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Boarding School Queen: The French Exchange – Parts 1 – 4 by Ragnar0k

Part 1

Sitting behind the big antique desk in her elegant, book-lined study, Amelia Turner lounged back in her chair, absently chewing a strand of long, flame-red hair as she waited coolly for the student she had sent for to arrive.

In the days following her disappearance Amelia had stonewalled whenever her inquisitive colleagues, under the guise of offering sympathy, tried probing into the nature of the events that had caused her recent ‘memory loss’. Fortunately, Amelia had already cultivated a reputation for being insular and even a bit weird; and many of her colleagues had already concluded that, whatever had happened to Amelia beyond the campus limits, the ‘flighty’ redhead had probably brought upon herself to a large extent.

As always, Dr. Joan Gilchrist, the academy’s canny old headmistress, took a more sanguine view of the situation, deciding that it would be best to act as if nothing had actually happened and encourage things return to normal as soon as possible. “The least said the soonest mended” was one of the good Doctor’s favourite aphorisms and, for once at least, she diligently followed her own advice.

However, the Head realised it would be beneficial for Amelia to have a break from the rigours of academic life. The ideal opportunity soon presented itself as a result of the forthcoming twinning of Cardugan Academy with the Ecole Internationale de Rochebrune, an elite girls’ college located high in the French Alps.

“Amelia my dear, think of the benefits of all that fresh mountain air,” Dr. Gilchrist had beamed during their meeting earlier in the day. “And there’ll be skiing opportunities (as well as plenty of apres-ski no doubt) if I know that wily old Recteur, Mme Moreau, well enough!”

Before Amelia could to fly to Grenoble to represent Cardugan at the twinning ceremony however, she needed to select a student representative to accompany her. And the redheaded teacher had one very much in mind, having heard on the grapevine that the simmering sexual rivalry between Mhairi MacGregor and her formidable arch-rival, Helen Brodie, had been temporarily resolved – and very much in the daunting brunette’s favour, according to Amelia’s usually reliable student informant.

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Mhairi MacGregor was not entirely surprised to be summoned to Miss Turner’s study at short notice. Ever since her decisive sexfight victory over Helen Brodie she felt that the teacher had been paying her more attention and she had taken care to flaunt herself at every available opportunity.

Having joined directly from her postgraduate course to teach English Literature, Amelia Turner was still one of the youngest staff members on campus. At twenty five years of age, the beautiful, tall redhead was not much older than the eighteen year olds in her lessons; however to the students she taught she seemed at the same time desirable, mature and unattainable: the type of sophisticated, cosmopolitan woman most aspired to be when they finished their studies and went out into the world.

Approaching Miss Turner’s study down the isolated west wing corridor in the main school building, Mhairi felt elation as well as excitement at the prospect of being alone with the alluring, flame-haired teacher for the first time.

Mhairi was fully aware that some of the Academy’s bi and lesbian staff members were not above making passes at the hotter students, and she wondered idly if Miss Turner might be about to proposition her. Perhaps word of Mhairi’s sexual prowess in defeating that Brodie bitch had already got out among the teachers, and Miss Turner wanted to experience some of the magic for herself.

Mhairi had certainly gained the impression that the teacher had been studying her more closely than usual in English lessons that week. And the fiery brunette knew that her formidable reputation among her fans would enjoy another massive boost if she was able to report that she had just added another notch in her bedpost for the supremely desirable Miss Turner.

Arriving outside Miss Turner’s door, Mhairi quickly checked her hair then arranged her cleavage, loosening the top two buttons of her blouse in such a flagrant breach of Academy dress code that the teacher would have no choice but to reprimand her. There was a brief pause following Mhairi’s rap on the paneled door then she heard Miss Turner muffled tones instructing her to enter. Taking a deep breath, the student turned the ornate brass handle, pushed the solid door open and stepped inside.

Once inside the room Mhairi exhaled, audibly. Backlit by the golden evening sun streaming in through the west-facing window Miss Turner was sitting behind her expansive desk, looking for all the world like some sort of flame-haired warrior or goddess as she pointedly examined her immaculately manicured fingernails for a few moments longer before looking up.

“Ah, Miss MacGregor, it’s good of you to see me at short notice.” [Like I had a choice?!]

“Y – yes miss. It was nothing… I mean I wasn’t busy, or…”

“Yes, quite,” the teacher cut in. “Now, I’ve a little proposition to make.” [Ah, thought so – here it comes!]

“But before we get to that, may I ask you a personal question?” [What sort of question – personal hygiene or how many people I’ve slept with?!?]

“Erm, of course”

“Good, then tell me Mhairi: how did it feel when your pussy finally conquered Helen Brodie’s after all those weeks of lust and longing?” [Fuck! Never saw that one coming!!!]

“Whaa!.. Miss! I-I-I..”

“Can’t believe I just said that?”

Amelia had asked the question in the same level tone she normally applied when asking a student to comment on a passage from Shakespeare in class, and she looked very satisfied after having wrong-footed her visitor so spectacularly.

“Really Mhairi, I didn’t expect you to become so bashful and tongue-tied sudden now that we are alone?”

Mhairi suddenly felt her cheeks burning. “I’m not embarrassed if that’s what you think!” [in fact I’m starting to juice up as we speak now that you’re starting to lay your cards on the table]

“I daresay, but surely you must feel a bit awkward standing here, seeing that I’m the teacher and you’re the student in this relationship.”

“Not really miss, don’t forget now I’m eighteen, and a mature woman, I can do what I want.” [And fuck who I want!]

“Excellent!” Amelia said emphatically as she stood up, stretched a trifle too theatrically, and began walking round the table to where Mhairi was standing waiting for her, well-balanced on her toes, feet slightly apart, her chest thrust out expectantly. Amelia’s eyes alighted disdainfully on the student’s overly provocative cleavage as she approached.

“You do realise this is a clear uniform violation, and I’m going to have to discipline you for it before you leave?”

“Oh, I do hope so, Miss.” Mhairi suddenly felt a small trickle of liquid escape her vagina and flow down the inside of her toned thigh. [Shit – even the verbal foreplay with this hot, hot teacher is making me feel too horny!]

Amelia moved closer and slipped her hand inside the brunette’s half-open blouse, cupping the full right breast straining inside its brassiere. Even though she was expecting it Mhairi shuddered slightly at the sudden contact and Amelia pushed her backwards so that the back of her thighs pressed up hard against the desk.

Mhairi’s sublimely kissable lips were parted but Amelia held back for now, continuing to stroke the brunette’s breast until the nipple grew hard. Feeling more aroused by the second, Mhairi experimentally unbuttoned Amelia’s blouse and started to massage the teacher’s big creamy tit in turn. Both women’s breathing was already starting to grow heavier as Mhairi took it upon herself to resume the conversation that Amelia had started earlier.

“S- so you knew about me and Helen already?”

“Of course, in fact I was close by when it happened; but that’s a story for a different day.”

“Ohhhh…oohhhhh…that’s nice…so wh-what did you want to know?”

While they were talking, Amelia had moved her other hand under Mhairi’s skirt and cupped the brunette’s pubic mound, feeling how satisfyingly damp the younger woman’s panties had grown already.

“I asked how it felt when your pussy finally conquered Helen Brodie’s.”
While considering her reply Mhairi found the urge to insert her own hand up Amelia’s skirt irresistible, and she was faintly relieved to find that the redhead demurred entirely to her bold advances, putting up no resistance as her wet cleft was gripped firmly and womanhandled through the cotton material of her sheer black thong.

“Well, you have to bear in mind that Helen and I had been fighting solidly for almost an hour.”

“Was there ever a time when you feared you might lose?”

Amelia had pulled the wet cotton aside and was now stroking Mhairi’s vulva rhythmically as the two young women leaned in to each other.
“Oooooh aaahh – to be honest, she nearly had me at one point. I was on my back after we both came and she was going for the pin. I only escaped the count with a second to spare!”

By now the redhead could feel her pussy really starting to juice up as Mhairi’s fingers probed and rubbed against her engorged lips.

“Mmmmm..aaaahh. Go on!”

“I – I fought her off and we restarted again. By now we were on our knees, rough kissing, fighting with our pussies and our tits… aaaah aaaah! Fuck!”

“Want me to stop?”

“Nooooo! Don’t stop!”

By now their fingers were stroking steadily in and out of each other’s soaking pussies and the area around the desk was starting to fill with rising woman scent. Amelia desperately wanted to kiss Mhairi’s parted lips but she was prepared to hold back until she heard the end of the story.

“I-it still could’ve gone either way… but I got my rock hard nipples under her tits, raking the soft undersides. I kept her nipples out the way until I got her down….”

Mhairi was still pressed hard against the unyielding desk by her teacher and she began to moan; her pussy was getting so fucking wet and turned on and starting to make squishing sounds as she relived the glorious victory over Helen all over again in her mind.

“Describe to me how you pinned her cunt and forced her surrender…”

“Oooooohhhh! In the end… it became a t-tug of war between the – the two most powerful cunts in the sixth form… but I was on top and winning! Aaaaaahhh – I swear I could actually feel my stronger fuck-lips turning hers inside out!”

“How extraordinary!” Amelia cried, pushing forward suddenly against the surprised brunette who pivoted backwards over the table edge, landing on her back and scattering the piled books and papers everywhere.

“Don’t stop now!” Miss Turner commanded as she climbed on the desk and spread Mhairi’s legs apart. Although the student had already made the tactical decision to let the teacher fuck her when the time came, she was still surprised by the force with which the slightly older woman slammed into her.

“Quickly – tell me how it ends!”

“Aaaaah aaaahhhh…”

Mhairi was already starting to slide up the desk with the force of Amelia’s repeated thrusts, their wet pussies smacking and grinding together until their combined wetness started to soak into the big desk blotter.

“Ooohhhh fuck! You should have seen her f-face when she realised my cunt had hers… trapped… in its grip!” Mhairi’s scrabbling hands were on Amelia’s hips now, pulling her in tightly as they fucked hard, rocking and slamming against each other on the unyielding desktop.

“Finish it!” The redhead shouted angrily as she ground her soaked pussy down against the younger woman’s open wet cunt, flicking their engorged clits together, pushing and grinding, rocking faster and faster against the pinned brunette.

“Aaaaaaaah…then she just surrendered as I…I sucked her in!

“Good! What else?”

“F—ffuckk! She was c-coming under me for at…at least a minute.”

“And… afterwards?”

“Unnnnnnnnnnnn. I swear when I looked down I could see Helen’s lips hanging limp outside her vulva. Like – like… I’d just given her such a monumental workout she – she’d need a f-full week to recover…”

Amelia was a consummate expert in reading the different stages of female sexual arousal, and she could tell from the way Mhairi’s pulse and breathing suddenly quickened, the flushing on her chest and neck, and the marked swelling of her breasts, that the younger woman was close to reaching the sexual plateau where blood flow to the vagina reaches its limit, causing the lower area to become exceedingly swollen and firm. In short, the stunning redhead judged that the gorgeous brunette was now eminently ripe for the taking.

“Good. That’s enough for now Mhairi. Now let’s finish this thing off properly. I want you to show me exactly how Helen came when she was beneath you!”

“Wh-wh-what?! You – you fucking whore!” The brunette gasped as she belatedly realised how comprehensively she had been ambushed. But it was almost too late to fight back now… as she felt the redhead’s fleshy lips sealing tightly against her own as Amelia began rocking faster against her clit… as Mhairi experienced, for the first time in her life, the strength of an experienced, mature woman’s vagina clamping down and exerting full suction power over her own.

“Aaaahh! aaahhh! Fuck – fuck you, you nasty cheating slut!”

Although Amelia Turner said nothing in reply, her lips curled in a slightly wolfish grin as she continued to grind down remorselessly into Mhairi MacGregor’s pinned and acutely aroused young pussy.

Part 2

“Aaah… aaahhh – yes – come for me Mhairi! Cum like you made that bitch Helen Brodie cum!!!”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh! nooooo….fuck! Noooooooo!!!”

It was fortuitous that Amelia Turner’s study lay at the far end of an isolated corridor as the cries of the two struggling females rose above the sound of their strong, wet pussies slapping and sucking on each other in the heat of battle.

With her straining, recalcitrant student pinned beneath her on the desk the strong, sexy redhead was still very much in the driving seat… but knew full well that she must break Mhairi’s sexual resistance at this first critical attempt, or she would struggle to bend the headstrong young woman to her will in future.

As an accomplished equestrian, Amelia knew that the most highly-spirited mares are always of the best quality, but also require the most breaking-in before they can be ridden safely. It is also a truism that mares that are broken in the correct way will inevitably follow their leader loyally out of respect rather than fear.

Skilled rider though she was, the immediate challenge for Amelia was that this particular steed was still not showing even the slightest signs of being under control as she continued to do her utmost to unseat and turn the tables on her!

In fact, from the moment that Mhairi had begun fighting back, a powerful tug of war had started between their muscular vulvas until Amelia’s straining fuck-lips began to appreciate the full, alarming power of the fighting pussy that had defeated Helen Brodie’s just weeks before. If it had come down to a straight-up, pussy locking battle between them, the prodigious reach of Mhairi’s elastically strong vaginal lips still might have won the day.

But, while her younger opponent had carelessly allowed herself to become hyper-stimulated early on in the contest, the experienced redhead had been carefully pacing herself, fully aware that a battle between two well-matched pussies, if not always a marathon, is more likely at least to resemble a middle distance race than a flat sprint.

And so, as their wet cunts’ were rubbing and slurping together, Amelia kept skillfully changing her line of attack to deny Mhairi the tight pussy clinch she so desperately craved in order to try and level the playing field and take the fight back to the redhead.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

Presently, the brunette gasped and began to quiver as she felt her big, throbbing clit being raked repeatedly by Amelia’s equally swollen clit.

“Unnnnnnnnnn.” The redhead moaned in turn as she intensified her intimate, penetrating attack, grinding deeper… and harder until…..

“Omigodddd! Fuckkk!!!”

“Yes – yesssss!!!”

…through the hyper-sensitive nerve endings of her own quivering clit Amelia felt the exquisite sensation of the brunette’s clit in full retreat under the continuous, intense over-stimulation it was being bombarded with. It was time!

“Cum you dirty little bitch! I want to feel your hot cum exploding inside me – NOW!!!”

With her tumescent clit pinned back against her pubic bone beneath Amelia’s swollen nub, Mhairi could feel the betraying ripples growing deep inside her sex and knew that she was on the edge of a devastating orgasm. Arching her back, hearing the blood rushing in her ears, everything seemed paradoxically to start going into slow motion, allowing Mhairi a few more precious moments to contemplate how comprehensively she’d been outplayed, out-thought and out-fucked by her beautiful, sassy and ultra-savvy English teacher.

And, strangely enough, it all didn’t seem to matter quite as much any more: realising there was nothing more she could do to stave off the inevitable, Mhairi MacGregor actually started to relax as orgasm took her… surrendering to the undeniable pleasure of being fucked and controlled by probably the only woman on the planet right now that she could imagine building an unshakeable bond of trust with… and possibly even follow to the ends of the earth, if she was asked nicely enough…

Part 3

The British Airways Boeing 727 banked to the right as it turned to make its final approach into Grenoble Airport, providing Mhairi with a perfect view of the snow-capped French Alps below. It was her first ever trip to France and she was feeling more excited than she had let on, either to Miss Turner or the girls who had come to see her off as they left in the taxi the previous morning.

Mhairi had decided not even to confide in her closest friend Susan about her little tryst with Miss Turner the other day. For one thing, she didn’t want any of the other girls getting wind that the teacher had got the better of her, thinking how that would tarnish her invincible reputation as the trib fighter who had summarily ended Helen Brodie’s reign as Cardugan’s undisputed sex-fight queen.

But there was a second, complicating factor that Mhairi still found difficult to reconcile in her confused mind. Even before they had locked up in sexual combat on top of Miss Turner’s desk, the student realised she had a crush on the gorgeous teacher: what she felt now however was closer to infatuation and, although she had never fallen in love before, she was starting to wonder if this was what it actually felt like.

There was one thing for sure: after the sexy redhead had ‘owned’ Mhairi’s pussy so convincingly on top of that soaking wet desk blotter, the brunette had started to feel even more possessive about her teacher, and woe betide any other student who thought they could also steal their way into Amelia Turner’s affections.

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Amelia had offered Mhairi her window seat shortly after the plane took off from Heathrow; it only seemed a small kindness but the student greatly appreciated it as this was only her third time in a plane and she delighted in looking out, noting how quickly the landscape changed during the ninety minute flight to the Alps.

Amelia found that they had both chatted easily enough on the journey to while away the time and although she was happy to sketch out a few of the background details of her life to the student, she was careful not to reveal too much about her quest until she could trust her new acolyte. When she judged the time was right however, she would start preparing Mhairi for her eventual induction into Amelia’s secret sisterhood.

Miss T (as Mhairi had started calling her teacher knowing it would to be indiscreet to be on first name terms in public) had made judicious use of the confined space in the short haul cabin to reinforce the growing bond between them. Several times they discovered that their shoulders and knees were touching but neither made any attempt to separate them, and as they continued to press into each other discretely none of the other passengers could have suspected that there was anything more serious going on between them.

During the train journey to London Amelia had been careful to warn Mhairi about the possible challenges which lay ahead of them.

“You won’t find out much about the Ecole Internationale de Rochebrune in the media as the place values its privacy too much, but it’s an elite boarding college near Grenoble which caters for the French haut monde as well as international jetsetters who want their daughters to learn how to ski like pros while perfecting their French.”

“Oh that’s just great!” Mhairi had snorted as this new piece of information was imparted. “You’ve no idea how much I hate snobs – and from what I’ve heard, French ones are the worst! Real, stuck-up bitches!”

Amelia had smiled at this sudden outburst, wryly appreciating that it was only natural for a girl born on the wrong side of the tracks like Mhairi, to envy or despise other girls whose effortless sense of superiority reflected their more privileged upbringings. In part this chip on her shoulder helped to explain the ruthless venom the brunette had exhibited in taking down Helen Brodie, a posh girl who was no stranger to great privilege herself.

The worldly-wise teacher sounded a note of caution however: “Although the girls you are about to meet might seem over-privileged and refined to you, don’t make the mistake of underestimating them. From what I’ve heard these over-sexed French eighteen year olds are anything but fastidious when it comes to pussy fighting. In fact, they are likely to be as battle-hardened as they come.”

“Maybe so, but I’ll match my rugged Scots pussy against a delicate, fragrant French pussy any day of the week and win!”
Amelia smiled quietly to herself. Mhairi might be justified in her self-confidence, but only time would tell.

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As they passed through airport customs and reached the concourse on the other side Amelia noticed two figures detach themselves from the waiting throng and started walking forward to meet them.

There was enough time for both pairs of females to size each other up as they approached. The tall, prepossessing black woman on the right must be Mlle Martin, the Classics teacher who Amelia had spoken to on the phone while arranging the visit. Her stunningly attractive, ash blonde companion was evidently a student. Amelia whistled softly: Rochebrune were clearly putting their best foot forward in sending these two alluring women out to welcome them.

“You must be Amelia Turner” the black woman said, smiling as she held out her hand. The grasp was dry and firm, a little too firm in fact. “I’m Zoé Martin, and I’m going to be looking after you all the time that you’re here.” The accent was only slightly French, the English diction flawless. Amelia suspected that Zoé might have been brought up in the Caribbean, possibly in a home where English and French were both spoken.

“Thank you Miss Martin – Mhairi and I are delighted to be here.”

“Oh please, you must call me Zoé!” the other woman interjected giving Amelia’s hand another firm squeeze before letting go.

“Right. And it’s Amelia for me. Zoé, let me introduce you to Mhairi MacGregor. Mhairi captains our hockey team and is the very model of what a Cardugan student should be like, and in so many different ways!”

“Enchantée!” Zoé beamed at Mhairi, who had coloured slightly after Miss T’s glowing eulogy.

“Oh, and forgive me, now I should also introduce Sophie – Sophie St. Cyr who is captain of our senior girls hockey team and has many, many other, er, talents besides…”

Sophie stepped forward and shook both their hands, not the slightest bit embarrassed by her own teacher’s fulsome praise.

Staring Mhairi full in the eye, the gorgeous French student enunciated carefully in English: ‘Please to meet you, Miss MacGruder. We wan’ to make you most welcome here at Rochebrune. This afternoon, after you ‘ave freshen up, Mlle Martin and I would like to take you on a ski tour of the area.”

“That’s right,” Zoé smiled. “Until then Sophie will look after you, Mhairi, and get you kitted out for our trip. Now, did you bring your ski-suit?”

“Er – no, I was hoping to hire any equipment while we’re here,” the brunette replied, adding lamely, “We don’t actually ski that much in Scotland as the snow’s not very reliable.”

Sophie’s reaction to this development bordered on the theatrical “Oh la la! Quelle folie! No, I won’ hear of it. You shall borrow my spare suit Mhairi – and anything else you need.” Taking a step back, Sophie examined Mhairi for a few moments with a critical eye: “Yes, we are same height, no? Your teets may be smaller than mine but still, overall, my suit will fit you!”

Now it was Mhairi’s turn to take a step backwards. “My t- what did you say?”

“Oh, sorry my English is not perfect. I meant to say your ‘tits’ of course!”

“What the f- are you measuring me up already? Cos if you are…!”

Amelia decided to interject before the situation took a turn for the worse.

“Zoé, is there a shop where I can get an extra film for my camera. I’m hoping for some great shots when we go sightseeing later.”

“Of course, Amelia. Come on now you two girls, stop flirting and let’s be on our way.”

And with that, the gorgeous French teacher turned and moved, clearly expecting them all to follow in her regal wake. Amelia held back for just a moment longer, admiring the ostentatious yet casual manner in which Zoé Martin’s full, womanly hips sashayed as she walked away.

The beautiful redhead knew instantly that the stunning black woman was deliberately putting on a show for her; and she suspected that later that evening, she and Mhairi would have their work cut out, getting to grips with their sexy, confident new rivals.

And as any battle would be taking place on their hosts’ home turf she felt sure that both Frenchwomen would make sure to play their home advantage to the fullest…

Part 4

For Mhairi at least, the afternoon ski tour proved an unmitigated disaster. Although the young Scot had learned the basics of the sport in her home country, it soon became apparent that her blonde French chaperone was way out of her league: being trained to professional standards, Sophie St Cyr could literally ski rings round Mhairi. In fact, the athletic French girl was soon bragging about captaining the champion Rochebrune ski team that had beat the field, winning gold medals at the last two international events they had entered.

What the feisty brunette found most irksome that afternoon however, was the way Sophie always managed to use the edges of her skis to spray snow over her rival whenever she sped back to enquire why Mhairi was lagging behind.

“Emmène-moi! Follow me, ma cherie, and I’ll show you how to ski properly,” the blonde would laugh before catapulting off at breakneck speed again, knowing full well that the Scot would always struggle to keep up.

Happily, Mhairi had laid one of Sophie’s earlier boasts to rest at least. Having examined one of the other girl’s bras while trying on the borrowed ski wear she found reassuring proof that the French girl had exaggerated how well-endowed she was compared to her rival: okay, at a 36D she might be a single cup size larger than Mhairi; but that was hardly going to save her once the vengeful Scot was pounding the French tart’s pussy into submission later that evening.

In the meantime, Helen fortified herself with the thought that the French bitch’s shrivelled clit couldn’t conceivably be one size larger than her own little beauty, as the returning Sophie swept to a halt and sprayed her with snow yet again.

“Oh la la – sorry Mary,” the bitch sniggered. “But please try to keep up as we have to meet the others at the chalet – before it gets too dark!”

Mhairi gritted her teeth as she pushed off with her ski poles again. Just wait until tonight slut – I’ll wipe that stupid grin off your pretty little face!

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In contrast with the torrid time Mhairi was having Amelia found she enjoyed her leisurely ski with Zoé immensely, and the two women chatted freely while stopping frequently to admire the view.

After Mhairi had revealed something of her upbringing in the Southwest of England, the Frenchwoman recounted how she had been born and raised on the island of Martinique in the French West Indies. After finishing high school she had left the island to study classics in Paris then, having completed her diploma, secured her current teaching position at Rochebrune.

Warming to her tale, the Frenchwoman went on to outline more of her intriguing background to Amelia. Having researched her family tree extensively Zoé Martin had discovered that her ancestry derived from the Fon people, denizens of the African region which is now Benin. At some point her forbears had been taken as slaves to the French colony of Saint-Domingue in the Caribbean Sea, later renamed the Republic of Haiti. Zoé’s lineage was complicated by the amount of intermarriage that had taken place on the island over the generations but she was able to count French European and Amerindian (Carib people) in addition to black Africans among her ancestors.

What Zoé failed to mention to Amelia was that her maternal grandmother was high priestess of a little-known Voodoo cult that still believes a select few chosen women or mambo asogwe can aspire to gain supernatural powers through the act of ‘taking’ other women’s orgasms from them. The tempestuous, strong-willed Martiniquan was initiated into the cult in her late teens, and since then one of her main life missions had been to seek out other strong women in order to ream submissive orgasms from them. In Zoé’s reckoning, the tougher the opponent the better: as this simply heightened the supreme feeling of sexual dominion she derived from sucking the defeated woman’s struggling pussy lips into her superbly conditioned fighting quim.

By her reckoning, Zoé still needed to notch up two hundred and forty nine additional victories before acquiring the enlightened transcendental state she so desperately craved. Defeating Amelia tonight would bring her ultimate goal one step closer but, being honest with herself, she also wanted to defeat the redheaded Englishwoman out of a highly developed sense of college honour as well as national pride.

Amelia’s thoughts were also turning to the inevitable contests that both pairs of sexy women would be drawn into later. Like the Martiniquan, she had been careful not to betray any indication during the conversation of her own secretive involvement in an esoteric witchcraft cult dedicated to exploring and harnessing the power of the female orgasm for its own obscure ends. As a result, neither woman anticipated the broader occult significance of the tumultuous clash that they both looked forward eagerly to winning later that evening.

“I’d say your Mademoiselle St Cyr needs to watch out,” Amelia confided to her companion archly just before they turned to head back down the mountain towards the waiting chalet.

Zoé looked at her sharply. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it really doesn’t pay to rile Mhairi MacGregor: a young woman of many talents. Endowed with one of the strongest fighting pussies I’ve ever … er, come across…”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it too much: Sophie can take also care of herself. But why talk of a sex-fight all of a sudden? Here at Rochebrune the girls always use their breasts to settle rivalries. So, unless your Miss MacGregor has a black belt in the sport, I’ll wager she won’t last long against Sophie St Cyr; she is not only hockey and ski captain but also our best reigning titfight champion!”

Amelia was forced to conceal her surprise at this unexpected and unwelcome development. It seemed to confirm her suspicion that the French team would stop at nothing to play the home team advantage. And Zoé certainly seemed supremely confident that her own student, with the added benefit of first choice of weapons, would easily defeat Amelia’s favourite student.

“Well,” she said finally, “I still think Mhairi will give your favourite a goo run for her money.”

“We’ll have to see, won’t we?” The Frenchwoman replied diplomatically.

“And what about you? Amelia inquired archly, “do you always use your tits to settle battles as well?”

“Well, honestly, tits or pussy it’s all the same to me.” Zoé puffed her chest out further and looked her companion directly in the eye before adding: “But I’m warning you already, Amelia, that tonight I’ll win… I always win against redheads and blondes.”

Such brazen confidence, Amelia thought as she replied. “Ha! Then it looks like your unbeaten record against redheads will soon be over. Enjoy it while it lasts!”

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After this exchange, the two older women skied down to the chalet where they were soon joined by both students. Zoé Martin had explained earlier in the day that they would be relaxing in the college’s private chalet in the mountains before skiing down early next morning to prepare for the official ceremony to mark the twinning of Cardugan Academy with the Ecole Internationale de Rochebrune.

The significance of the isolated location was not lost on Amelia who knew that, once they had closed themselves in for the night, the four would be alone, there being no other habitation for miles around. In other words, there was no likelihood of the four women being disturbed whatever happened between them that evening.

Amelia and Mhairi soon discovered the small chalet was plain but attractive, comprising a large open plan kitchen/living room and two galleried bedrooms. The Cardugan pair would sleep in one room and Rochebrune in the other. This might change during the night but that was the current plan.

While they were changing for dinner, Amelia quickly interrogated Mhairi to find out what she had been able to glean about her opponent. The younger woman immediately rolled her eyes. “My God, she’s an utter bitch, and a cow and more besides! You know, daddy’s some big financieur type; made his money on the Paris bourse and little miss tippy-toes was brought up in this big fucking chateau, right on the Loire. Great river for skinny dipping apparently!”

“Interesting, well now it’s the bad news I’m afraid. It seems that Rochebrune’s little madams put more faith in swinging their mammaries when it comes to the settling of rivalries.”

“What – you mean they..? Oh fuck, fuck!”

“Correct, and as it’s their home turf, I don’t think we’ll be able to wriggle out of this one so easily. You did train in breast fighting before arriving at Cardugan I believe?”

“Yes – a little. And I can look after myself. Have you any idea yet what I’m going up against?”

Amelia hesitated for an instant before deciding to tell the bald truth. “Well, Mlle Martin did let slip that Sophie St Cyr is their reigning titfight champion.”

“Oh, that’s just bloody marvellous!”

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Zoé and Sophie had prepared a simple but tasty meal for the four of them, which they washed down with a glass of burgundy before moving the sofas back to make a larger space on the deep pile rug in front of the roaring wood burner. The well-insulated chalet was already growing quite warm and Amelia was sure that it would become even hotter and steamier pretty soon.

It was agreed that Mhairi and Sophie would fight first, the Cardugan girl having graciously agreed to adhere to Rochebrune rules tonight, which Zoé then explained.

Basically, the only targets that the girls were allowed to go for were each other’s breasts, and only breast on breast contact was allowed at that. No biting, gouging, hairpulling or other such unsporting play was allowed, however it was perfectly acceptable to grasp your opponent’s body with your hands while delivering the attack.

The rules also catered for un serre-fort, literally a tight squeeze, whereby both parties were permitted to grind their mammaries together continuously until one girl submitted.

Un serre-fort par terre was an even more specialist move, involving one girl flinging the other to the ground and pinning her there while crushing her mammaries until either she escaped or was forced to submit.

“Let’s get on with it then,” Mhairi said purposefully as soon as the explanation ended

“Yes, I can’t wait to crush your weak teets either,” Sophie laughed, getting to her feet and standing at one end of the rug that marked the dimensions of the ring they would fight in. The Scot quickly took up her position on the other side and the girls started removing the bath robes they had been wearing in preparation for the match.

Owing to a little theatrical delay on Sophie’s part, Mhairi was first to reveal her naked body and the French pair admired the brunette’s fine physique, the swell of her breasts, the flat stomach with its defined abdominal muscles, the sweeping curve of her hips and her firm, shapely thighs.

Then Sophie discarded her robe, displaying her near perfect body alongside her rival’s. Amelia noted that the French beauty was perhaps a centimetre shorter, but equally as slender and shapely as Mhairi.

Only one physical factor set the two girls apart. While the Scot’s girl’s perfectly proportioned breasts were rounded and stood out pertly, Sophie’s were more elongated than Mhairi’s so that they both protruded and drooped slightly more than the Scot’s pair.

To Amelia’s critical eye, Sophie’s big tits looked slightly oversized given her otherwise svelte proportions. Moreover, in shape they kind of resembled short, deadly torpedoes, and the redhead hoped that their rather intriguing shape would not give the French girl an unfair advantage in her efforts to breach her opponent’s more conventionally rounded ramparts.

“Are you both ready?” At Zoé’s the signal, Mhairi and Sophie advanced on the rug until they were no more than an arm’s length apart, their large breasts swaying slightly as they moved.

As she was unsure about the protocol, Mhairi waited until Sophie moved in and grasped her lightly but firmly by the shoulders, the twinkle in the French girl’s eyes suggested this was still all a game to her.

“Perhaps as the guest you would like to take the first swing, no?”

“About time!” Mhairi needed no second invitation, grasping Sophie’s shoulders as she turned her torso sideways, twisting back suddenly so that her large breasts swung into the sides of the French girl’s with a loud, stinging slap.

Watching intently, Amelia noticed how the blonde merely grimaced, letting out a small ‘ouf’ as her breasts swayed at the first contact. The Scot then used the momentum she had created, raking her tits back across the French girl’s immediately with an even louder smack.

“Ooooff!” “Nnnnnhh!” Both girls cried out but as Mhairi paused, her turn over, Amelia saw how quickly Sophie recovered, looking relaxed and content after Mhairi’s first ‘best’ shots.

“My turn?” Without waiting for a reply the French girl pivoted slightly at the waist before swiping her torpedo-shaped breasts across Mhairi’s with astonishing speed and accuracy. ‘WHAPSLAPP!’

The smack of colliding titflesh sounded even louder than during Mhairi’s attack, and the girl’s cries of pain were correspondingly shrill as well. Then Sophie swung back the other way and both girls yelped out as their sensitive nerve endings registered the heavy blow.

After only four side slaps both girls breasts were already starting to look flushed as Sophie spoke again.

“Phew, that was hard work – well done! Now, we don’t take turns any more so you’re free to start hitting me when you like.”

Mhairi swung out immediately without really aiming but, as she tried to throw the tit fighting equivalent of a left hook, Amelia could see the brunette had telegraphed the move to her opponent, who swung both breasts at her from the opposite direction in a smart counterpunching move.

As both girls’ tits were moving at speed this created the loudest smack yet, and caused them both to recoil in pain.

To their credit, neither girl seemed too phased by this as they quickly settled into a rhythm, slapping their reddening tits against each other….side to side and up and down… grunting and moaning each time their dense tit flesh met head on.

Although Mhairi seemed to be holding her own in trading blows for now, Amelia was quick to note two significant causes for concern.
Firstly, and owing to their superior mass perhaps, the French girl’s breasts seemed able to displace the Scots girl’s more easily when both racks met at full force. Secondly, not only were Sophie’s attacks more skilled and precise than her rival’s, but the French girl seemed to be hitting with more force if the loudness of each heavy smack was anything to go by.

At least hitting Mhairi this hard would mean that the sensitive nerve endings in Sophie’s larger breasts must be taking an equal amount of punishment Amelia tried to reassure herself.

As the seconds ticked by, the French girl’s greater skill, as well as her other built-in advantages became more apparent however, prompting Zoé, who had seemed bored and disinterested with the proceedings up to now, to suddenly become passionate as she urged her charge to take the fight aggressively to her rival.

“Oui – oui! C’est ca! En avant ma fille!”

Amelia was forced to watch with growing concern as Sophie rallied, spurred on by her professeur’s loud encouragement, and started pressing home her attack on Mhairi’s increasingly beleaguered tits with venom.

“Steady Mhairi, keep your guard up!”

Soon though Sophie’s tits achieved the first major breakthrough of the contest as a lethal combination of attacking moves had her rival on the run.
As the blonde girl’s blistering attack gathered pace, Amelia found herself involuntarily cataloguing each of the punishing blows being delivered to her girl’s breasts by its equivalent boxing term:

Right jab ‘Whack!’ “Owww!!”
Left hook ‘Smack!’ “Unnnnnnnnnn.”
Right hook ‘Whop!’ “Ohhhhhhhhh.”
Uppercut ‘Whap!’ “Owww!! Fucking CUNT!”
Left hook ‘Slap!’ “Bitch!”
Uppercut ‘Thwack!’ “Ahhhhhhhhh…”
Uppercut ‘Smack!’ “Unnnnnnnnnn…ohhhhh Jesus….”

If Amelia had been a boxing coach she might have been contemplating when to throw in the towel by now, as her own girl was becoming too punch drunk to defend herself properly; her head lolling forward as the pain receptors in her wounded breasts tripped the overloaded synapses in her brain.

Amelia was forced to wonder at Sophie’s immense staying power and astonishingly high pain threshold: there was little doubt she must also be feeling intense pain each time her own breasts connected with Mhairi’s; and yet, even as she cried out and blinked back the tears, the titfighting champion kept coming forward like a dogged pugilist…until finally she had the Scot exactly where she wanted her. As she delivered her final ultimatum, Amelia noted that Mlle St Cyr’s voice had grown far deeper and huskier, constant pain having removed its playful timbre as she hissed viciously at her opponent: “Ahhhhhhh… now is a good time to give up… Scottish slut… before I injure you too badly!”

Mhairi coughed, wheezed and spat over her opponent’s right shoulder before replying.

“Unnnnnnn… surrender? Uh uh…I thought this was just the warm-up. If that’s really the best you can offer we better keep going …”

With an angry cry, the French girl lunged forward and continued her brutal, full frontal assault, her heavy, elonated breasts slamming into the Scot’s outgunned mammaries without mercy.

SMACK!!! WHACK!!! SLAPPPP!!! SMACK!!!

“Unnnnnnnnnnn… Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh BITCH!! Ohhhhhhhhhhh Fuck!”

Finally, Mhairi found herself teetering on the very edge of their makeshift ring, and resorted to the only option she had left ; flinging herself at the French girl in a desperate clinch.

As the wounded brunette clung tightly to her tormentor the intense sounds of battle were replaced by both girls wheezing and sniffling as they leaned into one other, weary heads resting on each other’s shoulders, their lined faces exhibiting raw pain, exhaustion and wounded emotion.

Amelia was suddenly feeling an enormous pride in Mhairi however. So far, her girl had taken all that her more experienced French opponent had thrown at her and survived the ordeal. Mhairi MacGregor was still in the fight, but her chances of turning it around seemed slim at best given the odds now stacked against her…the next few minutes of the struggle would be crucial and Amelia was on tenterhooks, especially knowing that she would have to fight Zoé Martin as soon as the first contest had been decided.

To Be Continued in Parts 5-8, Which Can be Read Here!

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

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