Matches 8 By Hardie The girls beat up the boys' rugby team (I thank Nerraw for suggesting the 'plot' for this part of the story.) So far: The school PE teachers had arranged for a couple of end of term matches between the boys and the girls. The seven-a-side rugby match had ended disastrously for the boys, who lost heavily! Instead of waiting to applaud the girls off the field, in the traditional manner of rugby teams everywhere, the boys had left the field while the girls' team was being mobbed by exultant female spectators. Their aim was to get away quickly and so avoid the 'humiliation ceremony' the teams had agreed to before the match. ..................................................... 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 have edited the accounts for reasons of continuity, etc. I now carry on with the rest of Becky Windsor's account. ............................................................ "As the boys came closer I could see by the way they straggled along that they were suffering. They looked totally exhausted. The girls had obviously run them off their feet, poor lambs! "Did the girls beat you then?" I said mockingly as the boys reached the changing rooms steps. "Piss off!" said Scott Hooper menacingly. "Get out of the way!" I flinched! I'd always got on well with the rugby team boys, even though they were a couple of years older than me. I couldn't understand why they should suddenly be so aggressive, and, under the influence of my newly found power over the male, I reacted in the same way. "Say 'please', Hooper, and I'll think about it," I said, putting my hands on my hips, setting my legs astride and pushing out my beasts (such as they were!), trying to look really tough!. "She's in the way," said Williams. "Kick her out and let's get changed!" Hooper grabbed me and forced me back into the pavilion. Seething with indignation, I lashed out, and, more by luck than judgement, got him full force in the balls! The boy let out an agonised howl and doubled over, clutching his balls, his face distorted in agony. There was a moment when everything seemed to go still, then someone said, "Holy shit! Get her!" and the next thing I knew I was on the ground, with several boys on top of me. My head hurt, where someone must have punched me. My arms were held, and I was finding it difficult to breathe as someone had his knee in my stomach. "Get her up!" It was Hooper, nursing his balls, his eyes venomous, who was giving the orders. Two boys held me by the arms as I was dragged to my feet. I was really scared as I saw the fury on Hopper's face. He really wanted to hurt me. "Come on, leave her alone! Let's get out of here!" That was Don Fletcher, He went to the same athletics club as me in the Summer. "Not until I pay her back for what she did!" said Hooper. He drew back his fist with a manic look on his face, I kicked out at him and got him in the thigh. With a cry of fury, Hooper drew himself up, fist cocked. I thought my end had come, then the room was full of girls, piling into the boys, as world war 3 broke out in the sports pavilion hall. The girls' rugby team had arrived, just in time to save me!" .................................................... The next account I include is by Paula Smith. This is fairly representative of what the girls of the rugby team had to say about the events that led to their battle with, and final victory over the boys! Ms Forbes. ...................................................... "My name is Paula Smith. I played on the wing for the girls' rugby team and scored four tries against the boys. We were really pumped up when we got back to the dressing rooms. There was the thrill of demolishing the boys' rugby team with our superior skills, and the tremendous reception we'd received from the other girls in the school after we'd won the game. Maybe we'd gone a bit too far towards the end of the game by toying with the boys, treating their efforts to compete with us with disdain, grinding them into the ground and making them look totally pathetic in front of all the girls of the school. Well, we'd decided not to emasculate them any further by waiving our right to hold the humiliation ceremony which had been agreed before the game. Then, when we looked round, we found that the boys had fled the field. This made us highly indignant, and we hurried across to the sports pavilion to confront them over their lack of sportsmanship. What we saw when we got there fired us up to the point of fury. Two boys were holding one of the younger girls, Becky somebody, by the arms, and Scott Hooper was lined up to punch her just as we arrived. The boys were so engrossed with what was happening that they didn't realise we were there until it was too late.... for them! Myra Marshall shouted, "Get them girls!" and we needed no second invitation. I saw Myra brush past a couple of boys, throw herself at Hooper and tackle him round the knees. He went over, crashing into John Rundle, who was holding one of Becky's arms, on the way down. Rundle let go his hold and Becky swung a punch into the face of Eric Williams, who was holding her other arm. Williams jerked his head back, and was momentarily frozen with his legs apart, braced, trying to maintain his hold on Becky, when I kicked him in the balls! The boy went down, curled up in a ball, holding his groin. I followed him down, straddling his powerful frame, lacing into him with my fists, giving him no chance to recover, just as we'd been taught to do by Ms Noble in our self defence classes. He was on his side one arm trapped under his body. He tried to get his other arm up to defend himself. I grabbed his wrist in both hands and bore down on it with all my weight, twisting it, trying to bend his arm behind his back. We struggled for supremacy. A powerfully built eighteen year old boy against a slender seventeen year old girl, and, for what seemed an age, I thought the strength of his arm would prevail against the weight of my body. Then the superiority of my position began to take effect. I felt my massive adversary weaken. The strength drained out of his powerful male body as I poured all my sinewy, female strength and weight into my hold. His arm began to give, then, suddenly, it collapsed completely and I triumphantly twisted his limb up behind his back. I'd won! Spurred on by his cries of pain, I bent his brawny, muscular arm up as far as I could. Still maintaining my hold, I lifted myself up slightly and turned him onto his stomach, Now I had and even stronger lever on his arm. I, a hundred and ten pound girl, had a mighty two hundred pound boy completely in my power. I pushed his arm up with all my might. He was crying! He was saying something, begging me to stop. I pulled his head back by his hair. The feeling of power I had was such a rush. One of the strongest boys in the school lay helpless between my legs, crying, begging me to stop hurting him! I didn't even think about it. Miss had drummed into us that male bodies were tough, hard and capable of taking a tremendous amount of punishment. So, if we ever had to defend ourselves against a male attacker we must disable him, then, either run, or smash him until he was totally, utterly beaten. I wasn't running anywhere! I let go his arm, which I was sure I'd rendered completely useless, and slid my arm under his chin, along the front of his throat. Then I let go Eric's hair and locked my arms together in a classic Japanese Sleeper Hold., and squeezed. He tried to buck me off but he was exhausted after the rugby and from the beating I'd given him. I'd sucked the strength from my mighty male opponent, and his massive body was soon flopping feebly as I squeezed his neck with all my strength. His limbs stopped their useless flapping, his efforts to escape dwindled and finally ceased. I'd won! I kept my hold on a bit longer to make sure I'd finished him off, then stood up and looked down at the beautifully built body of the boy I'd fought to a finish. One of the biggest, toughest boys in the school lay unconscious at my feet, beaten by me, beaten by a girl! I felt so hot. My head was pounding. I ripped off his shirt and shorts and held them up in triumph. I wanted to press my pussy into his face, mark him. He was my conquest, the first boy I'd defeated in combat. I pot my foot on his neck and threw my arms up in triumph!" ................................................. This is Ms Forbes again. At this point I'd like to introduce the statement of Mr. Dawe, one of my male teachers, who refereed the rugby match, and, by all accounts, did so extremely well. I realise how difficult it must have been for him to make this report. It has helped my research enormously, and I am extremely grateful to him for his candour and honesty. ................................................ I am Mr. Dawe, a teacher, and I refereed the rugby match between the boys and the girls. I cannot deny that I was sexually aroused! The sight of these lithe, nubile, curvaceous young girls dressed only in their navy blue cotton gym briefs and white sports shirts was exciting enough. Add to that the fact that these girls had totally demolished the biggest, strongest boys in the school until there was no fight left in them, made my whole tingling body feel it was being consumed in a sexual furnace which was burning into my brain. Normally I'd have tried to give the boys some words of consolation after the match, but I needed to get into the pavilion fast! I had a huge erection which was straining my jock strap to the limit. There is a side entrance to the male teachers' changing rooms, which saves us having to go through the pavilion, and I darted in there. Within seconds, I had relieved the enormous, pounding pressure in my head by the most body-shuddering act of masturbation I'd performed to date! I had barely recovered when I realised there was some sort of commotion going on in the pavilion hall. This is a large area which can be set up to be used as a lecture room for the sports teams, and all the dressing rooms lead from there. My dressing room door leading into the hall was kept locked from the inside to prevent access by the students. Alongside it was a full length mirror with two way glass in it. It was a bit sneaky, but it allowed us teachers to see what was going on in the hall while we're getting changed, without being seen from the other side. It was not unusual for boys especially to try to 'raid', or have a crafty peek into the girls' changing rooms. This two way mirror gave us some control! I looked out into the hall!. I had an excellent view of what occurred. But, even then, I cannot be sure that the rest of this account is totally accurate. I have to write it as though the events happened in sequence, when, in fact, they were more or less concurrent.. My account represents snapshots of vision, expanded by imagination and conjecture to the point where I'm not sure where fact and fantasy collide. All I do know is, it was the most enervating sexual sensation I've ever experienced! Two of the boys were holding a girl (young Becky Windsor) by the arms. Scott Hooper was shouting something and was about to throw a punch at the girl. I thought that I'd better get ready to intervene, when the girls' rugby team charged in and threw themselves at the boys. In seconds there was chaos as boys and girls fought each other in a ferocious battle for supremacy, with no quarter given....by the girls! Taken completely by surprise, several of the boys went down under the girls' assault. Myra Mitchell sent Hooper flying, then scrambled on top of him and smashed her fists into the prostrate boy while he lay there half stunned. Becky, in her skimpy running briefs and sports bra, stood over the pair of them, driving her foot into Hooper's body whenever the opportunity presented itself, with the manic fury of someone who's just been dragged back from the edges of fear. Betty Boyle grappled with the powerful figure of John Rundle as he staggered back from being barged into by Hooper. She bore him into the wall, pinned him there with a hand pushing up to his throat, and drove her knee into the boy's balls, then stood back as his muscular body folded over and he crashed to the floor at the girl's feet. Callously, she dropped to her knees beside the boy's rolled up body, picked her spot and drove her fist several times into the side of his face, pounding him until he was begging her to stop through floods of tears.. She got to her feet and kicked him disdainfully in the ribs. He just lay there, his body wracked with tears of pain and humiliation. The boy was finished, broken by a girl. It seemed that everywhere I looked there were girls on top of boys, pony tails flying as they pounded their male opponents with their fists, or fought to control the boys' arms in trials of strength which, surely, only the boys could win. Except that they didn't! A wrestling match was taking place. It was Jason Bryant and Diane McBride. Male and female bodies were locked together, rolling, threshing frantically, as first the boy, then the girl got on top. Then Diane got one hand free, plunged it between the boy's legs and got hold of his balls. His body bucked in agony. He tried to tear her hand away. He rolled over, taking the girl with him, trying to force her to release her hold. But Diane was relentless. She had him by the balls and refused to let go. Gradually the boy's struggles dwindled, then ceased. She had him totally in her power! Diane manoeuvered their bodies until she was on top of the boy, looking down at him, a faint smile on her lips as she savoured her superiority. I could hear him pleading, "I give, please, aaargh! I give." But the girl took no notice. She looked so innocently pretty as she smiled calmly into the boy's tear-filled eyes and mercilessly tortured his balls until his pleas died away and he lay crying uncontrollably as the girl broke his spirit. She let go his balls, cocked her tiny fist, and smashed it once, twice, thrice into the boy's face. Then she rose lithely to her feet, looked down so serenely at the boy she'd beaten, and kicked him twice in the ribs. A beautiful, young, feral, female huntress stood over her prey as he lay crying on the floor. It was bedlam as male and female voices were raised in fear, pain, excitement and triumph. And it was the female voices that were registering the latter emotions. The surprise and fury of the girls' assault on them, the exhausted state they were in after the rugby match and the superior fighting skills of the girls all contributed to the defeat of the boys and another stunning victory for the girls. Paula Smith was holding up a shirt and a pair of shorts she'd taken from Williams, who lay naked at her feet, and was shouting, "Strip them, girls!" Diane and Betty got the message and hauled the clothing from Bryant and Rundle respectively I should have intervened then as, already, three boys lay beaten, crying and naked on the floor, but I had to remember my own state of nudity. I could hardly barge in like this, and my cock was monstrously erect again. I was supercharged with sexual excitement as I watched the nubile young girls destroy the burly males who opposed them. The other boys were also in trouble. I had noticed David Foot, looking totally terrified, make a dash for the boys' changing room when the girls attacked. But Joanna Ridley stuck out a foot and tripped him up, sending him crashing to the floor. Now Joanne sat astride the boy's back. She held him by the hair and had twisted his head round so that she could smash her other fist his cheek. Exhausted by the rugby match, winded by his fall and dazed and bewildered by the hammering he was receiving from the girl, Foot was crying his eyes out, offering no resistance while the girl beat him into submission. Ross Campbell had two girls to contend with. Monica Friend held the powerfully built boy with an arm twisted up behind his back and his head held by the hair, while Fiona Hart furiously smashed her fists into his face and body. Campbell tried to use his strength to escape the girls' onslaught, but he was losing the battle and his heavily muscled legs were beginning to buckle when Don Fletcher intervened to try to save him from further punishment. All the boy did was remonstrate with Fiona, but that was enough. The pumped up young girl, hardly pausing in her hammering of Campbell, shouted something at Fletcher, then kicked him savagely in the balls. Then she turned round and did the same to Campbell. Both boys went down and sank to the floor in a bizarre ballet of synchronised collapsing! Monica let Campbell fall, then callously stomped him on the back of the neck. She turned him over so that he lay spread-eagled, barely conscious and helpless at her feet as she pulled his hands away from his injured balls. Then she finished him completely by dropping with both knees into the supine boy's muscular stomach, driving the air from his powerful body, leaving him gasping like a landed fish, crying fitfully, heaving sobs sending spasms of grief through his powerful frame. As he lay winded, in shock, completely beaten by the girls, Monica stripped him naked, kicked him several times to keep him in his place, put her foot on his brawny chest and held her arms up in triumph. Fiona was about to lay into Don Fletcher in a similar act of female destruction of the male, when young Becky frantically intervened. (No doubt telling Fiona how Fletcher had tried to save her from Hooper's assault. Ms Forbes.) Fiona, instead of wading into the prostrate boy, bent over him and said something. An agreement was obviously reached, because, without any resistance from Fletcher, or any more aggression from Fiona, the girl removed the boy's shirt and shorts, and left him to lie nursing his aching balls. I was trembling with excitement. The naked bodies of some of the toughest, strongest boys in the school lay sprawled over the floor of the hall, while the girls who had beaten them celebrated their triumph. They were exultant, lifted sky high by the adrenaline coursing through their lithe, female bodies, 'high fiving' and hugging each other, posing with their feet on the beaten boys' necks, chests and genitals, while photos were taken with cell phones, hastily retrieved from the girls' dressing room. Their victory was complete. The boys lay crying on the floor, broken in body and mind, their fighting spirit beaten out of them by the curvaceous young girls, who were smaller, lighter, almost half their size! Half the size of the magnificently muscled males they'd completely destroyed in combat! To be continued............................