All events in this story depict persons over the age of 18 at the time they transpired. It depicts spanking and related humiliation scenarios, including the recollection of an NC/reluctance event. BDSM is the closest category I could fit it to, but it's entirely concerned with the memories and desires of two young women in relation to spanking. Comments are welcome but please consider these caveats if things like that bother you.
Emma was a shy girl. She was someone who had to try hard to make an impression and she found it exhausting. In a world full of pushy extroverts, she always seemed to be running up hill. She was five feet and two inches tall in her socks and convinced that everyone underestimated her because of it. She was as smart as you like, but her voice just didn't seem to get heard. On top of that, she didn't like her appearance very much, but making changes just seemed like so much work. She was pale skinned, and wore her mousey blonde hair in a long plait that always seemed to be unwinding. She never felt graceful and she thought her bum was too big. Some people just fall out of bed looking like a million dollars, but Emma knew she wasn't one of them. At least she had Claire though. Not like that of course, but they were good friends and now they were flatmates too.
Claire could have been friends with anyone, thought Emma, but she'd still picked her. In their first week of University, they'd seemed to be the only two people who hadn't known anyone else. Emma had always kept to herself, often feeling awkward in social situations, whereas Claire had arrived from some sort of posh private school. Even Emma had heard of it. Not that Claire had been a rich kid herself. She was just extraordinarily gifted academically and had won a prestigious scholarship into the sixth-form. A final two-year boost of elite and expensive education after the frustration of coasting unchallenged at the top of her everyday class. All the privileges provided by an institution that people knew of. People with influence, that is. People who read CVs and made hiring decisions. It sounded like everyone she'd known there had seemingly taken a gap year and gone travelling though, and from what little she'd said about the place, it didn't sound to Emma that they had much in common anyway. Emma wasn't sure what she really had in common with Claire either, or why she chose to be her friend, but somehow they always ended up together after classes and at weekends. Maybe it was because neither of them showed the slighted interest in men or really even in socialising more generally. Often their course-mates would suggest a pub visit after a big assignment deadline, but Emma wasn't comfortable in large groups and Claire just wasn't into pubs, she said. There were certainly rumours that they were Gay - to which they both reacted with a bored eye-roll -- but in reality, they were simply content to hang out in whatever spare time they had. Anyway, Claire was far too ambitious to waste precious study time on anyone trivial or temporary and Emma just didn't know what she wanted.
All that was over now though. Uni was done. They were officially professional women and surely an asset to any growing business. At least that's what her CV claimed, but Emma still felt like an imposter, skimming along the surface of low prospect clerical jobs, making enough to pay the rent but with no real direction in mind. They used to call it temping, but it seemed like everything was temporary these days. Claire, of course had it all sorted out. She'd landed a place on the management track with a media group. She looked the part too. She wasn't much taller than Emma, but she was trim and neat and carried herself with confidence. It came with the education, Emma supposed. Character building and all the right connections. All part of that very exclusive service. Her hair was straight and dark and she wore it long but neatly trimmed and parted down the middle. She looked like someone who was going places. Emma just hoped she could hang on tight enough to stay along for the ride.
So here they both were. The final clear-out of Claire's old room. Emma was helping out of friendship, but she a was curious too. Rifling through someone else's past. Who know's what you would turn up? The floor was cluttered with the detritus of an adolescence long passed: piles of books she'd never read again, old clothes, her clunky old desktop computer and random pieces of sporting equipment. Several black bin liners completed the picture, each tagged with a bright-yellow post-it note -- Keep it, Donate it or Skip it. One bag was much fuller than all the others though. Claire was trying to be brutal but was failing miserably. Even for a decisive woman like herself, throwing away your past is much harder than you think it's going to be and there were so many memories here. They'd nearly finished though. Just load the car and then the long drive home. Claire was already looking forward to a glass of wine on the sofa and some mindless TV before bed.
Emma reached into the almost empty wardrobe. One last thing.
"What's this then?" She enquired. She held a large garment bag by the metal hook of its hanger and offered it towards her friend.
Claire looked surprised. "Open it. If it's what I think it is, you'll probably get a laugh".
Emma unzipped the light woven cover and found herself staring at something both completely familiar and yet totally mysterious to her.
"It's my old school uniform" Claire said.
Emma had realised that. But this wasn't like any school uniform she'd ever seen. The fabric was expensive. No stain resistant polyester here. A pleated skirt made from finely woven wool in a rich blue tartan, shot through in squares with with green and white thread. The dark blue blazer, also made from an expensive cloth, was fully tailored, with buttons that looked handmade and even the plain white shirt was made from fine cotton and carried a small monogram in gold on the breast pocket which she noticed repeated on the blazer.
"The tie is probably in the pocket" Claire added, absently.
Emma certainly wasn't laughing though. In fact she felt strange. It was as if she'd just looked down over the edge of a tall building. You know you can't fall, but your stomach goes light and your hands start to sweat.
"You okay?". Claire's voice broke the spell and Emma tried to sound natural.
"Oh". Emma stalled and tried to respond naturally. "I... I was just thinking about how the other half live. I can't believe you used to wear this." She stroked the fabric, not even realising that she was doing so.
"It's pretty unbelievable isn't it?" But her friend looked thoughtful for moment "You do understand that I'm not the other half though, right? I'd far rather be with you than with them. I mean, I do appreciate the opportunity I was given and I understand that it was a huge privilege, but..." she sighed "I always felt I was running to catch up and having to ask what the rules were. I only went there as a sixth former. I was 18, a grown up and I was there on merit, but I still felt like I was the new girl every single day."
"A different world" Thought Emma. That sounded good. Everything moved so fast in this one and there were so many decisions to make. She never felt like she knew what was going on. Maybe someone to tell her what the rules were was what she needed. Like having a mentor or her own personal prefect.
