Sharon’s Awakening – Part 2 – The Note

Sharon’s Awakening – Part 2 – The Note


Sharon’s Awakening – The Note
Copyright: gail.sher (c)

Sharon had sat stiffly in front of the little antique writing bureau, watching Claire finish off a note. Claire carefully folded the cream notepaper and sealed it, before penning an address on the front of the envelope. Sharon had a feeling of déjà-vue as she accepted the envelope that was handed across to her. Her chest tightened and she felt a slight dizziness. Surely this couldn’t be happening? She had fully expected Claire to give her a spanking in private, but what was this note for? It was the same calm look that she had seen on Mrs. Brock’s face as she had handed that note over to the two girls so many years back, sending them on that tense walk to the headmistress’s office.

“Take this note to Woman’s World, Sharon, and present it to Mrs. Harbord. You will go down-town and return by subway, and I expect to see your train tickets on your return.”
Sharon knew Woman’s World to be a female owned and run adult store in the trendy part of town, a few blocks away from the near the city centre.

The ride downtown had seemed interminable. But at last she stood in front of the shop and found herself slowly pushing the door open. She could feel her heart thudding as she walked out of the bright sunlight into the darkened interior. Her eye quickly took in the goods on display on the glass shelves towards the entrance: brightly colored dildos and plugs, chrome probes and bells, strap-on harnesses and dongs. But it was not these that she was here for. With her stomach churning, she made her way towards the back, and stood in front of the counter waiting for someone to serve her.

A door opened, and a tall, middle aged lady stepped through. Sharon took in the black dress, the gold necklace, the dark hair styled with full bangs and a clean straight style at the back. Chic and sleek, this was not the adult sex-shop attendant that Sharon had been expecting.

“Hi, is Mrs. Harbord in? “ Sharon asked timidly. Her voice seemed to crack and she was sure she sounded young and foolish.

There was no smile forth-coming. The response was polite but curt. “That is me. How can I help you?”

She could feel her hand trembling as she took the note from her purse. She reached across to hand it over. “I was asked to give you this note…and collect something to take back to … to …my…teacher.” Sharon stumbled over this phrase. She had been rehearsing it over and over in her mind on the trip down in the subway. How on earth should she represent her relationship to Mrs. Claire Evert? .

Mrs. Harbord deftly slipped the sealed envelope open, and extracted the note. Sharon felt her eyes being transfixed on the beautifully manicured, slender fingers that slowly extracted the note. The nails were long and fire-engine red and a collection of delicate gold rings, some with brightly colored gems sparkled under the light that shone from the fixtures over the counter.

Mrs. Harbord picked up her reading glasses from the counter and seemed to skim through the note, before starting at the top and reading it slowly. At last she looked over the rims at Sharon, and fixed her with a piercing stare.

“You are Sharon? Mrs. Evert sent you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Harbord”

“I see. So it seems that Mrs. Evert wants you to buy a cane here. She says it is to be used for discipline. Are you the intended recipient, Sharon?”

Sharon felt her knees start to shake. “Yes, Mrs. Harbord”

“Well, you see Sharon, we carry a number of canes. Some have novelty value only, though they sting to be sure. Then we have light canes to be used for ….lets just say, games between consenting adults. Mrs. Evert has specifically noted that she intends you to purchase a cane to be used for discipline. That is something that is somewhat stouter, and will cause you to think very carefully about committing any act that will result in its use. Are you sure this is what you need Sharon?”

Sharon felt herself go bright red. It seemed surreal. As if in a day dream, she nodded her head.

“Alright then, before we go and make a selection, you need to sign this waiver.” The business-like lady standing in front of Sharon opened a drawer under the counter, extracted a form and slid it across to Sharon. “You need to sign at the bottom. It acknowledges that you understand that this purchase will be sure to cause you intense pain, will leave marks, and you indemnify this business, myself, and any user from any suffering and pain that it causes. You may wish to read it before you sign.”

Sharon picked up the pen that had been placed on the counter and hurriedly signed at the bottom of the form. Her hands felt sweaty and a cloudy film seemed to cover her eyes. There was no way she felt that she could stand here and read through all the legalese that filled the form in front of her. She pushed the form back to Mrs. Harbord and clutched her purse tightly.

“Come this way then, Sharon.”

She followed Mrs. Harbord to the back of the shop, and stepped through the door that was opened for her. It was a room that was almost as large as the front public area of the shop. Her eyes took in the rows of canes that hung from supports in the wall in front of her. She could never have believed that there could be so many different types. Some were hooked at the end, like the classic English canes she had seen when browsing the web. Others were straight and seemed to have a handles wrapped with red or black leather. There were dark woods and light woods, whites and blacks.

On the side walls, here eyes briefly absorbed the sights of floggers and bull whips, crops and paddles. She briefly looked at the large, old wooden desk that stood in the middle of the floor, but retuned to watch Mrs. Harbord who had walked directly to a selection of canes towards the center of the far wall.

Sharon felt that she was in a waking dream, as she watched the elegant hand reach up and carefully select two canes. She watched Mrs. Harbord bend them, and then alternately flick them through the air as she judged the whippiness of each. Mrs. Harbord turned around, and ran an appraising eye up and down Sharon, and then turned back to replace one of the canes on the wall.

With the chosen cane clasped delicately between her fingers, almost like a conductor’s baton, she turned to Sharon and looked directly into her eyes. The crooked handle rested along the inside of her slender arm. “Sharon, Mrs. Evert has sent you here to purchase the implement that I am sure will be used repeatedly and to great effect on your bottom. I believe that this is the ideal cane for you. It is the highest quality rattan, supplied by the manufacturers of quality English schoolhouse canes for the last eighty years.”

She looked at Sharon for a few moments, and then continued. “The thing is, Sharon, that we have a no returns policy in this business. In view of this, Mrs. Evert requests in her note that you brought to me…”

She left the sentence hanging in the air for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity to Sharon.

“…that we try it out before you leave.”

Sharon felt the blood drain from her face and her knees turn to jelly. She was sure that she would wake up shortly and this would all turn out to be an unpleasant dream.


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