Léa takes you to her place

Once the French lectrice makes the decision, she doesn't have second thoughts, leading you swiftly to the bedsit she shares with four other junior staff at the college. On the way, you ask about birthday spankings where she comes from.

"I know you said they're not terribly common, but when they happen, is it usually a paddle or a strap, or something else?"

"A strap, Jaques, usually the girl's own belt—and it is only girls who get the bumps, normally." Léa isn't wearing a belt today, you notice. "I never saw a birthday spanking in the flesh, as you might say, although I did hear about a couple when I was at university and I once saw a recording that was being passed around. It was not very hard and was over her jeans."

Léa was telling the truth about being just round the corner and you get to the old subdivided three-storey townhouse in a matter of minutes. She turns out to be on the first floor in what's not much better than student accommodation, although the bed is a double and she does at least have an en suite shower room.

"Well, Jaques, this is me," she gestures expansively around the room after letting you in. "I have not done much with the place, yet. Can I get you a drink, or anything?"

"It's very nice," you reply politely, before getting straight to business. "Why don't you find a belt for us to use?"

She jumps a little at the suddenness of your request, but seems quite happy to open her wardrobe and rummage within, quickly producing a wide but thin, shiny black belt, clearly taken from a showy party dress. It certainly doesn't look like an effective punishment implement, which is entirely appropriate for its intended use tonight.

"Perfect!" You pronounce yourself more than satisfied and she beams with happiness (and maybe a little relief). "However, for your safety, we'll have to deviate a little from the video you remember, since as you know, all spankings must be given on the bare."

She's not smiling quite as much when she agrees, but removes the dress without protest, hanging it in the wardrobe and closing the door. She turns back to face you, before hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her demure grey silk undies and sliding them down to her ankles in one motion and stepping out of them. She straightens, looking you in the eye and consciously making no attempt to cover her pudenda, their shape visible beneath a fine covering of very fair hair, even blonder than that on her head.

"Over the desk, I think," you say, but Léa has other ideas.

"Yes, Jaques, if you wish, although back home, girls usually stand upright for the bumps."

You consider it and nod.

"Yes, that works, too."

Léa turns so that she's side on to you, giving you an even better view of her matching brassière and its modest but pert contents. She puts her hands flat on the fronts of her thighs and arches her back to push her bum out slightly, leaving you wondering whether she's imagined this situation before, perhaps with a different spanker.

You experiment with wrapping the belt around your fist, but decide to double it over instead, even though its width and shiny texture make it quite difficult to grip. You gauge the distance and let rip; light it may be, but you want her to feel it.

"Oh!" Léa flinches slightly, but seems more shocked by the loud snap of strap on cheek than the very manageable pain it inflicted. "One, thank-you, Jaques."

You give her another five, leaving her breathing heavily and her rump pleasantly pink, then ask her to turn for the next six back-handed blows. However, after these, a quick inspection reveals that her near buttock is still slightly rosier then the far one, probably because forehand swings are more powerful, so you add three more before turning her again.

The belt is wide enough to cover her whole bum in just two or three lashes and after six more in each direction, two faint splotches of red attest to the fact that the spanking was not entirely painless and neither will sitting down be tomorrow.

Having completed the twenty-seven year old's bumps, you give her inner thigh a perfunctory pinch to grow on and accept her fervent thanks as she faces you and stands to attention. You can't help glance down at her fanny and then look again more closely in surprise. There's no doubt in your mind that a slight dampness between her legs is betraying the fact that the young lectrice has found this whole experience somewhat stimulating in a way that you don't believe a punishment would have been for her. Maybe the tip that you intend to claim won't be so unpleasant for her to provide, after all.