Finals Week at the Bly Finishing School

Hello Friends,



The piece below is something I've been mulling for the better part of six months and finally managed to put together during the course of the last month and change. Normally I'd give you a hint as to what to expect, but I think it's more fun to go in blind on this one. Suffice to say that much like our protagonist, I believe you'll find your time spent at this particular (and peculiar) instituion most educational.



Hope you enjoy,



~rf



PS. You might not need a lunch, but I'd suggest grabbing a snack or two because this thing checks in at 47 pages.



*********



Monday



LENORE LEMARCHAND:





Lenore Lemarchand was about to press [send] on a lengthy text message to Kent Allard extolling the bleak beauty of the Dartmoor countryside, when the Wi-Fi, impeccable since she’d first arrived in London earlier that day, vanished like it had never existed.



More surprised than concerned, she let her thumb hang over the button as she watched to see if the little ‘connected’ symbol would return. Lenore held on for a full minute before she shook her head and slipped her phone into the top pocket of the small purse / backpack that was her only luggage save for one small carryon she’d set on the empty half of the backseat.



“Phone go dead?” the driver asked, startling her the tiniest bit.



Snorting at her own reaction, the FAWN star nodded and replied, “Just a moment ago, yes. It’d been fine up until then.”



The driver, an affable middle-aged man who’d proudly introduced himself as Hiram Marsh when he’d picked her up at the Gatwick terminal, nodded understanding. “Means we’re getting close to Bly. Don’t ask me why, but wireless anything within ten miles of the school is dodgy as all hell. Caused me some serious problems the first time I had to drive someone out here. Thank heavens my passenger had actually printed directions otherwise we might still be out there wandering the moors.”



“Oh?” Lenore arched an amused eyebrow, though Hiram seemed to take it for distress, given the hurried nature of his response.



“Not that there’s anything to fear, miss. I didn’t mean to give you that impression at all. I only got turned around that one time and that’s been almost ten years ago now. I’ve been taking folks out to and back from Bly three or four times a year since then and I could make this trip blindfolded.” he paused, then added, “Not that I ever have, mind you.”



“So I guess you’re in pretty good with the people that run the… college? Academy? I know the letterhead says ‘Finishing School’, but that could mean just about anything.”



Hiram didn’t answer right away because he’d slowed the Rolls (a burgundy Phantom that Lenore still couldn’t get over) to go through a near-hairpin turn around the edge of a low crumbling wall that looked older than Stonehenge. Once the road straightened out he shrugged and offered the brunette a vaguely apologetic glance. “Your guess is as good as mine, miss. I’d first thought it was just another snooty prep school in the middle of nowhere, might as well be a natural resource here, if you’ll pardon my impertinence.”



Lenore smiled wide. “No need to mince words on my account. Impertinence is a laudable quality. You’re welcome to speak freely, far as I’m concerned.”



Hiram looked relieved, then offered an amused shrug. “Speaking truthfully I can’t rightly tell what goes on behind those gates. Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure it’s an all girls affair because in my time working this contract I’ve only chauffeured a fella out this way…oh, twice, I think. And he looked every bit the scholarly septuagenarian.”



“Guess one scholarly septuagenarian to a few dozen sorority types is a pretty good ratio.”



“Oh, I think I’ve delivered as many students as professors to Bly. Hiram answered. “Not that I’m tooting my own horn, miss. The students are covered by another part of our contract, Steph and Mel get them out there and back in a couple big vans about twice a year, in conjunction with the end of a semester I think. While they’ve never told me as such, administration out there is a damnably vague lot, I get the impression that I’m the one they call when they need to bring out a VIP, if you’ll pardon the flattery, miss.”



“I’m not sure I’d consider ‘guest lecturer’ enough to qualify for VIP status, but I’ll take it if it means more rides in a Rolls Royce.”



“Only the best for Bly. It might as well be written in stone on our contract with the school, miss. And I wouldn’t sell yourself short. Considering some of the others I’ve brought out here, I’d say you’re in very good company.”



This piqued Lenore’s interest. She’d done some asking around after the offer first arrived, but she hadn’t been able to talk to anyone who’d been on the Bly campus. Even Emily could offer no insight, which was almost unheard of.



“Is that so? Anyone I might recognize?”



Hiram nodded. “I’m not one to drop names miss, but I’ve brought more than my share of actresses, usually starlet or action heroine types, to the dooryard of Bly Finishing School. There’s also been a handful of athletes, about as many singers, and at least one prima ballerina.”



Lemarchand furrowed her brow, trying to suss out the thread that linked such disparate groups of women. “That’s… very interesting, Hiram.” she said after failing to come up with a theory that satisfied.



The driver nodded, considered his thoughts for a moment, then added, “Would it interest you to know that I’ve ferried a few of your coworkers along this very route over the last ten years, miss?”



Lenore had been looking out the window at the verdant green countryside (everything was shades of green and gray and she loved it), now her attention snapped to the eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. “That’s a hell of a way to tease a lady, Hiram.”



“Not teasing you miss, I swear. You are thee, let me think on it… fourth FAWN wrestler I’ve picked up from Gatwick.”



“Unless you’ve signed some sort of NDA with this school I’m gonna need names, Hiram.”



An odd look crossed his face, albeit only for a moment. Then he smiled again and all was well. “Bethany Christian was the first, in fact I’m pretty sure she was the third or fourth ‘name’ I ever brought to Bly. A few years after that came the icy Frenchwoman, what was her name? Anciline! Anciline… dammit, I’m blanking.”



“de Cyr.” Lenore finished for him. “Anci came all the way out here? That’s unexpected. And who was the third?”



Hiram positively beamed when he answered, “None other than Manchester’s finest, ‘Sensational’ Shea London.”



“You’re shytting me!” Lemarchand leaned forward in her seat, unable to wrap her head around the idea that the other FAWN talents invited to Bly had consisted of a current executive, a former World Champion and current part owner and arguably the greatest World Champion in the promotion’s history.” The Raven added her own name to the other three and murmured, “One of these things is not like the other.”



“Hey, what’d I say about selling yourself short?” Hiram said. “The Sensational One’s my favorite, yeah. But don’t think I wasn’t pleased to see a little placard with your name on it waiting at my desk this morning. Those matches you had with Adelaide Brewster are among my, oh, we’re here.”



He made a careful turn off the main road onto a narrow lane that offered barely six inches of clearance from high, pressing hedges on either side. They’d gone no more than a hundred feet when Hiram stopped the car in front of an imposing wrought iron gate that had to be at least twelve feet high. To the right of the gate was a small callbox. Hiram rolled down the window, leaned out and pressed a button, then raised an ID badge.



“Hiram Marsh with Marsh’s Livery Service. Ms. Lenore Lemarchand is with me, I believe she’s expected.”



The response from the callbox was as pleasant as it was immediate. “Thank you, Hiram. I’ll open the gate presently, please bring our guest to the front door, I’ll meet you there.”



“Yes, miss. See you shortly.”



He raised the window, the gate rumbled open and the Rolls glided onto the grounds of the Bly Finishing School. That learned institution did not immediately present itself because the driveway wound through a copse of trees for at least a quarter of a mile or so, but then the trees cleared and Lenore Lemarchand couldn’t suppress an impressed whistle.



“It’s beautiful.” she said without realizing it.



“Yes it is.” Hiram agreed.



“What was it originally? No way this place started life as a prep school.”



“Believe it was the country home of some minor lord or lady. This place has been here since the sixteenth century, if you’d believe that, miss.”



Lenore regarded the three story stone pile with the five gables and four chimneys and agreed that oh yes, she could believe that real easy.



“And this is where we part ways, miss.” the driver noted as he parked the Phantom a couple yards shy of the double doors. “At least for now. I’ll be back on Saturday to drive you to the airport.”



Lenore looked around, didn’t see anyone in sight. “So do I knock or, aahhh, never mind.”



The door swung open and a slim, dark-haired woman of perhaps twenty-seven strode up the Rolls and leaned down beside Hiram’s window. “Punctual as always, Mr. Marsh. Good to see you again.”



“You too, miss Beatriz.” he answered with a smile, before looking over one shoulder to his passenger. “May I help you with your bag, miss?”



“Maybe on the way back. And only if you call me Lenore.”



“I’ll do my best, miss Lenore.”



Offering him a final thanks, she climbed out on the far side and walked across the immaculately maintained drive once Hiram drove off into the purpling twilight.



“Miss Lemarchand, it is a pleasure to meet you.” the other brunette took Lenore’s hand the instant it was offered. “I’m Beatriz Morales, we spoke on the phone several times.”



BEATRIZ MORALES:





“And exchanged twice as many e-mails, as I recall.” Lenore confirmed. “It’s a pleasure to finally put a face to a name.”



“Please forgive me if it seems I can’t stop smiling.” Beatriz after the handshake ended. “I am a, politely put, huge fan of yours and to have you here at Bly is just, well…” Morales glanced around to make sure they were alone, then reached to the hollow of her throat and plucked up a fine silver chain embellished with the figure of a raven clutching a small branch that read ‘Nevermore’.



Lenore smiled, let out a low whistle. “FAWN shop didn’t sell many of those. I’m glad to see it being worn and not for sale on the internet.”



“Never.” Beatriz shook her head. “I treated myself to this after I won my first match here at Bly. It’s been an amazing good luck charm. Speaking of which, she turned to the ancient manor and swept a hand toward the door. “Shall I give you the tour?”



“Please.”



Beatriz took the lead with Lenore a few steps behind.



The visitor expected (or perhaps just hoped) for an appropriately gothic creak from the huge door, but it swung in silence on well-oiled hinges. Having spent the last decade of her life wrestling on six of the seven continents, Lemarchand had stayed in lodgings both modest and extravagant, but the Bly Finishing School was different than anything in her experience thus far. Aside from the luxurious appointments and furnishings, there seemed to be a weight to the air, not oppressive, but one that made you feel like a part of history.



“This place doesn’t look like a Finishing School,” she noted as Beatriz led her from the foyer through a large sitting room to what seemed to be a study area, “more like a luxury hotel.”



“I suppose it is, after a fashion.” Morales replied. “Though the ‘guests’ here work extremely hard to earn their keep and our curriculum is much more taxing than the likes of croquet or badminton.”



“It’s all true, then.” Lenore’s tone suggested she still didn’t quite believe it. “This place is a private college for catfighters.”



“Don’t let the Headmistress hear you using the ‘C’ word out loud.” Beatriz said with a grin. “As far as she’s concerned we’re all here to further our education in what she’s deemed ‘the savage arts’.”



“We? You’re a student then? My apologies, I’d assumed you were administration.”



“I have a head for paperwork, so I assist in the front office when needed, but yes, I am a full time student. Or will be for another few days.” she paused, turned to Lenore and smiled again. “I just have to get through my Final Exam.”



“You mean me.” Lenore stopped walking because she felt the hair on her neck stand on end as a low but almost audible competitive current thrummed between them. “May I be honest, Beatriz?”



“I insist upon it, Miss Lemarchand.” “First, I insist you call me Lenore. Second, I’m not sure how comfortable I am serving as the roadblock that stands between students and their graduation. I didn’t fly halfway around the world just to lose, but I’m not looking to spoil someone’s--”



Morales raised a hand and Lenore fell silent. “Apologies miss… apologies, Lenore. There is no need for hesitation, ‘Final Exam’ is a misnomer, one that persists in hanging around because it sounds much cooler than ‘Extra Credit’ or ‘Commencement Speaker’, which is a bit more accurate in terms of your role over the next three days.”



“You’re already set to graduate then? Regardless of what happens in the ring?”



“Oh yes, the paperwork’s already been filed and accepted. But being selected to as one of the three Bly Seniors to test her skills against the Guest Lecturer? I didn’t know I’d been chosen for that until late last night. Thus my poorly suppressed excitement. Shall we resume our walk? Your quarters are on the third floor and I’d like to get you settled in before dinner.”



“Lead on, as long as you don’t mind me asking more questions.”



“Not at all. This way please.” Beatriz made for a wide staircase on the far side of the room and started up.



“So these not-really Final Exams start tomorrow?” Lemarchand asked. “Are you first on the docket?”



“Yes they do, tomorrow evening to be precise. And no, I will be your opponent on the following evening.”



“I see. And are the others as amiable as you?”



“Rosalind Pruitt’s a bit brassy and quite a bit too loud for my tastes, but she’s a spirited competitor. She’ll be the first, I believe she’s asking for one fall of pins only wrestling. Jane Stone is your third and final adversary and while she is neither brassy or loud, she is, pardon my bluntness, an evil, merciless bytch. She will almost assuredly challenge you to submission wrestling and she will do everything in her power to make you regret setting foot in the Bly ring.”



Lenore caught the anger in Beatriz’s reply. “She stretch you out a couple of times? Take some liberties she shouldn’t have?”



“It comes with the territory, Lenore.” Morales smiled thinly. “Besides, I give just as good as I get.”



They’d reached the third floor landing which lead directly to a hallway that seemed to run the entire length of the floor. Beatriz hooked left and Lenore slipped into place beside her so the other brunette wouldn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder. “So what about you, Beatriz? What’s the topic of your Final Exam?”



“I’m challenging you to a contest of competitive wrestling, one fall to a finish, knockouts only. Scissors and HOM Smothers are my specialty, Lenore. And I mean to put you to sleep in the middle of the my ring.”



“You’re certainly welcome to try.” Lemarchand answered Beatriz’s smirk with one of her own. “Just as long as you don’t mind taking a little nap when it’s all over.”



Morales stopped in front of a door adorned with a brass plate reading ‘Guest Lecturer’. “I most certainly would mind. But it wouldn’t be a Final Exam without stakes, would it?”



“No, it would not.” the Raven agreed. “This is your room and these are your keys.” Beatriz handed her an actual key ring with honest to God brass keys. There’s a small gym inside, but these will give you access to all the facilities on the grounds, should you want something a bit more intensive.” she trailed off to check her watch. “Dinner is in half an hour, I’ll let you get settled in, then come back a few minutes before, assuming you don’t mind a dining companion.”



“And sit in the cafeteria all by myself? I think not.”



“Excellent! Any other questions before I go?” “Just one. The Headmistress, I get the impression she’s the one who picked me for all of this. Will I meet her at dinner?”



“Unlikely. She doesn’t eat with the students, at least I’ve never seen her do so. In truth she tends to keep out of sight more often than not, but she’ll be there to witness each of the Finals, so you’ll meet her then.”



This struck the Courtier as slightly peculiar. In her dealings with academic administrators, the highest of the higher ups never missed an opportunity to shake hands or get a picture with some visiting dignitary, even if that dignitary was a professional wrestler. Still, she had to admit it was refreshing to deal with someone with that sort of clout who kept a low profile.



“Works for me. Dinner’s in half an hour?”



“Yes. And I’ll be back in twenty-five minutes.”



“Perfect. See you soon.”



“See you soon.” Beatriz Morales echoed. “And once again, welcome to the Bly Finishing School. We’re so pleased to have you with us this week.”



********

Tuesday



“Feel that, honey?” the blonde chided Lenore as she continued to press her breasts against the brunette’s battle-warm cheek. “That’s the Bly difference that’s all up in your business!”



ROSALIND PRUITT:





“Enough chitchat, Rosalind.” came the cool, albeit slightly amused voice of the Headmistress. “This contest is currently far too close for such boisterous showboating.”



Lemarchand abruptly shot her right hand into the air as if to emphasize the point, though it was forced back down immediately thereafter by the hardbody blonde.



Confident that her Double-Leg Grapevine / Chest Press combination would doom the brunette sooner than later, Rosalind Pruitt spread her stems a little wider and leaned in that much closer, the increased pressure forcing a breathy little ‘oooooffhh’ from her so-called ‘Final Exam’. “Shoulders are down, honey.” she told Lenore. “You know what that means. ONE… TWO… THREE… FOUR-”



Lemarchand thrust her hips up, the timely bridge enough to get her left shoulder off the canvas and thus break the count. Smile growing wider as the visitor went flat again, Rosalind looked up, craning her head toward the Headmistress’ small private viewing area. “I respectfully disagree, Headmistress. Girl started strong, but she couldn’t keep up once I pinned her downnnrrrrrrggggghhhh!”



Lenore’s legs, which had spent the last few minutes trapped and splayed beneath Rosalind’s spring-tanned thighs, slipped out from under opposing stems and threaded over from the top. Cinched in shin to calf, Lemarchand hooked her heels against the blonde’s ankles and wrenched the Bly Girl’s legs apart at a sharp angle with an answering Double Leg Grapevine.



Rosalind grimaced and lifted her chest but pressed down that much harder with her tummy. “Nice try, hun.” Pruitt huffed. “But ‘nice’ isn’t gonna get you out of NGH!”



Lenore twisted her left hand free of the senior’s grip and interrupted with a brusque slap across the face. The blonde’s dark eyes flashed and she grabbed hold of Lemarchand’s escaped wrist, or rather she tried for it and ended up engaged in some serious hand-fighting instead. Flashing a smile of her own as she could feel her opponent’s previously snug mount starting to unravel, Lenore slipped her right hand free of Rosalind’s clutches and turned the tables by catching the blonde’s hand in a Greco-Roman Knucklelock.



“Wanna know what’s gonna get me out of here, sweetie? This.”



The Fair and Radiant Maiden popped her hips a second time, only now she shifted all her weight to the right. Pruitt cried out in angry dismay that gave way to a breathless grunt when Lemarchand scrambled into a full-body mount. Quick to secure the Grapevine from a more advantageous angle now that she was on top, Lenore traded her Knucklelocks for Wristlocks, which she used to pin Rosalind’s hands high overhead. She probably could’ve controlled both of the squirming blonde’s wrists with one hand if she’d needed one free, but Lemarchand kept the one-to-one ratio to give her a little more security when she slid up and brought her chest down on Pruitt’s startled face!



“Bytch!” Rosalind twisted her head to the side to break the smother, though Lenore’s lycra-sheathed bounty was still pressed tight to the blonde’s cheek and jaw. “There are no smothers in this match!”



“Which is why I let you turn your head to the side.” Lemarchand chirped. “THAT’S the Black Court difference, honey!” With the senior pinned down tight, the guest lecturer began to count, “ONE…TWO… THR--”



“NO!” Rosalind lifted a shoulder, got it forced down almost immediately.



Unlike her opponent, Lenore didn’t spend any time addressing the Headmistress. Instead she slid her feet up to just north of her opponent’s knees, all the better to stretch Pruitt’s legs that much farther apart. “ONE… TWO… THREE… FOURRRRRHHHH!”



Rosalind got one hand free but rather than push at her opponent’s chin or shoulder she twisted a length of brunette ponytail around her fist and pulled hard enough to put a kink in the Raven’s neck.



Teeth bared against the burn in her scalp, Lenore put a little more strain on the captured blonde, though she made no effort to start a count. Instead she asked, “What’s Bly’s position on hair-pulling, Headmistress?”



“Encouraged and appreciated for students and guests alike, Ms. Lemarchand, as I would hope Rosalind’s technique suitably demonstrates.”



That was more than enough answer for the Raven.



She mashed Pruitt’s bound wrists together and pinned them in place with her right hand. Offering Rosalind a smile even as the Bly Girl redoubled the efforts on her hair, Lenore raked her left hand through her opponent’s golden mane a few times before she grabbed hold and yanked like she meant to take a trophy!



“OOOWWW YOU NASTY WHORE!” Pruitt yowled in pain, her grip on Lemarchand’s ponytail falling by the wayside as she clamped down on the visitor’s wrist.



“Such epithets are useless in your current predicament, Ms. Pruitt.” the Headmistress noted over the din. “If you wish to properly denigrate our visitor, you’ll have to force her from her perch.”



“Not likely, sweetheart.” Lenore murmured to no one in particular.



Still holding a great hank of Rosalind Pruitt’s hair, she extended it overhead and actually succeeded in wrapping the end around her foe’s left wrist! Then she doubled down on the Wristlocks raised her hips from Rosalind’s tummy just long enough to ensure the blonde understood what was about to happen. Thwhap-thwhap-THWHAP! Lemarchand smashed her hips into opposing belly once, twice, thrice, a tactic that might’ve been tawdry if meant to do anything other than drive the air from Pruitt’s lungs.



Since Beatriz and Jane were far too controlled to cheer or jeer at their classmate’s misfortune, the small arena remained silent in the aftermath, save perhaps for a soft, interested ‘Hmmmmmhh’ from the direction of the Headmistress’ private booth. Lenore noted this at the periphery, she was otherwise focused on swinging up ninety degrees, the lissome brunette moving like clock hands going from six to nine. This meant a shift from Full Body to Crossbody, an arrangement Lemarchand secured by yanking Pruitt’s right arm out at shoulder level.



“NO!” Rosalind writhed and twisted like a live wire, her flailing knees coming dangerously close to Lenore’s right flank on several occasions. “GODDAMMIT, GET OFF! I SAID--DAMMIT!”



The Raven drew Rosalind’s right arm between her thighs and squeezed until the senior beat her heels against the cool canvas. “You want me off? Take the Headmistress’ advice.” Lemarchand grabbed Pruitt’s left wrist in both hands and stretched it out at shoulder level, drawing another growl from the blonde. The Crossbody was good, but not quite finished until Lenore wriggled into position across Rosalind’s gulping chest.



Infuriated by the brunette’s left hip snuggled in against her exposed throat, Pruitt planted both feet and let out a roar as she bridged, yet it still couldn’t get her shoulders off the mat.



Or stop Emily’s Lady in Waiting from counting out, “ONE… TWO… THREE…. FOUR… FIVE, PIN!”



A polite little chime from ringside confirmed her assessment, so Lenore broke the cover and got to her feet. Rosalind Pruitt did the same, though she smacked an angry hand against the mat before joining the winner.



Noting the downcast eyes and sulky body language, the Headmistress chided, “Shake your opponent’s hand, Ms. Pruitt. You know the rules at Bly.”



Rosalind took a deep breath, let it out slow and forced herself to meet Lenore’s gaze. After a moment she extended her hand. “Good match.”



Lenore took it. “Good match.” she agreed.



“And what have we learned today, Ms. Pruitt?” asked the Headmistress.



“There’s always something more to learn, Headmistress.”



Lenore thought she recited that line with the lack of enthusiasm specifically reserved for an oft-repeated lesson.



“Indeed there is. Excellent work on your Final, you are excused.”



“Thank you, Headmistress.” Rosalind Pruitt turned around and exited the ring without another word.



“As for you Ms. Lemarchand, that was an impressive start to your tenure here at Bly. I trust you’re feeling well enough to proceed with the previously discussed schedule?”



Lenore nodded once. “I’m not about to let Beatriz down. If she’s ready, I’m ready.”



“Excellent!” the Headmistress stood up and clapped her hands. “Then the first day of Finals is officially over. Ms. Morales, please see our guest back to her room. I’ll see everyone back here at the same time tomorrow afternoon.”



*******



Later…



Beatriz and Lenore were halfway up the stairs to the third floor when then the former turned to the latter and said, “If you’ll allow me a moment to unleash my inner fan-girl, that was amazing! I feel for Roz of course, no one wants to lose their Final, but I’ve never had the chance to see you wrestle live, so getting the opportunity in what’s effectively a private show…” she took a deep breath and let it all out in a happy sigh. “I’m so glad you accepted the offer to proctor these Exams.”



Still dressed in her ring togs (a surprisingly modest black one-piece with white trim and her last name emblazoned on the seat in bold white letters), Lemarchand couldn’t help but match the other brunette’s enthusiastic expression, though she couldn’t resist the opportunity to prod her new friend the tiniest bit. “Is that so? Or maybe you’re just trying to get on my good side so I’ll take it easy on you tomorrow night? A time-tested strategy Bee, but I assure you it won’t work.”



The Spaniard’s grin shifted from pleased to competitive. “I know you’re just needling me and I probably shouldn’t tell you how many times I’ve directed promos at a poster of yours I’ve got on my wall, so I’ll leave it at this: If you consider me a friend--”



“I do.” Lenore confirmed.



Morales nodded before she went on. “If you consider me a friend, then I ask of you, beg of you, don’t even think about giving me anything less than a hundred percent during my Final Exam. Because the only thing more thrilling than wrestling you in the Bly ring, is beating you in the Bly ring. And believe me when I say I am going to leave everything I have on the canvas to ensure it’s the Headmistress asking YOU what you learned when the match is over.”



“That’s a solid promo for someone practicing in front of a mirror.” Lenore said softly. “Tell me, did you script out my reply?”



Bee snorted, nodded confirmation. “Yeah, I did.”



“I hope it sounded something like this.” The Raven stepped across the stairs so she was less than six inches from the other brunette. “If you’re the fan you say you are, then you know I would NEVER take it easy on someone I respected. That ring in the gym might have the Bly seal on it, but when the match is over it… and you, are going to belong to the Raven… forevermore.”



Beatriz almost squealed with delight as she wrapped Lenore in a hug! “You forevermored me!” she giggled. “I can’t believe I got forevermored! I love it!” She drew back and took a look around to make sure no one else had seen what was probably considered an egregious breach of decorum at the Bly Finishing School.



“Thank you for taking this seriously.” she said when the hug was over. “Thank you for taking ME seriously. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”



“Then show me in the ring. Show me what Rosalind couldn‘t.” Lenore said as they resumed their climb up the stairs.



“You have my word, Lenore. That’s a promise.”



Wednesday



If asked, Lenore Lemarchand would have admitted that the Final Exam of her new friend Beatriz Morales was the most fun she’d ever had when someone was trying to smother her unconscious.



The test began with a handshake and promptly segued into a grinding mutual Headlock strong enough to bend both brunettes over double. Less than thirty seconds later they’d sought their first HOM Smothers, the Raven and the Bly Girl playing a rather intense game of ‘Got Yer Nose!’ (and mouth) while simultaneously working to keep their own features clear of the other woman’s grasp.



Now, more than twenty-five minutes later, Lenore and Beatriz were stretched out on shoulder and hip (left for the proctor, right for the senior) almost tummy to tummy as their legs slipped and slid, tangled and twined in a constant struggle for control. But the real battle was waged with their hands, Lemarchand and Morales each helping themselves to a glossy handful of brunette ponytail, all the better to steady their opponent’s head for those stifling Palm Smothers.



Neck straining in an effort to pull her face away from Beatriz’s encroaching hand, Lenore let out a cry of muffled pleasure when she finally threaded her legs around the Spaniard’s upper thighs. Continuing to squeeze long after she was rewarded with a wheezy groan against her own palm, Lemarchand abandoned her hold on Morales’ hair so she could clamp down on the senior’s wrist and pull that hand away.



“Gotcha now, Bee.” Lenore pinched the other brunette’s nose a little harder, ground her palm against Beatriz’s mouth. “It’s about time for all good little girls to be in NNNGGGHHH!”



Morales let Lemarchand have her hair back for the purpose of paintbrushing her cheek with a few quick slaps!



“Excellent work, Ms. Morales!” the Headmistress emphasized her compliment with a polite golf clap. “Don’t let our esteemed visitor intimidate you! Yes! Both hands now!”



Beatriz wrenched her captured hand free of Lenore’s grip, then cupped both palms over the Courtier’s mouth and nose! Equally disconcerting, she squirmed loose of her foe’s Scissors and got them around Lenore’s waist! The pressure against her ribs loosened Lemarchand’s grip enough for Morales to shake loose of the HOM, the red-clad senior grinning widely as she tried to squeeze all the air from her opponent’s body.



“Indeed, the hour is growing late, mi amiga. And I see your eyelids starting to flutter. Perhaps it’s time I tucked you in for the nighOFH! OFH! OFH!”



“Protect your flanks, Ms. Morales.” the Headmistress said of the hard open handed SLAPS Lenore laid into her opponent’s belly and hip.



Beatriz frowned, shook her head ‘no’ and bore down on Scissors and Smother. “She’s slowing down, Headmistress! Those slaps are nothing I can’t HEY! MMMMMPPPPPHHHHHH!”



Aware that she’d run out of air sooner or later no matter how well she regulated her breathing, Lenore went back to the HOM Smother, but rather than doubling down on it as her opponent had she pressed her other hand across Beatriz’s eyes! Startled by the sudden darkness, Morales pulled and strained to get her face clear, which in turn allowed Lemarchand to slip her mug free of the Bly Girl’s mitts. Content to work by feel rather than sight, the Fair & Radiant Maiden kept Morales preoccupied with the Eye Mask and Palm Press while she slowly but surely worked to slide her legs free of--THERE!



Lenore broke the Scissors and raised both knees to the other brunette’s tummy for a sort of truncated hands-free shove that pushed Beatriz onto her back. Just like that the Raven shifted up and in, all the better to strap her legs across the other brunette’s waist.



“MMMMRRRRGGGGHHHH!”



“You are in very real danger, Ms. Morales.” the Headmistress proclaimed with a faint angry edge to her voice. “Deal with those Scissors or…”



Beatriz stopped tugging at the hand over her eyes and reached down to push and slap at the meat of her attacker’s thigh. This reaction was understandable considering that every sinew and fiber of Lenore’s legs were shredded into shadowy relief with the strain of the Scissors. Unfortunately for Morales it also proved quite disastrous because the visiting brunette snatched hold of that questing hand and promptly eased her clamp just enough to slip Beatriz’s wrist between her thighs.



The senior muttered something unprintable in her native tongue before she abandoned her efforts to remove the eye mask in favor of administering slap after slap after SLAP to the porcelain expanse of Lemarchand’s leg. If it’d been Rosalind or Jane doing the work Lenore would’ve slapped the taste out of their mouths. Since it was Beatriz she slid the eye mask down over her mouth and nose, deftly switching it to another HOM Smother.



“Don’t panic, Ms. Morales.” the Headmistress advised. “You are in dire straights, true. But that’s no excuse to lose your head like a common tramp!”



Lenore spared a glance toward the Headmistress’ booth to see if she (or her rival) had just been zinged, but the lighting was low enough to make the other woman nothing more than a smudgy shadow. Nails dragged across the curve of her thigh brought the Raven’s attention back to the Final Exam. “Apologies, Bee. Didn’t mean to get distracted.”



With her right hand dedicated to sealing off Morales’ airways, Lenore employed the left to catch hold of the claw presently scoring pink lines across her flesh. “Mrrrrrrhhhhh MMMRRRRRHHHHH!” Beatriz’s groan of irritation transformed into a moan of distress when Lemarchand prized the claw from her leg and pulled that arm up over the Spaniard’s head.



“C’mon, you want out?” she asked. “Slip free of my Scissors. You don’t want any help on this Final Exam, I know you don’t!”



“Perish the thought, Ms. Lemarchand.” the Headmistress answered because Morales could not. “Fights at Bly always end decisively. And there’s no such thing as cheating on this sort of Final Exam.”



Lenore couldn’t think of anything to say to that so instead she relinquished the HOM! Beatriz drew in a deep, wheezing breath while the Raven’s change in tactics raised a disapproving cluck from the voice in the shadows. “What did I just say, Ms. Lemarchand? I didn’t invite you here to coddle these--ah, I see. My apologies. Please proceed.”



Turned out the reprieve was only temporary, as the Courtier tugged Morales’ left arm up above her head only to fold it fold the limb down so the Spaniard’s hand was pressed between her own shoulders. It actually looked a great deal like the set-up Adelaide Brewster used for her defibrillating Heart Punch but Lenore wasn’t about to soil this venerated ring (or strike a new friend) with such hateful trash. Rather she went back to the HOM once more, the simple tactic effectively impossible to block now that she’d neutralized Morales’ hands.



“Mmmmrrrpppphhhh…” the burgundy-clad wrestler huffed against her foe’s hand. “MMMMMPPPPPPPPPHHH!”



‘Fight.’ Lenore mouthed to Beatriz. It wasn’t a taunt or a ploy, she genuinely wanted the brunette to find an escape hatch so they could continue their game. But the last couple minutes had taken a severe toll on Morales and in another ten seconds her sinuous struggles had faded away to so much fitful twitching. She pulled and thrashed against the Hand Smother ‘til the very end, which as it turned out came before the minute hand made another full circuit of the clock.



Quite familiar with the soft little ‘drifting off’ sigh by this stage of her career, Lemarchand looked to the Headmistress’ booth and said, “She’s out. Does anyone want to check her?”



“Your word is good enough for me, Ms. Lemarchand. Ring the bell, please.”



The chime sounded from somewhere in the gloom, but Lenore had already broken both holds and sidled into a crouch over Beatriz. “Hey. Hey, wake up.” she tapped Morales’ cheek with two fingers until the Bly Girl’s eyes fluttered open.



“Yuuuuhhh… you caught me with the eye mask.” she said rather sheepishly. “I wasn’t expecting that.”



“You will next time.”



Lenore offered her hand, Beatriz took it and the two wrestlers made it to their feet in a single weary motion. They would have shared a hug, if not for the interruption of the Headmistress. “And what did we learn today, Ms. Morales?”



“That there’s always more to learn, Headmistress.”



“Just so. Ms. Lemarchand, you have something to add?”



“Just that it was a pleasure to wrestle you tonight, Beatriz. I look forward to locking up again sooner than later.”



“As do I, Lenore.” Now they did exchange a hug and the Headmistress did not interrupt, though when they broke apart she said, “And that concludes the second day of Finals. Ms. Stone, would you see Ms. Lemarchand back to her room?”



“I think I can manage on my own, thanks.”



“Tradition runs strong here at Bly, Ms. Lemarchand. Please, allow us these small courtesies.”



Lenore spared a glance at the redhead, who looked anything but courteous. She thought of offering another objection, ultimately stifled it. She nodded to Jane then turned to Beatriz and said, “I’ll see you at dinner.”



“Of course. Thank you again, Lenore.”



“You’re more than welcome.” The Raven looked up into the shadowy booth, not quite sure if the Headmistress was still there or not.



“Good evening, Headmistress.”



“Good evening, Ms. Lemarchand.”



*******



Later…



“Don’t think you’re going to strut in here and run the table on us, luv.”



Absorbed in her mental replay of the match with Bee, Lenore didn’t process Stone’s statement on the first take. “Excuse me?”



“You heard me. Rosalind didn’t take you seriously and Beatriz has always been too nice for her own good. I however am not afflicted with either of these weaknesses. Where they failed, I’ll succeed. Which is to say, I’ll make you beg the Bly way.”



The Raven looked around, saw they were alone in the narrow, immaculately clean hallway that led from the locker room to an exit on the left side of the gym. Eyes locked on Jane Stone while she set her workout bag on that gleaming tile, Lemarchand asked, “Do you have a problem with me, Jane?”



The redhead sniffed derisively. “A problem? That would imply I consider you a threat. And I don’t make a habit of considering wanna-be tuff girls and sub-par wrestlers a threat.”



Lenore met the snide dismissal with a haughty smirk designed to infuriate above all else. “Let me make sure I understand. I’m no threat to you or your Alpha Bytch crown at this catty Kill-Bot factory, and yet you still feel the need to let me know how little you’re threatened by my presence.” she stepped up and tilted her head ever so slightly, all the better to emphasize her height advantage. “Is that the gist of it, sweet--”



CRAAACK! Stone swiped a hard slap across the FAWN star’s cheek!



“Don’t EVER look down your nose at me, twat.” Stone snarled as she jabbed an index finger against Lenore’s sternum. “Don’t you f*cking da--”



Lenore CRA-CRAAACKED the Bly Girl with a quick pair of Slaps, though the latter was more of a pie-face meant to put the smaller wrestler back on her heels. “That was your one free shot, honey.” the Fair & Radiant Maiden explained. “One more and we do this right here in the hallway. Then I knock you out and leave your petulant ass on the Headmistress’ doorstep, are we clear?”



Jane seethed, though she made no effort to close on the woman that was her Final Exam. “You don’t have the skill to carry out such a threat. And I won’t gift wrap an excuse by shredding your scrawny ass twenty-four hours in advance. But you certainly LOOK like a slut who wants to fight, so perhaps a preview is in order?” The question wasn’t all the way out of her mouth when Stone flicked out a hand to secure a pincer on Lemarchand’s right nipple!



Hissing in anger as the Englishwoman tweaked her lycra-sheathed bud like a radio dial, Lenore responded with an identical grip, Jane’s preppy-sensible blouse and bra just as ineffectual as the American’s togs.



Brunette and redhead continued the near-silent torture test for more than thirty seconds, both women refusing to break away until some silent signal told them it was over. Stepping back from the taller woman, Jane Stone almost put a hand to her chest only to point at Lenore instead.



“Celebrate tonight, slag.” she threatened. “Because tomorrow you learn what it means to really lose at Bly.” With that said, she rounded on one heel and stormed off down the hall, leaving Lenore alone within seconds.



Refusing to wince, Lemarchand reached down, picked up her gym back and slung it over her shoulder. “Like I said, I can find my own way.” she muttered.



Thursday



“See bytch?” Jane Stone’s voice was hot and mean in Lenore’s left ear. “Just like I promised, you’re not gonna strut into Bly and run the table on us!”



JANE STONE:





Currently knotted down in a particularly nasty STF made all the nastier by a pair of three fingered fishhooks, the Raven’s only response was a garbled snarl and rough raking of her nails down the redheaded Briton’s right forearm.



Jane chuckled with vicious delight, sunk her hooks a little deeper and bobbled the American’s head until that snarl became a squeal. “Tap.” Stone demanded. “Tap, you overrated skag.”



“Ms. Stone, I would AGAIN remind you that your current tactics are in direct conflict with Bly’s Code of Conduct.” the Headmistress called out, presumably in regard to Stone’s face-mauling tactics.



“Only the spirit, not the letter, Headmistress.” Jane’s gaze was directed to the booth, but the lips were oh so close to her opponent’s ear. “And if the little bird really wants out, she can always submit! Do you WANT to submit, brat?”



Propped on her right elbow (that hand was currently digging into the redhead’s right wrist) Lenore stretched out her left arm and waggled a finger ‘no, no, no!’



Displeased by the denial, Stone crooked her index fingers a little tighter and puuuuuuulled up, wrenching the Courtier’s mouth into an agonized, involuntary smile. “What was that, luv? Jane hissed. “Please be so kind as to enunciate properly when you’re sniveling for mercOOOOWWWWWW!”



Lemarchand finally succeeded in finding the pressure point on Stone’s right wrist and she pressed hard enough to send a numbing jolt all the way from the redhead’s fingertips to her shoulder and back again. Give the senior credit, she maintained the STF despite the limb-deadening anguish radiating through her arm, however her grasp relaxed enough for Lemarchand to resume dragging their combined weight toward the sanctuary of the rop-- “AAARRRRRRRRHHHHHH BYTCH, STOP!” The Fair & Radiant Maiden’s progress came to a grinding halt when Jane gave up on the Fishhooks to gouge and scrape at Lenore’s eyes!



“IS THAT A SUBMISSION, SLAG?” Stone barked as she continued to score her opponent’s eye sockets. “IS IT?”



“Ms. Stone, I must insist that you--”



“NO!” Lemarchand snarled, whether to deny the surrender or interrupt the Headmistress, no one was sure. “No, I don’t f*cking submit you ginger whore. And if you think clawing my face is gonna make me quit… do your goddamned worSSSRRRRGGGHHH!”



Incensed by such a direct challenge from the outsider, Jane snatched a huge double handful of the Raven’s ponytail and YANKED, forcing Lenore to brace both hands against the mat to alleviate even the tiniest bit of the pain in her scalp and spine. Cheek to cheek with the agonized Courtier, Jane murmured, “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that, little girl.” Halving the hair-hold, Jane reached down with her left hand, helped herself to the scooped neckline of her opponent’s one-piece and tugged until Lemarchand’s modest bounty spilled into view.



Lenore bared her teeth but offered no protest mostly because she had to stifle a shriek when Stone took hold of her right nipple and began to twist. “You can’t beat me on this mat, luv.” Jane explained. “You can’t beat me on ANY mat, because I’m Bly material and you’re just trashSSHHAAAAAARRHH!”



Emily’s Lady in Waiting clamped hold of her tormentor’s wrist, prized the claw away and raised it to her lips so she could chomp down on the meat at the base of Stone’s thumb! Scrambling off the FAWN star without giving it any actual thought, Jane cursed the lapse, then bent down and slashed her nails down Lenore’s back. “Helpless, bytch.” she snarled. “I’m going to tear you apaNNNGGGGHHH!”



Lemarchand barrel-rolled onto her back, drew her right knee up to her chest and THUMPED that foot into the fork of the Englishwoman’s crotch! Jane doubled over at once, her knees coming together, both hands flying to the center of her aggrieved briefs! As for Lenore she slid back a little bit, raised her right knee again and lashed out with a second kick, this one THWHACKING off the Bly Girl’s jaw! Stone stumbled back, one hand flying to her face while the other reached out in search of the ropes that were well out of reach.



Ignoring her own aches and pains as best she could (including the cool touch of re-circulated air on her chest) Lemarchand clambered to her verticality and ‘smecked’ her arms around the redhead’s hips in a snug Waistlock. “Snuuuhhh… sneaking whore.” Jane gaped. “Get your damned hands off of AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”



Lenore loathed anything that made her think of Adelaide Brewster, yet sometimes you just needed to bite a bytch and that’s just what she did to Jane Stone! Jane shrieked to high heaven but couldn’t twist her way free of the brunette’s grip, which proved most problematic when the Fair & Radiant Maiden got real low and popped her hips hard, Lenore taking the smaller wrestler up, over and down with a real steep bridge that PLANTED Stone on the back of her head and shoulders. Lemarchand went up on tiptoe on impact not because she was going to count a pin, but because she wanted the small audience to get a good view of Jane’s bod folded in half. A heartbeat later she released the Waistlock, put her hands against the redhead’s lower back and shoved her onto her side.



Spinning to one knee beside the stunned Englishwoman, Lenore took a few deep breaths while she smoothed her hair down and carefully pulled the rudely distended lycra up over her tits. “I don’t know what your f*cking problem is,” Lemarchand grabbed Stone at hip and shoulder and pulled her onto her back, “and as of this moment, I don’t f*cking care. All I care about is giving you exactly what you’ve earned.



“Snide… snide twat.” Jane was blinking rapidly, the gobsmacked senior fighting to clear her head after that ring-rattling Suplex. “I’m going to humble you… make you beNO!” At least a bit of the redhead’s stupor cleared when Lemarchand stretched her arms out at shoulder-level and planted her shins on those exposed biceps. “NO! DON’T YOU DARE!” Stone thrashed and twisted, her glutes ‘thumping’ against the canvas as she fought to escape the-- “MMMMMPPPPHHHHH!” The Raven slid forward and settled down, Lenore taking great care to ensure Jane’s pert nose slipped between her cheeks.



“Wanna tap? Huh, Janey? Wanna tap?” Lemarchand flattened one hand into a paddle and swatted her opponent’s tummy maybe half a dozen times.



“GGGRRRRHHH! RRRRHHHHH!” Stone’s answering squall was muffled, albeit clearly negative because she managed to wiggle her head from side to side.



“What was that? I asked you a question, cupcake!” Lenore curved her slappin’ hand into a talon and affixed it between her opponent’s thighs!



“GAAAUUUHHHHHHHHHH!” Jane wailed into the depths of that gluteal gulag, tried to cross her thighs and had the effort thwarted when Lenore palmed one knee and pushed her legs apart.



Nodding as she dug her nails into the redhead’s undercarriage, Lenore looked toward the shadowed booth and asked, “Do you want to ask her or shall I?”



A few seconds of silence before the Headmistress replied, “The honor is all yours, Ms. Lemarchand.”



“Hear that, Janey? You’re all mine. Now, do you want to submit or…” the Courtier extended her index finger to tease the clearly-limned outline of her rival’s womanhood. Flashing a small smile at the surprised intake against her cheeks, Lenore took Jane’s lips between thumb and forefinger and began to pinch.



“NNNNNNNHHHHHHH! NNNNNAAAUUUUHHHHHH!”



“Submit?”



Jane stretched her right arm as far as it would go, flailed at the air for a moment, then slapped the canvas once, twice, three times. Lemarchand breathed a sigh of relief that curdled into a confused frown when she didn’t hear the chime. “Headmistress? She’s surrendered.”



“I am aware, Ms. Lemarchand. But the chime has not sounded because Ms. Stone not only violated the Bly Code of Conduct, she was still forced to concede in rather humiliating fashion. To that end, please bring your attention to the timer.”



Lenore did, it blinked into life a short distance below the Headmistress’ booth. Gleaming red LED’s proclaimed 2:00 on the clock. “So two minutes until…”



“Why, until Ms. Stone is allowed to leave the ring, of course. Until then, she’s yours to do with as you see fit.”



Lenore mulled this over, nodded once. “Start it.”



The seconds began to melt away as Lemarchand hooked the fingers of one hand through the leg-holes of Stone’s bottoms. “I don’t know what sort of system Bly uses to score Finals, so here are some suggestions. First, W for wedgie!” The Raven YANKED up and wiggled the lyrca back and forth, sawing it into the suffering senior’s crotch.



“Hmmmmhhh, W doesn’t seem right, now that I give it some thought.” Lenore chirped. “How about E, for excruciating?” Lemarchand crooked her hands into claws, set them just below Stone’s belly button and raaaaaaaaaked all the way up to the southern slopes of her breasts no less than half a dozen times.



Sealed in by the inescapable Ass of Amontillado, Jane Stone could only huff and moan, her fluttering hands occasionally slap-pushing at her rival’s buttocks. Smirking at this ineffectual show, Lenore reached back and swatted her buns, then cupped ‘em in both hands so she could treat her rival to a little more jostle and bounce. “Like that? How about B, for Better than Yours?!”



“One minute remaining, Ms. Lemarchand.” the Headmistress informed.



“More than enough.” the FAWN star muttered. “Hey, remember when you pulled my one-piece down so you could get at my tits? I didn’t appreciate that.” Lenore demonstrated the breadth and scope of her displeasure by slipping her hands beneath the redhead’s burgundy one-piece and tugging Stone’s modest breasts free of their protection.



“I know you THINK you know what T stands for.” the Raven noted as she set about punishing her once arrogant adversary with an eye-watering double twist. “But it’s actually T for Torment, as in Triangle Of. Because in case you’d forgotten…” Lemarchand clenched her cheeks in time with another protracted twist. “…your nose is mine too, honey!”



Jane offered a pitiable moan into her opponent’s glutes, the redhead rocking from side to side but unable to do a damned thing about dislodging the Guest Lecturer. A glance at the clock told Lemarchand so she was almost out of time, so she relinquished the pincer and slapped the Englishwoman’s tummy in time with the last five seconds. The chime sounded at 00:00, which is also when the Raven put her hands on her hips and proclaimed, “Final grade? D, for done.”



Lenore pushed up and stepped away, the ivory skinned brunette sighing heavily as adrenaline gave way to aches and exhaustion. Near her feet, Jane Stone rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in the crook of one elbow.



“Ms. Stone?” the Headmistress asked. “Are you well enough to leave the ring of your own accord?” Stone drew in a deep, shuddering breath and nodded, but didn’t show her face for several more seconds. When she did, she nodded a second time. “Yes, Headmistress.”



“Very good. And what did we learn today?” Jane turned her attention to the FAWN star and if looks could kill Lenore would’ve been dead before she hit the ground. “That there’s always more to learn.”



“Yes indeed. You may leave, but do so with your head held high. There’s nothing Bly despises more than a whimpery loser.”



Jane swallowed hard, clambered to her feet and exited the ring without so much as a backwards glance. Rosalind and Beatriz rose to leave as well, but stopped when the Headmistress called, “Hold for a moment, if you would ladies. I must share a word with our guest and Bly tradition dictates you stay.”



Pruitt and Morales exchanged a quizzical look before sitting back down.



Attention diverted by the remaining Bly seniors, Lenore started the tiniest bit when she turned around and found herself looking at a tall brunette dressed in a smart black skirt that ended an inch above the knee, a simple blouse of white linen and a snugly fitting blazer the exact burgundy of her charges’ attire. The Headmistress appeared, well Bee had said she was in her early fifties and Lemarchand could believe it, however she wouldn’t have been shocked if anyone told her the woman was ten or even fifteen years younger.



Lenore dipped her head ever so slightly. “Headmistress.”



“Oh please, I believe we’re beyond the point of such formalities, Lenore. My name is Imogene Creel and it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”



HEADMISTRESS IMOGENE CREEL:





“The feeling is mutual.” Lemarchand replied. “Thank you again for having me here this week. I’ve very much enjoyed my time at Bly.”



“As have I.” Imogene assured her guest. “Your performances in the ring these last three days are nothing short of stellar. In fact, you’ve achieved a goal I’ve only seen once before during my tenure as Headmistress.”



“Oh? What’s that?”



“Maintaining an unblemished record through all three proctored exams. Most guest lecturers manage one easily enough, far fewer secure two. You however, made three straight look almost effortless.”



Lenore offered her a weary smile, shook her head ‘no’. “Takes a lot of preparation and training to make the impossible look effortless. All of those matches were extremely taxing.”



Creel nodded sympathetically. “Of that I have no doubt, Bly produces some of, if not thee greatest, practitioners of the Savage Arts the world over, yet you have bested three of my very best! I must admit, that stings my pride the tiniest bit. A trifle to be sure, yet… perhaps you’d allow this venerable institution a chance to redeem itself before you return home on Saturday?”



The Fair & Radiant Maiden looked around warily, Lenore scouring the shadowy recesses of the nearly empty gym in search of new threats. “Headmistress, Imogene… with all due respect to you, Bly and it’s massed traditions, I’m in no condition for another match at the moment.”



Imogene smiled, shook her head. “Heavens no, not tonight! Should you accept, the match would take place here tomorrow, same as the previous three Final Exams. Thirty minutes of hard wrestling, one fall to a finish, be it pin, submission or knock-out. Think of it, Lenore. The very best FAWN has to offer versus the standard bearer of the Bly Finishing School. Surely one of your competitive bearing can’t resist such a prospect?”



“It is intriguing, I’ll admit. But I’m hesitant to accept a match not knowing my opponent.”



“My apologies, I thought that was clear. Should you accept, I would be your adversary.”



Lenore was composed enough to show no surprise, yet Imogene must’ve registered it in some fashion because she said, “Of course if you’re not comfortable accepting I understand completely. Four matches in four days is quite taxing, even for the youngest and fittest among--”



“What about a referee?” Lemarchand interrupted for the sole purpose of gauging Creel’s reaction, a thin, cool smile.



“The same as the previous Final Exams, dear. Our contest will be fought under the Bly Code of Conduct and a gentlewoman’s agreement… should you be up to it.”



“Nothing in the last three days has struck me as particularly gentle, Imogene.” the Courtier counted. “Honestly I’m concerned the repercussions of such a match might keep you from your duties as Headmistress.”



The smile stayed on the Headmistress’ lips, though it died a quick death in her eyes. “The honor of this institution is at stake, Lenore. That means the risk is worth the reward. Now. What do you say?”



“I accept.”



Imogene beamed and clapped her hands together. “Excellent! Truly excellent! Tomorrow night we shall meet here for one more extracurricular outing. Something tells me it will be quite the learning experience for both of us.”



Friday



Though Bly prided itself on tradition, there was very little way of pomp & circumstance to begin Lenore Lemarchand’s exhibition against Headmistress Imogene Creel. It began the same as the previous three ‘Exams’, with each competitor striding to the squared circle from different sides of the darkened gym, Imogene in the lead with Lenore half a dozen steps behind. Clad in identical silk robes that reached to mid-thigh, the pair of brunettes took their positions on opposite sides of the ring.



A moment later Beatriz Morales strode to the center and looked from one competitor to the other. “The following exhibition is the final contest of 2019 Spring Term at the Bly Finishing School. Introducing first, hailing from Glen Echo, Michigan she stands at five feet seven inches tall and weighs in at one hundred and thirty-one pounds… Lenore Lemarchand!”



Lenore stepped forward and quickly doffed the robe, revealing a classic fighting two-piece in midnight purple with black trim and ‘Lemarchand’ emblazoned across the seat in elegant block letters. Pads at knee and elbow were a matching purple, as were the wrestling shoes accompanied by short black socks. There was nothing in the way of cheers and only a crowd of three (a third of which was currently in the ring) yet that didn’t stop the FAWN visitor from hooking the thumbs together and raising the Raven sigil overhead.



Seeing this, Beatriz offered Lenore a wide smile, though she made sure to dial it back before looking to the far corner. “And introducing her opponent, hailing from Brichester, England in the United Kingdom, she stands at five feet eight inches all and weighs in at one hundred and forty pounds. She is the Headmistress of the Bly Finishing School… Imogene Creel!”



Imogene stepped forward and slipped free of her robe, just as Lenore had prior. Like her adversary she was wearing an identically cut fighting two-piece, albeit in deep maroon with white trim. Stretched upon the seat was not her name but the Bly seal that also adorned the center of the ring. Her pads were white and her pro-style boots were the same murky red as her togs. Her only other adornment was a pair of simple gold bracelets worn at each wrist, the understated jewelry gleaming softly in the overhead lights. The Headmistress showed no sigil, symbol or sign, though she did place her hands upon her hips and offer Lemarchand an appraising look while Beatriz exited the ring and took up a seat beside Rosalind and Jane in the otherwise empty front row.



Neither woman moved at the sound of the polite little chime. With no time limit to concern them there was no particular rush and neither the visiting FAWN star or the Bly Headmistress wanted to start on their back foot due to a hasty opening gambit. So they waited in their corners a moment, simply watching one another.



From the vantage point of the three seniors they looked almost identical. Imogene was an inch taller and less than ten pounds heavier (most of that discrepancy carried in the top half of her perfectly fitted two-piece), otherwise the only difference of note was the twenty year age gap. Lenore Lemarchand was no one’s idea of an ingénue anymore, she had almost a decade of FAWN experience to draw upon and another four years of elite level college Apartment Wrestling beyond that, however instinct told her that Headmistress Imogene Creel had her almost doubled in both of those particular fields.



Yet in the end it was Lenore who’d been invited to Bly to test their best seniors. Lenore who’d beaten each of them one after another, a feat not replicated since a particularly Sensational Englishwoman accomplished the same thing seven years prior. And it was Lenore who’d accepted Imogene’s challenge, so it came as no surprise to either participants or audience that it was the Headmistress who pushed away from the buckles first, Creel striding purposely to the center of the squared circle to defend the honor of the Bly Finishing School.



Lemarchand followed only a step or two behind, the Courtier clearly intrigued to test her skills against the enigmatic older woman. No chit-chat, nods or other well wishes when they met in the middle, Imogene and Lenore lunged into an energetic Collar & Elbow that immediately transitioned into a Side Headlock in favor of the Headmistress. Hands knotted in a single fist, she squeezed Lenore’s cranium between forearm and bicep and scraped her temple along the ridge of her right-- Lemarchand prized Creel’s grip apart, laid claim to her left wrist and spun behind the Englishwoman’s back to apply a Hammerlock that put Imogene up on tiptoes. The Headmistress grunted, tried to hook her right arm across the back of the Raven’s head to reapply the Headlock, but Lenore foiled the effort with some timely pressure on Creel’s pinioned elbow. That small stutter allowed Lenore to switch to a Headlock of her own, the younger wrestler going up on tiptoe as well, then down to one knee, keeping the pressure steady while forcing Imogene to concentrate on maintaining her balance.



Imogene made no complaint, instead she worked in diligent silence, pushing and prodding at the Courtier’s arm, occasionally swatting at her lower--“Hrrhh!” Creel couldn’t suppress a soft groan when Lenore ground the Briton’s temple against her hip.



Lemarchand heard the grunt and nodded, as if to tell the Headmistress she could expect more of the--“Nnnnhhhh!” Now it was the young visitor wincing in surprise when Imogene helped herself to a healthy handful of the lithesome brunette’s waistband and tugged up! The abrupt sting of the wedgie got Lenore back on her feet, which was when the Headmistress wrapped both arms around her waist and marched ‘em to the ropes. Creel slipped a foot over the bottom strand and murmured, “Break, if you would.”



Lenore gave the Headlock a single brief squeeze (suitable receipt for the wedgie), then let go and stepped away while Imogene did the same. Free of the American’s grasp, Imogene smoothed down her hair and made a minor adjustment to her top while Lenore flicked her briefs into place with an oft-practiced ‘snap’ of the fingers.



“Whenever you’re ready.” the Headmistress murmured.



Lenore answered with a second Collar & Elbow, one that resulted in a bit more struggle before a strategically timed chin-push from Imogene allowed her to secure another Headlock, this one noticeably rougher than its predecessor. Though she didn’t care for the pressure one bit, Lemarchand made no effort to fight out of it. Rather she simply reached out with her right hand and grabbed hold of the middle strand, as it was *just* within arm’s reach.



“BreakRRGH!”



Imogene barreled into the younger brunette, knocking Lenore to one knee. This didn’t interfere with her grip on the rope, but it did press her cheek against the rubber-coated steel, an unpleasant arrangement that grew considerably more so when the Headmistress leeeeeaned into her penitent opponent. Lemarchand landed one hard SLAP against Creel’s lower back before the hold vanished and she scrambled to her feet, the Courtier watching her opponent with wary, slightly narrowed eyes.



“Apologies.” Imogene said. “I lost my balance for a moment.”



Lenore nodded, swiped some loose strands of hair from her forehead and bade the Headmistress to her with beckoning fingers. No delay from Imogene now, the brunettes met with an echoing tummy on tummy ‘smeck’ that heralded a third Collar & Elbow. This proved the most protracted clench yet, although it certainly wasn’t a textbook example because Creel promptly wedged a hand against Lenore’s chin, all the better to push her head back at a sharp angle. The Fair & Radiant Maiden grimaced but returned the tactic with interest by pressing her own palm over Imogene’s mouth and nose!



Imogene growled, set her feet and plowed forward, forcing the younger woman to cede a few steps. What other progress she might’ve made was left to speculation when Lemarchand took Creel’s nose between thumb and forefinger and pinched it closed. “MMPPPH!”



“Different than sitting up in the box, isn’t it?” Lenore asked as she began marching the Bly Headmistress toward the nearest corner. “Not nearly so easy to rely on the lesson planOOOOWWW!”



Imogene hand had simply cupped the American’s jaw heretofore, now Creel dug in without warning, her short, well-manicured nails digging furrows down Lenore’s cheek! The pain sent a tremor through Lemarchand’s lithesome frame, worse, it allowed the veteran brunette to reverse their positions with a sinuous twist that had Lenore’s butt pressed, then smudged against the middle buckle because Imogene continued to advance when there was nowhere for the Raven to go!



“Break!” Lemarchand barked.



The Headmistress squirmed free of the HOM grip, drew a deep, satisfied breath and continued her encroachment “Just as soon as you allow me a count, luv. One. Two. Three. FoNGH!”



Lenore flicked her wrist, striking Creel’s cheek with a short, crisp slap! Imogene’s eyes widened with surprise rather than pain, it’d clearly been a long time since anyone inside a Bly ring (or anywhere else, for that matter) had dared strike those aristocratic features! “Manners, Lenore.” the Headmistress actually had the nerve to waggle an index finger half an inch from the end of her opponent’s nose. “Insolence will not be tolerated in this oh no you doNNNGGGHHHH!”



Emily’s Lady in Waiting wrapped the veteran in a Waistlock and spun around to force Creel’s back and bum against the turnbuckles. She also cupped both hands over Imogene’s chin and puuuuuuuuusssshed hard enough to force her head backward over the top rope. “Break.” Imogene hissed through clenched teeth. “Honor the break, brat!”



Lenore tummied in close, bobbled Creel’s head just because she could and growled, “One. Two. Three. Four.” The Raven let go and took a step back, raising both hands to shoulder level to emphasize the clean break. “Let me guess.” she said when Imogene straightened up. “Jane is your star studHRGHHUUUFFFHHHH!”



Headmistress Creel snatched a double handful of dark hair, reversed their positions yet again and deftly slotted a knee between Lemarchand’s thighs! “I care for ALL my charges, Lenore.” Imogene cooed in her opponent’s ear. “Especially the most troublesome. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they’re my favorites.”



Weak-kneed and gaping after the unprotected shot below the belt, Lemarchand couldn’t muster any cogent verbal response, so she reached up and twined her fingers in the Englishwoman’s hair. She’d no more than started to tug when Imogene did the same, unfortunately for Lenore her efforts were much more energetic, one hand cinched around the ponytail, the other affixed near the nape of the American’s neck so she just YANK her foe’s head back and forth over and over again!



“AAAAAARRRRRRRRRHHHHH!” Lemarchand tightened her own grip in response to Creel’s attack, though it didn’t do more than raise a snide grimace from the Headmistress.



“Please dear, if you’re going to pull hair in my ring, pull it like you bloody well mean it!” Happy to illustrate her own point, Creel took two giant steps out of the corner and twisted her hips toward the center to take Lenore from the corner to the canvas with a nasty Hair Whip that THWHAMMED the visitor from FAWN flat on her back! Lemarchand landed hard but rolled to her belly almost at once.



HAIR MAIR:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwiaUwzWFRo



Ignoring the burn in her scalp in favor of the ache in her lower back, Lenore pressed a hand to the afflicted spot so she could devote all other resources to reaching all four-- the Headmistress strode over, helped herself to double handful of Lemarchand’s ponytail and hauled her up, though the Raven was bent over and looking at the mat. Didn’t seem to matter too much, as Lenore immediately lit into the Headmistress’ midsection with a heavy left-right-left combo that forced Creel to take a step back. However the Courtier’s primary goal had been the release of her hair and the counterpunches weren’t enough to grant it, indeed they only angered Imogene, as evidenced by the way she swept in and THWHUMPED her right hip into the side of the younger woman’s skull! The Headmistress released on impact, leaving Lemarchand to swing away in a swoon that ended in her down on hands and knees little better than where she’d started.



HIP STRIKE:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjRltzr291s



“Suuuuhhhh… so the Code of Conduct is all bullshyt, is that it?” Lenore shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “Or does it only exist when you need to get Jane out of a tight spNNGGGHH!” Imogene straddled Lemarchand’s waist and simply dropped into a deep squat that smashed the full weight of her backside against Lenore’s vulnerable spine! The force of it put Lenore on her belly, though she wasn’t there more than a few seconds before the Headmistress palmed a hand against each flank and tugged her to hands and knees.



HIP DROP:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=gh3vcQ9lXJ4



“The Bly Code of Conduct is everything I said it was and more, little girl.” Creel explained with open contempt. “And it was in full effect for each of the previous Final Exams. However…” she dropped a second Butt Bomb on Lenore’s lower back, forcing her to the deck once more. “Sometimes one must engage the enemy under relaxed conditions when defending the honor of this beloved institution.”



“Sounds like a perfect excuse to give yourself an advantage when you know you’re outclassEEERRARRRRGGGHHH!”



The Headmistress dropped to her knees, reunited both hands with Lenore’s hair and scrubbed her face against that pristine Bly canvas for five agonizing seconds. “Don’t you dare blame your lackadaisical approach on me.” she snapped. “You had every opportunity to inquire about the nature of this contest, but you made no effort to do so. Why is that, Lenore? Is it because you thought there was no possible way I could defeat you? Let alone EMBARRASS HEYNNNGGGHH!”



Lenore powered to all fours in spite of the Headmistress’ mount. In the same instant she reached back with both hands, caught hold of Creel’s calves and swept her legs out from under! Already off balance, Imogene tumbled backward and landed on her butt with a wince-inducing THUD! Free of the Englishwoman’s weight, Lenore scrambled to one knee and twisted ‘round in a half circle to ensure she was face to face with “NNNGGHH!”



Imogene pinked one cheek with a hard Slap, then doubled down on the ponytail grip to keep Lemarchand under control as they started to rise. “That’s for besmirching the Code of Conduct.” Imogene explained. “And this is for HRRRK!”



Her hands crossed at the wrists, the Fair & Radiant Maiden drove the crotch of that oversized ‘X’ into the hollow of her adversary’s throat! Eyes wide with surprise and yes, pain, the Headmistress let loose of Lemarchand’s hair and started to backpedal but only made it a couple of steps before the FAWN star rushed in with a low Shoulderblock to the pit of Creel’s stomach. “Where do you think you’re going? Surely that’s not all you have to teach!”



Set on one knee with Imogene sucking wind just overhead, Lenore wrapped her left arm around the Headmistress’ waist and pressed that hand to the small of her back. The Courtier’s right arm cradled Creel’s left thigh, ensuring she was hooked nice and tight when Lemarchand powered to her full height and immediately went down again to THWHUMP her foe’s crotch against the unyielding post of her left knee!



INVERTED ATOMIC DROP:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPpJf6N5WxE



Imogene went bow-legged and voiced a distressed groan none of the seniors could recall hearing in their time at the Bly, yet for all that she retained enough wherewithal to shove Lenore away, thus guaranteeing her enough room to turn around and trundle toward the--PWAAAK! Lenore reached out, caught hold of the Headmistress’ waistband and gave it a tug, not up, but back, the Raven using those sturdy trunks to reel the taller brunette into a Forearm Smash against the small of her back. Creel grunted, her hands curled into claws that gouged nothing but air.



“You wanna work my back, sweetie?” Now Lemarchand did pull up, the wedgie a slow, creeping ride that bared an additional two inches of the veteran’s buttocks. “I can play that game too. Hope you don’t stiffen up!”



She placed a shoulder between Imogene’s shoulders and shoved her away just to call her back for a second, third and ultimately a fourth Forearm Smash. The last effort unhinged the Headmistress’ knees and she would’ve crumpled to the deck if the Raven hadn’t secured her in place with a tight Waistlock. Imogene, remembering just how Lenore turned the tide against Jane Stone, went to reach for the ropes but that was as far as she got before Lemarchand dropped low and popped her hips to take the Briton up over and DOWN onto the back of her head and shoulders! Bridging up on her toes in the wake of the German Suplex, Lenore realized she had no idea if the polite little chime would honor anything that didn’t come from Creel herself, yet it didn’t stop her from calling out, “ONE! TWO! THREE! FO--”



GERMAN SUPLEX:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=yBujpl8MUz8



Imogene twisted loose of the predicament like someone quite concerned with getting counted out, so Lemarchand reckoned the chime would answer when the time came. As for the Headmistress, she tumbled to all fours and took several deep breaths to steady her nerves. Not willing to let that happen, Lenore lashed out with a hard swat across the butt that was almost casual in its disdain. “Not bad, baby.” Lemarchand teased over the sound of Imogene’s aggrieved yelp. “I hope my ass still slaps that good if I’m still foolish and arrogant enough to be doing this at your age.”



“Age has no bearing on foolishness OR arrogance, little girl.” Creel seethed. “As I will happily demonstrate for you before we leave this HHHUUUURRRGGHHHH!”



The Raven returned to shoe-leather, planted her right foot on the Headmistress’ lower back and stepped up, forcing Imogene to carry all her weight for the heartbeat before Lemarchand kicked both legs forward and came crashing down with every bit of her hundred and thirty-plus pounds THWHUMPING across her opponent’s back! Creel crumpled beneath the weight of the Senton and she rolled away to end up on her belly, one hand pressed to the small of her back while her boots tapped a pained beat on the mat.



STEP-UP SENTON:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjKl4BsQ8oQ



“I think we’re both going to learn some hard lessons tonight, Headmistress.” Lenore plunged a hand into the veteran’s hair and pulled her to a slumped seat with obvious relish. Sliding in from Imogene’s six, she slipped both legs around the Englishwoman’s waist and was rewarded with an immediate, painful raking of nails up her calves and inner thighs. Frowning angrily, the Raven snatched a handful of hair and forced Creel’s head forward so she could THWHAP a stiff Forearm Smash into the nape of her neck!



“Chippy little brat!” Imogene groaned. “You’re going to suffer for EERGH!”



Lemarchand slipped her arms beneath the Englishwoman’s biceps and laced her fingers against the nape of Imogene’s neck, all the better to force her head down courtesy of the Full Nelson. “I think it’s time you suffered for a while, Headmistress.” Lenore added validity to the idea by forcing Creel’s chin into the top of her own décolletage. “Unless of course you’ve decided that this lesson is concluded. Then you’re more than welcome to submit.”



“HAH!” Imogene made no effort to hide the scorn in her tone. “I have faced and defeated some of the strongest women in the world on this very patch of canvas, little girl. It will take a great deal more than a boilerplate Full Nelson and sub-par Bodyscissors to make me--”



Lenore leaned waaaaaaay back, effectively stacking herself on her shoulders while hoisting both of their backsides off the mat by a good deal. With her own glutes resting atop the backs of the Courtier’s thighs, Creel braced her heels against the canvas in an attempt to stymie what came-- THWHUMP! Lemarchand popped her hips and rolled forward, relinquishing the Nelson in the process to ensure the most momentum when she drove the Headmistress’ seemingly ageless derriere into the thinly-sheathed plywood.



KEISTER BOUNCE:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXFlRciQTk8



Grimacing at the jolt that ran all the way from her tailbone to the base of her neck and back again, Creel flipped hair out of her face and hissed, “The brass on you, girl. The sheer… cheek! I’d admire it if it wasn’t so RRRGGHHHH!”



Lenore hooked the Full Nelson again and swung back a second time, far faster than before. There was no bracing for impact now, Imogene’s ankles were just south of her ears, an arrangement the Headmistress found most unbecom--THAWHUMP! The visiting FAWN star bumped her hostess’ keister with the force of a particularly stern Atomic Drop, as evidenced by the way Creel put her hands to her bum rather than attack her opponent’s thighs. After a deep breath she flipped swiped the hair off her face and grunted, “It’s suddenly clear that Emily was a rather lax disciplinarian when it came to your training. I’ll have to discuss it with her once you’ve been properly NO!”



Lenore helped herself to a third Full Nelson and she made a point to really streeeeeeeeeeeetch the veteran’s neck while simultaneously pouring it on with the Bodyscissors. “Don’t worry on that score, Headmistress.” she murmured. “Emily and I are going to have an extremely detailed discussion about the Bly standards as soon as I’m back on my side of the Atlantic. “And I’ll be on my way just as soon as you SUBMIT!”



“NNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGHHH!” Lenore squeezed those Scissors until every muscle in her leg shredded into shadowy relief, yet more than thirty seconds at full force hadn’t earned a concession from Imog--“NODONTYOUDARRRRGGGGHHH!” The Fair & Radiant Maiden swung aaaaaaaaalllll the way back and now Imogene’s ankles were well north of her ears, not that this even registered in the aftermath of the Atomic Butt Bomb that was the third and final Keister Bounce.



Lenore broke the Scissors on impact, though her fingers were back in the Headmistress’ hair before Creel had even crumpled onto her side in a cringing sprawl. “Up. Up Imogene!” the younger woman demanded as she forced her foe to boot-leather. “You wanted to see what I could do up close, right? This is exactly what you wanted!”



Slinging the Headmistress’ right arm across her shoulders as soon as they were both upright, Lenore cinched her own right arm around Creel’s neck and reached around with her left to clasp her hands tight between the Briton’s shoulders. Cheek pressed in tight against the other wrestler’s right shoulder, bore down and gave the simple hold an occasional shake to keep wringing the fight from the Headmistress. Following fifteen seconds of this steady grind, she asked, “Do you submit?”



“Never.”



“Never?”



“Never, brat.”



“That’s a long time. Guess we’ll have to seeaaarrrrhhhh! Who’s cheap now, old woman?” Lenore shifted from one foot to the other in obvious discomfort, as there was no way to thwart the wedgie Imogene had so recently inflicted upon togs.



“Do something about it if you don’t like it, Lenore.” Creel huffed. “That’s why I’m sawing your bony ass in halfFOOOFFFHH!”



CLUTCHING KNEELIFTS:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=kaeCWowbb88



The Raven shifted all her weight to her left foot so she could THWHUMP her right knee into Imogene’s gulping tummy! It was a solid shot, Lenore could tell by the hot puff of breath against her neck, however it only seemed to increase the sting and climb of the wedgie, so she THUM-THUMPED two more Kneelifts into the veteran’s navel. The third (along with a truncated Headbutt to Creel’s temple) ended the tawdry trunk torture, so Lemarchand broke the clasp, grabbed the Headmistress’ wrist in both hands and stepped back to--



“AAAAAHHH BYTCH!” Lenore bleated in surprised pain when the Headmistress raked her nails across the American’s eyes!



“That’s Headmistress Bytch to you, little girl.” Imogene growled once she’d clamped down on the other brunette’s left wrist. Not interested in anything the upstart might offer in her defense, Creel shoulder-butted her away and took a big step back only to yank Lemarchand forward in an Irish-- Imogene leaned hard right, wrapped her arms around the Raven’s waist in a tight Gutwrench and muscled her through a nauseating two hundred and seventy-degree swoop that ended with Lenore THWHUMPING down across Headmistress’ posted knee!



TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhs1id8NmP8



“Not so rambunctious now are we, hmmmmh?” Imogene scoffed as she shoved the twitching Courtier off her knee. “I do believe it’s time we moved past the remedial efforts and focused on the advanced portion of this particular lesson.”



Getting to her feet, the Headmistress took a moment to measure her prey, then swung her right leg over like she was thinking of dropping it only to come down butt-first atop Lenore’s chest!



HIP DROP:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fz4h--RdM5U



“NNNNGGGHHH!”



Lemarchand groaned and kicked her feet a little without disturbing Imogene’s perch so the Headmistress called out, “One. Two. Th--”



The Raven bridged hard, rolling Creel to one side. “Impressive resolve for someone trained outside the Bly system.” Imogene admitted when she regained her feet. “I wonder, can you handle another?”



“OOOOFFFHHH!”



SECOND HELPINGS:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZjnnzqFLbE



Headmistress hopped up and brought it down buns-first again, every bit of her weight landing flush on Lenore’s chest! No count now, Creel simply stood up and stepped south to position herself near Lemarchand’s feet, which she secured in each hand. “You’ve made me work harder than I care to admit, Lenore.” Imogene admitted as she braced the American’s calves against her hips, thus ensuring those dangerous legs wouldn’t go anywhere when she relinquished control on Lemarchand’s feet to reach down and grab the Courtier’s right wrist. “And while our contest has been perhaps more acrimonious than I’d originally intended. I hope you won’t begrudge me a moment to catch my breath.”



“Guuuuhhhhh…. just get the hell offa meNO! NO! NO DON’T! OH FAHK!”



The Headmistress pulled Lenore’s right wrist into the pit of her left knee and immediately mirrored the process with her left wrist and right knee. Then she neatly crisscrossed Lemarchand’s legs over her trapped arms and rolled the FAWN visitor over, Lenore coming to rest on her knees and one cheek while the other set was pointed to the rafters!



PARADISE LOCK:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcxiYWXOd8c



Trapped in the galling human knot that was the Paradise Lock, Lenore could only wriggle and squirm in an effort to escape the grasp of her own traitorous limbs. “Don’t fight it little girl, you’ll only make things worse.” Creel chucked. “Oh, would you mind terribly if I borrowed your hair tie? I seem to have forgotten mine.” The Headmistress didn’t wait for an answer, she just bent down, grabbed Lenore’s ponytail at the base and liberated her hair tie with half a dozen savage tugs! “Yes, that’s MUCH better.” the veteran sighed once her own locks were safely pulled back. “Now, just WHERE should this lesson begin in earnest?”



Lenore didn’t waste any oxygen on a response, as she was too busy trying to microadjust her way out of the Headmistress’ cunning trap. Even so, she couldn’t refrain from a heavy ‘ooofffhhh!’ when Imogene sidled up alongside and simply sat down on the curve of her lower back.



“Dear me, this is a rather demeaning position you find yourself in, is it not?” Creel crossed one leg over the other and made a small show of adjusting her battle-rumpled togs. Again, Lenore offered no response, so the older woman crooked one hand into a claw and raaaaaaaaked her nails down Lemarchand’s mostly bare back. Smirking at the resultant hiss of pain, Imogene chided, “When I ask a question, I expect an answer, little girl.” Don’t make me repeat myself.”



“Kiss my assSSEEERRRHHHH!” The Raven’s reply didn’t much please the Headmistress, so she scored her back two more times, then grabbed a handful of hair and wrenched Lenore’s head back at an awkward angle.



“What was that, child?”



“I said kiss my AAARRRRHOOOOWWWWWW!”



Headmistress didn’t just pull Lenore’s hair, she yanked it, Creel enthusiastically jouncing her unruly pupil’s head up and down for more than ten seconds before dragging her nails down Lemarchand’s back another half dozen times. “Answer me, child. How demeaning do you find your current circumstances?”



Baring her teeth when the Headmistress casually hooked her fingers beneath the strap of her top, Lenore muttered, “I’ve been in worseNGH!”



Imogene pulled the stretchy material up, then let it SNAP against the Courtier’s scored skin.



“Is that so?” her tormentor asked in a tone of genuine surprise. “Well, never let it be said that Bly doesn’t strive to excel in all fields. Please, allow me the opportunity to improve our standing.”



Lenore didn’t much care for the sound of that, she liked it even less when she felt the Headmistress’ fingers spidering down her glutes toward the leg-holes of her trunks. “Don’t even think about it, hagGAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”



Imogene took hold of her visitor’s purple briefs and yanked them like she’d yanked Lenore’s hair, perhaps even harder. The modest lycra trunks quickly transformed into something much less so, the material riding deep into the crack of Lemarchand’s jiggling ass! Shifting her tactic to an unsubtle sawing motion once she’d bared two-thirds of the younger woman’s backside, the Headmistress chided, “And where do we stand now, Ms. Lemarchand? Presumably Bly has climbed at least as high as your sadly straining briefs!”



This earned a nasty little titter from one of the seniors, almost assuredly Jane Stone.



“Is that… that all you’ve got?” Lenore tried to keep her tone light, though it was almost impossible to do so from the confines of the Paradise Lock. “Sadists like you are a dime a dozen in FAWNOOOOOOAAAAAAAWWWW GAAAAAAAAAWD!”



She’d hoped the trash talk would distract Imogene from her efforts to pluck the wedgie loose with her otherwise useless hands, alas she’d barely begun the delicate work when the Headmistress swatted then away and affixed a full-handed claw to the guest lecturer’s undercarriage!



“I have found that divine intervention is extremely rare at Bly, child.” Creel sounded smug as she gouged, squeezed and otherwise mauled Lenore’s center. “Presumably the holy holds no sway within this ring… or perhaps the Almighty simply has no use for squalling brats. I however, find them quite entertaining, especially when they’ve realized the depth of their folly. Are you ready to admit yours and submit?”



“Never.” Lemarchand growled far too quickly for Imogene’s liking.



“Is that so?” She bore down on the underhanded claw that much harder, the veteran’s wrist noticeably trembling with the effort of raising her opponent’s wail to a single keening ‘AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!’ Imogene released the hold almost thirty seconds later, doing so with a saucy little flourish and a single tart swat to the other brunette’s vulnerable buns. After a single steadying breath, the Headmistress asked, “Do you submit, child?”



“Nuuuhhh… no.” Lenore replied in between ragged inhalations.



“Very well.” Creel got up from her perch, wheeled around and put a boot against Lemarchand’s right shoulder and nudged / pushed the devastated Courtier out of the Paradise Lock and onto her back in a sweaty, gasping sprawl. Hands on her hips, Imogene raised one booted foot and placed it atop the Raven’s chest. “One. Two. Three. Fo--”



Lenore shot an arm into the air to break the count, however doing so allowed the Briton to clamp down onto her wrist. “To your feet, child.” The Headmistress’ tone brooked no defiance, not that the insistent tugging was anyone’s idea of gentle. Hauling the FAWN star to verticality, Imogene kept the Wristlock in place while using her free hand to shove Lenore away. From there she reeled the Raven in and dropped a shoulder to sweep Lenore onto her shoulders in a Fireman’s Carry. Clearly pleased by the weary bulk of her opponent’s weight, Creel spun to face her three seniors, then tossed Lemarchand back the way she came, the Headmistress bracing her free hand against Lenore’s chest to put a little more ‘oomph’ on the disdainful drop that THWHAMMED the younger brunette against the Bly canvas.



FIREMAN'S CARRY SLAM @ 00:14

www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBVOOKJar0A



Lenore landed flat, her legs bounced up and her hands clutched at some unseen or otherwise unassailable adversary. She’d started to settle down when Creel came off the ropes at a brisk run and delivered a ring-shivering Splash across the Raven’s fluttering chest! Lemarchand ‘OOOFFFFHED!’ in anguish and her legs shot up again, but the Headmistress ignored them in favor of a two-handed grip on the American’s right wrist. With Lenore pinned like a bug on a card, Imogene counted out, “One! Two! Three! Four! Fi--”



Lenore bridged up, forcing the Headmistress off with half a second to spare.



“Your spirit is as admirable as it is annoying, child.” Creel sneered. “I promise you, I’ll break both.”



“Buuuhhhh… better than you have triHEY NOOOOOO YOU NASTY OLD BYTCH!”



Having already left her mark on Lenore’s trunks, Imogene turned her attention to the Courtier’s top, namely the forcible removal thereof. Slipping her fingers beneath the bottom edge, the Englishwoman pulled it away to applause from Jane and mystified surprise from Rosalind and Beatriz. “Don’t whine child, it’s not like this garment was providing any necessary support.” the Headmistress sniffed. “Now, lets find out just how much humiliation your bratty little will can actually endure, shall we?”



The Fair & Radiant Maiden’s answer was quite unprintable, the vulgarity earning a ‘tsk-tsk’ from the veteran as she used a double handful of hair to drag Lemarchand to her fe-- “AAARRRHHH! INSOLENT BRAT!”



An infuriated roar from the Headmistress as Lenore first cupped, then attacked Imogene’s bounty with vicious, white-knuckle relish. “Gonna put some sag in these titties, crone.” Lenore hissed. “Right after they get a little twist!” she narrowed her focus to the older woman’s nipples, Creel shrieking to raise the dead as Lenore spun through the dial in search of K-W-I-“OOOFFHH!”



Imogene slapped the taste from the Raven’s mouth, put both hands on her shoulders and shoved Lemarchand back several steps. Lenore stumbled, almost lost her balance, so the Headmistress rushed in and fired a Toe Kick at the fork of her crotNO! Lemarchand caught Imogen’s foot in both hands, quickly wedged it beneath her right armpit and corkscrewed beneath it to flip her tormentor to the deck with a vicious Dragon Screw! Imogene wailed aloud, instinctively drew the tweaked knee to her chest, only to curse in frustrated disgust when Lenore kept the captured shin tucked beneath her arm and took a giant step backward, just YANKING on the exposed joint.



Cupping her free hand over the Englishwoman’s knee to keep her whole leg under control, Lemarchand went up on tiptoe, then lunged down and in to drive the point of her left knee into the back of Imogene’s right thigh. The Headmistress growled, swiped at the Raven’s eyes and paid for the attempt with three more knees dropped into that dense, but otherwise defenseless meat. “Let go of me, child.” Creel demanded through clenched teeth. “Picking me apart at this stage will never work, you simply don’t possess the wherewithOOOWWW!”



Lenore yanked that leg straight up and lashed out with a THWACKING kick to the thigh, the Courtier’s impertinent little wrestling shoe connecting *just* above the older woman’s knee. Silence from Imogene as she was forced to hunch forward, both hands rubbing and presumably guarding the area from any more punishm--“NO!” Headmistress’ voice was sharp with alarm. “Get your damned hands off me you chippie little brat!”



Lenore, who’d already filled her right hand with a whole lotta the Englishwoman’s hair, ignored Creel’s request in favor of hauling her to her feet, or rather, foot, since the right was still firmly in the younger woman’s possession. Imogene had time enough to rear back for a wicked swipe before Lemarchand barrel rolled beneath the Headmistress’ extended leg and dumped her with the second Dragon Screw in as many minutes.



DRAGON SCREW:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=mS6tOwGa2A4



Now the Fair & Radiant Maiden did toss the wounded limb aside, though this was not nearly the reprieve Imogene might’ve hoped for as Lenore promptly laid claim to her left ankle and lifted that leg high into the air. “Vuuuhhh… vile trollop.” Creel groaned. “This is most unbecoming of NGH!”



Lenore gouged a Toe Kick against the back of her foe’s thigh for good measure, then spun around it in a quick little do-si-do that twined the Headmistress’ leg against the back of the American’s right leg. Just like that Lenore collected Imogene’s right ankle and tugged her leg out full length, bracing it behind Creel’s left ankle in the oh so familiar figure of 4. Dropping to a seat immediately thereafter, Lemarchand hooked her left leg over the Headmistress’ left ankle and bore down tight while simultaneously boosting her butt a good six inches off the canvas!



FIGURE FOUR LEGLOCK:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=KKvP6PR_x2E



“AAAARRRRHHHH YOU MISERABLE HARLOT!” Imogene shrieked in anguish as the guest lecturer put eye-watering strain on her right knee with the Figure Four Leg-lock. “RELEASE ME THIS INSTANOOWW!”



Lemarchand jounced in place, the bendy-back showing a pitiless grin as she wrested control of the match back from the woman who’d embarrassed her with the Paradise Lock. “You want out, crone?” Lenore asked after smoothing her respiration with several deep breaths. “Then tap out!”



“As if you’re worthy of such an accoladAAAAIIIEEEE!” Imogene’s sass ended in another round of caterwauling when Lemarchand punished her with the strongest constriction yet.



Quick to note the weary ‘thump’ of Creel stretching out on the mat, Lenore chirped, “One. Two. Three. Fo--”



Imogene lifted a shoulder to break the count, then set elbows like a pair of kickstands to keep her shoulders clear of the canvas. “How are your legs holding up, Headmistress?” the Raven huffed. “Feeling a little weaker than before? A little achier? A little older mayb--”



The Headmistress shot her left hand high into the air and torqued her hips to the right, a combination that rolled Creel onto her right-- “Not today, old woman!” Lenore barked as she answered the attempted reversal with an identical shift ‘n roll.



For one endless moment they hung there, the warring brunettes battling for supremacy with their knotted stems. Then youth carried the day and they rolled back to start, Lenore pounding the canvas with one triumphant fist. As for Imogene, her hands flew to her hair in hopes that some white-knuckle tugging would help distract from the ever-growing burn in her right knee. “Ready to give?” Lenore asked after another thirty seconds of near silent suffering from the Englishwoman. “Tell me you submit and it’s all over, Imogene.”



Creel shook her head ‘no’. “I… am the Headmistress of the Bly Finishing School for the Savage Arts.” she rasped. “And this contest does not end until I SAY IT DOES AAARRRRRRHHHH NOOOOOOO! STAAAAAAAAHHHP! JUST BLOODY STOP!”



Lenore had pushed to a seat and hunched forward over the locked legs to apply even more pressure. As for Imogene, she’d done much the same, though her hands were scrabbling helplessly at that gammy Gordian Knot. “I’ll stop when you submit, old woman!” Lemarchand hissed. “Until then you can just suffEEEEERRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHHFAAAAAAAAAHK!”



Imogene snatched a handful of hair with viper-swiftness, pulled her tormentor a little closer and raked her eyes as hard as she could! Practically blind, Lenore’s hands flew to her face, meaning she had no defense mustered when the Headmistress slipped three fingers beneath the American’s waistband and deep into her crotch! Tugging and tweaking from within the confines of her foe’s sanctum sanctorum, Imogene cackled with delight when Lemarchand abandoned the Figure Four and curled into a near fetal ball to escape the cruel claw.



“I believe it is you who are destined to suffer, Ms. Lemarchand.” Creel purred once she’d regained her feet and taken the time to massage the worst kinks from her gimpy right knee. “And I know exactly what form that suffering shall take.”



“Yuuuhhh… you gutless slut.” a pale-faced Lenore gasped. “I had you. I had you and you went under my OH NO! DON’TAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH GAWD!”



Imogene grabbed her rival’s legs, split them in a tawdry ‘V’ and promptly applied her left foot to the juncture of the Raven’s thighs, the Headmistress just grrrrrrrrrrriiiiinding her heel against the defenseless lycra like she was butting a cigarette or crushing a bug. “Did you now, darling?” Creel smirked over the younger woman’s anguish. “Did you have me JUST where you wanted me? Perhaps you did! Perhaps I was about to beg for release, shaming myself, my students and my institution in the process.” Imogene shifted from heel to toe, all the better to dig and gouge at her prey’s traumatized center. “But you see, my dear Ms. Lemarchand, I am a Bly Woman through and through, which means I can, if you’ll pardon the crude wordplay, snatch, victory at a moment’s notice, no matter the circumstances. THAT is the Bly difference, sweet little Lenore and it’s why I’m the Headmistress and you’re blubbering for mercy.”



“F*CK YOUOOOOFFFFFFHHHH!” Imogene stretched her foe’s stems as far as they would go, then hopped up and came down on her knees, all the better to THWHUMP a nauseating Headbutt into the Raven’s groin.



Legs finally free, Lenore pooled outward only to draw in on herself and slop to one side, a position she would’ve happily occupied for quite some time if the Headmistress hadn’t plunged both hands into her hair and forced her to stand alongside.



“You seem a bit weak in the knees, Ms. Lemarchand.” Imogene chided, her voice as sweet and mean as poisoned honey. “That can only mean one thing. It’s time for the end of today’s lesson.”



To that end she leaned left and deftly wrapped her arms around Lemarchand’s waist in a Gutwrench. Soon as her hands were locked she straightened up and did the same to Lenore, spinning her through a one hundred and eighty degree swoop that ended with the Raven glued to the Headmistress’ tummy in a precarious north-south arrangement. To her credit, Lenore answered Imogene’s Waistlock with one of her own and actually kicked both legs a little, however it wasn’t nearly enough to prevent the Briton from turning a half circle and shooting up on tiptoe just to drop to her knees. The crown of Lemarchand’s skull THWHUNKED against the Bly seal in the center of the ring and then she hit the deck in an insensate spread-eagle, the FAWN star barely groaning when the Headmistress slid forward and sat on her throat. Hands on her hips, Creel spread her knees a little bit wider, all the better to snuggle her rump against the American’s neck.



TOMBSTONE PILEDRIVER:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=VznVaAYwXR8



“One. Two. Three. Four. Five! You’re pinned, Ms. Lemarchand!”



Imogene nodded as if to confirm this final grade, then curled her hands into cupped paddles and pitter-pattered a little nonsense beat on the American’s fluttering tummy. Shifting her attention to the three seniors in attendance, she said, “Finals week is now over, ladies. Ms. Pruett, Ms. Stone, you are free to go. Ms. Morales, if you would be so kind as to wait just outside the exit, I’d be externally grateful if you would escort our guest back to her quarters once our discussion is through.”



‘Yes Headmistress.’ they said in unison and rose as one, redhead blonde and brunette making their way to the dimly glowing ‘EXIT’ sign on the far end of the gym.



Imogene wasn’t surprised to catch Jane glancing over one shoulder with a look of obvious satisfaction, but the older woman didn’t rise until she was sure they had the gym to themselves.



“Well that was exciting, was it not?” Creel exclaimed as she walked a wide circle around the exhausted FAWN star. “I must thank you again, Ms. Lemarchand, for allowing me the opportunity to defend the honor of this beloved institution.”



“Duuuuhhhh… don’t bullshyt me.” Lenore answered without actually looking in the Briton’s direction. “You would’ve found a way to get what you wanted under any pretext, right? Let me guess,” she paused to take a deep breath and mop a forearm across her brow, “this place has a Board of Trustees and they might’ve fired your ass if they’d heard I’d run roughshod over your newest graduateSSSSSUUUUUGGGGHHHH!”



Not putting eyes on the Headmistress proved to be a costly mistake as it meant Lenore was quite unprepared when her adversary loped off the ropes and took to the sky for a big Splash across her defenseless midsection! Lemarchand’s legs popped up so neatly that Creel could’ve hooked both for another pin if she’d been of the mind. Instead she let them drop to the mat before she got to her knees and leisurely swung a leg (the left) over the younger woman’s torso to resume her seat on the Raven’s throat. Groaning beneath that oppressive weight, Lenore pressed her hands to the Headmistress’ glutes and pushed with what little reserves remained, only to yelp in startled anguish when Imogene flicked a tart, backhanded slap between her thighs!



“Spare me the token resistance, it’s an unseemly quality in the beaten.” Imogene sniffed as she focused on the decorative golden bracelets she wore at each wrist. “Skr…screw you, hag.” each word was a struggle because Lemarchand’s chin was wedged beneath the southern curve of her opponent’s buttocks. This position also ensured that the pinned brunette could see nothing save for the Bly seal stretched across Imogene’s trunks, another reason for Lenore to loathe the Headmistress. “The element of surprise only works once and this was it. Next time we cross paths I’ll HEY! NO! LET GO! STOPPIT DON’T YOU-DAMMIT!”



The Headmistress grabbed Lenore’s wrists, prized them from her cheeks and forced her arms to the mat so she could pin first one bicep and then the other beneath the unyielding ridge of her shins. “Did you think I’d be satisfied with a single pin-fall, little girl?” Imogene dragged her nails up the American’s torso ever so gently, just because she could. “You handed my seniors defeats via pin-fall, knock-out and submission! Such a thing hasn’t happened in almost a decade! I simply cannot let you leave this ring without giving you a taste of the same punishment heaped upon Ms. Morales and Ms. Stone. However,” the Headmistress let her hands drift up to Lemarchand’s breasts for a possessive squeeze, “I am well aware that you were not allowed the traditional rest period granted between other Final Exams, so I’ll make you a one-time offer. Offer me a verbal submission of the proper deference here and now, and I will let you leave this academy with a one point margin of victory. Refuse and I shall ensure your submission goes from proper to total deference, and once I have that I shall knock you out in a most demeaning fashion. These are my terms and I shall accept no others.” she took the American’s nipples between thumb and forefinger and plucked ever so slightly. “What say you, Ms. Lemarchand?”



Lenore was very still, though her mind raced along at light-speed as she tried to find any outcome that didn’t result in her inability to wear a bra for a week. Dispirited by the results, she sucked in a deep breath and said, “You can’t lie for shyt, Imogene. We both know what you’re after and I’ll be damned if I make it easy for youOOOOOOOOHHHHH FAAAAAAHK YOU BYTCH!”



Creel’s pincer tightened to a clamp and she pulled up on the pliant flesh, stretching it mercilessly! “That’s Headmistress you insolent little twat.” Imogene sneered. “Address me properly or your suffering intensifies!”



Lenore twisted from side to side and beat her heels against the mat, but with her arms pinned by the older woman’s shins she could only slap at Imogene’s thighs and she could do nothing to protect her breasts. “Kuuuuhhhh…kiss my ass, Imogene!” Lenore hissed through clenched teeth. “And get the hell offa meEEEEEEEEE OOOHHHHHH STAAAAHHHP!”



The Englishwoman began to jostle her wrists up and down, working Lemarchand’s buds and bounty like they were miniature battle ropes! “Why should I stop, child?” Imogene chided. “Are you submitting to the Headmistress of Bly Academy?”



“Yuuuuuhhh… yuuuhhh…yeSMMMMMPPPPPHHHHHH!” “Oh, how spirited!” the Headmistress tittered as she felt the desperate suck and blow of Lemarchand’s breath against the underside of her trunks. “Now Ms. Lemarchand? Do you submit?”



“YHESH!” Lenore moaned almost at once. “YHESH, JUSGHEDOFFAMYFAZAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEE!”



Imogene released her dual holds and quickly removed those mellow gold bracelets. Any relief the Raven might’ve felt over this brief reprieve was washed away in a flood of agony when the Headmistress ‘snicked’ each bracelet closed around those aggrieved areolas! Holding each of her makeshift clamps with thumb, fore and index finger, pulled up and began to rotate her wrists in a hellishly slow three-quarter circle. Smiling as Lenore’s heels bicycled frantically against the canvas, Creel asked, “Well, Ms. Lemarchand?”



“AYE SUHBMID!” Lenore sobbed. “AYE SUHBMID, JUSSTAAHPTWISDINGMY--”



Imogene rose ever so slightly. The younger woman’s nose was still caught between her cheeks, but she could breathe through her mouth again. “I have very few genuine regrets in my career, Ms. Lemarchand.” the Headmistress said. “One of the most pertinent to your current situation is the fact that I never got to hear my name introduced at the FAWN Arena. So please, indulge my ego and pretend we’re in the center of the ring in front of a capacity crowd. I am still me, you are still you and the outcome is identical, only in this fantasy of mine you’re also playing the role of the erstwhile Announcer. “So draw as deep a breath as you can, then Announce me the winner.”



Hating the feel of the tears scalding her cheeks, Lenore steadied her breathing as best she could before she huffed, “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner is Imogene CreEEEEEAAAAAHHHH!”



Imogene clenched her glutes and waggled her hips. “You can do better than that, little girl! What’s my title? Say it loud and proud!”



“Luuuhhh… ladies and gentlemen, your winner is The HeadmistresSSAAAAAAAAHHH!” Lenore couldn’t contain a sob when the veteran gave her bracelets another savage twist.



“Better, but you left off an important aspect. HOW did I win this contest?”



“Yuuuhhhhh….you evil bytch.” Lenore whispered.



“Yes dear, I know. Now say it or I’ll give you another twist.”



“Ladies and gentlemen,” she moaned, “your winner… via submission…. The Headmistress Imogene Creel!”



“Oh, that was GOOD!” Imogene tittered. “Now, a bit of a departure. Announce the loser. And make sure they know HOW you lost.”



Lenore swallowed the softball sized lump in her throat and tasted bile. After another not so gentle tweak, she said, “Ladies and gentlemen, your loser… via a sadist’s f*cking titty twister… Lenore LemarchanNNNMMMMMMMPPPPHHH!”



Imogene dropped her buns a final time to fully engulf the Raven’s hapless features. “Yes, yes, groan and beg, it won’t save you.” Headmistress wasn’t twisting anymore, she was raking her hands through her hair while Lenore quickly drifted down into unconscious exhaustion. Returning her bracelets to her wrists once Lemarchand’s breathing was deep and steady, Imogene pushed to her feet casually ‘flicked’ her trunks back into place.



“Remember what I always tell my students, Ms. Lemarchand.” she said to slumbering Raven. “There’s always more to learn. And tonight you learned just a fraction of what you do not know.”



Saturday



Hiram Marsh was her driver for the return trip and though they chatted pleasantly for the first couple hours, he wasn’t the slightest bit put out when she feigned exhaustion and the need to check through a veritable mountain of voice mails. This was an outright lie, she didn’t have a single voice-mail, though there were almost that many missed text messages, most of them from Kent. Of those only the last two held her attention, both delivered early Saturday morning, or late Friday night his time. The first read:



Something’s hinky about Bly, Pretty Bird. Watch your step, I think you might be walking into a trap.~K



The second came a couple hours later.



Strike the ‘might’ from my previous message. Imogene Creel does not have your best interests at heart. Keep your head on a swivel and call me as soon as you can! ~K



He hadn’t sent anything after that, but Lenore knew the archivist was probably checking his phone every few minutes to see if she’d answered. Lemarchand had had cell service for more than an hour now, but she hadn’t sent anything because she was still digesting the video message from Bly that’d been waiting at the top of her notifications when the phone finally started to buzz again. It was barely two minutes long, but she’d already watched it a dozen times and would probably watch it another dozen before she was back in Orlando.



And God alone only knew how many times she’d watch it when she had trouble getting to sleep.



The Raven took a deep breath, as she let her thumb waver over the subject line:



A Message from the Headmistress



After a moment’s hesitation, she pressed play.



It opened as nothing more than a handheld purplish and gray blur before pulling out to focus on a pair of briefs snugged around a pair of disembodied mannequin hips. Lenore knew they were from the match with Imogene and a casual fan would’ve identified them as hers because of ‘LEMARCHAND’ was emblazoned across the seat in bold white letters. Ten seconds in and the video pulled back again, revealing this trophy’s place as occupying pride of place in the center of a giant mahogany desk. It was the Headmistress’ desk of course, the woman in question was seated on the opposite side carefully appraising her newest acquisition. Growing aware of the camera, Imogene looked up and smiled ever so slightly as she pushed the ill-gotten gain aside so she could lace her fingers and set them on the desk.



“Hello Ms. Lemarchand, I hope the morning finds your condition much improved. You were rather the worse for wear when we parted company. But Ms. Morales informed me you made it back to your room under your own power, which is good to know. I hope you don’t think too harshly of her. Neither Beatriz nor Rosalind or Jane knew of my intentions. Indeed I think they were a bit disconcerted by my actions, save for Jane, she very much loathes you, as I’m sure you’re aware.”



Imogene paused, collecting her thoughts.



“You want to know why, of course. I’d want to know the same if I were in your position. Under most circumstances my ‘special contracts’ come from wealthy Bly patrons that have a burning desire to see their favorite actress, singer, or athlete, professional wrestlers included, introduced to the delights of the Bly Experience. In your case, there was no request made. No ‘bounty’ on your head, if you will. No, the reason for your trip to and subsequent humiliation at the Bly Finishing School is because you hurt someone very dear to me. Given the things that you and others have said about me when we shared a ring, I suspect you believe it impossible for me to hold anyone dear. That is true, save for one exception. You see, Ms. Lemarchand, my dearest crossed swords with you and though she fought her heart out, you attempted to do to her what I did to you last night. Even so, she came to me as rattled and disconsolate as I have EVER seen her. If we’re being honest I’ll admit that I believed you’d done irreparable damage to her competitive drive and it was in that moment that I decided to teach HER a lesson by teaching YOU a lesson. You see Ms. Lemarchand, no one is unbreakable, not even one so haughty and dangerous as yourself. So I invited you to Bly, tested your mettle against my best seniors and when I’d ascertained your strengths and weaknesses, I challenged you to a match.”



Imogene smiled nastily.



“And I HUMILIATED you, didn’t I? How it must scald that damnable pride of yours to lose not just a wrestling match, but to be so thoroughly outmaneuvered mentally. How’s it feel to know you’re not the smartest one in the room, little girl?” Another pause, Imogene’s expression growing more circumspect. “Of course I’m under no illusion as to the severity of the wound inflicted. I know you’re more bruised than broken, and that is just as it should be. Because the privilege of ending your as a fighter is not for me. No, it’s for my dearest, the one you so callously defeated, then displayed for the raucous mob at the FAWN Arena. Because now she knows how to beat you, and as you well know, knowledge is power. She and she alone will be the one that destroys your over-inflated reputation for good and I will savor every single heartbeat of your sobbing capitulation. Does that explain the situation to your satisfaction, Ms. Lemarchand? I hope so, because that’s all you’ll get from me. Actually, that’s not quite true.”



The Headmistress shifted her gaze to the person holding the phone. “Go ahead and say hi, dearest.”



A chill ran down Lenore’s spine every time she heard that familiar voice reply, “Thanks Mom.”



The phone turned around and she was face to face with Elise Winterrest.



ELISE WINTERREST:





“I was in the Headmistress’ booth for your Final, little bird. I saw everything she did to you and I’m going to build on it to burn your career to the ground. There’s a contract for Summer Swelter awaiting your return to Florida. Sign it at once, unless you’d rather we settled things under… less controlled circumstances.” Miss Murder smiled, hit a button and the screen went dark.



Lenore closed her eyes, fighting a valiant battle against the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, she let out a deep breath, then opened her eyes and tapped out a message to Kent.



Got your message a little too late. Almost swept the set before she put me in checkmate. Game goes to her, but the board is still mine. I mean to collect a pair of wolf pelts before all this is over, see if I don’t. Driving back to the city, have some business in the West End to tend to first, will be heading home on Monday or Tuesday. Will explain everything then. ~L



The message was gone no more than thirty seconds before her phone trilled.



It was Allard, of course.



Sorry to hear about the game. Are you ok?



Lenore thought about her answer for almost two minutes.



No. But I will be.