Matches 7. 
By Hardie hardiewh@aol.com
The boys are beaten at rugby and Becky subjugates Dean. 


The school PE teachers had arranged for a couple of end of term matches
between the boys and the girls. The first match, seven-a-side hockey, had
ended disastrously for the boys, who lost heavily! Even worse, at a
'humiliation ceremony' after the game, where the losers were merely expected
to kneel at the feet of the winners, the girls had gone on to totally dominate
the boys and subject them to complete humiliation. Much to the girls'
surprise, the boys seemed to accept their fate, and even to enjoy being
subjugated by girls! Now the boys' rugby team were being comprehensively
beaten by the girls!

Miss Forbes, the Head Of School continues her narrative:-

I must explain that I had told everyone concerned that my sole purpose in
hearing these accounts was to gather material for my PhD thesis in psychology.
No one would be penalised in any way because of what they told me. I now carry
on with some more interesting extracts from rugby players.

"My name is Ross Campbell, I played in the rugby match against the girls. We'd
taken a right beating in the first half. Us forwards were totally demoralised.
The girls looked so sweet and frail in their navy blue gym briefs and white
shirts but they'd taken us apart. I mean, Miss, we were much bigger than they
were, and I thought we'd be much stronger too, but they beat us at every
scrum, and won every ball in the rucks and mauls.

Mr. Dickson ranted and raved at us for letting a bunch of girls beat us so
easily. He told us that we needed to get stuck into them in the second half,
use our muscle, brush them aside and start to fight back!

I guess we wanted to do just that, and we were a bit more fired up when we
lined up for the kick off, determined to take control and pull the match out
of the fire. This time it was going to be the girls who were going to be
humiliated!

I felt my opponent in the scrums, Monica Friend, staring at me. I tried to
stare her back, back I couldn't. We both knew she'd walked all over me in the
first half. Now she was standing there with her legs apart, hands on hips,
looking so totally confident in her ability and bold in her sexuality. Some of
my resolve melted right there.

Then Myra Marshall kicked off. The ball went high into the air and came
straight towards me. It was a great kick because it hung in the air long
enough for the girls' forwards to attack me as soon as I caught the ball.

My fellow forwards should have come in behind me to support me, but they were
slow to react. Monica caught me in a smother tackle, wrapping her arms round
me so that I couldn't release the ball.

I tried to use my strength to stay on my feet, but her impetus bore me
backwards. I stumbled and went down. The wind was knocked from my body. One of
the other girl forwards threw herself on top of me. Her knee caught me in the
throat. I almost blacked out. The ball was ripped from my grasp. Someone stood
on my head as the girls trampled over me and charged into my belatedly
arriving supporting forwards, and I was left sprawled on the ground, gasping
for air, all the fight knocked out of me by the girls in less than half a
minute."

.......................................

"My name is Eric Williams. I played hooker in the boys' team when we played
against the girls. When we came out for the second half, we knew we had to get
off to a good start if we were to turn the game around. But it didn't happen!

Myra's kick off went up really high, and went straight to Ross. John Rundle
and I should have moved in alongside him to support him when he caught the
ball. Instead of that we were ball watching, and didn't move in until it was
too late.

The girls hit Ross as soon as he caught the ball. Monica took him down easily,
even though he outweighed her by a good thirty pounds. Fiona dropped onto his
supine body knee first. They ripped the ball from his grasp, and were on their
feet again by the time John and I arrived to help.

I expected the girls to move the ball out to their backs, but they didn't.
They charged straight at John and me, challenging us to fight them for the
ball.

I got hold of Fiona, who was carrying the ball, and tried to put her down.
Betty Boyle wrapped an arm round my neck and I felt her throw her weight
sideways, twisting my neck, forcing me to let go of Fiona.

We went down. More bodies piled up on top. I was helpless, hurting badly, as
the girl kept her hold. Then the whistle blew for a scrum down. Bodies cleared
and left Betty and me lying on the ground.

She held me there for a moment, gave a final twist which sent a spear of pain
across my shoulders, then she disdainfully released me and got nimbly to her
feet.

As I dragged myself up, I could see that John and Ross were also in trouble,
looking dazed and shaken . I was hoping to see some flicker of resolve in
them. But there was none. I had also succumbed to the girls' assault. I felt
bemused and weak. I had no fight in me.

The scrum formed. Once again the girls were underneath us pushing upwards.
Back we went, offering hardly any resistance. The girls won the ball, but
didn't stop there. Relentlessly they drove us backwards until we stumbled
over. They trampled all over us, leaving us lying on the ground as they ran
off to support their backs. We just lay there, reluctant to get up. The girls
had ground us down in the first half, and now they had finished us off.

The three of us, the sturdiest, strongest boys in the school, lay sprawled on
the ground, broken by a trio of girls!"

..........................................

"Hi, this is Myra Marshall again, captain of the girls' rugby team. I told the
girls at the end of half time that, if the boys had any balls at all, they'd
try to assert themselves right at the start of the second half.

'Don't let them, girls!" I said. "Get stuck right into them. Crush any
resistance right away. Smash them down and break them completely!'

I mean, it just felt right to go on like that. A few hours earlier I would
never have dreamt I'd be telling a group of demure young girls to destroy the
egos and the fighting spirit of the biggest, strongest boys in the school.
Seduce them, yes, but beat them into submission? Well, it was happening before
our very eyes.

We'd beaten them at every aspect of the game in the first half. We were
totally superior. I didn't want to give that up by allowing the boys to get
back into the game.

At first, Miss, all I wanted was for us girls to put up a good show against
the boys. Then, when I saw how incompetent they were compared to us, I wanted
us to beat them. Now, I knew we'd beat them and I wanted more. All the girls
did.

I think it was because we could see how pathetic the boys were in defeat, how
easily they'd given in to us girls. We would never have succumbed as easily as
they did. We'd have kept fighting to the very end. But they had given up
already. This was our chance to establish total domination of girls over the
biggest, strongest boys in the school. If they didn't have the spirit and
courage to stop us from doing this, that was their problem.

I now wanted to give the boys the biggest hammering they'd ever suffered on
the rugby field. This happened, and, at the same time the boys were
humiliated, dominated and emasculated by a bunch of girls half their size.

Our three forwards were magnificent. They tore into the powerfully built boys
who opposed them and left them battered on the ground.

They'd won us the ball and we made good use of it.

Joanna feinted to pass the ball out to me, then threw a beautiful reverse pass
to Paula Smith, who was storming up on her blind side.

None of the boys had picked up Paula, and she simply sprinted in between the
posts for yet another 'try' to the girls. I banged over the conversion.

That was the end of the boys. We began to play some scintillating rugby,
running and passing at full speed, brushing the boys aside as they desperately
tried to summon up the strength of will to oppose us.

We humiliated them by inter passing the ball close to their line, while they
chased shadows, then put in one of our girls who hadn't yet scored a try. When
everyone in our team had scored at least once, we humiliated the boys even
more by playing 'keep ball'.

This entailed running the ball over the boys' line. Then, instead of touching
it down for a 'try', we'd run it back out again, pass it around in mid field
and challenge the boys to come and take it from us. The girl spectators were
delirious with joy as we ground the boys down with our superior skills.

This drove them nuts and they ran around like crazy for a while trying to get
the ball. A couple of them really lost it and tried to scythe us down with
their legs, and Williams even swung a punch, but, luckily, we were too nimble
for them and nobody got hurt. Mr. Dawe , the referee, warned the boys about
dangerous play, and then blew the whistle went for full time. We'd smashed the
boys eighty-four to nil!

We went mad, jumping up and down in triumph. I think every girl in the school
rushed onto the pitch and there was a great melee as we were congratulated and
fussed over by bright-eyed, triumphant girls of all ages.

Then Miss blew her whistle and sent everyone off. She congratulated us on our
victory and told us to go and get changed and not to forget our 'humiliation
ceremony'.

The girls, though, thought we'd done enough humiliation, and we were going to
tell the boys we wouldn't pursue that aspect of the match. However, when we
looked round, the boys had gone!

This was disgusting. Even the most miserable losers in the world of rugby had
the grace to applaud their opponents off the field at the end of a match, a
custom which holds for the lowest team in the lowest league to the best
International teams in the world. Nobody ever ran for the dressing room
without applauding their opponents.

Except for our boys! We were furious!

'Calm down, girls,' said Miss. 'It looks as if they're waiting for you at the
dressing room doors. Why don't you go and find out. I need to go back to
school to collect some papers and make a couple of calls. I'll be back in
about an hour to lock up, and I'll see you all in school tomorrow. And, very
well done girls. I'm proud of you! Oh, and I don't want to see any more male
ego in school, so make the humiliation ceremony really count!'

This is Miss Forbes again. It was interesting to hear how the girls had been
perfectly happy to destroy the boys on the rugby field, and yet were prepared
to forego their rights to a humiliation ceremony after the match. Were they
reluctant to destroy the boys' egos completely? Were they a bit apprehensive
at having so much power? Did they doubt their ability to assert themselves
over boys in a more open environment where they weren't protected by rules, as
they were in a rugby match? This had never bothered the girls of the hockey
team. They simply went on to subjugate their male opponents completely.

As it was, events dictated the rugby girls' course of action, and it is here
that I'll include the statement I extracted from Dean Warner. You may remember
that he'd been beaten on the running track by Becky Windsor, then beaten up by
her in the dressing room afterwards. She'd told him to be there when she
returned from watching the rugby match! This is the part of his statement
where he awaits the return of Becky.

"My name is Dean Windsor. I lay on the floor of the dressing room for ages,
sobbing with pain and humiliation at being beaten up by a girl. I wanted to
jump up and run after her and hit her and take her down, but I didn't.

I was really confused. On the one hand I wanted to assert myself, and on the
other hand I'd never felt so excited as when she'd stood over me with her
hands on her hips, legs apart, so domineering, ordering me to stay here until
she came back.

I had a monstrous erection just thinking about it, even though my face hurt
from her punches and my balls were aching like rotten teeth. And, even though
I changed my mind a dozen times over the next half hour or so, I think I'd
really decided then that I wanted to stay. I wanted to be abused again by
Becky. She looked so stunning in her skimpy running briefs and top, with her
long, tanned legs, and I obeyed her command and I stayed, tingling with
excitement as the moment of her return drew nearer.'

"My name is Becky Windsor. I left the rugby match just after half time. It was
obvious the boys were finished and the girls were going to walk all over them.
This psyched me up for my own little bit of feminism! I didn't really expect
Dean to still be in the changing rooms when I got there, but then again, you
never know!

I went up the three concrete steps to the dressing room door and dramatically
flung it open. And there he was, lying where I'd left him, still in his
running shorts, with an erection you could hang a hat on.

I put on my most imperious expression, and ordered him to stand up. I wasn't
nearly so confident as I sounded. This time I had no back up in case Greg
decided to fight back, and he was a hell of a lot bigger standing, than he had
looked when he was lying on the floor! But I'd come this far. I had to go for
it.

I'd always felt the need to dominate boys, usually boys a lot younger than me.
Now I had a chance to assert myself over a boy of the same age, a boy who was
bigger and stronger and heavier than me, A boy who had an erection!

'Take off your shorts!' I ordered. He hesitated. I stepped forward and slapped
him hard across the face.

His mouth dropped open in amazement, gasping, as his head jerked back from the
force of my blow. For a moment it looked as if he'd retaliate! I grasped his
running vest up near his throat and thrust him back against the wall.

I looked up steadily into his startled eyes and pinned him with my gaze. 'When
I order you to do something, boy, you do it! Do you understand? DO YOU?'

I held my breath. This was it! Would he fight, or would he, metaphorically
speaking, flee. I f he decided to fight, then the first thing that would
happen would be my knee going as hard as possible into his balls!

Much to my relief, he broke. He couldn't meet my gaze. 'Y,,yes miss,' he
muttered nervously. Then, resignedly, as he lost his will to fight, 'I
understand!' he sobbed, all the tension gone from his body as he accepted
defeat and gave in.

I let him go and stood back, going into my hands on hips, legs apart stance.
The one where I'd thrust out my breasts, except that I don't have much up
there to thrust!

'Good!' I said. 'Now take off your shorts, and your vest!'

He stood there naked before me, a boy broken by a girl. I was fascinated by
the size of his cock, Miss. It was huge and it kept twitching.

Dean's whole body was trembling. I felt so hot. Here was this powerfully built
male, with the beautifully muscled body of a sprinter in training cowering
before me, a slip of a girl, awaiting my command. And I'd no idea what to say!

Then I had a brain wave, an idea from something I'd heard the girls talking
about only the other day.

'I want to see you wank!' I said. 'Start wanking! Now!'

I'd never seen a boy wank before, Miss. I wasn't even sure what it meant. Some
of the girls talked about it right enough, but we talk about lots of things
we're not really sure of , so I was really fascinated and excited as I watched
Dean work his cock with his hand until he exploded semen everywhere.

When he was wanking, he leant right back, stretching his body like a tautened
bow as his hand worked faster and faster. Then his body went really, solidly
stiff, Miss, then it just collapsed as he let out a huge gasp and shot semen,
and kept gasping and pulling his cock, then slowing down and stopping like an
old steam train coming to rest at a station.

And he just stood there, shaking slightly, limp.

'Good!' I said, trying to keep the almost unbearable excitement I felt out of
my voice. 'Now get changed and get out of here. You've got two minutes!'

As he left, I told him. 'I will talk to you again tomorrow!'

Then I went into the girl athletes' changing room toilet and gave myself
relief.

Just as I finished I heard the racket caused by the girls cheering the end of
the rugby match and went to the door of the changing rooms with the idea of
running back across the athletics track to the rugby pitch to join in the
celebration.

It was then that I saw the boys' team heading straight for the changing room
in bedraggled disarray. So I just stood there at the top of the steps, in my
pose, hands on hips, legs apart, breasts thrusting (if only) out boldly
against the fabric of my white crop top. I could tell by their body language
that the boys were in a state about something, and, in my new role as breaker
of boys' balls I wanted to know what it was.'

To be continued...........