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Angela St. Lawrence is the reigning queen of high-end phone sex, providing esoteric depravity for the aficionado, specializing in Erotic Fetish, Female Domination, Cock Control, Kinky Taboo and Sensual Debauchery. To make an appointment or speak with Ms. St. Lawrence  CLICK HERE.

A funny thing happened …

November 11th, 2015

… on the way to this blog.

back bitches

As you might have noticed, over the past year and a few months, I haven’t been around this blog much. What can I say, except it’s been rough.  A lot happened and a lot that should have happened just didn’t.

Now listen boys and girls, I’m no whiner, but the curve balls were coming fast and heavy, one after the other.  I’m not going to bore you with the details, except to say that … OHboyOHboyOHboy … did I learn a lot.   A helluva lot!  So I think that pretty much now makes me smarter than you.

I was around as much as I could be: making boys do very bad things, tweeting and kicking ass.

But a girl can only do so much when she is in the middle of a maelstrom.  Unfortunately, the blog was at the bottom of a long list and I just couldn’t get to it most days.

But here I am.

There you are.

Here we are.

       Let’s get busy.

taking care of business

     xo, Angela

Pussy and Whipped Cream.

August 10th, 2015

No. No. No. No. NO!

These do not mix.

Choose one and eat it well.

Mistress says so.


Okay. I said my piece. G’night.

Do as you’re told, aberrant Romeo

August 9th, 2015

In some respects I suspect you’ve got a respectable side.
When pushed and pulled and pressured, you seldom run and hide,
But it’s for someone else’s benefit, not for what you wanna do
Until I realize that you’ve realized I’m gonna say these words to you.

Yeah, you don’t know what love is,
You do as you’re told.
Just as a child of ten might act,
But you’re far too old.
You’re not hopeless, or helpless,
And I hate to sound cold,
But you don’t know what love is,
You just do as you’re told.

I can see your man can’t help but win any problems that may arise,
But in his mind, there can be no sin if you never criticize.
You just keep on, repeating all those empty “I love you”s.
Until you see you deserve better, I’m gonna lay right into you.

Yeah, you don’t know what love is,
You just do as you’re told.
Just as a child of ten might act,
But you’re far too old.
You’re not hopeless, or helpless,
And I hate to sound cold,
But you don’t know what love is,
No you don’t know what love is,
No you don’t know what love is,
You just do as you’re told.
Yeah, do as you’re told


Special thanks to Mr. S. who sent this to me. (After all, Mr. S., it is *our* story, isn’t it?)

And love marches on …

June 28th, 2015


June 4th, 2015

She is sleeping quietly in her crib. I am propped-up in bed reading. I listen to her breathe. I check the clock. I begin to wonder how late you will be.

You are hunting tonight. We stay safe in our den, relaxing or sleeping or taking time for mundane chores. In our bed I listen to every sound until I hear the door.

The door closes and I can hear what I have longed to hear. My warrior walks the length of the wooden hall. Her heels ring out like hobnails once might have done. Louder and closer she comes.

She enters, radiant, beautiful, and commanding. Her heels come off. Her dress comes off. She scoops our daughter from her crib and carries her to bed. She feeds. Her mother has already fed.

Was her prey young or old? Did he find satisfaction or frustration? Her mood is not changed by the feelings of the prey. She lured him towards her. Maybe she smiled. Maybe she frowned. Maybe she spoke too loud. Maybe she spoke too soft. He chased, unsure, too sure, but he chased. Thinking he was hunting, he was hunted. Thinking he was making his move, he was conquered.

The baby has fed. You hand her to me and I carry her, sleeping and satisfied, to her crib. I return to your bed. You are satisfied but alert. A motion of your hand and I stop. Your breasts are bare and swollen with milk. I kneel, naked and hungry before you. Your hand is moving and so am I.

I approach. I tremble. I quake. I throb. I salivate.

You hold your right breast in your two hands.

You speak: drink from me!

I fall upon my task with ardor and greed. With my mouth, I suck. I lick. I knead. I lap. I lavish. My tongue is fast and slow, gentle and firm. I take short and long passes across your nipples. They are tender. They reward me. As your milk flows into my mouth, your hand wrap around my cock. I am in ecstasy without fulfillment. I want more and more. Tender swollen breasts and warm sweet milk on my lips compete with the firm gentle fast slow scratching soothing actions of your hand on my cock.

I am chasing and chased.

I feed upon you.

You smile, victorious, another prize taken by the huntress.


just a lil kinky story from a fanboy

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