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