A birthday party

If the clusters of colourful balloons weren't enough of a clue, the Happy 30th Birthday banner spells it out for you. Going to another pub is still an option, but only the back half of the saloon is given over to the celebrations and they're not too disruptive, so you decide to give it a chance.

You and Léa approach the bar and order some drinks from one of the handsome bartenders. The retro music from the party where guests of varying ages are dancing is just loud enough to make conversation difficult and after a few awkward exchanges, you make the mutual decision to wait for the track to change. However, when the final chords peal out over the pub's sound system, instead of segueing seamlessly into another song, a fit, dark-haired man in his late thirties stands up on a chair and calls for everyone's attention.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for, it's my pleasure to present: the birthday girl!"

The partygoers step back to make a space and, to a round of applause, a slim, pale, black-haired woman in a red jacket and black skirt walks out into the middle, holding a cane above her head with both hands.

"Should I do it?" she asks nobody in particular.

"Yes," say most of her guests.

"Should I do it?" she repeats at a much higher volume.

"Yes!" This time, the reply is a unanimous shout of approval.

"Should I do it?" she yells her question at the third time of asking at the top of her lungs and is rewarded by a similarly enthusiastic response. Even Léa joins in, seeming to know what's going on, slapping the bar for emphasis.

The brunette immediately brings the cane down over her knee, snapping it effortlessly to cheers and applause from the whole saloon, including the staff and your companion. Belatedly, you join in, realizing that it's expected and reflecting that the implement was probably rigged beforehand to make it break so easily.

As the ovation dies away, an older woman bearing a striking resemblance to the birthday girl walk up to her and gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Welcome to adulthood, Mina," she says with a smile as she breaks the embrace, gently taking the shattered instrument of chastisement from the younger woman.

"Thanks, Mum," she answers, her voice slightly choked by emotion.

"I think your father has something for you," the mother continues and a grey-haired man joins them, handing over a gaily-wrapped and beribboned parcel whose long, thin shape suggests what might be within.

"Happy birthday, Min. I can't believe my little girl's all grown up."

"Thanks, Dad," she says, hugging him with one arm whilst she waves the present about with the other, adding in a stage whisper, "now I wonder what this could be!"

A ripple of laughter passes round the guests while she unceremoniously rips the paper off her gift to reveal another cane, this one a bit longer and significantly thicker than her old one and coloured black instead of white, with a rubber handle.

"Hah! Just what I always wanted!" More laughter. She flexes the rod between both hands and says something you can't hear to her father, who replies similarly quietly, but before the hubbub of general conversation can resume, the man who was on the chair earlier comes out waving for quiet.

"I think it's time for your birthday bumps, don't you baby-bear?"

"Oh, come on, babe, I'm thirty! Look at the banner! Don't you think I'm a bit too old for the bumps, now?"

"Never too old! Now hand it over and get yourself bent over that table, before I give you a proper spanking."

Mina pouts with pretend sulkiness, but gives him her new cane and prepares herself for its application, hiking her skirt up round her waist and lowering her black thong to her knees. The man, her boyfriend or husband at a guess, takes aim across her unblemished cheeks and thwacks the stick smartly onto the plumpest part of her bottom. It's neither as hard, nor as controlled as you'd like, leaving a welt at rather a downward angle, but the effect is still significant, as she jumps nearly upright, jiggling from foot to foot, clenching and unclenching her hands on the sides of the tabletop.

"Yeeow!" She looks over her shoulder, gaping with surprise. "That hurts a lot worse than my old one."

Her father answers her. "Now that you hopefully won't be getting spanked as often, I thought your bottom could handle a more intense implement." He takes the aforementioned item and gives his own stroke, more precise and on the line that the previous one should have taken.

"Ooooooh! Two." Mina bends back over the table, resting her forehead on the surface. Since this is a playful, if painful, interlude, it doesn't surprise you that nobody picks her up on forgetting to count the first. Whilst her father was administering his stroke, her significant other fetched a box and he now explains to the other guests that due to the recent changes in the law, his wife has prepared a lucky dip for tips, from which everyone is welcome to draw, including the women. Although spankers are allowed to choose the tips they receive, the implication is that they're expected to limit themselves to the lucky dip. Also, Mina must have known the bumps would take place to have arranged the prizes.

Her mother goes next, having disposed of the old cane and the new one's wrapping paper in the meantime, then a well-dressed brunette steps up, giving by far the hardest yet, right on the edge of where Mina's bottom meets her thighs.

"Don't worry about bringing this in to work, Mina," she says, watching the woman in question writhe in agony. "I've bought a heavy strap for the office that I think I'm going to use on all the girls from now on."

The reply is unintelligible and the fun continues with other guests taking their turns. Some are obviously inexperienced, especially Mina's female friends, but they all take it seriously and there are no gentle touches, although the boss's zinger is the only really hard stroke. After half a dozen, the birthday girl is crying heavily, mottled weals crisscrossing her buttocks, but the atmosphere is still festive and there's a lot of joking about the effects the cane is having on it's new owner.

"I bet you could show them a thing or two about giving a caning, Jaques." Léa's words remind you that you're not alone and you feel guilty for neglecting your sweet companion. However, she seems to be just as interested in the proceedings as you are. "It is a shame that the event appears to be by invitation only, no?"

You smile and say that you wouldn't give a birthday caning the same way as one for punishment, although you would still require at least the same level of self control and respect. Léa nods and mentions how unfortunate it is that you missed her anniversary celebrations, but you reassure her that there's always next year, which makes her grin widely.

By the final few strokes, Mina is screaming with every one, weeping hysterically, her welted bum swollen and black with bruising. After she sobs out the number thirty and the last of her chosen guests, a beanpole with a ginger moustache, hands the cane back to her mother for safekeeping, she slumps onto the table with relief.

That relief is short-lived, however, because her husband comes over and leans down heavily on her shoulders, holding her in place.

"Wh-what's going on, babe?" She looks up, trying to see his face through her still-flowing tears.

"Ursula's giving you your pinch to grow on, this year," he replies.

"Wh-why are you holding me down?" She starts to struggle a little. "Ursula? What are you? Please—"

The smartly-attired woman from her work walks up behind her, holding a pair of pliers with jaws made of a white plastic instead of metal. Kneeling down, this Ursula leans forward between her employee's legs.

"Hold still, Mina," she urges, but Mina is trembling uncontrollably with pain and fear and it takes a moment for Ursula to find her desired target. When she does, Mina's body freezes rigid and she screams in agony. It's not just a quick nip, either. Ursula yanks hard on her tool, twisting it from left to right for an interminable thirty seconds, one for each year.

Most of the other guests find the poor woman's throes of agony entertaining, but a few of the ladies, whom you believe to be her other work colleagues, look quite worried, perhaps imagining they might find themselves in a similar situation on their next birthdays.

Eventually, Ursula releases her tender prisoner and immediately starts tying a knot in the gusset of her thong. "That should make your birthday fuck interesting," she says, using the pliers to pull the knot into a hard peanut, before lifting the undergarment back into its proper place. When it reaches her crotch, Mina's cries redouble and Ursula carefully feeds the fabric between her labia, pulling it up firmly so that the knot is pressing excruciatingly on her abused clitoris. Then, finally satisfied, she stands up with a slap to the younger woman's battered rump.

Mina's husband takes his hands off her shoulders, but she makes no effort to rise, just resting on the table, sobbing weakly. Soon, the music resumes and the other partygoers start dancing again.

Léa puts her hand on your arm. "Jaques, thank-you for a wonderful evening. I have heard of paddle breaking parties before, but never attended one and I am truly glad I came. However, it is time I was getting home. I hope you understand."