This story contains graphic descriptions of bondage sex and wholly consensual canings. Please do not read on if you find this offensive, and if you still do, please do not make negative comments. This has happened to me on several occasions and is akin to somebody knowingly going into an Indian restaurant and complaining that the food was too spicy.
Constructive criticism, either positive or negative, is always welcome. Without it, an author cannot know how they are doing and improve their efforts.
All protagonists in this story are older than eighteen years of age.
Any grammatical errors are mine and mine alone.
Ursula is my oldest and best girlfriend. I met her on my first day in primary school and apart from a gap of almost ten years when we didn't see each other at all, we have been pretty much inseparable ever since.
Let me explain. Ursula and I met almost twenty-five years ago when our respective mothers dropped us off and left us at school one September morning. We were an ill-matched pair. I was short and tubby whilst Julia was extremely tall for her age and plain and gawky looking. The important thing was that she and I were different from the other kids in our class and that marked us out for special attention. Kids are very cruel at that age, and Ursula who was around four feet tall and taller than any of the boys by at least four inches, was called Ugly Ursula both behind her back and to her face. I, who stood nine inches shorter than Ursula, and was the shortest kid in class was called Fatty Fiona, probably because, despite my short stature, I weighed at least twice what Ursula did. We were an ideal target for bullying.
To begin with, our friendship was more of a convenient alliance against a common foe, but with time we discovered that we had a lot in common despite our physical differences. Both of us were very good at schoolwork, disinterested in and poor at sports, and had similar interests outside school. Eventually, and with time, the bullying stopped. Particularly when Ursula punched one of the biggest boys in his nose and made it bleed. He had stolen her packed lunch and wouldn't give it back. I remember his parents pitching up at the school and Ursula being made to apologise, although nothing else came of it, except after that the other children left us alone.
By then we were an item. We sat together in class, had lunch together, and spent a lot of time together outside school.
As the years passed, I lost weight and got taller whilst Ursula just got taller, but we continued to be firm friends. By the time we reached Year nine and were thirteen years old, Ursula was almost six feet tall and stood a foot above me. We remained inseparable and shared everything we had with one another and each one of us was, for the other, the sister we never had.
That was until the fates stepped in and my father was offered a job promotion which entailed moving from Plymouth to Newcastle and, heartbroken, we were forced to tearfully say goodbye. To begin with, we spoke daily on the telephone, but slowly we lost touch. It was a busy time for both of us with our GCSE exams approaching and with that, out of sight out of mind, and new friends (at least for me), we went our separate ways.
***
When I was eighteen, I went to University in London and studied chemistry before taking a year off and touring Thailand, Vietnam Laos, and Cambodia. On my return to Newcastle, I stopped at my parents whilst looking for a job, and then one morning I saw an advertisement for a position as an assistant laboratory technician at Plymouth University.
After applying for the job, I was pleased to receive a letter informing me that I had been short-listed and inviting me to come for an interview. I wasn't very hopeful that I would get the job, but I had been advised by my father that, whatever happened, it would be good interview practice.
In the weeks before my interview I had thought about Ursula a lot and wondered what she had been up to in the years since I had last seen her. I didn't even know if she still lived in Plymouth, although I imagined her parents would still be living in the same house. I had lost their telephone number after losing touch with Ursula but decided to visit them if I was fortunate enough to be successful in my application.
A month later, I found myself sitting on the train as it pulled into Plymouth railway station on North Road. At first sight, the city appeared to have changed very little in my eight or so years away, although I was a very different person. I was now a young lady, with good looks, a reasonably good figure, and the confidence to match. I had learned to live with my short stature, standing only five feet two inches in my stockinged feet, but my mother had convinced me that "Good things come in small doses." A classmate, whose name I had forgotten, was a little less complimentary telling me "Deadly poison comes in small doses."
That day I had arrived in good time, two hours before I had been asked to attend. It was early June, and the sun was shining, so I took a short walk to the University campus where I sat on a bench and ate a prepackaged British Rail sandwich and drank a can of soft drink. I was nervous and would have preferred a glass of cold white wine but did not want to smell of alcohol.
I arrived in the chemistry department ten minutes before the allotted time and after talking to a bright young secretary who was not much older than I was, I was asked to wait in a small room where one grim-faced young man was already sitting. He smiled nervously at me but said nothing.
A few minutes later, the secretary reappeared, called my name, and showed me into the interview room where my inquisition was to take place. Things went surprisingly well. The details of what was said are unimportant and I can't remember much of it anyway, but when I left the room I was hopeful that I had impressed the three members of the panel. It turned out I was right because a few hours later, as my train was passing Reading, my mobile phone rang, and I was offered the Job.
***
I moved to Plymouth in the middle of July. I had already found a one-bedroom flat to rent close to the university, and I spent the next ten days furnishing it before my job started at the beginning of August. It was the weekend before I was due to report for duty that I finally decided to visit Ursula's old home. It was on the other side of Home Park, about two miles or forty minutes walking distance away.
It was early on Saturday afternoon when I reached my destination. I found the house easily, although it looked a little different from when I had last seen it. The front door and windows had been changed and the garden was neatly kept and not the jungle that it used to be. I rang the doorbell and waited and after a few moments, I heard movement behind the door, the jangling of a chain, and the door opened.
A harassed-looking young woman whom I didn't recognise stood on the doorstep.
"Can I help you," she asked wearily.
"I'm sorry to trouble you," I replied. "I'm looking for an old friend of mine who used to live here. Her surname was Walters."
She frowned.
"Well, they don't live here now. We've been living here for just over a year and as far as I can remember the people we bought it from weren't called Walters. I can't help I'm afraid."
Just then, I heard a baby crying and she turned towards the sound.
"I have to go," she said. "Why don't you try Mrs Jenkins next door? She watches all the comings and goings around here."
Then she turned, closed the door, and was gone.
