“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 came to the conclusion 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?”
“Then take your starting positions please, ladies.”
The contest to decide the 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.
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 actually 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 them into Amita’s extra hard. The surprised Sikh girl gave a sharp little cry as she felt Susan’s vulva sealing itself against her own and she found herself pinned against the wet, slippery mat, squirming beneath her increasingly dominant opponent.
To Be Continued in Chapter 17.