before it was somewhat faded now and, although the blue rubberised surface was scrubbed down thoroughly after each contest, the mat still smelt unmistakably of woman-scent, a permanent olfactory record of the countless sexual struggles that it had witnessed over the years.

Perhaps the only other notable feature of the Den were the two small box rooms adjoining the main cabin which had been converted into changing rooms from which both contestants would emerge, fully undressed, in order to take their positions at opposite ends of the fighting mat.



---------------



The Den was now packed to capacity, with all the seats around the walls taken, and the spectators babbling excitedly as they waited for the contestants to emerge from their separate changing rooms, attended by their hand-maidens. Janice knew both girls had supporters present tonight and she felt certain that the support offered would be extremely vocal, not least because every single girl in the room had probably wagered more money than she could afford to lose on tonight’s outcome.

As the anticipation in the room reached fever pitch Janice finished conferring with her fellow judges, each of whom would be required to get up very close to the action in order to adjudicate the match effectively and fairly.

They all knew that for an orgasm to count as a submission a majority of judges must agree that one girl’s vagina is fully in control of its rival. However, as Janice sagely reminded her colleagues, with two contestants as evenly matched as Helen Brodie and Mhairi MacGregor, extra special care would be required in monitoring which girl started to orgasm first, and whether she had forced her opponent unequivocally into the control position and pinned her in that position for the obligatory count of ten.

The excited chatter hushed as the changing room doors swung open. All eyes turned to focus on the toned, athletic bodies of Helen Brodie and Mhairi MacGregor as they entered the room, flanked by their seconds. Both contestants walked steadily towards the mat without pausing or acknowledging each other’s presence, their facial expressions intent, with jaws firmly set, but otherwise inscrutable.

As the girls approached, all eyes were unavoidably drawn to the two incredibly hairy pussies which were about to lock up in battle. Due to their self-imposed washing bans both girls’ bushes looked positively malevolent and intimidating; their abundant pubes already matted into dense thickets due to the waxing effect of several days build-up of natural oils and secretions. Some members of the audience commented afterwards that the intensity of woman scent pervading the cabin interior elevated considerably at this point before the fight had even started.

Then, as Mhairi and Helen silently assumed kneeling positions at opposite ends of the fighting mat, their cold eyes finally met and they began the proper, customary stare-down. What was also apparent was the level of enmity that had developed recently between the two hand-maidens Amita Kaur and Susan Walkerburn, who were both standing behind their charges, staring at each other so aggressively that it seemed as if they would have liked the date of their own match to be brought forward.

In the meantime, however, Janice Mearns had started officiating the proceedings in her most ostentatious, theatrical style. “Alright ladies, as you know we are all here this evening to settle the matter of honour occasioned by the unambiguous sexual challenge issued by Ms Brodie to Ms MacGregor on Wednesday October 19th, while in the midst of a fracas in the PE block showers.”

“Being the incumbent sex-fighting queen, if she loses tonight Ms Brodie will forfeit said title to Ms MacGregor. If on the other hand Miss MacGregor loses tonight, she will revert to bottom of the league rankings, which is the customary position under CATS rules when new girls join the academy.”

Keen to commence the habitual CATS pre-fight ritual as soon as possible, Helen and Mhairi were barely listening to Janice Mearns by now. Leaning back on her arms comfortably Helen began first by opening her legs and flexing her hips upwards so that her entire vulva was visible to her opponent for the first time. The new girl reciprocated immediately so that both could now finally see exactly what they would be going up against in sexual combat very shortly after the final preliminaries were complete.

Mhairi barely stifled the urge to whistle softly: she was staring into the mouth of certainly the hairiest, possibly the longest pussy slit she’d ever encountered in a girl of her own age. Lurking beneath a dense barricade of pubic hair Helen’s swollen, reddish-pink labia were finally visible to her rival, glistening with the protective juices she had already started secreting before the contest began. Although the pearl inside remained hidden, Helen’s clitoral hood was clearly visible, beaded with drops of pussy sweat and Mhairi spent an idle moment trying to calculate by sight alone the size of her own clitoral hood relative to its rival.

Mhairi could also now fully appreciate how Helen’s thick, dark cunt hair completely fringed her long vulva on both sides like a protective stockade, joining up again at her perineum and clustering around Helen’s pert-looking anus, before spreading up the crack between her broad, very shapely buttocks where finally it tapered out.

There was no denying how powerful and intimidating Helen Brodie’s cunt looked under the light of the lanterns hanging overhead Mhairi mused, while smugly reassuring herself that the bitch was sure to be finding the view from the opposite side of the mat equally intimidating right now.

“Both of you understand the rules already,” Janice intoned, “but I will remind everyone present that, for an orgasm to count as a submission, a majority of the three scoring judges – that’s Ms Peterson, Ms Chen and myself - have to agree that one girl is fully in control of the other girl.... And I think we all know what that means in practice, ladies." [There was a collective snigger around the room now, given that all girls present knew exactly what it meant in practice.]

"Do remember that, as this is a ‘sudden death’ contest decided by a single submission fall, no rounds, or breaks will be permitted. If either lady wishes to give up for any reason during the match, she should slap the mat clearly three times; however, in this instance she will be considered to have submitted and conceded the match to her opponent.”

While Janice continued to drone on, Helen had ample opportunity to study her opponent’s big, intimidating pussy. Mhairi’s labia were a lighter shade of pink than her own but just as thick and long, and exuded power. Although it would be hard to measure their respective actual slit lengths until they finally locked up, Helen suspected that her own might be slightly longer than Mhairi’s, but not by much.

However, Helen also couldn’t help noticing, as some more observant girls in the audience were indeed speculating already, that even though their clitoral hoods looked broadly similar in shape and size, overall, Mhairi’s labial lips were a little more pronounced and flap-like than her own. The sex-fight queen quietly reassured herself that this might mean nothing in practice however as, once battle was in full flow and their labia fully stimulated and engorged, both girls could easily open wide to each other, and handle plenty of mutual vaginal sucking and penetration, before any minor - and as yet untested - variances in length and girth became an issue.

As was the case with Helen’s own bush, Mhairi’s thick dark brown pubic hair also fringed her entire vulva and anus before growing up the gap between her beautifully rounded bum cheeks where it finally tapered into soft downy hair around the midpoint.

Suddenly the time for mutual observation was over as Janice Mearns finished her brief peroration and turned to address both contestants. “Right ladies, are you all set or do you have any questions. Helen?”

Without a single word the reigning sex-fight queen inclined her head coolly to indicate that she was ready to fight. “Mhairi?”

Without taking her eyes off her opponent for a moment the challenger also nodded slowly, lifting her pelvis clean off the floor as she flexed her glistening, hungry-looking vulva, angling it towards her opponent in a primal display of animalistic provocation.

As Helen lifted her own fighting cunt high in defiance, the girls in the audience could see the first wet patches already forming on the mat where both girls had been reclining. The very first lock-up between these two bitterest of alpha female rivals would be a "right big, proper wet one", some girls started whispering excitedly to their neighbours.

“Then take your starting positions please, ladies.”

XII

Before Janice Mearns had even finished speaking, Helen Brodie and Mhairi MacGregor began shuffling forward on the mat without taking their cold, wary eyes off each other for a single moment.

As their long, athletic legs brushed past, each girl placed her right leg over her rival's left and vice versa so that they were now entwined: then they both sat waiting patiently, their threatening looking bushes now barely a foot apart.

As each girl raised her leg, she had wafted her strong signature pussy scent towards her opponent who recognised it clearly from the time they had accidentally acquired and ended up wearing each other’s panties as well as the time they fought at the Eerie a few days before.

“Ready!”

At the command Helen and Mhairi raised their pelvises towards each other, feeling their inner thighs caressing softly as they braced nervously for battle. Each knew full well that the girl who won the first critical ‘shakedown’ (a term girls often used to refer to the phenomenon when a pair of battling pussies first locked up in combat) would often go on to dictate the course of the action and win the match.

“Fight!”

The audience exploded in excitement as the bitter rivals lunged at each other with the speed of striking rattlesnakes. There was a thunderous slap as their inner thighs connected and loud gasps from both girls as their hairy mons crushed into each other.

Both girls had purposely angled their vulvas down before impact to protect them from being scraped by their opponent’s thick, wiry pubes. Still keeping their thighs scissored tightly they now began twisting and grinding their crotches together aggressively, trying to root under each other’s thick bushes to scrub at the soft labial lips below.

To the watching girls, the two alpha females’ thick bushes superficially resembled two cannibalistic beavers, one black and the other dark brown, vying desperately to become the first to eat the other alive. Both Helen and Mhairi’s supporters were now calling out their encouragement and offering unsolicited advice as they sought to influence the outcome of this first shakedown tussle.

But it was soon apparent that neither girl was making much headway in breaking through the thick defensive entanglement of her opponent’s hairy bush and, starting to tire from holding the same position for too long they pulled apart, gasping in pain as a good number of pubes that had become caught and tangled up were ripped out by the roots.

In the brief pause that followed Mhairi and Helen locked eyes again, both shaking their heads slightly ruefully, as if reappraising each other’s fighting ability with a new sense of caution and respect. But no sign of respect was shown in the brutal force with which they slammed their crotches together for a second time. This time Helen had subtly changed her angle of attack, forcing her pelvis beneath Mhairi’s and grinding upwards with such force that the girls’ pubic bones jarred painfully despite the protective layers of fat under their hairy mons.

The new girl suddenly found herself on the defensive as Helen’s thick, bristly pubes worked their way under her bulging mons, attacking the soft flesh around the top of her vulva. Using her arms for support and pushing back on the mat, Helen pressed her advantage home, forcing her pelvis still higher so that she could drive her abrasive bush even more firmly into her opponent’s vulva.

Cursing her failure to anticipate her opponent’s skilful attacking move Mhairi realised she had no choice but to accept a brutal pussy scouring as she pushed back strongly, gradually managing to force Helen’s pelvis down until her own angle of attack improved and she could grind her own abrasive bush down on Helen’s exposed vulva simultaneously. Helen accepted the challenge this counter move created and the girls let their buttocks hit the mat again as each grabbed a leg and, turning slightly sideways on, began a sustained grinding attack on one other’s pussies.

Both girls were increasingly feeling the pain as this battle went on: as pube after pube was caught and ripped out by the root; as their sensitive labia were scraped and tormented by each other’s thick abrasive hairs, some of which were sloughed by the constant friction forming irritating wads of hair that caught in the wet folds of their vaginas. Eventually deciding enough was enough they both disengaged and pulled back slightly, continuing their aggressive stare down while catching their breath briefly. The spectating girls noticed that the battle had left a trail of pubic hairs on the rubberised mat beneath them, which had become increasingly wet and slippery as the fighters sliding buttocks spread around the lubricating juices that were now leaking constantly from their drooling pussies.

As Helen and Mhairi engaged in the next shakedown it was clear that they wanted to avoid grinding this time as they slapped their aching cunts together with a resounding splat instead. Having taken the measure of each other they jerked and thrust their hips forward, smashing the soft, wet flesh together again… and again… and again. Both girls were so well lubricated by now that each impact sent a spray of pussy juice into the air, adding to the heavy scent of sexual musk that already pervaded the close air in the cramped cabin. All this wet slapping was making the girls around the room thoroughly moist themselves and some were contemplating whether it might be time to surreptitiously slip their hands inside their panties.

More than in any preceding CATS tournament, all the watching girls be they judges, seconds, committee members or spectators were completely on tenterhooks: they could see with their own eyes that the fight between these magnificent alpha females was incredibly finely balanced, and the outcome remained too close to call. Of the girls in the room, probably an equal number were backing Mhairi to those who backed Helen to win. The new girl largely had her new friend Susan Walkerburn to thank for the speed with which her following of admirers had grown but no less a personage than the CATS chair Janice Mearns also had a large bet riding on the new girl, having learned secretly through her contacts that Mhairi MacGregor enjoyed a formidable reputation as ranking sex-fight queen at her previous school.

As the contest reached the half hour mark both fighters remained locked together, clearly tiring but also becoming more highly aroused, and recognition was growing around the room that both girls would soon have to bring their cunts more fully into direct combat if they were to break the growing stalemate. For their own part Helen and Mhairi had found that the sustained grinding, thrusting pussy slapping combat had left their fighting cunts feeling reddened and slightly raw but also increasingly hungry to get to grips with each other to achieve the decisive breakthrough that each girl so desperately craved.

By convention, the more refined girls at Cardugan rarely trash talked or even spoke much to one other as they fought, so the sounds articulated so far were the grunts, gasps and shouts of battle, increasing in intensity as the contest seesawed back and forth. Finally Mhairi broke convention however, murmuring to Helen: “Let’s cut to the chase and go up against each other cunt to cunt... no more bushwhacking for now.” Helen studied her rival closely before answering back. “OK then. Let’s do it clit to clit and keep our bushes out the way… until one of us has enough of it…”

Looking almost relieved Mhairi and Helen slithered their wet pussies forward on the mat while reaching between their legs, parting their hairy bushes and spreading their thick labia. Then both girls pushed forward again until their pussies smacked together with a wet sealing and sucking sound that was clearly audible to all the other girls in the room. Interlocking their thighs more tightly than before, Helen and Mhairi forced the entire length of their long cunt slits together, as if probing each other for signs of weakness. Then, grabbing a leg each, they began grinding together powerfully, using all the strength of their hips and buttocks as their thick, strong labia wrestled to spread and overpower each other.

As the girls squeezed harder still, their cunt lips squashed wider apart, allowing their clitoral shafts to press together for the first time. Soon both began gasping as their big clits pushed forward, became aligned and started rocking rhythmically against each other.

“Mmmmhh! Unnghhh!” “Aaahhh! Aaaahhh!”

Both girls started groaning intensely as they worked their sealed cunts together more forcefully until the thick, puffy labial folds became fully interlocked, forming a fleshy cage inside which their well-matched clits were now compelled to wrestle head to head, their thick shafts rubbing and trying to force each other sideways on which, as both girls well knew, in clit-fighting terms is the equivalent of getting your opponent in a brutal full nelson.

The wet smacking and sucking sounds the two contenders’ thick cunt lips were making as they mated soon drove the audience wild and they all started shouting out at once.

“That’s it Helen, fuck her senseless!”

“You’ve got her now Mhairi! Finish her off!”

As their supporters shouts of encouragement rose to a crescendo Helen and Mhairi simultaneously felt the first stirrings of orgasm deep in their loins and instinctively reached out to pull each other into a clinch, squeezing their perfect breasts together as their mouths locked up in a deep, hungry kiss.

Feeling their orgasms approaching rapidly each fighter now struggled to get into the best position to quickly take their rival down to the mat as her dam finally broke. With their pussies locked tightly their throbbing clits had nowhere else to go as they rammed into each other continually, and this was causing each girl’s arousal to grow exponentially as the wet puddle growing on the mat beneath them testified.

Finally, as they jerked their hips hard and shoved with their powerful buttocks Helen felt her own cunt beginning its first violent contraction and, timing the move to perfection, the raven-haired girl slammed her weight against her rival taking her by surprise at the moment that Mhairi also felt herself began to climax. The girls swayed against each other, still upright for a few moments until the incredible suction being inside their sealed, orgasming vaginas overcame them and Mhairi fell backwards, her buttocks sliding on the slippery mat as they crashed down together with Helen on top.

Sexually pinning a climaxing woman is not reckoned to be an easy task when you are simultaneously climaxing yourself but, although her conscious brain was in orgasmic lockdown, Helen’s unconscious fighting instincts still kicked in somehow.

“Ms Brodie has started to orgasm” reported Judge Peterson who had been following the latest developments intently.

“So has Ms MacGregor,” confirmed Judge Chen.

However it was Janice Mearns job to make the next important call and she deliberated quickly but carefully before announcing:

“Ms Brodie has Ms MacGregor in the control position. Starting the count now…one!”

Helen had fortuitously fallen on top as the challenger slid backwards on the wet mat and, with both girls’ pussies still locked tightly together, the reigning sex-fight queen clearly held the crucial control position for now under CATS rules.

“Two…three…”

As her overloaded synapses cleared slightly Mhairi felt the warm, comfortable weight of Helen’s body pressing down on her as she became aware of the distant din of girls shouting chaotically in the background.

“Four…five…”

“Get her off you, Mhairi NOW!” That sounded like Susan Walkerburn’s worried voice in the foreground as her senses came back to her in a rush. Mhairi could still feel Helen Brodie’s big cunt rippling against her own, both still convulsing with the strong aftershocks of one of the most powerful orgasms either girl had experienced in a long time.

“Six…seven…”

As her head started to clear Mhairi knew that she would only have a single brief opportunity to avoid a bitter and humiliating defeat. She could already feel Helen working to consolidating her hold on top of her: tasting the other girl’s tangy sweat in her mouth as she stretched to pin Mhairi’s wrists to the mat above her head.

She felt her rival’s steaming hot twat pinning her own to the soaking mat, both now rendered deliciously wet and slippery by the glistening streams of girl cum still running off them following their mutually forced orgasm.

As Helen’s long, athletic legs began wrestling to grapevine and capture her own, Mhairi suddenly started fighting back, lashing out desperately with her legs to prevent the final component of her opponent’s intended trap falling into place.

“Eight…nine…”

Then, taking a deep breath, Mhairi MacGregor suddenly pushed her pelvis violently upwards while twisting her entire body sideways until she successfully broke Helen Brodie’s controlling pussy pin with only a single second to spare!

XIII

A massive cheer erupted from Mhairi MacGregor’s corner as the challenger saved the match. In sharp contrast, all Helen’s supporters could do was sulk angrily while Amita Kaur tried frantically to appeal that the judges had been counting down too slowly while Helen still had her opponent pinned. But Janice Mearns was having none of it, waving the reigning sex-fight queen’s second away imperiously as she conferred with her fellow judges over how the contest should be restarted.

As rest breaks were not permitted under CATS rules, the girls were instructed to get themselves into a sitting position, not even separating their conjoined pussies, so that the contest could restart immediately.

From their considerable experience both Helen and Mhairi knew full well that a girl’s second orgasm often rapidly followed her first in a sex-fight so gaining the advantage in the next few seconds would be absolutely critical. As they pressed together again they quickly began to flex their tired pussies, probing diligently for any as yet undiscovered weaknesses that could help them to secure final victory in this closest, most evenly-matched of cunt fights.

As they locked their mouths together in a deep, sucking kiss, both girls’ hands began grasping for purchase on their opponent’s wet buttocks, drawing each other in deeper as their tumescent clits continued to swell and press into each other. Sliding her hand down further as they kissed, Mhairi let her fingers trace the slick pubic hairs fringing her rival’s bum crack, pondering just how easy it would be to take Helen by surprise; taking full advantage of what Susan Walkerburn had secretly revealed to be Helen Brodie’s one major weakness: anal penetration drove her completely wild!

Her fingers hovered perilously close to the moist, puckered hole until Mhairi accidentally caught sight of Susan out of the corner of her eye making lewd gestures as if imploring her to thumb spike her opponent and finish her off right now. For some reason, Mhairi held off taking up that option. Later on, she rationalised to herself that she would never have felt entirely satisfied unless she managed to defeat her bitter rival in an equal fight without resorting to the unexpected shock tactics Susan had flagged – she wanted to win this match her way - and her way alone.

Whatever the source of her motivation, the fact of the matter is that Mhairi moved her arms up suddenly taking Helen in a powerful bear hug instead. As the raven-haired girl reciprocated strongly, both girls gasped audibly, flinging their heads back in pain as the pressure on their trapped breasts and lungs increased.

For close to a minute the two mighty alpha female arch-rivals swayed together, locked in a fearsome struggle as each tried to overpower the other and take her down to the mat in order to finish her off.

Fortune now seemed to favour the challenger as Mhairi’s flawless breasts forced their way more under Helen’s perfect breasts so that the latter’s erect fighting nipples pointed uselessly upwards, like battleships whose guns had been spiked, leaving the brunette’s hard, pointy nips free to rake the soft fleshy undersides of her rival’s breasts.

The sex fight queen’s back arched suddenly as the other girl’s erect nipples dug deeper into her vulnerable tit flesh, the extra combination of pleasure mixed with pain tormenting her already overloaded synapses. Sensing her rival’s growing discomfort, Mhairi was on Helen in an instant, sealing their hot mouths together again and driving her tongue in deeper and harder than she had been able to before.

At this point, the watching girls started noticing a distinct realignment in the contest between the two struggling alpha bitches. While the challenger was working her tongue deeper into her throat, Helen was starting to sag backwards perceptibly, enabling Mhairi’s big hairy mons to bulge menacingly over Helen’s, giving the distinct impression that her thick, bristly dark brown bush was finally starting to hungrily devour its dark and thorny rival. Susan Walkerburn was the first to shout out excitedly to encourage her mentor, and her call was quickly taken up by Mhairi’s growing band of supporters.

“Come on Mhairi! Take her down!”

“You’ve got her, girl!”

“Fuck her senseless!”

Looking ashen with worry for her friend, Amita Kaur also tried to fire up the rival faction with less success:

“Fight back Helen!”

“Don’t let her get on top of you!”

“Come on Helen! Fight back!”

But even the sex fight queen’s most loyal supporters could see that the momentum was now with the challenger as she called on her remaining reserves of strength to overpower and ride her arch-rival to the floor. The level of excitement in the room reached a crescendo as both girls hit the mat with a deliciously wet slap of flesh on flesh, Helen flat on her back, trying desperately to turn over and avoid being pinned as Mhairi fought furiously to consolidate the hold.

“Omigod -what a street fighter that girl is” Janice Mearns breathed admiringly, watching the new girl force a brutal arm bar under her opponent’s chin while squeezing Helen’s right breast mercilessly with her other hand as she fought to hold rival her down. Meanwhile, the brunette was rocking her hips against Helen’s urgently, spreading the sex juices around their hot, sealed cunts as she sought to tighten her grip on the struggling sex fight queen.

By now many of the girls around the room had surreptitiously slipped their hands down their panties, and were pleasuring themselves unashamedly as the finale of the title fight unfolded. However the sound of close to a dozen wet cunts furtively slurping on their owners slippery fingers was nothing compared to the dirty, wet sucking sounds now emanating from the mat in the centre where Helen Brodie knew that her only hope now lay in overturning the pin before she became trapped in a crushing cunt lock by Mhairi MacGregor.

A source of Helen’s growing discomfort, she had realised much too late, lay in the struggle for dominance between the powerful sexual pheromones that both girls’ cunts had increasingly been giving off as they wrestled. Back when she had acquired her rival’s panties after the showdown in the showers, Helen had started to suspect that Mhairi’s vaginal scent was slightly stronger and saltier than her own but had still found it a thrill to wear the other girl’s panties until that alien scent ultimately faded beneath her own.

Now, Mhairi’s distinctive pussy musk seemed to be surrounding Helen and hemming her in, threatening to overwhelm her own familiar scent. And each time Helen rammed her hips upwards, bucking and twisting in an effort to escape, Mhairi responded by pounding back into her even harder; spraying more aphrodisiacal cunt juice into the air as she splatted her opponent’s pussy back down on the mat.

For Helen it felt devastating to finally admit that Mhairi’s fighting cunt exuded greater potency than her own, with all that signalled now that the battle between them had reached its final critical stage. Having notched up so many crushing victories against tough opponents in the past Helen was truly shocked that her own vagina might finally have met its match in the powerful vagina of the new girl who had not only stolen her best friend away but now wanted to usurp her crown, to dominate and humiliate her.

Sensing that Helen was not fighting back quite as strongly as before, Mhairi leaned harder into her opponent, her powerful buttocks driving forward as she worked to spread the sex fight queen’s juicy labial lips still wider, seeking to dominate and penetrate her cunt.

The delirious scents and smells of two alpha bitches-in-heat engaged in rampant, unrestrained sex-fighting flooded Mhairi’s nostrils, and she was reminded of how delicious a turn-on it always was when a close contest finally started tipping in her favour, as seemed to be happening now. Mhairi was getting massively aroused by the potent pheromones present in her rival’s salty-sweet woman scent, but she sensed that her own powerfully ripe pussy musk was having an even stronger aphrodisiacal effect on the other girl by now. Mhairi had rarely, if ever, gone up against another girl whose fighting musk could rival her own when she was fully in heat, and it seemed to her now that the posh, rich girl struggling beneath her was still not going to be any exception to this.

Feeling her confidence growing by the second, Mhairi ground her cunt powerfully into Helen’s again, rotating her hips as she did so to really stretch her rival’s thick, juicy lips against her own. Then, Mhairi heard - and felt - something truly exquisite happening. The first sign was when Helen gave a sharp, stifled cry of pain that was unlike anything she had heard in the match before. Then the brunette felt something incredible happening through her highly sensitive pussy lips as she hissed in triumph:

“Yesss – oh fuck, yessss!!!!”

For Helen Brodie, perhaps the cruellest shock of all came with the sudden revelation that, while her own labia were now straining at full stretch, her hated rival’s cunt lips still had girth to spare. Back during the initial stare down, before they had even started fucking, Helen had noticed how Mhairi’s labial lips looked more pronounced and flap-like than her own but had quickly dismissed any worries this might have caused as they started the fight. Now though, although she tried hard, she could not stifle a sudden desperate sob as her tired brain took in the full significance of what she could feel was starting to happen to her cunt lips.

The significance was not lost on Mhairi either, as she relaxed the controlling throat bar, and eased herself back up slightly while relying on body weight and the strength of her cunt alone to keep her rival pinned beneath her. Gazing down into Helen’s confused but still defiant eyes almost tenderly, Mhairi murmured loudly enough for the audience to hear:

“Well, your majesty, do you want to save time and surrender now, or let your weaker cunt to surrender to mine in due course?”

“You may as well save your breath, bitch - I’ll never surrender to you!”

“I was hoping you might say that,” Mhairi grinned. “It’ll be more fun if you try and fight it – but you still won’t win.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

After that, a desperate tug of war started between the girls’ muscular vulvas as Mhairi began squeezing hard, taking full advantage of her newly discovered advantage to start turning Helen’s straining fuck-lips outwards, gradually exposing more of her opponent’s vulnerable, succulent pussy meat to intimate, penetrating attack. The fact that their conjoined fuck-holes were now effectively sealed inside their own mini vacuum only increased the force that the challenger’s cunt exerted over the sex-fight queen’s.

As the suction being exerted by Mhairi MacGregor’s cunt over her own reached alarming proportions, Helen Brodie’s eyes suddenly blazed with fear, much as a terrified mare might look the instant a mighty stallion penetrates her more deeply and roughly than she has ever been taken before. And, as the raven-haired girl’s breathless pants gradually morphed into plaintive, keening cries, all the girls in the room were left in no doubt that Mhairi had all but won the desperate tug of war between the two most powerful cunts in the sixth form. But the brunette was gasping and whimpering herself Sweat poured from her face, running in rivulets down her pendulous breasts as they shuddered from the monumental effort it was taking to suck enough of her rival’s cunt meat into her own victorious twat.

The end came abruptly as Helen Brodie’s head jerked back, her mouth forming a perfect soundless ‘O’ as her pussy contracted powerfully and her back arched violently off the mat… and then the reigning Boarding School Queen screamed shrilly as her overpowered cunt exploded from its very core.

Still riding her bucking rival’s trapped pussy as it shot its precious load of girl cum deep inside her, Mhairi MacGregor threw her own head back, cupping her flawless breasts in her hands and moaning with pleasure. Pinching the same rock-hard nipples that had helped to turn the fight in her favour, the brunette basked in the total euphoria she always felt when a tough opponent finally submitted beneath her superior cunt. It took fully twenty seconds for Helen’s initial orgasm to subside but, as she started coming round, she found her arch-rival had already peeled their sticky cunts apart and was kneeling heavily on her shoulders, pinning her in the supine and submissive position that Helen was more used to inflicting on other girls.

Helen realized that more humiliation now awaited her as she stared up into the maw of Mhairi’s victorious pussy suspended over her face, dripping steadily with her own cum. The feral intensity of her rival’s quim so close up was almost making the former sex-fight queen swoon but she knew what she was now required to do, according to tradition, and steeled herself for what was coming next.

Sighing in resignation as Mhairi eased herself down on to Helen’s face, the raven-haired girl extended her long pink tongue and began licking the sticky folds of the other girl’s battle-worn vulva, lapping at the pungent cunt juice until she could feel stray hairs catching in her teeth. As Mhairi moaned and shifted her weight slightly, Helen began circling the thick, juicy cunt lips that had just defeated her own with her tongue, before finally turning her attention to the base of the other girl’s massive clitoral shaft.

Started to suck gently on her rival's big clit, Helen tried to console herself with the thought that she had come agonizingly close to beating her bitter rival earlier that evening even if she had been thoroughly outclassed in the end. But it was small comfort however: after such a humiliating defeat it would take the best part of a term before she could work her way back up the rankings to secure a rematch: and in the meantime she would revert to being a subordinate bitch in the eyes of all the girls; a prospect that filled her with dread and disgust.

As Mhairi felt the delicious suction on her tumescent clit increasing she knew that it wouldn’t take her much longer to climax and, just to help the process along a little, she settled herself down more heavily until she was frigging herself by thrusting her wet, steaming pussy against the other girl’s squirming, contorted face.

For Helen, this was the final ignominy and, under the circumstances, it was almost a relief to hear her conqueror start to scream like a banshee; to feel the other girl’s cunt clenching powerfully and taste the stream of pungent, womanly liquor that unloaded suddenly on her face.



To be continued/

]]> Ragnar0k Stories Ragnar0k https://www.hostboard.com/forums/showthread.php?t=1234007 https://www.hostboard.com/forums/showthread.php?t=1233655&goto=newpost Sun, 23 Aug 2026 11:16:45 GMT *Boarding School Queen Chronicles Book 1 - The New Girl - Parts VIII to X* _Authors note:_ Boarding School Queen Chronicles details the lives,... Boarding School Queen Chronicles Book 1 - The New Girl - Parts VIII to X


Authors note: Boarding School Queen Chronicles details the lives, loves and rivalries of a group of strong-willed alpha females. Young women who are willing to use all their sexual powers and wiles to decide who will wear the Boarding School Queen’s highly coveted crown.

The story was originally serialized on Hostboard's now defunct Titfighting and Sexfighting Forum. For this version, I have combined several of the original posts to present each chapter in fewer threads. I have also corrected some errors of grammar and punctuation. Otherwise, the story is the same as the original which was written and posted between 2016 and 2019.

Please note this story is sexually explicit from the start.
All characters represented are 18 years of age or older.

VIII

As she showered herself clean of sweat and grime after the climactic sexual encounter with Helen Brodie at the Eerie that morning, Mhairi MacGregor’s mind was a mess of confused thoughts and calculations. Having been taken to the limit by Helen in their straight-up finger-fucking duel, Mhairi knew that her attempt to wrest the coveted sex-fight crown from her rival still hung in the balance. Her bold plan to gain a crushing psychological edge by forcing the sex-fight queen to submit sexually before their title match in two days’ time had ended in failure. In fact, Mhairi’s vagina had only just held out long enough under prolonged, intense attack by Helen’s strong fingers to avoid a humiliating defeat.

As the warm, comforting shower jet played on her toned body, Mhairi vividly recalled the explosion of relief she’d felt as Helen’s pussy started to clench around her fingers barely milliseconds after her own orgasmic spasm had begun. Although the new girl’s pussy still felt abused and tender from the bruising encounter, she knew its youthful resilience and muscular elasticity would help it to recover quickly. Which was just as well: she would need it to be fighting fit again by evening if she was to extract more information out of that submissive bitch Susan Walkerburn.


---------


To avoid drawing attention to her dishevelled state after the showdown Helen Brodie had showered in a draughty old shower block that was rarely frequented by other girls. Helen’s forensic mind was working overtime, and she quickly concluded that the meeting with her rival in the woods that morning had been no coincidence; most likely the new girl was hoping to unsettle and psych her out before their title fight. Well, if that was the bitch’s strategy, it had failed miserably!

Helen’s win-loss record, unrivalled in the long history of sex-fighting at Cardugan, had imbued the raven-haired girl with an almost unshakeable degree of self-confidence, but she was neither foolish nor complacent. She knew full well that that she had not had to defend her title against a challenger the like of Mhairi MacGregor before: whose spiky, unshaven bush was as imposing as her own; whose muscular vagina and big, tough clit seemed at least the equal of Helen’s fighting genitalia; whose feral musk was just as powerful and intoxicating.

Yes, I certainly couldn’t afford to take any chances when I fight that bitch in two days’ time Helen told herself as she briskly towelled her lithe body. Next on her list was to catch up urgently with Susan Walkerburn for further news of her opponent’s training schedule, and to ask an important favour of her good friend.


---------


Amelia Turner had been intrigued to speculate whether the two girls she observed from her window that morning had left early to resolve their grievances according to the ancient tradition of trial by sexual combat and, if so, what the outcome had been. Given how drenched both looked, coming out of the woods in their skimpy running outfits, they must have gone quite far beyond the grounds and been caught up in the storm.

Amelia wondered if MacGregor and Brodie had ventured as far as the Eerie before stopping to fight. If that was the case, there might be consequences as the English teacher was convinced that the ancient Celtic stone circle that the site was built on could have amplified any sexual conflict between the two girls. Although this could conceivably have started to rejuvenate any magical elements still residual in the ground beneath the stones, it was more likely to be an issue at the time of the full moon.

Amelia’s occult readings had in fact revealed that the female champions of the ancient Celts fought mostly in honour of Arienh, the warrior sex goddess when the moon was full, which was also when they were at the height of their sexual powers. Having noted already that the next full moon was in a mere two days’ time, Amelia decided that she would mount a vigil at the Eerie just in case any magical forces had already started stirring.


---------


As chair of the CATS steering committee, Janice Mearns held the overall responsibility for arranging a successful title fight between Helen Brodie and Mhairi MacGregor. She was therefore profoundly grateful that the recent storm had passed as she would need to take the committee out during the day to prepare the venue.

The location that the girls used for their contests had to be far enough away to preclude the possibility of interruption by prowling teachers: for the last few years a cleaned up abandoned cabin in the woods not far from the creepy old hilltop tower known as the Eerie had provided the venue for many gripping and sensational sex-fights between the Cardugan girls.

Janice and her two most trusted lieutenants would be acting as scoring judges on the night, with the three remaining committee members present as witnesses. The only other girls at the cabin would be the two handmaidens that the protagonists were each allowed to nominate as seconds. So far, Janice had received no nominations from either contestant and reminded herself to follow up with them both urgently during the day.

As she went about her official duties Janice could barely control her own excitement. The whole sixth form was talking about nothing else apart from the dream pairing of Helen Brodie with Mhairi MacGregor, the two finest alpha female specimens to have ever fought for the title of sex-fight queen at Cardugan.

Janice knew that both girls would give it everything they had, knowing that the stakes were so high. To the victor belong the spoils really was a truism in the aftermath of a sex-fight at an all-girls boarding school; the subordinate girls would cluster round the victorious girl like the proverbial bees round a honeypot, while the loser would find herself abandoned and socially ostracised until she was able to rebuild her reputation, perhaps by working her way back up the sex-fight rankings all over again.

Yes, Janice Mearns told herself with a grim smile, the stakes were truly high for both the reigning queen and her challenger.


---------


Helen was finding Susan impossible to track down and was becoming convinced that her friend was trying to avoid her. Eventually, the day before her title fight, she managed to ambush Susan in the gym block and propelled her into the changing room toilets where the girls occupied adjacent cubicles by habit and sat down.

“So, what’s been going on with the MacGregor bitch?”

“Oh… Helen...I…”

“Oh, Helen WHAT!?” It had been a stressful week leading up to the title fight and the sex-fight queen’s temper finally snapped as she shouted:
“It’s taken me a fuckin’ day and a half just to find you alone, and I’m fighting that bitch tomorrow night. Eh?”

“I – I know… it’s just…”

“Just what? Look, I need help – you must know something else about her by now?!”

“Yes – I do. She’s strong... really strong. I-I’ve never fought anyone like her before…”

“Fought her?! Jesus Christ – you were supposed to spy on the bitch - not take her on yourself. Tell me what happened!”

Susan snivelled for a bit before explaining how Mhairi MacGregor had taken her by surprise in own her bed, forcing the blonde to submit to a powerful attack that left no doubt as to whom the dominant bitch would be in the shared room going forward.

What Susan omitted to mention to her friend was that last night the new girl had conquered her a second time, with the express purpose of forcing the blonde to confess all she knew about Helen’s possible sexual weaknesses. Although Susan had resisted gamely at first, Mhairi’s pussy grip had eventually become so vice-like that the blonde could feel her vagina weakening and being stretched out of shape. “Stop! Stop! I submit!” She’d screamed, panicking that her soft insides might be sucked out and inverted if the other girl didn’t leave her be. But Mhairi had kept up with her relentless, cunt-twisting attack until finally Susan blurted out the magic words: “Anal p-p-penetration. Drives Helen wild. Now p-p-please let me go!”

Sitting in the toilet cubicle in the cold light of day, Susan shuddered as she remembered the look of triumphal glee on Mhairi MacGregor’s face after she had betrayed her best friend, and was mighty glad that Helen couldn’t see her ashamed expression now.

Susan waited until they were back in the busy corridor before breaking the last piece of bad news to her friend.

“Helen, I’m really sorry but I can’t be your handmaiden tomorrow night.”

“Wh-what do you mean? Why on earth not?”

“Because you know how I submitted to Mhairi MacGregor, right? And how the CATS rules say that I have to serve her if she wants me to?”

Finally comprehension dawned on Helen’s face, and she reddened and was left speechless as Susan continued.

“Well she insisted that I serve her – as her handmaiden in your fight tomorrow. Look I’m sorry… but…”

Helen stood rigidly still in the corridor, her open mouth twisted in shock, not knowing what to do next as her former good friend shrugged her shoulders, turned and walked away from her without looking back.

IV

On the night before the full moon Amelia Turner felt most unsettled and lay tossing and turning in bed for hours before finally falling into a fitful sleep some time before the dawn. After her drooping eyelids finally shut, she found herself mysteriously transported to a hot, sunny clime far removed from the chill, autumn land she had fallen asleep in.

Amelia was standing on a gently sloping hillside among olive trees, the warm rays of the summer sun caressed her bare back, breathing in the rich fragrance of wild thyme and listening to the buzzing of huge bumblebees as they made their way lazily from flower to flower. In the distance she could see a temple-like structure where people were gathering, and she decided to make her way down the hill towards it.

As she drew closer, Amelia saw that the building was indeed some kind of temple, built of marble and stone, with a red-tiled roof, fronted by a portico of impressive, tall columns carved in an obscure, but possibly classical Greek style. Out in front stood a raised platform, or dais, on which two gilded thrones were positioned, side by side. A striking middle-aged woman with auburn hair sat on the throne to the left. Clothed in a simple yet regal-looking turquoise chemise and lace-up gold sandals, she looked both wise and formidable, a plain gold circlet resting above her greying temples denoting her queenly rank.

The alert looking woman sitting on the throne next to the first queen also wore a plain gold crown and was perhaps ten years younger; her deep-cut white chemise showed off her womanly curves while contrasting strikingly with her smooth, ebony skin. The two queens were each attended by half a dozen courtiers as well as a gaggle of priestesses and functionaries who stood a respectful two paces behind them. Reacting to an already surreal dreamscape, Amelia quickly became convinced that both women were Amazon queens and wondered what was about to take place.

If the queens and their courtiers were aware of Amelia’s presence none of them paid her the slightest bit of notice and as she was level with the dais she decided to stay and watch the unusual scene for a while. Feeling the grass tickling her naked behind as she sat down, Amelia now noticed that a wide chalk circle had been marked out on the clay directly in front of her. She would be enjoying a ringside seat for whatever was coming next, she told herself happily.

Before long, two naked young women in their late teens or early twenties emerged from inside the temple precincts and walked down the steps to stand on the field and salute the queens. As the salutes were graciously acknowledged, a woman dressed in the robes of a priestess stood up and began a lengthy proclamation in a language unfamiliar to Amelia. While all this was going on she took the opportunity to study the two newcomers who were standing to attention in front of the dais, their oiled, splendidly naked bodies gleaming in the brilliant sunlight.

Both women were tall and had the unmistakable build of warriors: broad of shoulder with well-formed biceps; their flat, sculptured waists tapered beneath ample, shapely breasts before broadening out into full, curvaceous hips atop sturdy thighs. Amelia noted in fascination that each woman’s mons protruded quite markedly and was covered in dense pubic hair that, as well as signifying her underlying feminine strength, seemed to pose a clear sexual challenge to her opponent.

The warrior standing in front of the throne on the left was a statuesque redhead whose luminous alabaster complexion was offset by startling bursts of red freckles. What really drew Amelia’s attention, however, were the extensive blue tattoos snaking down her arms and belly depicting what appeared to be scenes of war and carnage involving warrior goddesses and sea serpents. This woman wore her long, tousled hair bound in a ponytail that reached all the way down her broad, naked back to her fleshy buttocks. Wow - I’ve never seen a proper woad-painted Celtic warrior in the flesh before! Amelia smiled to herself as her eyes lingered on the woman’s hairy, unkempt russet-coloured bush.

By contrast, the woman on the right equally as tall and striking as her opponent was African, perhaps even Nubian Amelia guessed correctly: an ebony-skinned warrior. This one’s dark, curly hair was arranged in intricate, weighted braids which fell loosely around her shoulders, swinging freely whenever she turned her head. Although she bore no ink tattoos, the Nubian’s arms and upper body were extensively patterned with raised whorls, suns and crescent moons – a dramatic effect achieved through deliberate scarring so that patterns were left clearly visible in the lighter pigment of the scar tissue.

Amelia had read years ago that scarification was a common ceremonial technique used by some African tribes to accentuate a warrior’s courage and a woman’s beauty. In such societies the amount of scarring on a person's body correlates directly with their perceived strength and how respected they would be within the community. This heavily scarred warrior must be a person of high standing indeed Amelia told herself as, inevitably, her gaze settled on the woman’s copious pubic bush, marvelling at how well it shielded her vulva while she was in a standing position.

As the priestess’s peroration came to an end the two women turned to face each other, their expressions still impassive and inscrutable. Standing some five feet apart, they began stretching and shaking their limbs loose as they limbered up in preparation for what was to follow. Soon a melodic gong rang out from the dais, and the Celtic and Nubian warriors crouched facing each other and adopting ready stances, their strong fingers outstretched. As the gong sounded a second time both charged forward shouting battle cries their pounding feet on clay as they covered the short space separating them amazingly fast.

Amelia was thrilled by the meaty slap generated as the warriors' oiled bodies slammed together, and she saw them bracing powerfully, and interlocking their fingers in a test of strength. Swaying backwards and forwards the two warrior women grunted and strained, their rippling muscles undulating under their skin tattoos as each tried to best the other. After several minutes neither had given any ground so they abandoned the hold, pulling each other into a mutual frontal headlock while ramming their big breasts together hard, their feet stamping on clay as they fought for position.

By now, both women had been forced to widen their stance to maintain balance and, seizing her opportunity, the Nubian suddenly drove her knee up hard between the other’s legs, making the Celt cry out and dance back in pain. Capitalising on the opening provided, the ebony warrior pivoted swiftly, forcing her opponent’s head down in a brutal side headlock, both women’s biceps straining as the Celt struggled to counter the hold. For a few moments it seemed as if the Celt would break free but with a piercing cry, the scarred warrior twisted hard and took her opponent down to her knees, still controlling her in the headlock, while looking quickly up at the ebony queen who nodded her tacit approval of her champion’s move.

Both wrestlers were panting with the terrific effort, but the Nubian skilfully kept up the pressure, wrapping herself sinuously around her struggling opponent and using her full body weight as she forced the Celt down on her back. On the ground she quickly lost the advantage however, as the supple, tattooed warrior tore herself free before they locked up again, rolling over each other on the sun-baked earth. The struggle on the ground grew long and tense as both young warriors proved to be truly excellent and innovative wrestlers, perfectly matched in strength and skill. Before long both became slick with sweat and effort and Amelia, having edged closer, was treated to a virtuoso wrestling display that had many complex moves and counter moves.

But as the hot sun continued to beat down out of the azure sky the two adversaries’ herculean efforts gradually slowed and, as intent frowns started appearing on the watching queens’ foreheads, it was clear that an unprecedented battle of attrition between their finest champions was taking place. Finally, the Celt achieved the crucial first breakthrough, trapping her opponent on her back in a powerful, breast-crushing reverse mount, her chin digging into her adversary’s mons pubis as she fought hard to keep her from bridging out of the hold. Amelia noticed in her excitement that the tattooed one was successfully pinning the scarred warrior’s shuddering shoulders to the ground even though the latter’s legs were still kicking out furiously. Five interminably long seconds later the gong sounded, signalling that the first fall of this marathon contest had finally been awarded to the tattooed Celtic warrior.

With the sweat running down into her eyes, the exhausted victor raised herself from her prone opponent and rocked back on her haunches, glancing up to her queen briefly for encouragement. Rather than congratulating her champion however the queen’s eyes were registering an urgent note of concern, and it was well-justified as the Nubian suddenly shot her legs up from the ground, catching the Celt by the throat in a well-executed leg scissors. It seemed that the Nubian intended to make good her deficit quickly as she twisted her legs sideways, taking her adversary to the ground and viciously tightening the hold while fending off the Celt’s thrashing legs which even now were trying to trap her in a reciprocal hold. Another twist and the tattooed warrior lay flat on her back, gasping for breath, struggling to prise those python-like legs apart to ease the brutal pressure on her neck. Suddenly – and unexpectedly - her wish was granted as the scarred woman abruptly released but only to convert the hold into a full body press as she went for the equalising pin.

Although the prolonged choke hold had clearly weakened her adversary, Amelia felt that the Nubian must have a plan as securing the Celt in a full body pin would still be no easy matter. The answer was not long in coming as the scarred warrior raised her hips high before slamming her hairy mons down hard on her adversary’s, repeating the blow until they both cried out in pain and anguish. Amelia had once lost a long sex-fight to a more experienced mentor who had taught her in the process that a cunt-to-cunt grapevine was one of the most devastating pins that one woman could inflict on another, and she felt convinced that this would now be the ebony warrior’s strategy.

Amelia was close enough to the action to hear the women's bushes actually start scraping as they locked calves and braced their protruding mons together, a clear sign that the tattooed one underneath had accepted her rival’s overtly sexual challenge and was determined to fight fire with fire. This latest development had caused a ripple of excitement on the dais as the courtiers chatted animatedly for a few moments before quietening down again. Although the two queens themselves had maintained a regal silence Amelia could see just how tightly both women were gripping the edges of their thrones.

As the eyes of the two warriors on the ground met, the ebony one smiled at her adversary and placed her hands symbolically on the other’s shoulders, leaving her in no doubt that she would be pinned all too easily if she lost. Ignoring the taunt, the Celt answered simply enough by thrusting upwards with her hips violently as she tried to twist out of the hold she was in. The two warriors’ powerful legs now bore the brunt of the action, their calves still locked together as the Nubian tried to stretch her opponent’s legs still wider apart while the tattooed woman began straining in the opposite direction. Meanwhile their broad, muscular mounds slammed into each other again and again, sending shock waves coursing through their lower bodies.

Still revelling in her invisibility to the denizens of this land, Amelia moved round directly behind the two wrestlers so that she could observe the struggle going on between their legs and genitalia at close hand. By now both warriors were going at it full force and even through the mass of tangled cunt hair Amelia could see how their thick, muscular pussy lips were flattening together, spreading out with every thrust, squeezing out more of their womanly juices which were starting to flow liberally. Having come within an ace of taking complete control, the scarred warrior seemed to be struggling more and more to stay on top of her tattooed foe who, initially at least, was responding more strongly to the sexual stimulus, bucking and twisting her loins like a majestic wild mare doing her utmost to unseat an unwanted rider.

So intent was Amelia on watching the ongoing struggle between the women’s legs and crotches that she failed to realise that a new front had suddenly opened up in the battle. Hearing an enraged yowl, she looked up and saw that the Nubian had a big handful of creamy white breast which she was cruelly kneading and squeezing. At first this seemed like a good diversionary tactic but as the Celt tried desperately to pull the assailing hand away, strong fingers gripped her erect pink nipple, jerking it in what looked unmistakably like a milking motion. Omigod – that’s her game! Amelia gasped to herself. Although she had read of women using forced breast-milking techniques to weaken their opponents in sex-fights she had never seen this being used in the flesh before, so to speak.

Moments later the Nubian was rewarded with a powerful spurt of milk from the Celt's breast and straight away craned her neck down, her lips closing on the thick nipple, which she also anchored with her teeth, and began sucking the stream of warm milk into her hungry mouth. The warrior underneath let out a tortured, plaintive gasp: and it was clear a clever trap had been sprung and she was in deep trouble: if she tried to pull her nipple free, the scarred woman’s teeth would likely rip the flesh; what was more, with the other woman’s cunt pressing down hard on her own, and their legs still grapevined together, she had no room left to manoeuvre.

Facing up to her predicament the Celt did perhaps the only thing she could do: rummaging desperately in the tight space between their sweaty, struggling bodies her fingers closed around the Nubian’s big dark teat, massaging and pulling at it until her adversary’s engorged gland started spraying milk too. Pulling the hard nipple desperately into her open mouth she clamped down and started slurping as if her life depended on it. Amelia was growing extremely wet between the legs as she watched the primal struggle unfolding in front of her: both warriors were sucking at each other's straining breasts in a desperate battle to be the first to drain the other’s milk sacs while, simultaneously, their wet, hungry cunts’ were sliding and rubbing together, lathering up their sexual juices into a viscous, pungent cream that gummed their long cunt hairs together into a wiry, tangled thicket.

Although the tattooed warrior fought as hard as seemed womanly possible, it was apparent to Amelia that she was at too much of a disadvantage and, sure enough, her head started to loll back, eyes glazing over as the Nubian sucked ravenously on her straining teat and her pale breast was emptied of the last of its precious cargo. So intent was Amelia on watching this spectacle that she failed to notice the ebony warrior’s pin had been locked in place until the melodic gong sounded the equalising fall.

While her satisfied queen clenched and unclenched her fist at this latest development, the dark warrior raised herself up languidly on her forearms, her sweat-sheened face with its half-closed eyes betraying the state of drugged euphoria brought on by the aphrodisiacal effect of imbibing so much of her rival's sweet milk; milk that was still drooling down her chin. The Celtic warrior also seemed drugged as she started to struggle fitfully beneath her rival. As the Nubian pressed down strongly on the Celt again Amelia realised that she was not planning to let her adversary escape; indeed, the rules of the contest seemed to provide no compulsion for her to release the other woman in the interest of fair play at this point.

Both warriors knew that the next fall would determine not only who would stand as victor in front of their queens but also would be crowned the sexually dominant female between them. With so much still at stake the coming build-up started slow as they stared into each other's eyes defiantly while tentatively moving their throbbing pussies around to determine just how stuck together they actually were. Without breaking their intense eye contact, the scarred, dark-skinned warrior started rocking her heavy hips, slowly at first, letting her hungry wet twat press down, until her grunting opponent responded, opening her thighs wider and mirroring the other woman’s movements as they gradually built up a constant rhythm, grinding their pussies up and down, driving and fencing with their big, swollen clits.

By now Amelia was watching between the humping women’s legs where the scent of competing womanly musk was almost overpowering as each warrior's vulva stretched and squeezed its rival. Even when their squished vaginal lips became glued together, trapped in each other’s overlapping puffy folds, she could easily differentiate between the tattooed warrior’s which were pale-pink and the ebony one’s which were a deep purplish brown. Sucking and smacking sounds began to fill the air as the two warriors battling pussies moved together harder and faster, their cunt lips locked and sealed in their own juices. At this point the Nubian’s hand closed involuntarily on the pale breast that her hungry lips had drained only minutes earlier. Squeezing the now flaccid gland contemptuously, she ground down as hard as she could, forcing her big hungry clit into the other woman’s soaking cunt where it could duel with its hard, pink rival, both fully unsheathed at last.

Something insistent was telling Amelia that she must leave now but as she rose, she stole a final look back and witnessed the precise moment that the tattooed woman's weakening cunt lips were finally engulfed. Hearing her ragged, irregular breathing, Amelia could sense the Celtic warrior’s state of mounting sexual panic and humiliation as her cunt was ridden and conquered by its more powerful opponent. But only the redheaded warrior herself truly knew how it felt on that fateful day: to endure having her clit steadily bludgeoned into submission by a stronger clit; to risk having her vaginal insides almost pulled out of shape by the sucking strength of the scarred woman’s powerful fuck lips; to suffer simultaneous ecstasy and pain as her defeated vagina finally gave up the battle and shot its surrendering load, ejaculating her cum deep into the Nubian warrior’s conquering, all-powerful cunt.


As the insistent beeping of the alarm dragged Amelia back from her vivid dreamscape she was in a feverish sweat and the sheet beneath her groin was soaking wet, as were the insides of her thighs. She moved her hand down and touched her moist, hard clit, wishing that the dream had not ended so abruptly but feeling sexually sated all the same.

X

On the morning of her title fight Helen Brodie woke early, feeling bleary eyed after an interrupted night’s sleep: yesterday's incident with Susan Walkerburn was clearly playing on her mind which was bad news indeed in the run-up to such a critical contest.

Examining her face and body critically in the full-length mirror Helen mostly liked what she saw: apart that is from the unwelcome dark, puffy rings that had appeared overnight around her eyes. She would have to use her best cosmetic concealer today in case the other girls noticed and wondered if the stress was all becoming too much for Cardugan’s reigning sex-fight queen.

Helen’s refined facial features would not have looked out of place on the cover of a fashion magazine: the exotic, dark eyes; pale, luminously healthy skin; her straight nose that was exactly the right length but somehow managed also to be slightly retroussé and cute; her full, dark red, very kissable lips. Her young woman’s breasts were creamy white and unblemished and had perfect shape, weight and tone which meant she often went without a bra as she had no need of further support.

In fact Helen was an image of such feminine perfection that her opponents frequently were blind-sided as to how big, hairy, and strong her pussy actually was until it was way too late, and they were being ridden helplessly to orgasm submission beneath Helen’s legendary top-grinding attack.

In her early teens, Helen had watched the cult SF film Blade Runner and had become fascinated by the character of Rachael, played by Sean Young, whom she somewhat resembled facially. At times she even modelled herself unconsciously on the ice cold, ethereal replicant who thanks to implanted memories doesn’t actually know that she is one, but eventually captures the heart of Harrison Ford’s cynical, world-weary private investigator, Rick Deckard.

Although not many of the other girls knew, Helen was a Jewess: her maternal grandparents, Ashkenazi Jews, had fled the Russian pogroms in the 1920s, settling in Edinburgh eventually, where their only daughter, Rachel Edelman, had grown up enjoying a hectic life as a beautiful if impoverished socialite until marrying Hector Brodie, a rich Scottish Laird with extensive country estates near Inverness.

Helen had grown up on the estate learning to ride horses and, as she got older, also learning how to ride the spirited local stable girls as well. When she had turned eighteen her mother who, uncharacteristically, had drunk too much wine and brandy one evening confessed in a private moment together that she and Helen’s father had nearly not been married thanks to a rich English heiress, Diana Symington, who also had marital designs on Hector Brodie.

For a time Hector was clearly torn between his beautiful, dark-haired Jewish lover and the stunningly attractive English rose who successfully manoeuvred herself to land in his bed after a particularly debauched society party and then refused to give it up. Fearing that she would lose the man she loved to her blonder, more aristocratic love rival forever, Rachel Edelman confronted Diana Symington in a bitter exchange in the ladies powder room of the Royal Mile Club, where both readily agreed to settle the matter for good in the time-honoured way as only hot-blooded and jealous women can.

Booking themselves into a suite at Edinburgh’s top hotel the very next night, Rachel and Diana met to settle the matter of honour between them: the sex-fight that followed started at ten pm and carried on well into the following day. Although Rachel perhaps sensibly demurred from describing the battle to her daughter in too much graphic detail, Helen was left in no doubt that by the time the dawn rose both women's 'nether regions' were feeling very sore indeed, and, although both had succumbed to massive multiple orgasms many times over, rather inconveniently for both parties the contest still remained messily unresolved as dawn approached.

Rachel still remembered vividly how both women were left laying on their sides, shattered and exhausted while recovering from their last shared orgasm, their congealed pubes hopelessly entangled and their mating pussies as good as cemented together by a drying crust of womanly residue.

As she noticed the dawn light creeping into the room Rachel had felt her bruised, blood-red clit starting to recover from the last attritional battle against its strong pink rival. Although, truth be told, it still felt turgid rather than fighting hard, and Rachel prayed fervently that Diana’s clit, which was still pressing lightly against her own, had been left in a similarly weakened state.

As the raven-haired woman steeled herself for one last desperate attempt to fuck her enemy into submission, her blonde adversary somehow beat her to the punch, rolling on top and pinning Rachel to the sex-slimed bed sheets while grinding into her open twat with a big clit that suddenly felt harder and more reinvigorated than Rachel’s!

“Got you finally, bitch!” Diana Symington had grunted all too smugly as she increased the pace of her gyrations while tightening her grip on Rachel Edelman's weakening pussy as much as her tired cunt lips would allow. “Surrender to me nicely now, and I might even invite you to my wedding with Hector!”

“Ahh – I -no – uuuhh uhhh!” Although she was desperate to avoid a final shattering defeat beneath her love rival's thrusting cunt, Rachel had involuntarily grabbed hold of Diana’s full, womanly buttocks at this point, and was pulling her nemesis into herself even more deeply without fully realising it! But then, as her fingertips accidentally tickled the soft blonde hair nestling around her opponent’s pert anus, Rachel understood the way forward with sudden clarity and without further hesitation plunged all four fingers in, all the way up to the hilt, her well-manicured fingernails leading the charge and taking the tight-arsed English heiress completely by surprise.

“So yes, as I was saying to you Helen, once I got the measure of that English woman and defeated her in a fair fight, she agreed to renounce all further claims on your father, and then the coast was clear for us to go ahead and get married!”

Having been forced to fight – and fight brutally as well - for what was most dear to her, Rachel Brodie was naturally keen to impress the importance of this life lesson on her only daughter Helen. However she was much too refined to go into the details of what had led to her final victory over Diana Symington on that fateful day; and she certainly didn’t know that her own daughter had recently discovered a weakness for anal penetration on her own part that had nearly caused her to lose a sex-fight with one of the stable girls.

What Rachel did ask Helen to do however (after first swearing her to secrecy of course) was to keep a careful look out for a certain Laura Symington-Bailey who was now in the sixth form at an exclusive Edinburgh girls school and, it turned out, was in fact Helen’s half-sister, the progeny of her father’s brief dalliance with Diana Symington nearly nineteen years earlier.


---------


Mhairi MacGregor also woke early that morning and spent the first minute or two extracting Susan Walkerburn’s blonde pubes from the puffy folds of her vagina. Then she spread her fingers and started examining herself internally, testing her muscular strength and elasticity in different places. At length she gave herself a grade A-plus report, satisfied that her youthful genitalia had made a full recovery after her gruelling finger fucking duel with Helen Brodie the other day. Withdrawing her fingers, she held them to her nose and liked what she smelt: if that intoxicating musk didn’t put the bitch off then she wasn’t sure what would.

The truth was that Mhairi had a real thing about posh girls like Helen Brodie and that thing was that most of all, she enjoyed conquering them sexually. In her early years, Mhairi had been brought up on a rough council estate outside Aberdeen where she had to learn to fend for herself from an early age. Her mother was often unable to look after Mhairi and her siblings properly, especially when her father came home often drunk and abusive after weeks spent away working on the North Sea oil rigs.

When, eventually, the father had disappeared out of their lives altogether, her mother still struggled to bring the family up and a life in care beckoned. But help was at hand in the form of one of Mhairi’s teachers who having recognised that the snotty-nosed young urchin was as bright as a button, arranged for her to sit the scholarship exams for an exclusive local girl’s college.

Although Mhairi had passed the entrance exams with flying colours, life didn’t suddenly become easy as the other girls at the college knew an imposter when they saw one, and wasted no opportunity to goad and humiliate the common girl who had been born on the wrong side of the tracks. It was this shoddy treatment that had fuelled Mhairi’s general dislike of posh girls with all of their superior airs and graces, and which had also spurred her on as she climbed all the way to the top of the sex-fight league at her previous school.

As far as Mhairi was concerned, Helen Brodie was the living embodiment of a haughty, spoilt posh girl who (it was rumoured) had been raised on a vast estate near Inverness, where she had servants to dress her and umpteen horses of her own to ride. Well, as far as Mhairi was concerned, the rich bitch was just another obstacle in the way of her continued rise to the top, and tonight she would forcefully remove that obstacle from her path.

Several years earlier, Mhairi had watched the film Working Girl starring Melanie Griffiths, whom she faintly resembled in her brunette phase, and had been impressed by the way in which the working class girl had risen to the top, defeating her more pukka boss played by Sigourney Weaver along the way. Yes, thought Mhairi, that’s my kind of role model all right.

Mhairi looked across at her roommate who still lay comatose on the other bed where she had ended up after they had sex last night. The tousled sheet had slipped down, revealing the dirty state of the other girl’s blonde bush: still matted and congealed with the residue of last night’s hard fucking.

By now Mhairi had grown accustomed to using the blonde as a reluctant sparring partner in her preparations for the crucial title fight and last night had been the final opportunity to practice her best fighting moves before going up against Helen Brodie herself. The fact that she was doing so with her new acolyte, Helen’s former best friend and now very much her own bitch, only added to the frisson of excitement she felt.

At first Mhairi had practised using her stronger fuck lips to spread, stretch and generally weaken Susan’s, while all the time exhorting the frustrated blonde to fight back harder. Then, once Mhairi had achieved the inevitable full cunt lock, she perfected her use of anal thumb-spikes, before resorting to two-fingered and, finally, four-fingered anal penetration, to weaken Susan still further before hoisting the blonde’s legs high in the air for the deep-clitting finale that the subordinate girl had very much come to enjoy and expect.

“Ohhhhh! Ooooohhhh! Yes! Yes! P-p-please don’t stop fucking me! PLEASE!”

At this Mhairi had ceased thrusting into Susan for a full minute, gently teasing the frantic, pre-orgasmic blonde with her big throbbing clit until she swore her undying allegiance to Mhairi, her new alpha bitch. Once the magic words were gasped out, Mhairi had leaned on Susan until she was almost bent double, her feet grazing the pillow on either side of her flushed, sweaty face before fucking an unprecedentedly loud, squealing, squirting orgasm out of her.

“Yes, Helen Brodie! Now, finally, I am ready to fuck you!”

So caught up was Mhairi in this triumphant coital moment that she was not sure at first whether she’d merely thought those words, or spoken them out loud. But, from the expression of awe and admiration mixed with sexual contentment displayed on Susan Walkerburn’s face, Mhairi concluded that she must have shouted her challenge out loud enough for the whole school to hear!



To be continued/ ]]> Ragnar0k Stories Ragnar0k https://www.hostboard.com/forums/showthread.php?t=1233655