The BJ Podcast

[M/f] [spanking] [humiliation] [domestic discipline] [e-girls] 

Continued from: The Exorcism of Alexis DiPaulo

Unfortunately, Alexis’s volley of craziness kept coming, a relentless barrage through my phone: texts swinging from “I hate you forever” laced with venomous emojis to floods of hearts declaring eternal love, videos of her laughing through tears or ranting about meds I never knew were part of her world. It was exhausting, that push-pull of passion and pandemonium, leaving me raw in ways no session could soothe.

One night, vulnerability crept in like fog off the lake—I felt it deep, that ache of “what ifs” and “whys.” I wandered into my piano lounge, a glass of rich Cabernet in hand, the room softly lit by sconces that cast golden glows on the grand piano’s ebony curves. Yes, I can play expertly, fingers dancing over keys like they do over skin, turning notes into narratives. I set up my phone to film a short clip, robe slipping slightly off one shoulder, strappy heels clicking as I settled on the bench. 

Slowly, sadly, I began—voice soft and haunting, keys resonating with melancholy: 

... and the day bleeds, into nightfall, and you’re not here, to help me through it all. I let my guard down, and then you pulled the rug… I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved...” 

The words hung, raw and real, a lone tear tracing my cheek. I stood, luxurious satin robe swirling, wiped it away with a sigh while looking into the camera.

Goodbye, Lexi.

End recording. Sent. A digital farewell, my heart lighter but lingering with scar tissue from our fiery fling.

Seated now, cozy in an armchair by the fire, sipping that wine like liquid courage, I scrolled aimlessly—until I stumbled upon it. The BJ Podcast. Two young women dishing about kink and spanking, their voices bubbly and youthful. Naturally, curiosity piqued—I am a connoisseur of cravings, after all. I opened an episode titled “Daddy’s Belt,” settling in as their chatter filled the room, giggling about bare-naked spankings at their age, the sting of leather on skin, plugging their spicy content pages with shameless charm. Intriguing… who are these two? 

“Hi everyone, welcome back to the BJ podcast. No, that’s not what the title means—lol, you pervs! It’s just Brandy and Jessika, your fave duo dishing on all things kink and spanky. I’m Jessika, your nerdy gamer-girl host who’s secretly obsessed with cozy RPGs and, like, building the perfect elf character in Skyrim. 

And with me as always, is my bestie and co-host, ultimate cam-girl cosplayer, Brandy!”

“Hey hey, it’s Brandy here, from Brandy After Dark! Where I show off all my cute panties and that bum you guys can’t get enough of. Like, subscribe if you wanna see me in those lacy thongs bending over—tease tease! So, Jess, what’s the vibe for today’s ep? We’re talking Daddy’s belt, right? That classic sting that makes you feel all… disciplined? Obvi, we're not talking about Jessika's actual Dad, that would be super cringe." 

“Oh my god, yes, Brandy! Daddy’s belt is, like, the ultimate ritual punishment. It’s so intense but so hot in that forbidden way. I mean, at 24, getting bare naked over someone’s knee or bent over for the belt? It’s humiliating but thrilling. The whole buildup—the lecture, the waiting, that sound of the belt sliding through the loops… ugh, it gives me chills every time.”

“Totally! Okay, spill— you mentioned you got the belt at bedtime last night. Like, for real? Tell us all about it, girl. Start from the beginning. What’d you do to ‘earn’ it?”

“Lol, okay, so last night was one of those nights where I was feeling super bratty. I was gaming late, ignoring my bedtime like a total rebel— you know how I get when I’m deep in a Zelda dungeon. Daddy wasn’t having it. He came in, all stern, and was like, ‘Young lady, lights out—now.’ But I sassed back, something dumb like ‘Just five more minutes!’ Next thing I know, he’s unbuckling his belt, that leather whoosh sound making my stomach flip. The ritual? It’s always the same, which makes it so… meaningful, you know? He sits on the edge of the bed, pats his lap, and says, ‘Over my knee, Jessika. Panties down.’ God, saying it out loud makes me blush!”

“Omg, the ritual is everything! So, attire-wise—were you age-regressed? Like, in your cute little PJs or something more innocent?”

“Yes! Totally age-regressed vibes. I was in my fuzzy pink pajamas—the ones with the cartoon hearts, you know? Super cute and innocent, like I’m this naughty little girl getting punished before bed. He made me stand in front of him first, hands on my head, while he lectured me about responsibility and bedtime rules. My face was burning, but my heart was racing. Then he pulled me over his lap, yanked my PJ bottoms down, and those big white cotton panties? Exposed. He always starts with his hand, warming me up, but last night it went straight to the belt after a few smacks.”

“Hand warm-up? Nice touch. Positions—tell me about the positions! Over the knee the whole time, or did he switch it up?”

“So, it started over his knee—classic, right? My legs kicking a bit, hands grabbing the bedsheets, that vulnerable feeling of being dangling there, bare bum up high. The belt doubled over, cracking down maybe a dozen times—stingy as hell, each one making me yelp and promise to be good. But then he stood me up, bent me over the bed with my hands flat on the mattress, legs spread. That’s when it got real—the full swings, leather whipping across my cheeks and thighs. I was dancing on my toes by the end, tears starting, but oh man, that rush…”

“Lol, dancing on your toes— I can picture it! And cornertime? Was that part of the ritual? How long?”

“Always cornertime after! He made me stand in the corner, nose to the wall, hands on my head, PJ bottoms and panties around my ankles. No rubbing the sting away— just standing there, feeling the burn, thinking about why I got punished. Last night? Like, 10 minutes, but it felt like forever. The humiliation of it at 24, bare bum on display, knowing he was watching… ugh, so degrading but so hot. I was a mess by the end—sniffling, sorry, and super turned on.”

“Turned on? Girl, same! That’s the magic of Daddy’s belt—the pain turning into that warm glow. Did it end with, like, aftercare cuddles or more punishment?”

“Aftercare for sure—he pulled me into his lap after cornertime, hugged me tight, told me I’m forgiven. But yeah, the ritual’s what makes it meaningful. That build-up, the positions, the corner… it’s like a whole story.”

“Totally! Speaking of stories, if you guys love hearing about our bare bums getting belted, check out my Brandy After Dark—tons of panty pics and vids, me in thongs getting all cheeky. Sub for the exclusive stuff!”

“And for me, Jessika—my OnlyFans is all about feet, hosiery and my footwear. Imagine my toes in those silky stockings while I daydream about spankings. Paid subs get the full vids—come play and visit me at Gamer Toes." 

“Lol, yes! Thanks for tuning in to BJ Podcast—stay kinky, everyone. Bye!”

“Byeeee!”

*****************************

There I was, cozied up in my lounge with that glass of Cabernet still swirling in my hand, the fire crackling like distant whip snaps, when I dove deeper into that BJ Podcast. 

Those two bubbly sprites—Jessika and Brandy—chattering away about “Daddy’s belt” with such upbeat, giggly energy, like it was a fun sleepover story rather than the raw, ritualistic reckoning I know it to be. They described the sting, the positions, the cornertime with this lighthearted lilt, plugging their content pages mid-laugh like it was all a game. 

I was never more certain in my entire life that these girls had never experienced a real spanking at all. Not the kind that breaks you down layer by layer, leaves you sobbing with that exquisite mix of pain and release, bare ass throbbing for days as a reminder. To them, it was an act—a cam-girl charade to sell feet pics and panty teases, all sparkle and no substance. Was I annoyed by this? No, that wasn’t my vibe. Instead, I saw opportunity sparkling like a fresh paddle— a chance to collaborate, to see if these two really wanted to make some money by having their bare asses thrashed for real, turning fantasy into fiery fact.

In the coming days, I reached out to Jessika—slid into her DMs with that elegant intrigue I do so well, complimenting their podcast and hinting at “real-world expertise” I could share. She bit, hook, line, and sinker—gushing about how “epic” it’d be. Before I knew it, I was invited onto their show, mic ready, heels clicked into place. Let the games begin.

Mistress Andrea

xoxo

Continued in: Podcasts to Paddles

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