A True Slut's Education

Mrs Louise Howard wrapped her overcoat tightly against the November wind as she scrambled out of her car at the school gates. The yard was deserted and the gale blew unimpeded around her legs, the crowds of parents and jostling children having already dissipated.

Louise was late, and she was in a panic. She was meant to collect her son Neil at three forty five sharp, but thanks to her work she was almost two hours behind. She had needed to visit her solicitors in her lunch hour, and had ended up being three hours at Leigh and Leigh's, waiting for the elderly Mr Leigh to meet with her and discuss her divorce. Her husband had left two months ago but only now had she gathered the nerve to start the legalities of their separation.

Her manager was less than understanding and had made her stay on two hours past her shift for being out at lunch.

Scurrying up to the building complex it was already dark and the place looked deserted. All but a few second floor windows were black. St Augustus' School for Boys showed no signs of life.

Where was Neil?

She reached the entrance to the gothic courtyard where the parents were normally requested to wait and carried on through the portico, her footsteps changing from a dull tar macadam thud to the staccato beat of heels on stone. The red double doors of St Augustus' pupils entrance were lit by a single exterior bulb and despite being sheltered from the wind, Louise found herself tugging closer at her coat. The austere school had not been her choice for the young Mr Howard's education. In fact, there had been no choice to make; Mr Howard senior had made that quite clear. Tradition was upheld by her husband and having recently turned eleven years old, Neil was the sixth generation of Howard to attend St Augustus School for Boys.

Scanning for a doorbell but finding none, Louise lifted the cast iron lion's head and gave three sharp knocks on the door.

The wind howled around the rooftops, but no one answered.

She thought of Neil left inside, waiting for her all alone, and rapped again, harder.

The courtyard flooded with light and Louise blinked against the harsh brightness as she heard shuffling behind the gateway. A key ground in its lock and one of the ligneous doors swung open.

"Oh thanks goodness! I'm sorry, so so sorry for being late. I'm here to collect Neil, Neil Howard." Louise's relief flooded through her as she was ushered into the hallway by the gentleman. She turned to explain her arrival to him but was silenced as he waved an arm at her, beckoning silence.

"You must be Mrs Howard. I'm Jim, the night porter. Mr Ashwell wants to speak with you. Follow me, if you please."

Without waiting to see if she pleased or not, the porter turned and set off down a corridor. As they walked pale fluorescent tubes illuminated the walls, a stark modern contrast to the grand fascia of the school. She passed photograph after photograph of classes gone by; rows of formal, glum-looking boys with equally glum-looking teachers.

Louise pondered on who Mr Ashwell was. Neil's form tutor was Mr Green, and he had never mentioned an Ashwell.

The rhythmic tip-tap of her heels echoed against the corridor, the porter's shuffling feet and the faint pinging of the fluorescent lights the only other sounds in earshot. He led her along another corridor, then to the foot of a small wooden staircase.

They began to climb. The staircase smelled musty and Louise wondered what the school was using the vast income it must receive to pay for, certainly not decor. The walls looked yellow and she had seen more than a modicum of dust on top of the picture frames. Her husband had been vague on the cost of Neil's tuition here, but she knew it ran into five figures per term. Moving Neil to St Augustus' school was the only reason her husband had allowed her to return to work, to help cover Neil's fees.

Reaching the second floor Louise was led along a narrow corridor before arriving at a varnished door. Jim turned to face her and smiled thinly.

"Here you are Ma'am. Mr Ashwell is waiting for you."

The porter continued to smile as he stepped towards her, then went to pass her in the corridor. His jacket pressed against her coat as he squeezed past, the odour of cigar smoke hitting her nostrils. His smile turned into a leer as his hips brushed hers. She backed into the wall uncomfortably as he pressed up against her, grinning, before moving on and shuffling back down the hallway.

Louise's attentions returned to the door as she listened to his footsteps return to the staircase and begin to descend. She realised she'd been holding her breath. Reaching up to knock, her eyes scanned the brass plaque affixed to the portal.

"MR ASHWELL HEAD OF BOYS' DISCIPLINE"

What kind of school was this! Boys' discipline? Not for the first time in her life she wished she had stood up to her husband and insisted that their son go to Newsham High like all the local kids.

"Come!"

Louise was about to knock when the voice reached her ears. Startled into action, she turned the handle and opened the door.

Warm air greeted her in a rush, and the crackling of logs. The door opened further and a large stone fireplace came into view. A roaring fire cast flickering shadows over dark oak floorboards, reflected in a huge over-mantel mirror. Standard lamps lit the room warmly.

"Mrs Howard, a pleasure to meet you. Do come in, come on, don't be shy."

Louise looked over to the figure rising from behind a sturdy-looking desk. Smiling cheerily at her a dark-haired Mr Ashwell emerged from his leather-covered desk chair and walked over to greet her, hand extended. He wore a pale blue shirt, ironed crisply, with a navy tie and navy suit trousers. His hair curled amicably, if slightly wildly, on top of a clear pale complexion. He would be handsome if it weren't for his eyes. There was nothing immediately wrong with them, but Louise found herself avoiding them uncomfortably and not knowing why.

She weakly met his enthusiastic handshake, eyes scanning about the room for her son.

"Please, please, take a seat." He motioned to a wooden-backed chair in front of his desk and turned to return to his.

"If you please, Mr Ashwell, I'm just here to collect Neil. I'm so sorry to be so late, you see I was stuck in..." her explanation was curtailed as Mr Ashwell reached his desk and turned to face her.

"Mrs Howard, Neil has already been collected by his father."

"His father? Oh but I told the secretary on the telephone a while back that Mr Howard was not to be contacted!" Louise wailed. Damn it she didn't want Tom knowing that since he left, her life had turned into mayhem.

"Mrs Howard, I'm afraid that school policy dictates that should a child be left waiting for more than half an hour, we contact all available persons to come to collect. In this case, Mr Howard was more than happy to come for Neil."

"Yes I bet he was." Louise could just picture his gloating face now. Mum not coping with work, is she Neil? Struggling with the responsibilities of daily life, is she? Louise fought back the tears.

"Mrs Howard, I can assure you Neil was more than pleased to see his father. In fact, it was the first time in over a month that your son has appeared cheerful."

A small sob burst unheeded from Louise at this news. Mr Ashwell moved towards her and put his arm around her shoulder. A tissue was thrust into her palm and she dabbed at the corners of her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears that threatened to smear her face with mascara.

"Please, Mrs Howard, let me take your coat and we will sit down and discuss your son and his situation here at St Augustus."

Louise struggled to regain her composure. Biting her bottom lip, she undid the belt of her coat and unbuttoned the front. Mr Ashwell stepped behind her and tugged at her shoulders, slipping the thick cotton fabric from her frame. Louise could smell his breath, sweet, on her neck. He was taller than she had first thought, surely six foot or more, and athletically built beneath his shirt. He seemed to linger longer than needed before stepping away and hanging her coat on a coat stand in the far corner of the room.

Louise sat down on the wooden chair while Mr Ashwell turned to a large filing cabinet next to the coat stand. She looked down at her uniform, the royal blue dress zipped tight over her chest. "Staff Nurse Howard" was emblazoned on the ID card on her pocket, a gold fob watch shone on her bosom in the flickering light.

Taking out a slim document wallet, Mr Ashwell returned to the desk and took his seat behind it. His eyes were pitch black as they scanned the papers held in the wallet, and Louise noticed he wore a wedding band on his finger. He had slim hands. The head of boy's discipline was no older than she was, she estimated him to be in his low thirties.

Louise fiddled nervously with her own wedding ring. Something about Mr Ashwell made her nervous despite his easy-going first impression.

"So then, Mrs Howard," Mr Ashwell began to talk without looking up from his paperwork.

"Louise, please. My name is Louise."

"Very well, Louise. Your son, Neil. He has been with us here for just three months that is correct is it not?"

"Yes, Mr Ashwell. He attended the local primary school but my husband, ex-husband; well he felt he should come to St Augustus' for his senior education like all of the Howards have before him."

"A wise decision, Louise. This school's reputation is built on tradition. We find that the old methods of teaching still have a place in this modern society of ours. I myself was a pupil here not so long ago, as was my father, and his father before him. My son will begin his tuition September next. I digress. When we were unable to contact you via mobile phone, to let you know of Neil's whereabouts, I thought that this may be the right opportunity to discuss the situation we have found ourselves in."

"Situation, Mr Ashwell? I've only been late the once, and it won't happen again I can assure you."

Mr Ashwell shushed her with a dismissive wave of his hand. For a moment Louise thought she saw a sneer fleetingly cross his face, but his amenable visage returned.

"I speak not of today's situation, Mrs Howard, but of the termination of your marriage. Here at St Augustus' we pride ourselves on upholding family values, and the sanctity of holy wedlock. You must understand that Mr Howard's public image reflects upon the school as a whole." Mr Ashwell stood and shuffled the paperwork on his desk before placing it back into the document wallet.

Louise watched as he returned the file to the cabinet. He turned and moved towards her, perching on the edge of the desk directly to the left of her. His groin was just below eye level, the navy trousers stretched across as he widened his knees, his back to the fire and his shadow falling over Louise. She looked upwards to meet his eyes and found him scrutinising her.

"Mr Howard was very clear when we spoke this afternoon. Should you continue, as is your right, to pursue the line of divorce, he plans to file a request for full custody of your son Neil."

"He wouldn't! He doesn't care about our boy, he never has paid him the blindest bit of notice! This last two month's he's been away in London with his, his slut secretary. He hasn't even made a single phone call to Neil!" Louise spat her words as if the burnt her tongue. Fiery anger overtook her shock and she clutched at the hem of her skirt tightly.

Mr Ashwell watched as Louise spoke. Her face flushed in the most enticingly petulant fashion, her bottom lip quivering first in sadness and then vexation. He noticed how tightly her nurse's uniform clung to her bosom, the fabric a deep blue hue against her pale exposed décolletage. She was pulling at the hem of her skirt and he was sure that he could make out the clasps of suspenders on her thighs. His plan was falling into place perfectly.

"Mrs Howard, Louise, if I may. Mr Howard was quite translucent in his intent. He intends to request my professional opinion be given in court, as is commonplace in these circumstances. It is Mr Howard's intent to put to the court that you are an unfit mother, that you neglect your son in favour of your career and in fact are unaware of your son's needs and requirements.

"Today's incident does not look favourably on you. We did not receive a telephone call to inform us of your retardation. You were, for all intensive purposes, unaware of your eleven year old's location and in fact actively sought for us to not inform his legal guardian of his predicament."

Louise flushed heatedly. "It was a one off! My boy means everything to me!"

"That may well be," interjected the head of boy's discipline. "However, should I feel it necessary, I am confident that Mr Howard would have a strong case with my professional judgement to confirm and support his application. Neil himself appeared so delighted to see his father. As yet I see no reason why I would decline Mr Howard's request to speak in his favour."

Louise couldn't help herself, faced with such unexpected adversity. A sob burst from her lips, to be followed by another, and soon she was crying in earnest. Tears spilled down her face and joined to become rivulets of saltwater coursing down her neck and between her cleavage. Her shoulders heaving, she blubbed like a baby as she realised the cruel severity with which her husband still held her captive.

Mr Ashwell watched as the young nurse's breasts heaved and shook with her anguish. He reached into his pocket to fish out an initialled cotton handkerchief. Leaning over from his perch on the desk, he lifted Louise's face to meet his gaze. Her deep blue eyes are framed by black smears, a trickle of mascara running down each cheek and then further down onto those heaving delights of her flesh. He gently wiped the mascara away and held her face between his hands, softly as if cradling a bird.

"Please, don't cry like that. I understand, I genuinely do. You work long, hard hours trying to support your family, in a thankless job. I know that you work in order to keep your son financially secure, and that is a task many single women sadly put to one side. Perhaps we can come to some kind of agreement."

"Agreement? What do you mean?" Louise struggled to subdue the panic which had taken a stranglehold on her emotions. Her eyes were held by Mr Ashwell's, his deep gaze feigning tenderness, but she was not taken in. She feared a serpent hid behind his countenance.

"Let me be frank with you, Louise. It would be folly for me to displease your husband. He supports this school not only with generous financial backing but also through the publicity he brings. Should the board of governors hear that I have not been anything less than helpful to him, I would soon find myself off the payroll.

"However, as yet, they are unaware of any misgivings I hold towards you or the care you provide for your offspring. It seems I am in a powerful position, the fortunes of your family are mine to dictate." With this, Mr Ashwell loosened his tie, tugging at the knot until the silk slipped loose. He watched as Louise's bottom lip trembled once more, tears welling in her eyes.

The power he held over this woman, a stranger until five minutes ago, was arousing him as much as he had hoped.

"I have toyed with you long enough, I fear. You may choose. Leave now, and I will comply with the requests made of me and fully support Mr Howard's claim that you are unable to manage the trials of supporting a child singlehandedly. Comply with my orders, and I will amend our records to show that you did indeed ensure adequate afterschool provision was made in advance. Our secretary could merely have misplaced the note; she is a little absentminded with these things from time to time. Such a small addition to today's events would surely satisfy the courts."

Mr Ashwell tightened his hold on Louise's face, his thumb pressing painfully into her jaw line. Her eyes were wide, aghast and rimmed with black mascara. Mr Ashwell's dark gaze was intense as it scrutinized her terror-stricken face. He smiled, for the first time it seemed to Louise that he was truly pleased, and she shivered involuntarily. He released his hold on her jaw and moved to her neck, squeezing like a python and restricting her breathing. His slim hands conveyed a strength she had not realised he held.

Five finger marks blanched on her face, then flushed red as Louise's circulation returned. Her head was stock still, petrified, as Mr Ashwell bent to nuzzle her hair. With his free hand he tugged at her ponytail and freed her tresses from their bondage. His grip remained stony on her neck and she dared not move lest he tighten it to the point of strangulation. He breathed into her auburn mane, and whispered into her ear through the filaments.

"Louise, you are going to make me a happy man. I can tell already that you need to be treated firmly, you have lacked guidance the past two months. Let me show you how a woman needs, craves to be treated."

Reaching to her shoulders, he slid both hands along her frame and down each arm, slowly. Louise did not dare to move. She was alone in this place, without a way of summoning help, and facing complete devastation should she manage to escape her captor. Butterflies began to churn inside her belly as she contemplated her immediate future. Mr Ashwell had not illuminated upon what he intended to do with her, but she had a pretty good idea. He was just like her husband, and she trembled.

Gripping Louise's wrists tightly in one slender hand, Mr Ashwell began to tether her. Wrapping the expensive silk tie around in repeated figures of eight, he deftly restrained both wrists before immobilising them with a series of knots. He watched as she trembled beneath his touch. His breathing quickening at the sight of this delicious young nurse quivering at this mere contact and he felt his cock begin to stiffen inside his underwear.

"I do hope you are going to be compliant with my manipulations, Louise. I do so hate it when young ladies try to undermine the natural order of things. You will be a good girl now, won't you?"

Mr Ashwell spoke as he walked round to face Louise once again. She remained statuesque as he perched back on the desk in front of her, her eyes set on his. Her shoulders were painfully tight and pinioned behind her both hands were beginning to go numb already. She did not attempt to release her restraints.

Mr Ashwell watched as Louise breathed heavily below him. His erection was now burgeoning within his trousers and throbbing uncomfortably. Her bosom was thrust upwards involuntarily and he reached down to clasp the zip of her uniform. Slowly, delicately, he lowered the zipper and inch after inch of her pale cleavage came into view. A single tear fled down her cheek and dripped onto his hand.

Louise stifled a sob as her bra came into view, the black scalloped lace barely hiding her large, rosy areolas. Mr Ashwell continued to move the zip down until the uniform was slashed to her waist. He then caressed up one side of the material, his knuckles brushed against the top of her breast. Gently he slid one finger into the lacy edge of her bra and traced along it from top to bottom. His finger sank into the cleft of her bosom and then up along the swelling of her other breast. She was well endowed and her brassiere showed all of her breasts through the diaphanous lace.

Retracing his movements he returned to finger the edge of the lace before cupping her right breast in his left hand. His thumb slid downwards, skimming her nipple beneath its encasement of French embroidery.

The traitorous bud stiffened beneath his touch as Louise quivered. Mr Ashwell grinned widely, but remained silent. He merely continued to stroke her breast through the lace, gently cupping her flesh before kneading it firmly. Pinching gently he rubbed her nipple again and watched as Louise flushed.