Sharon’s Awakening – Part 5 – Spreading the Warmth
Sharon’s Awakening – Spreading the Warmth
Copyright: gail.sher (c)
The fire burned warmly in the hearth as Sharon handed Claire a liquor glass brimming with Bailey’s Irish Cream. She looked down at her mentor, and took in her poise, her elegance, her style. The blonde hair framed a finely featured face that refused to surrender to middle age, and then flowed down the nape of her neck, stopping just short of a black cocktail dress. A string of pearls looped down, showing off their pinkish luster.
“Thanks, Sharon!” . “Those welts you showed off earlier looked horrific! We may have to do something to prevent a repeat.”
Sharon’s head swum. She had been sent out to buy a cane, and now Claire wanted to prevent a repeat?
“Turn around, and let’s take a look, shall we?”
Claire’s mellifluous voice with that hypnotic quality made Sharon putty in the older woman’s hands. Sharon swung around, and reached back to raise her hem. Awkwardly clutching her dress at the side with her elbows, she edged her panties down to offer Claire a view. She felt Claire’s forefinger tracing its way across a welt, then gently pinching and probing the tenderized flesh. A set of fingers danced across her left bottom cheek, stooped at her crack momentarily, and then resumed on the other side. A sharp smack delivered to the right cheek of her bottom set of a stinging sensation that made her gasp, and caused her to shoot up straight, reaching back to massage her painful bum
“It’s no good, Sharon! You will just have to take it back and get something less harsh”
Sharon felt her heart miss a beat. There was no way she was going back anywhere near that awful woman and shop. “But I can’t, Claire!”, she protested. “They definitely said there were no returns!”
“Sharon, sweetie, I have dealt with Mrs. Harbord before. Just go down tomorrow, with the cane and explain to her that I really don’t think this is right for us. I am sure that for a small re-stocking payment that she will allow us to upgrade to a leather strap.”
Sharon’s mind raced: another trip down in the subway carrying a cane; another interaction with Mrs. Harbord; another trial of the implement. He face flushed. “I won’t do it, Claire! You just don’t know how awful it was!” She subconsciously stamped her foot, shaking her head.
“Sharon, you are behaving like a child now!” Claire’s voice had turned icy, and the face that had looked so compassionate just a few minutes ago, seemed hard and chiseled. “You will do as you are told! When I speak to Mrs. Harbord tomorrow, I will expect her to tell me that she found you waiting eagerly outside the shop when she opened up, that you were the model of politeness, and that you conducted yourself with the class and dignity that I expect of all those who I choose to mentor.”
A pregnant silence hung in the air as Claire, sitting regally in her wing backed chair, studied her. Sharon watched he mentor sip delicately, running her tongue around her lips to catch every lingering trace of the milky liquor. The fire crackled in the background and the wall lights cast a warm, yellow hue on the creamy colored walls. At last Claire broke the silence, a neutral tone masking her annoyance. “Let’s have you over my knee now; I want to take a closer look at these welts, and need to attend to your petulance.”
Sharon looked aghast at Claire; her mind swam. Claire was expecting her, Sharon, a thirsty something woman with a career, to go over a knee for a spanking like a child? This couldn’t be happening! But it was, and as if in trance, she moved forward, and bent over the proffered knee. She felt her panties being drawn down and Claire’s cool hand settled on her bottom.
Sharon looked down at the feet that swum into view: beautifully pedicured toes, scarlet red nails set off against the silver sandals, heels raised on delicate stilettos, delicate straps setting off the delicate arches. Claire’s hands gently started to smack her tender bottom. The rhythm set of waves of discomfort as they aggravated the tender flesh. The tempo of the smacks increased, and as the heat lit up her backside, Sharon felt a delicious warmth being ignited between her thighs.
Desperately, Sharon sought to grind herself down on the front of her dress that had bunched up between Claire’s knee and her pubis. In one of those magical moments of unspoken communication and natural choreography, an erotic and beautiful dance developed. Claire brought her hand down in three stinging slaps, and then gently massaged the fire-red flesh. Sharon responded, grinding herself down hard on her mentor’s knee, then straining her bottom out again to receive the slaps. Again and again the sequence repeated, as all of Sharon’s inhibitions evaporated and she found herself desperately straining for sexual release.
It all seemed so natural: the fire crackling in the background, the exquisite Brahms melodies eddying around the room, the warmth and security of Claire’s hands, the firmness of Claire’s knees beneath her. The spanking had stopped, and probing fingers massaged the slippery, swollen, tender lips that peeked out from between her thighs. The glow that had been concentrated in her nether regions suddenly enveloped her entire body, and in a flood of well-being, Sharon let out shudder of release. Her moan of “Aaagh !” was one of pleasure, so different from the same sound that had escaped her lips earlier that day as the cane started the sensitizing process.
As Sharon scrambled back to her feet and pulled her panties up, she looked sheepishly at Claire. “Do I really have to take the cane back tomorrow?”
A sardonic smile played across Claire’s crimson lips. “Yes, Sharon, I am sure that Mrs. Harbord will be delighted to see you in the morning!”