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Angela St. Lawrence is the reigning queen of high-end, long distance training and Femme Domme 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  ...


Archive for November, 2008

Spank That Panty Boy

Saturday, November 29th, 2008

In days of yore, as authors say,
There lived a spark, for am’rous play
By nature formed and well I ween,
He beardless was, and scarce eighteen.
Which for his purpose suited well,
As presently I mean to tell.

With nuns, well-stocked, a convent stood,
Hard by him in the neighbourhood;
He oft had viewed with longing eye,
The holy maids as he passed by;
Would sometimes stop, and at the grate,
To steal a look, whole hours wait.
At length with dull attendance tired,
With want of consummation fired,
To gain his point, at once he ventured,
And in disguise the convent entered.

The Abbess took him for a maid:
Coletta was his name, he said;
And then with reverence due he kissed her
As might become a holy sister.
Long had he not been there, I trust,
O! dire disgrace! but out it must,
Ere sister Agnes had been playing;
‘Twere better far she minded praying.
But so it proved, and by it got —
Perhaps, the prude may ask me, what?

And tell me, that I should have said,
A woful chance befel the maid.
Our Agnes, ever counted chaste,
Grew wond’rous round about the waist
And in due time, as it is said,
Of a young thing was brought to bed.
The holy sisters in amaze
Did at it, as a wonder, gaze;
As well they might, nor could suppose,
From earth, as mushrooms do, it rose
Or manna like, from heaven it fell,
Such miracles, they knew full well
Were long time ceased though (as they say)
Their priests work wonders to this day.
So all determined, nemine con.
It never could come there alone.
Besides, if I may speak the truth,
It much resembled this our youth.

The Abbess, in a mighty passion,
(For scolding then too was in fashion)
Vowed vengeance on the miscreant base
Who thus had scandalized the place;
And then for sundry weighty reasons,
Poor sister Agnes she imprisons.
Next, how to find the father out,
Began to make a mighty rout.
The house was guarded with such care,
The walls so high, no entrance there;
The nun, who kept the tower, was old
And proof against the power of gold.

These things premised, how it could be
She wondered much, though certainly,
A man there must be in disguise,
The which he wore to ‘scape surprise;
Therefore at once the truth to have,
She to the nuns this order gave,
Strip every maid to find this dragon,
Let not a sister have a rag on.

How this command perplexed our youth
Fearing thereby the naked truth
Must be found out, you all may guess
The more he racked his brains, the less
He thought it possible, that he
Should ever escape the place scot-free.
Until at length necessity,
The mother of invention, she
Assisted him with a device,
To ‘scape this scrutiny so nice,
And get clear off; it was to tie —
But, gentle reader, how could I
My meaning modestly express,
In words so clear that you may guess
What ’twas he tied, nor be mistaken,
How he contrived to save his bacon?
By this device all seem’d so flat,
There was no sign of you know what.

But sure the thread had ne’er been able,
(Were it compared in strength to cable)
To keep confined that boisterous part,
Some how or other it must start.
Had saints, nay angels too, been there,
The case had been the same I fear,
When, to full view, each lovely maid,
Stood in her birthday suit, arrayed,
With beauteous shape and graceful mien,
As those who wait on Cyprian queen.

The Abbess on her nose did wear,
Of spectacles a weighty pair;
For being old, they served her now
To search the matter through and through.
Surrounded by her twenty nuns,
Whose swelling breasts like new cross buns,
Or bladders blown by dint of wind,
Luxuriant rose; and you would find,
On them, in fact, were trial made,
A pea would dance as on a drum-head.
This put our youth upon the rack,
For fear the strait-tied strings should crack;
And so they did, for at one bounce,
Away it flew with mighty flounce,
As when a fiery steed disdains
To bear the yoke, and scorns the reins,
When once got loose; upright it rose,
And struck the Abbess on the nose.
The spectacles to the ceiling threw,
And nigh o’erturned the bearer too.

Who, you may think, enraged at this,
A council calls, wherein it is,
After debate, by all agreed,
With flogging this our youth must bleed.
This said, they seized the luckless wight,
And began to exercise their spite;
They tied him to a tree, that grew
Within the yard, of mournful yew,
Then went to search with indignation
For instruments of flagellation.

But fortune, who the boldest favours,
Blasted at once their cursed endeavours.
A lusty miller, on a mule,
Came riding in — they say no fool.
Could play at coits, and cudgel well,
Would kiss a girl, but never tell.
"Heyday!" said he, "what have we here?
A wond’rous pretty saint, I swear!
"But say, young man, I long to know,
"Which of the sisters served you so?
"Sure with the nuns you’ve been at play,
"And for it suffer thus to-day;
"For if there’s aught in strength of back,
"I judge you well a nun can crack."

The youth replied, in mighty dudgeon,
Thinking that now he’d catched a gudgeon,
"My friend, you quite mistake the case,
"For which I suffer this disgrace,
"Had I with their request complied,
"I never now had thus been tied;
"Besides a whipping too I fear,
"For being chaste — ’tis hard, I swear,
"Though must submit, howe’er it be–
"I can’t give up my chastity."

The miller straightway in surprise,
Laughing, the fast-bound cords unties,
And to the youth addressed this speech:
"Poor, scrupulous fool! I’ll save thy breech,
"You’ll cut no figure in this place
"Were but our parson in such case
"He’d ne’er behave as thou hast done;
"Quick tie me to the tree and run:
"You’re ignorant, I plainly see,
"And not for business fit like me
"Let all the sisters come, I warrant
"They shan’t return without their errant."

The youth not wanting better sport,
Soon tied him fast, and scampered for it.
The miller now stark naked stood,
In waiting for the sisterhood,
When soon of nuns, at least a score,
Who rods instead of tapers bore,
In order came, and one and all
Did presently to jerking fall;
While he provoked, as well he might,
Cried, "Softly, ladies, by this light,
"You’re in the wrong, I’m not that booby,
"But for the sport, as fit as you be.
"You’ll wonders see, if you’ll but try —
"Cut both my ears off if I lie,
"I am a devil at that same;
"You apprehend me — guess the name.
"But in this scourging, on my soul,
"A novice quite — an arrant fool."

"A fool?" a toothless virgin cries,
"If that’s the case, we’ll make you wise.
"Are you not father of the brat?
"For him you’ll pay, be sure of that!"
And then to whipping fell again;
The miller bellowed out amain,
(Fearing he was not understood)
"Ladies, I’ll — kiss you all, by God!
"Then cease, dear girls," he loud did bawl,
"I’ll do my best to please you all."

The more the miller cracked his jokes,
The more the girls renewed their strokes,
And flogged him with such dextrous art,
They made him loudly roar with smart,
While thus he underwent a whipping,
His mule upon the grass was skipping.
No matter what became of both,
It is enough he saved the youth.
And reader, say, would you have been
For fifty beauties in his skin?

(As found in the 1812 collection The Festival Of Love and attributed to La Fontaine.  I ran across it at  Classic Kink.) 

And we young whippersnappers think we invented kink?  Me thinks not.

Lyndee … you are more than welcome to steal this (because that’s kinda-sorta what I did after all *wink*) to publish at Pink Panty Cafe, where I’m thinking you’d have a most appreciative crowd.

xo, Angela

Happy Gobble Gobble Day

Wednesday, November 26th, 2008

Take the Thanksgiving Turkey Trivia Quiz  RIGHT HERE 


See you on the other side of  Turkey Day

xo, Angela

Chicken Soup for the PSO’s Soul

Sunday, November 23rd, 2008

Okay, so I’m technically "not sick" any longer.  (remember?)  I was a very good girl and actually followed the doc’s recommendations, which — in all honesty — is not normally something I do well.  Follow directions, that is.  Sick of being sick, I listened well and took my meds as prescribed, drank plenty of fluids, got plenty of rest.  I’m no longer coughing incessantly or sitting over my steam inhaler or blowing through a box of tissues like there’s no tomorrow. 

So I’m back on the phones — have been since Friday afternoon — and taking calls again. 

Yes — I know and I’m so sorry — I didn’t tell you.  But I needed to take it kinda-sorta slow and see how it went.  Because this bug was one nasty mothah fuckah and wreaked absolute devastation on my vocal cords.  So while I don’t have the Lauren Bacall thing happening anymore, I now have a weird Minnie Mouse thing going on.  What I’m saying is:  Potential Phone Sex callers be forewarned — call at your own risk.  Or if you happen to have a fetish for Jessica Rabbit-esque encounters.

So it’s been a simply slam-bang lovely weekend, with a lot of my regulars showing up for dirty stuff and being their always fabulous selves.  Just as I knew they would be. With kind words during the call, after the call (via email and/or reviews) and even on a second or third call, they were considerate, supportive and just damn happy to have me back. 

From the potagers: 

  • Angela,  you are the best on NiteFlirt and any where else. In fact you are the most talented and creative person I know. Your compassion for the average guy is not seen very much anymore. This girl CAN save the world.  (review)
  • You are awesome … and you left 3 bucks in my account.  (follow up email)
  • Ms. St. Lawrence has reclaimed her throne. Pass her the crooked tiara and royal Jimmy Choos. Then get out of the way. Because when Angela holds court, cherubs sing, armies march, planets realign, and grown men weep. Not to mention the hot and nasty sex. Hallelujah!   (review)
  • A magnificent experience with a magical lady.  (review)
  • I waited for you to get better; I didn’t even think of calling somebody else.  (pillow talk)
  • Yet seemed it winter still, and you away." I’m so glad this lovely woman is back and up to her old … tricks.  (review)
  • I do consider you a friend and you do make me happy.  Now go and take care of yourself.  (follow up email)
  • As always, Angela has proven what an amazing talent she has. (review)
  • You’re the only girl I talk to who charges over 2.00/minute, and — if you are available — I always call you, because you are the best.  (pillow talk)
  • Even with what you call your "Minnie Mouse" voice, that was the hottest call I’ve ever had.  (follow up email)
  • There are hot girls, and there are really hot women, and then, there is Angela. You’ll want her as your friend, you’ll want her as your lover, but most of all, you’ll just want her!  (review)

And there’s so much more — like those of you who called just to shoot the breeze and talk about my newest passion, politics (you know who you are — thanks so much).  And the new guys who found me (I was kinda-sorta hiding from you until "all better") and were oh-so-polite and receptive to my Minnie voice.   And the certain someone who stayed on the phone for four hours, doing most of the talking so I could "rest my voice." 

Then there was Mr. X with the super-sexy voice who called seconds after I’d turned on the kink-O-phone Friday, having talked with me for the first time ever right before I got sick and waited so patiently (not being a zen regular; not knowing why I’d abruptly disappeared) to talk again. 

And to those of you who tipped me — something I never ask for or expect:  you made my day! 

The private emails I kept getting while I was "down," meant the world to me too.  Links to interesting sites, quickie snuggles and good nights, thoughts and wishes.  A special thanks to another certain someone who helped me find specific quotes for a project in which I’ve been immersed during my downtime.

And everybody who kept showing up here, because — gawd dammit — I might have lost my voice, but I was able to blog now and again.

And of course there were the Phone Sex Fantasies I did over the weekend.  As much as I love to create the kink, sometimes I just don’t get it.  i.e. anorexia or cat-fighting.  But this weekend, the requests were, without fail, right up my alley — the stuff into which I could sink my carnivorous little teeth:  Forced Bi, Sensual Domination, Cock Control, Tease and Denial, Castration, Erotic Humiliation, BDSM.  I even got to do a Succubus Fantasy and a Transsexual Fantasy.   Although no cuckolds showed up (hey, a girl can only ask for so much), I was in FemDom Phone Sex Heaven. 

On the downer side — not too much, but worth a mention — some guy showed up to listen to my recorded fantasy, Strap On Play, for THE THIRD TIME and decided this time he would rate me, which was four out of five stars.  Which I just don’t get.  If you beat off to that audio three times, then I’m thinking you must pretty much like it.  In fact, you like it a whole bunch.   On top of that, I’d followed up his first two "listen-ins" with a personal "thank you" along with five free minutes for a live call.  What was he thinking?  I’m so glad I have the option to block.  Which means that the passive-aggressive little weenie head WILL NOT get the opportunity to listen to that audio ever again.   So there!

It’s people like him who give Humiliation Phone Sex a good name.

Oh well.

xo, Angela

While Your Wife’s Getting Fucked

Thursday, November 20th, 2008

What to do, what to do?

Over at Hot Wife Allie (a place I visit quite a bit), loving husband Dave answers that very question:

* Watch adoringly
* Photograph
* Videotape
* Jerk off
* Wait patiently for my turn
* Join in the fun
* Watch porn
* Wait in another room and just listen to her moan, grunt and carry on
* Hold her legs up or open, if she’s on her back
* Spread her ass open if she’s on her knees
* Occupy an opening if it’s not occupied
* Suck on her nipples
* Get her a drink
* Get her a towel
* Get her lube
* Chat with other people watching
* Wipe the sweat off her forehead
* Caress her body
* Make out with her
* Wait impatiently for my turn
* Cheer her on
* Give her oral attention if she needs or wants it
* Take notes
* Pretend like I’m shocked, jealous or embarassed
* Smile approvingly
* Gasp or wince
* Any combination of the above

Seems it is, when all is said and done, just a question of manners.

xo, Angela


Sexy Words about Poetry

Tuesday, November 18th, 2008

Poetry Is Sexy
by Brian Dorn

Poetry is sexy
Its lyrics aim to please

Poetry is sexy
Engaging in its tease

Poetry is sexy
It radiates with verb

Poetry is sexy
Every idyllic word

Poetry is sexy
Refined for purity

Poetry is sexy
Stripped of subtlety

Poetry is sexy
When read between the lines

Poetry is sexy
Laced with frilly rhymes

Poetry is sexy
Both singular and plural

Poetry is sexy
Every exclamatory swirl

Poetry is sexy
Grammatically raw

Poetry is sexy
Even typos and all

Poetry is sexy
Consummated publicly

Poetry is sexy
When performed properly

Poetry is sexy
Irrespective of its font

Poetry is sexy
Fashioned any way you want


Brian has a website, and  you can read a bunch of his stuff here.  He also has his very own YouTube channel, The Flawed Poet, where you can watch him recite his poetry.

xo, Angela