The Ashworth Women

The following is a work of complete fiction.

The characters that inhabit these pages are themselves entirely fictional. If you are unsure what that means, let us make it simpler.

They do not exist, never have, and never will and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, whether by name or by description, is purely coincidental and unintentional.

It should go without saying that the writer does not condone behaviour such as those exhibited within these pages and believes that corporal and psychological punishment, as depicted herein, should neither be applied nor suffered at any time by anybody under any circumstances other than in a world of pure fiction.

Where the term girl is used, it is a derogatory label applied to an adult woman of eighteen years of age or older.

Everyone within this work of fiction is over the age of eighteen.

A small apology; I struggle with tags and categories so if any of it seems odd, then hopefully it becomes a learning opportunity.

If you do not like where my imagination has taken me, then it is your mistake to read it.

The Ashworth Women.

For Jane Ashworth, the June day was beautiful, with a warm breeze and endless blue skies; she should have been enjoying lunch by the river. She even wore her favourite 50s style summer dress, with the voluminous stiff petticoat. The bodice gave her a generous cleavage. The light pastel blue matched her eyes, which never failed to brighten her mood or draw admiring glances.

However, after receiving a telephone call, lunch plans for Jane had been hastily abandoned.

Instead, she sat uncomfortably, her face flushed, as Dr James McClure, Headmaster of her daughter's College, shuffled papers on his desk.

He had met the widowed Mrs Ashworth on several occasions, and he had always found her engaging, elegant and very supportive of her daughter and the college, which was why today was disappointing.

He spoke, his voice heavy with that disappointment. "I will not beat around the bush or even try to sugarcoat this, but Hannah has left me with no option other than to expel her immediately."

He paused for effect before continuing, "I must notify the university that her exam results are now void. I will also have to withdraw my letter of recommendation. Undoubtedly, they will remove their offer of the full scholarship. It is such a shame; she had so much promise, and I cannot help but be bitterly disappointed after all the effort that I and the college had expanded on her behalf, especially when she went through that difficult period after her Father died."

Jane swallowed hard, "Is all that necessary, Headmaster, because this is her entire future on the line? It will ruin her."

"I understand that completely, but cheating in her finals cannot be tolerated; she only has herself to blame, Mrs Ashworth. What else do you expect me to do?"

Drawing in a breath, Jane lowered her eyes submissively, "Forgive me, Headmaster, but your predecessor, Miss Foster, would have resorted to corporal punishment if only to preserve a young woman's life chances."

The Headmaster smiled for the first time, delighted at Mrs Ashworth's change of demeanour and her suggestion, "Ah, yes, the famous Foster Trash; of course, you understand that this is 1971, a new enlightened age, and that particular option was removed by those weak livered liberals who have recently infiltrated the board of Governors."

Jane's heart leapt with hope at the Headmaster's tone, "What if I signed a waiver, a contract if you will, you allow her to resit under tight supervision after a thorough chastisement?"

"You can sign, but it wouldn't make any difference. Your daughter is now over eighteen and, in the eyes of the law, an adult, so unless she signs a waiver, it is not an option."

"I believe, Headmaster, that once I have spoken to Hannah, and she fully realises the ramifications of her actions, she will agree, without reservation."

"Mrs Ashworth, I am not unsympathetic, and more than anyone, I appreciate how destructive for her future your daughter's deliberate choice to cheat will be. I know your daughter had promise and enough talent to achieve her dream of becoming a Vet.

It is such a shame; hence, I am prepared to offer her one chance and one chance only, and as you suggested, it will involve strict corporal punishment.

You will both return, with your decision, to my office at 4:30 pm precisely. This will allow me to draw up a waiver, which you and your daughter will sign together. I will then administer the cane to her naked buttocks. The punishment will also be repeated in ten days. In addition, in two days, she will resit her exam under my supervision, and if she passes, then all her results and my letter of recommendation will stand, her future intact. However, understand Mrs Ashworth, if Hannah refuses, hesitates, or attempts to negotiate and object in any way, then our agreement ceases, and you will leave immediately with the letter expelling her from St Magdalene's."

"I understand completely, Headmaster, and thank you for the opportunity. I am confident Hannah will comply." With hope and a grim determination, Jane Ashworth rose, exiting the office to collect her daughter.

~~oOo~~

Hannah Ashworth trembled as her Mother led her to the Headmaster's office.

Her bottom was uncomfortably sore after her Mother had forcibly bent her over and spanked her bottom. She was punctuating every flat-handed slap with a scolding on the consequences of being caught with the crib sheet.

She had not realised or even considered that her entire future would disappear so quickly over a small sheet of paper.

Now, she was terrified.

Her Mother knocked respectfully on the Headmaster's office.

The door opened, revealing a very serious-faced Matron. She stood aside as the two women entered the study.

Once in, they heard the door close behind them and the unmistakable and chilling sound of the lock clicking shut.

Hannah had never seen Headmaster McClure looking so stern and forbidding before, he was standing in the centre of the room, his arms folded, his handsome face looked like stone.

His desk was empty of the usual adornments except for a single sheet of typed paper and a fountain pen.

He spoke, his tone sounding sad, "Hannah Ashworth, you cheated in your final exam, and I am sure your Mother has explained the ramifications of that deliberate act.

You now have one opportunity and one only.

I chose this time precisely because it is the day students will have left. The boarders are all in their homerooms in the South Wing. Therefore, there will be no chance that we will be seen or heard.

If you and your Mother both sign that document, you will receive your first punishment today.

Matron is here as my witness, and your Mother will remain.

Your punishment will take the form of sixteen strokes of the cane on your naked buttocks, the first eight delivered immediately.

Then, you will receive a further eight strokes in ten days. Only then, and of course, providing your resat exam has been deemed acceptable, will your exam results be confirmed.

Rest assured, I know how to use a cane and make no mistake, it will hurt a great deal, probably the worst thing that's ever happened to you, but then, that is the whole point. Just remember, you can endure, and it will not kill you.

Keep in mind this is your entire future on the line."

Hannah began to cry, which was quite out of character for her; the sense of impending doom was alien to her. Without reading the document, she grabbed the pen and signed it.

Her Mother stepped forward, taking the time to read the four prescriptive paragraphs, sighing heavily and signing the document with a final, sad look at her daughter.

The Headmaster collected the signed agreement, checking the signatures before folding it carefully and pocketing it.

"Hannah, you will remove your skirt and underwear, bend over the desk, leaning as far over it as you can, and grasp the edge on the far side. You will maintain position, or the stroke will not count and will then be repeated as many times as necessary."

The college's summer uniform consisted of a white, cap-sleeve, open neck blouse, knee length, box pleated dark grey plaid skirt, white socks and flat black court shoes.

With her heart hammering in her chest, Hannah took a few deep breaths and hesitantly began removing her skirt.

She was humiliated as she folded it, playing for time as she placed it on a chair. The next part was the hardest; taking her regulation white underwear down was terrifying. After hesitating, biting her bottom lip, she pushed them down and off, tossing them on top of her skirt.

Tentatively, she stepped towards the desk and assumed the required position, feeling vulnerable and deeply ashamed.

She heard the Headmaster behind her, "Ah, nicely warmed up already, I see," as he noticed the crimson colour on her cheeks with clear outlines of fingers. "I take it your Mother administered a spanking to impress upon you the seriousness of the situation. Rest assured, this will hurt much more," he said as Hannah heard a distinct whooshing. He swung the cane again, "But, however painful, this is for your future and good." Hannah stared at the grain of the dark wood desk, cringing inside as she felt his hand on the small of her back.

"Lean further over the desk, feet together," he said as Hannah shuffled to comply.

She felt mortified; everything was on display, and the Headmaster must be getting a proper eyeful. Her bare bottom was sticking up, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Hannah felt a light tap on her lower cheeks, followed by a sharp hissing sound as the cane descended, landing perfectly across the centre of her buttocks, driving deep into the tender flesh and forcing her forward, crushing her thighs into the edge of the desk. Her eyes bulged in terror. She cried out in pain and shock. Her senses reeled; never could she have imagined such agony.

Her screech reverberated around the room, the sound frantic and desperate.

The Headmaster had heard worse as he prepared the next strike. He snapped his wrist and thwack. The unforgiving cane against vulnerable flesh produced another howl of anguish.

It was all too much, and she shot up, both hands reaching back to rub her tortured behind.

The order was short and sharp: "Back down, now! You will get that again."

"No, please, Sir, it hurts too much!"

"As you wish, girl, get dressed and leave, collecting your expulsion letter on the way out, and that's an end to your future!" The Headmaster said as he turned his back.

Realisation dawned on Hannah, "No Sir, please Sir, I didn't mean it. I'll be a good girl; look, I am bending back down." Her whole body trembled as she lay back over the desk, her eyes squeezed shut, desperately hoping this nightmare would end.

"Matron, would you be so kind." The Headmaster said quietly.

Without acknowledging the request, Matron moved to the end of the desk, then leaning forward, she gripped Hannah's wrists in a vice-like grip, pulling her arms tight.

Hannah's eyes flew open to see the sparkling green eyes of the Matron. With her elfin features, short ginger hair, and athletic build, Leslie Stuart was closer to Hannah's age than any other staff member. Lezi-les, that's what all the girls called her, whispering in dark corners about the lesbian.

Her soft Scottish accent made everything she said almost musical. She smiled, hoping to comfort the distressed young woman, "Hannah, look at me; concentrate on my eyes. You can do this. I believe in you."

Headmaster McClure nodded his approval towards Matron before surveying the vulnerable bottom of the slim girl; her previously reddened cheeks, now with two livid stripes, were an open invitation.

"We shall start again", he said, bringing the thin, smooth cane upwards in an arc. He watched intently as a line of white fire bloomed crimson. "One," he uttered, ignoring the piteous cries of the prone girl. "Two..." A further line of molten fire joined the previous ones.

Hannah sobbed, wriggling her hips wildly, but this time, she held on, fixated on the smiling green eyes. They radiated confidence, calmness and something else she couldn't quite grasp.

The cane snapped harshly, cris-crossing her sore flesh again and again, causing her whole body to shake, tears pooling on the desk.

Still, she hung on, grimly determined, but each expertly delivered strike was profoundly agonising. The pain went so deep, like burning lines of acid.

The cane was worse than anything she had ever experienced, and just when she thought it couldn't get worse, the cane lashed down, cutting low into the crease near the top of her thighs.

Tears flooded her eyes as an agonising, intense pain erupted. Redraw, burning heat raging fiercely with liquid fire scorching her flesh.

Her throat was raw with screaming out her pain and humiliation.

It took some time for Hannah to realise the blows had ceased, and she felt Matron's cool hand stroking her cheek, "It's all over, Hannah, and you have done so well, my brave girl."

Hannah sniffed loudly, her body aching and sore. She struggled to push herself off the desk. Her legs were wobbly, and her breathing ragged.

"Hannah, go with Matron to the infirmary. She will care for you and help with the pain and soreness." The Headmaster instructed, and without another sound, the two young women exited the study, one supporting the other as the other hobbled her way out.

~~oOo~~

Jane Ashworth had remained impassive, observing quietly and intently throughout the disciplining of her only daughter.

She had rationalised that the level of inflicted pain, which Hannah was not prepared for or had any previous experience with, was a necessary evil to ensure her future. She hoped it would also be beneficial in removing some of the barriers Hannah had erected since her father died.

However, Jane was very different; she had a wealth of experience in receiving the cane, the strap and spankings of every kind.

In her youth, she attended St Magdalene's and had been subjected to many of Miss Foster's famous thrashings. She had grown to need a firm hand and an expertly delivered cane.

Fortunately, she married a loving but strict disciplinarian.

She observed the ease and expertise with which Dr McClure handled the cane. She also noted that he was sporting a large and impressive bulge in his trousers.

Each strike of the cane brought a profound longing up to the surface. She missed her husband, his discipline and missed his loving embrace.

She watched her daughter exit the study, her backside a perfect ladder of angry welts.

"I am sorry you had to witness that, Mrs Ashworth, but hopefully Hannah will have realised I only wish to give her back a future." Dr McClure said.

Jane turned back towards the Headmaster, not wanting to engage in conversation. In the silence of her not answering, they found themselves simply staring at each other from their respective positions in the room.

Jane was fully aware he was deliberately holding eye contact. She felt a need, a kind of bubbling breathlessness, and a tingling excitement rising through her legs to her buttocks. She drew a deep breath as a kind of pins and needles excitement spread through her body.

She broke the stare to run a finger up her bodice to the first button of her summer dress.

She raised her eyes again. The Headmaster was watching, contemplating her next move. His eyes were curious and attentive, with just the start of a half-smile playing on his lips.

"Headmaster, I believe you should use your considerable skill with the cane on another Ashworth's bottom," she said as she deftly flicked open the first button on her bodice. "Discipline has been absent from my life since my beloved Phillip died, and I missed it so very much."

There was a catch to her voice, but she continued as her fingers flicked the second button open. "Witnessing your skill and obvious enthusiasm in wielding the cane, I would be honoured if you would oblige." The third and final button came undone, allowing the shoulder straps to fall down her arms.

Dr McClure took a deep breath in. He had hoped but not expected that Jane Ashworth's particular tastes may just come to the fore. He knew her maiden name and after reading his predecessors punishment records was well aware of how many times Mrs Foster had caned her.

He smiled warmly, nodding his head once, "The honour would be mine, Mrs Ashworth, and I think perhaps deserving of the senior cane."

Jane smiled demurely, "Thank you, Headmaster, it has been far too long." She said, and then she shimmied her hips, her summer dress falling downward. She stepped out of the pool of fabric before gathering it up and folding it carefully.

James McClure was entranced; he had always admired Jane Ashworth, and here she was, in his study, half-naked with a figure most forty-year-olds could only dream of. She stood in her delicate pink lingerie, with seamed stockings and suspenders.

He couldn't imagine a more perfect sight and even noted how her French-cut knickers sat on her suspenders.

He wrestled his eyes away, moving to the tall cupboard partially hidden behind a long curtain. The cupboard contained his outdoor wear, umbrellas, and other things. It also had a long, slim leather case, which he removed.

Opening the case, he selected his favourite implement.

The senior cane is beautifully crafted from Dragon Cane. A cane that is far superior to any other. It was a straight, ultra-smooth length, and the top was wrapped with a red hemp cord to provide a slip-proof hand grip. From the hand grip, it extended to a yard long, gradually tapering from one inch thick to less than half an inch at its tip.

He picked up a cloth and, with practised ease, polished the length of the cane, ensuring it had not acquired any nicks or burrs.

Satisfied, he turned towards the perfect vision that was Mrs Jane Ashworth.

She smiled approvingly, "I do rather believe a dozen would be most beneficial, Headmaster."

Dr McClure smiled knowingly, "A dozen on the bare it is, assume the position."

The last was said to gain some control, but in reality, Jane Ashworth was in control.

He watched, fascinated, as with a deliberate roll of her hips, in one motion, she turned, bending as she gathered the waistband of her knickers and pushed down.

The delicate fabric fell, revealing her glorious bottom, framed perfectly with suspenders and stocking tops.

She stepped delicately out of her knickers, then took the two steps necessary to lay across the desk. She wriggled her hips, keeping her ankles together.

Dr McClure moved behind his target, and he couldn't help but admire how deeply feminine she was. She had a narrow waist and shapely thighs covered in dark nylon, highlighting the perfect pear-shaped cheeks. Her bottom presented so well, thrust up, taunting him to deliver the cane with vigour and skill to quell their impudence.

It was undoubtedly a perfect target, a bottom made for a thorough thrashing and deserving of his best work.

Over the years, he had learned to be utterly focused, refusing to let the obvious distractions of the female form deflect him from his task. He enjoyed what he did and took great pride in it. He raised his arm, delivering the first vicious stripe of liquid fire that hissed and burned across Jane's perfect creamy skin.

The flesh compressed to a bone white before springing back to turn red, then blue.

Jane grunted, clenching her fists, her hips rocked from side to side, a movement that sent her bottom jiggling. "One, thank you, Sir. May I please have another?" Her voice sang out solid and unwavering.

James McClure grinned with delight, his arm whipped down again. The sound reverberated around the room as Jane's bottom quivered.