Boarding School Queen – Part 6 by Ragnar0k

Even though she hadn’t slept particularly well, Helen Brodie woke with the dawn chorus as usual and lay snuggled under the duvet for a few minutes, listening to the wind rattling the window panes. The root cause of her interrupted sleep had been Mhairi MacGregor, of course. It had just been one vexatious event after another since the new girl had arrived at Cardugan.

The outcome of the hockey match would have been a relatively minor irritation if the new girl had not made such a big display in the shower room afterwards; although Helen needn’t have put her title on the line in hindsight, she felt honour bound to reassert her authority and had gone for the nuclear option in the heat of the moment. That’s what happens when you let some bitch rile yourself too easily, she told herself angrily.

With Helen’s enviable win/loss record this would still have been a low risk option under normal circumstances. However, even she was now beginning to have some doubts. Thanks to Janice Mearns, a rumour was now circulating that Mhairi McGregor was, in fact, sex-fight queen at her last school, and a notable top-grind specialist, who might actually succeed in taking Helen’s crown.

To add insult to injury, Helen had learned that some of the girls were running a book on the outcome of the fight and the odds on her victory, steadily deteriorating, were now only slightly better than even. God, life had been so simple before that bitch arrived on the scene!

Helen pushed her covers aside and stood by the bed, performing some stretching exercises, her naked body lithe and glowing in the early morning light. Padding across to the window she absently slid her hand down and fondled her bush, stroking her fingertips through the long, straggly hair that protected her vulva. Her thick labial lips felt oily and firm, reminding her for a brief moment of something dangerously primeval and reptilian.

Withdrawing her hand, she held the fingers up to her nose: the musk was rich and powerful; its signature unmistakably hers and hers alone. Last night, Helen had spent over an hour on vaginal strengthening exercises and now she felt wonderfully toned and ready for her invigorating morning run.

Although the autumn sky looked leaden, and a storm was clearly brewing, if she kept up a good pace she should still be able to complete the 8 mile circuit and be back in time for breakfast before the heavens opened.

Looking out her favourite apple green running kit, Helen noticed Mhairi’s panties still scrunched up in the drawer beside her own. She had acquired them after the shower room confrontation thanks to some smart bitch who thought it would be fun to swap them.

Helen picked the panties up and sniffed the crotch, inhaling the new girl’s scent which, although it had begun fading, was still there, unmistakably distinct from her own. On an impulse Helen pulled the panties on, rubbing the gusset into her crotch until her own scent completely overpowered that of her rival’s. That feels good – really good – she told herself and decided to keep the panties on for the rest of the day.

Once Helen got out on the wooded trail the weather began to deteriorate faster than she had anticipated, the wind rattling the branches overhead and whipping up the thick carpet of autumn leaves that crunched under her feet.

Undeterred, the raven-haired girl leapt over a fallen branch and carried on: she needed to be in top aerobic condition for the fight that was now only two days away.

Her thoughts turned to the English literature lesson the day before, when Miss Turner had turned the last half hour into a debate on the virtues of Sapphic love, something that seemed decidedly risky in a residential boarding school packed full of hormonal teenage girls. Many of the girls suspected that Miss Turner was a lesbian -or at least bisexual – and they often vied in their efforts to impress the voluptuous, redheaded teacher who was in still her mid-twenties and rated hot and desirable.

Not surprisingly, Mhairi MacGregor had taken a different position to Helen in the debate, and the two rivals had found themselves arguing against each other until the other girls in the class had fallen silent, watching open-mouthed as the two alpha females sparred verbally with increasing venom and animosity. Miss Turner seemed happy to let the exchange go on for some time, only cutting it short after the new girl finally made an especially bitchy remark about Helen clearly being too frigid to understand what Sapphic love was really about.

Taking a left fork in the trail, Helen was only vaguely aware out of the corner of her eye of a flash of blue moving through the trees, and dismissed it as the product of her overwrought imagination. She was still furious that the teacher not only failed to discipline the new girl, but had dismissed the class afterwards with a knowing smile on her face – as if she had been amused, and possibly even turned on, by the whole episode.

The fork in the trail meant that Helen was more than half way to the tower, a Victorian folly built on a small hill by a former estate owner. Helen always liked to sprint up to the top and admire the view while getting her breath back before heading for home. Today, however, she would just aim to get home before the storm broke.

The second time Helen noticed a shape moving through the woods behind and to her left she knew it was not a figment of her imagination. Easing up slightly and squinting through trees backlit by the morning sun, Helen was dumbfounded to make out the unmistakable form of Mhairi Macgregor, in a tight-fitting powder blue sports kit, loping effortlessly along the track that ran parallel.

Mhairi had also woken early that morning and left the room quickly, her latest conquest Susan Walkerburn still fast asleep in bed. The new girl had jogged into the woods and taken up a hidden position in the trees waiting for her rival to come into view along the woodland track.

Sure enough here came the bitch, right on time as Susan had promised. Despite herself Mhairi had to admit that Helen looked stunning, with her healthy, rosy complexion; skimpy green top showing off her full, firm breasts; long black mane streaming behind as her long legs propelled her effortlessly along the track.

The new girl waited for her rival to pass then started following along a parallel track, keeping just behind and to the left of her quarry. Her plan this morning was to up the ante with Helen further: to gain such a psychological edge over her rival that Mhairi would enjoy the advantage when the girls finally locked cunts in anger.

When Helen realised that she was being trailed she put on a burst of speed, knowing that she would confront her rival where the parallel paths converged below ‘the Eerie’. The new girl also accelerated, matching her rival stride for stride until they arrived at the junction of the two paths simultaneously, hot, sweaty and breathless.

Breathing deeply as she recovered, Helen was angry but also curious as she turned to study her surprise running companion. Mhairi MacGregor’s pretty face was a bit flushed from sprinting to keep pace with Helen but otherwise she looked disgustingly invigorated and fighting fit. The new girl’s top had a big sweat stain running down between her breasts, her erect nipples clearly visible through the pale blue material which had a see-though quality when damp. Just like herself, Mhairi clearly enjoyed running au natural, without a constraining bra. Helen shivered suddenly, and it was not due to feeling cold.

“S-so wh-why exactly are you following me?”

Mhairi was also getting her breath back and gasped out her initial reply: “W-ell,” “I ww- ouldn’t have thought it was that hard to guess…”

“No really, I have no idea. Enlighten me.”

Mhairi’s calculating eyes had been devouring her rival’s nubile body at the same time: the healthy luminous sheen of her alabaster skin; the full, upright breasts capped by large nipples that poked through the wetness of her skimpy running top; the shapely, toned legs that had carried her so effortlessly along the four mile trail. Now a coquettish mischief entered her expression as she stared directly into Helen’s eyes, confident that the next part of her plan was just about to fall in to place.

“You know what we both want, so why wait until Thursday bitch?” She said this with as much acidity as she could muster. “There’s nothing to stop us settling it here. Right now.”

Helen’s blood was already up and she would have liked nothing better than to take the bitch down right away, but she was thrown in a quandary by the new girl’s sudden unexpected challenge.

“Are you mad? Thursday’s fight is going to decide who wins the title. Nothing that happens out here in the woods now can change that.”

“So that’s it, I kind of knew you’d be chicken…” Mhairi sneered, turning her back on Helen and making as if to walk away.

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t….”

Just then the wind howled, and the storm that had been threatened all morning finally broke. As big heavy raindrops started to fall it was apparent that the sky would unleash torrential rain any moment and the girls would be drenched unless they moved fast.

“To the tower!” Helen snapped, and they both started scrambling up the steep hill, determined to be the first to reach the top. Mhairi had started off slightly in front and managed to stay a good second in front of her rival.

As the tower had long been deemed unsafe by the authorities the door was padlocked shut, however the entrance porch was recessed to a depth of three feet and it was in here that Helen propelled her rival just as the wind whipped up again behind them and the rain came lashing down with full force.

Mhairi was caught off balance as Helen pushed her into deeper the porch recess until her back was rammed up against the padlocked door. There, sheltered from the driving rain, the two rivals locked up in a deep, hungry, saliva-swapping kiss while a peal of thunder broke overhead. With their breasts pressing tightly together inside their clammy tops both girls could feel their hearts pounding in unison as they wrestled against the old wooden door.

“Don’t imagine for a second that you can steal my crown on Thursday, cunt!” snarled Helen, pulling her head away briefly.

“Oh, I guarantee this college will finally see a new queen crowned, bitch!” Mhairi riposted angrily.

Then Helen forced her hand down the elasticated front of Mhairi’s running shorts, escalating the conflict by grabbing a handful of her rival’s sweaty bush and shouted at her rival above the noise of the storm.

“You do realise that what happens now won’t change a thing on Thursday?”

“Oh, I think it will change rather a lot, don’t you?” Mhairi countered, grabbing her rival’s crotch in exactly the same way. There was no going back now as both girls tightened their grip, feeling their pubes being pulled at the roots.

“First to make the other one come then?” hissed Helen.

“First to make you come then,” Mhairi laughed sarcastically as they attacked simultaneously, forcing their hungry mouths together with a clash of white teeth, wrestling their muscular tongues until saliva ran down their chins. At the same time the girls pulled each other’s shorts down their thighs to allow their scrabbling fingers better access, releasing a powerful crotch smell in the process.

With her back still pressed painfully against the door Mhairi suddenly went on the offensive, forcing her tongue into Helen’s mouth while her fingers probed beneath her opponent’s thick bush, seeking a firmer grip on the meaty vulva it protected.

As her rival’s strong fingers penetrated her labial lips for the first time Helen staggered back slightly, enabling Mhairi to push forward until the girls were back in the centre of the porch. Breaking their kiss they leaned into each other, chins on shoulders, forming a human tripod; as both girls continued to push against each other, they were gradually forced to widen their stance for balance and support, which also had the effect of allowing their fingers easier access to each other’s vulnerable swollen vulvas.

Even the thickest of bushes, the meatiest of cunt lips, cannot hold back the insistent probing of strong fingers for long and soon the wet, sloppy sounds could even be heard over the torrential rain as their conditioned fighting cunts sucked strongly at the fingers that were violating them.

“Unngh! Uhhh! Nnnuh! Nnnah!”

“Ahh! Ahh! Uuuuhhh! Nnnnngh!”

The girls were panting and moaning in unison as they staggered around in the doorway locked now in a primal sexual battle for supremacy. Leaking cunt juice ran freely down their thighs, spattering the autumn leaves their stamping feet were crunching underfoot.

From the way her opponent’s moans were growing more ragged and high-pitched, Mhairi could tell she was reaming Helen Brodie’s cunt good and proper now: sliding her hand between the thick but well-lubricated and now yielding labial lips; driving her fingers all the way in: as deep inside her rival’s vaginal opening as they would go; while at the same time her thumb expertly harried the other girl’s aching, tumescent clit.

Helen had been deep-fingering Mhairi for a good while now and was frankly amazed by her rival’s sexual staying power. She could feel the other girl’s heart pounding wildly against her chest, pumping ever more blood into her engorged cunt as it strained against Helen’s strong fingers; becoming ever more wet and elastic, opening her up still further to sexual penetration, allowing the sex-fight queen to force her hand in deeper and deeper.

Helen also recognised the tell-tale whining pitch creeping into her opponent’s heavy moans and knew that Mhairi was feeling the intensity of struggle just as deeply as she was: that the new girl was fighting to stave off the first stirrings of orgasm that Helen also felt growing deep inside her cunt.

Although it would be a close race to the finishing line, Helen remained convinced that she still had more sexual stamina in reserve than her hated rival.

To Be Continued in Chapter 7.

Thank you for reading! For more of Ragnar0k’s Stories: Click Here!

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